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 Excursions in prose and I verse; 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013540285 
 
EXCURSIONS 
 
EXCURSIONS 
 
 IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 HUGH HALIBURTON *»*«"<*. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HORACE IN HOMESPUN," " IN 
 SCOTTISH FIELDS," " FORTH IN FIELD," ETC. 
 
 EDINBURGH 
 
 GEO. A. MORTON, 42 George Street 
 
 LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. LTD. 
 1905 
 
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH. 
 
TO 
 
 JAMES L. EWING, Esq. 
 
 HIS FRIEND AND FELLOW-TRAVELLER 
 
 AMONG SCENES 
 
 WHICH IT ESSAYS TO DESCRIBE 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This volume stands to its predecessor, " Furth in 
 Field," in the relation of a second series. It consists 
 of Prose and Verse, mainly on subjects dealing with 
 Scottish Scenery and Character, Scottish Enterprise 
 and Literature, etc. ; but including also a Raid into 
 English Fields, and a farther Flight of personal adven- 
 ture in Southern Norway and Northern Sweden. 
 
 The pieces which make up the collection origin- 
 ally appeared in the Scotsman, Scots Pictorial, Scots 
 Magazine (then under the management of Dr Story), 
 Chambers's Journal, Atalanta, Scots Observer (under 
 Henley's editorship), etc. ; and to the editors or 
 proprietors of these periodicals due acknowledgment 
 of the Author's indebtedness is here gratefully made. 
 
 The unexpected commendation of " Tammas Wilson," 
 in Mr J. H. Millar's " Literary History of Scotland," 
 has induced the author to look up and revise that early 
 venture ; and now, after an interval of nearly thirty 
 years, it is again presented, but in such a guise as, 
 it is hoped, may make it a little more acceptable than 
 it was before. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 John Henderson's Hairst . 
 
 In Praise of Balgeddie 
 
 A Historical Swim 
 
 The Humours of Hallow Fair 
 
 Misadventures 
 
 The Sleepy Hollow of Scotland 
 
 The Laird o' Lookowrem 
 
 Hamilton of Gilbertfield 
 
 The Three Bells of Scotland 
 
 All Hallows' Eve 
 
 Spring Evening in the Howe o' Fife 
 
 Songs that Recruited the Navy 
 
 The Gloom 
 
 The Plumm 
 
 In the Track of an Old Traveller 
 O Tam Fordyce .... 
 The Firth of Forth : A Retrospect 
 That Swanston ! . . . . 
 'Blin' Hary' .... 
 The Miracle Play 
 
Xll 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chaucer .... 
 
 Life at KilIs Fiord 
 
 to lulea in norbotten 
 
 Now Farewell to Lulo 
 
 Shakespeare at School 
 
 Viscount Canada . 
 
 An Old Scottish Subscription List . 
 
 An Old Scottish Colonial Venture . 
 
 The Poetry of Winter 
 
 The First " Winter " . 
 
 The Kirkyard School of Poetry 
 
 A Parodic Lilt in Praise of Devon . 
 
 Milton's Scottish Tutor 
 
 A Famous Christmas Hymn 
 
 Concerning the Cuckoo 
 
 Easter Holidays 
 
 Tammas Wilson ; or, The Fortunes 
 Scottish Ploughman . 
 
 of a 
 
 PAGE 
 126 
 
 127 
 143 
 155 
 158 
 165 
 171 
 177 
 
 185 
 194 
 
 201 
 210 
 211 
 2l8 
 223 
 232 
 
 233 
 
Excursions in Prose and Verse 
 
 JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 
 
 AN IDYL OF THE LOCHSIDE 
 
 At one of the four ends of the inland village of Wast- 
 bye lived John Henderson and his wife Beenie Hay. 
 John, or Johnnie as he was mostly called, combined 
 the pursuits of dairyman, carter, and small farmer. 
 He owned the dormer-windowed house he inhabited, 
 and was also lord and master of a collection of cow- 
 sheds and nondescript outhouses that snuggled behind 
 it, and squatted over the way in front of it. His 
 property in milch cows was under the management of 
 Beenie, and comprised a herd of some ten or twelve. 
 His own part in the economy of the homestead was 
 supposed to lie in the purveyance of fodder, and the 
 utilisation of his horse and cart. 
 
 As to personal appearance, Johnnie habitually wore 
 an exhausted look, was thin and hollow-chested, and 
 usually walked with head bent and hands in his 
 breeches' pockets. His tail-coat was of ancient date, 
 weather-stained, like his cap, into all the faded shades 
 of green which mark the livery of a nel'-dyke. A 
 brown smudge of snuff lay on his upper lip from 
 week's end to week's end. His wife, Beenie, was 
 
2 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 younger, quick of movement, and sharp and voluble 
 of tongue. She wore a mutch, a blouse or short-gown, 
 the sleeves of which were usually rolled back over her 
 elbows, and a short kirtle that revealed her ankles. 
 
 One evening in August, Johnnie was meditating in 
 a high-backed cavernous chair by the fire, while 
 Beenie dispensed milk to her customers. The little 
 milk-house, with its shelves and basins, was on a 
 lower level off the kitchen, with which it communicated 
 by a couple of stone steps. 
 
 " A'm thinkin' to mak' a start the morn, Beenie ! " 
 said Johnnie suddenly. 
 
 " Mak' a start ?— Tak' tent, bairn ! ye'll let the 
 joog fa'. 'Od, whatt's i' the fingers o' ye ? The like 
 o' you should bring a pitcher. Tell your mither ye 
 mun gang back to the pitcher for a wee while yet ; 
 ye're owre young for a pig. Did ye gie me the baw- 
 bee ? " 
 
 " It wis i' the joog ! " said the child in a shrill voice. 
 
 " It'll be i' the joog yet, than ! " said Beenie. " Why 
 did ye no' tell me ? Juist tak' it hame, an' tak' care 
 an' no' drink it ; an' bring a penny i' your haund the 
 morn." 
 
 A young woman of about seventeen had entered. 
 " A've come for the butter," she said rather primly ; 
 " but I wis to tell ye that the last had a nip in't." 
 
 " Weel," said Beenie, " there's nae nip this time, 
 for there's no a nip o't left." 
 
 " Did ye no' pit it up for's ? " 
 
 " Eh, a'm rale sorry, but ye didna say. There was 
 plenty o' bonnie butter at twel', an' I juist let it gang. 
 The folk wis near fechtin' for't." 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 3 
 
 " Weel," said the young woman with an injured 
 air, " 'a thocht ye wud 'a' potten up half a pund 
 for's." 
 
 " But whyles," returned Beenie, " ye dinna want it 
 when it's there for ye. An' ye ken yersel' if ye spoke 
 for ony this week. — -Are ye for milk ? " 
 
 " Hae ye ony kirn milk ? " 
 
 " Ye ken it gangs wi' the butter," said Beenie 
 quietly. 
 
 " A penny worth 0' skim." 
 
 The skim milk was handed up to the kitchen level, 
 and the girl was going, when Beenie called after her : 
 
 " Dis your mither want ony butter next week ? " 
 
 " A'll need to speer." 
 
 " Weel, a'll need to ken," said Beenie smartly. 
 " An' ye'll better leave a plate." 
 
 But the girl vanished, vouchsafing no reply. Beenie 
 muttered : " Nice-gabbit craitur ! But they're weel 
 ser'd !— A fine nicht, Mrs Wricht ! " 
 
 " It's a' that, Mrs Henderson. Eh, a'm tired," 
 said the newcomer, sinking upon one of the kitchen 
 chairs. " 'A think the first day o' hairst's aye the 
 hardest." 
 
 Beenie came up from the milk-house. 
 
 " Whaur are ye cuttin' ? " she asked. 
 
 "At Mr Kinloch's. We began wi' the aits this 
 mornin' at aucht o'clock. Eh, a'm juist a' sair banes ! 
 But Jean's waur ! " 
 
 " A'm thinkin' to mak' a start the morn," said 
 Johnnie, repeating his original announcement. 
 
 " Hear till 'im ! " said Beenie derisively. " That 
 man o' mine's aye thinkin'. It's baith his wark an' 
 his leisure." 
 
4 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Mrs Wright smiled to Beenie, and spoke to Johnnie : 
 
 " Hae ye muckle o't the 'ear, John ? " 
 
 " Twa-'ree puckles," said Johnnie, snuffing. 
 
 " An' whaur do ye begin ? " 
 
 " The puckle at the Pow-mill should be ready by 
 noo. A'm thinkin' to tak' it the morn." 
 
 " Should be ready ! " said Beenie scornfully. " Isna 
 he a fine fermer ? He hasna seen't since he bocht it, 
 an' the roup was on Whussinday. An' it's no' twa 
 mile awa ! " 
 
 " 'A didna need to see't," said Johnnie simply ; 
 " 'a couldna gar't grow." 
 
 " Is there muckle o't, John ? " asked Mrs Wright, 
 softly and deferentially. 
 
 " Maybes foure acres." 
 
 " A's warrand it'll be ready : it's licht laund at the 
 dam side. But 'a mun awa', for Jean'll be wantin' 
 her supper. Eh, a'm tired ! " 
 
 A few minutes after she had gone, Johnnie began 
 again : 
 
 " A've spoken to Dauve Bruce, an' the laddie ; an' 
 we'll yoke the beast the morn, an' mak' a start ony- 
 way. 'A would need awa' by aucht, Beenie." 
 
 " Ye've spoken to Dauve Bruce ? " exclaimed 
 Beenie ; " an' sae his wauge begins fra the morn ! 
 Could ye no' 'ave stappit east — ye're daein' nae 'ther 
 thing, an' made sure ye hae a crap to cut ? What 
 like's the fencin' ? " 
 
 " There was a gude aneuch fence when I saw't," 
 said Johnnie. 
 
 " Three month syne ! " said Beenie. 
 
 Johnnie was silent. 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 5 
 
 " Ye dinna mean to say ye've never been yont for 
 three haill months ? " pursued Beenie. 
 
 " There was nae need to gang." 
 
 " An' it only twa mile ! " 
 
 " It's mair nor three mile, Beenie," corrected 
 Johnnie. 
 
 " An' even if there be a gude fence — wull a gude 
 fence hud aff the craws ? " 
 
 Johnnie opened his eyes and blinked : " Craws 
 dinna eat barley ! " he said. " Ye ken about kye, 
 Beenie, but ye dinna ken aboot craps. A think it'll be 
 a gude crap : at ony rate, 'a didna pey muckle for't." 
 
 " I houp it's mair than mixin'," said Beenie ; " an' 
 there's Dauve Bruce to pey till it's ripe ! Ye're a 
 braw business man. — Is Benjie gaun wi' ye ? " 
 
 " Ay, he kens." 
 
 " An' wha's the laddie ? " 
 
 " John Rodger." 
 
 " An' what's his wauge ? " 
 
 " A haena promised him ony wauge. We'll gie 'im 
 the horse to ca'. " 
 
 By and by Johnnie rose, and locked the street door. 
 The shot of the lock caught the ear of Beenie, who 
 was again busying herself, with a lighted candle, in 
 the sunken recess of the milk-house. " Whatt's the 
 fule man daein' noo ? " she cried with some acerbity. 
 " My customers are no' a' ser'd." 
 
 " They can chap then," said Johnnie ; " a'm gaun 
 in-owre." 
 
 Beenie poked her head into the kitchen. " John 
 Henderson," she said solemnly, " are ye weel eneuch ? " 
 
 " A mun be up the morn at seeven," said Johnnie, 
 
6 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 drawing on his head a red-and-blue ringed nightcap ; 
 " for," he continued with a fech, as he got into bed, 
 " we yoke at audit." 
 
 " Daylicht or no', nae doot ! " said Beenie jeeringly. 
 " But gang to your bed — ye'll be weel oot o' the road 
 o' my bakin'." 
 
 " Ye're no gaun to bake the nicht yet, Beenie ? " 
 
 " Ye'll be the better o' some breakfast, wull ye no' ? 
 Juist dinna say anither word, for it's no' likely to be 
 a wise ane." 
 
 To the tolling of curfew Johnnie fell sound asleep 
 in the high box-bed opposite the kitchen fire, while 
 Beenie mixed and kneaded her dough, and cut it into 
 scones for the girdle with a pitcher lid. 
 
 II ' 
 
 Next morning the bent figure of Johnnie came round 
 the north gable of the house, dragging a white capul 
 of ghastly build into the sun-flooded street. The cart, 
 which on the previous night had been as usual left in 
 front of the door, was drawn across the road some score 
 of yards away. Johnnie was accustomed to such small 
 jokes as rustic youth delights in. He patiently led 
 Danger to the strayed cart, and yoked him in. Then 
 he dragged him with a long rein up to the door, threw 
 down a small heap of hay, and, leaving his horse to his 
 breakfast, entered the house to see about his own. 
 Johnnie was a light feeder, and after a barley bannock, 
 spread with fresh butter, and a bowl of tea, looked just 
 as withered and dry-lipped as if he had not tasted food. 
 Beenie wrapped a few scones and a hunk of cheese in 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 7 
 
 a checked napkin. A tall thin figure, as of Death with 
 a scythe over his shoulder, passed the window like a 
 vision. 
 
 " There's Dauvit ! " said Johnnie. " I think we'll 
 start. It's a braw day, Beenie ! " 
 
 " A fine day to them 'at can mak' use o't," she said, 
 following him to the door. She was more complaisant 
 to the Bruce : " Ye're gaun to get a graund day, 
 Dauvit," she said. 
 
 Dauvit deposited his scythe in the cart before answer- 
 ing, " We may hae a shooer i' the aifternune." 
 
 " Awa' wi' ye," said Beenie, " afore it comes on." 
 
 Just then Benjie, John's bachelor brother, came 
 forth of an adjoining cottage in a rusty black coat. 
 Benjie had been destined for the Secession ministry, 
 but had fallen some twenty years previously out of 
 the ranks of the probationary licentiates. 
 
 " If it's going to rain," he cried in a high-pitched 
 voice, " we needna gang. We'd better let the weather 
 be settled first." 
 
 " There's nae hairm nor hinder in a shooer," said the 
 Bruce. 
 
 " Do you hear thae men-folk ? " said Beenie, smiling 
 to a morning customer ; " they're wonderin' whether 
 they should gang to their wark, or wait till the next 
 rain be owre ! — awa' wi' ye ! there's nae sign o' rain. 
 Whan'll ye be back ? " 
 
 " We'll tak' a lang day," said Johnnie ; " ye may 
 expeck's on the chap o' five." 
 
 So saying he mounted the " forebriest " by the tram. 
 The Bruce had meanwhile appropriated the back of the 
 cart, where he reclined with his knees at an Alpine 
 altitude, over which Benjie clambered with some 
 
8 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 difficulty, and sat low down in the body of the vehicle 
 on the blade of the scythe. " It'll no' cut ye," said 
 the hero, " if ye sit still." 
 
 " Lift that bairn frae the horse's head," cried 
 Johnnie ; " elk ! elk ! h'up, Danger ! " And away 
 on reluctant wheels clacked the harvesting equipage. 
 Halfway up the village street the clacking ceased. 
 Johnnie had stopped at a small shop not yet un- 
 shuttered. A window blind was drawn up, and 
 presently a white mutch appeared in the doorway, 
 and a short-sighted woman peered at the cart. 
 
 " Is that you, John Henderson ? " 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 " He's pittin' on his breeks." 
 
 " We'll juist ca' on, then," said Johnnie ; " he'll 
 sune mak' up." 
 
 " Na, ye maun wait, or ye'll no get him ; ye're no 
 to trauchle the laddie." 
 
 " Very weel, we'll wait a meenit ! " 
 
 The laddie at last appeared. He scrambled into the 
 cart under the hams of the Bruce, who seemed to have 
 gone to sleep. 
 
 " Tak' the reins, John," said Johnnie ; " but drive 
 canny, an' dinna fa' oot. A'll keep the whup." And 
 he sank down opposite his brother. 
 
 " Sic a yoke ! " said a baker's boy, with a reeking 
 basket of rolls on his arm, after a long stationary gaze. 
 There was a loud laugh at the village cross, at which the 
 laddie reddened, and the Rev. Benjie shrank into 
 smaller compass, while Johnnie winked and assumed 
 a dazed look. The Bruce chuckled once deep in his 
 stomach without disturbing a feature. At last they 
 were clear of villatic criticism ; and after an hour's 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 9 
 
 jolting they came to the Auld Mill. " We'll lowseat 
 the kiln door," said Johnnie. They descended from 
 the cart. The Bruce stood aimlessly, with his sharping- 
 stone in one hand and his implement of destruction in 
 the other, while the laddie and Johnnie unyoked the 
 aiver, and cast up the cart on its end. Benjie sat 
 down on a broken stone trough to rest. He was tired, 
 he said, " wi' a' thae jolts an' jundies." 
 
 " Whilk o' the fields is't ? " queried the Bruce. 
 
 " I think it's that ane at the damside," said Johnnie, 
 looking round in some bewilderment. 
 
 " There's twa bere fields at the damside," said the 
 Bruce. 
 
 " I mind noo o' that auld saugh — it maun be this 
 ane," said Johnnie somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 " But the saugh's in nane o' the fields, or raither it's 
 in baith ; it's on the mairch," said the hero. 
 
 "It's the field ! " said Johnnie, with sudden decision. 
 
 It was a fair field, ready to be taken. " Ye can juist 
 mak' a beginnin' here, Dauvit," said Johnnie, " till I 
 draw a breath for a wee mawment." 
 
 " What'll 'a do wi' the horse ? " shouted the laddie. 
 
 " Ou, juist lat it be ; it'll no leave the cairt." 
 
 The Bruce's scythe was heard swishing in the barley. 
 
 Ill 
 
 For about an hour the work proceeded. Then the 
 Bruce, stung by a sudden thought, flung down his 
 scythe, and began to rummage in his pockets. The 
 other three paused with one consent to watch the result 
 of the search. Their labours had been desultory 
 
io EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 enough. The laddie made ropes when he grew tired 
 of stoning birds and guddling for trout in the little 
 burn that flowed past the mill. To Benjie fell the more 
 onerous business of lifting after the scythe ; while 
 Johnnie took snuff and stalked about with an air of 
 proprietorship, occasionally stooping to lift and set up 
 the sheaves. Their leisurely movements appeared a 
 source of great interest to a red-bearded man in an 
 adjoining cottage-garden, who was ostensibly busied 
 among bee-skeps. 
 
 " There's nane here," remarked the Bruce, as he 
 turned his last pocket inside out. 
 
 " What were ye wantin', Dauvit ? " inquired Benjie, 
 in his piping treble. 
 
 " Baccy ; a'll be needin' a smoke by 'n by," was 
 the answer. " Whaur's a shop ? " 
 
 " There's nane nearer nor Ba'geedie," said Johnnie ; 
 " the laddie '11 gang for't." 
 
 " 'Deed an' I wull no' that," returned the laddie 
 decidedly ; " my grannie says I'm no strong, an' I'm 
 no gauna be trauchled." 
 
 " I see nothing for't," piped Benjie, " but to yoke 
 the cairt, an' let's all go thegither." 
 
 This plan recommended itself to each, and was 
 therefore acted upon. They rolled on leisurely along 
 the winding white road that skirted the hills for about 
 a mile and a half, passed through a village street, and 
 drew up at the door of a very small shop, whose 
 window displayed the legend, " Tea, snuff, and 
 tobacco." After a long interval, a withered old woman 
 appeared in answer to their summons, and regarded 
 them with suspicion across the counter. A caravan 
 had passed the day before. 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST u 
 
 " It's a fine day," began Benjie, in a propitiatory tone. 
 
 " It's a' that," admitted the shopkeeper, but with- 
 out any change of expression. 
 
 " Can ye gie's a half-unce o' tabaukie ? " inquired 
 the Bruce gruffly. 
 
 " 'Deed can I no' ; I selt my last half-unce last 
 week. I've snuff, though." 
 
 " I canna smoke snuff," returned the Bruce. 
 
 " Ye can never pit onything past your mooth," 
 interjected Johnnie, who habitually carried a box. 
 
 " Aweel," put in Benjie, who despised the habit, 
 " I think if the Almighty had meant folk to snuff, He 
 wad have turned their noses the contrairy way." 
 
 " Here's a caird in anither wundy," called out the 
 laddie, who had been using his eyes. 
 
 And thither they carried their custom. The tobacco 
 was bought, and safely bestowed in the Bruce's trouser 
 pocket, for, with its acquisition all desire to use it 
 appeared to have left him, and the quaint quartette 
 remounted their cart, and jogged quietly back to the 
 harvest-field. 
 
 " It'll be near denner-time, noo," said the laddie, as 
 he unyoked the patient steed. 
 
 " 'Deed is't, laddie," said Johnnie ; " it's no' worth 
 while beginnin' again to the wark or we've haen oor 
 denner." The others were of the same opinion, so the 
 scones were parcelled out, and they lay down on the 
 green bank of the stream to enjoy their meal. An- 
 other couple of hours' gentle exertion had half cleared 
 the little field, when Johnnie called a halt. " We 
 needna trauchle oorsel's," he remarked ; " we can 
 come back the morn an' feenish. A'm beginnin' to 
 weary for my tea." 
 
12 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 " I'm fair guizened," said Benjie, as he handed over 
 the sheaf he had just bound. 
 
 The Bruce said nothing, but shouldered his scythe, 
 and prepared to retire. The laddie had the cart ready 
 yoked, and Danger moved homeward with solemn 
 alacrity. 
 
 " Awa' afore nine, an' no hame again till four 
 o'clock ! " said Beenie derisively. " What a day's 
 wark ye've haen ! " 
 
 " We'll hae anither the morn," said Johnnie, as he 
 settled in his arm-chair with the air of a man who has 
 done his duty. 
 
 " Ye've surely an unco big crap the year," said his 
 wife. 
 
 " Wait or ye see't come hame," said John. 
 
 IV 
 
 The heavens smiled on John Henderson. A succes- 
 sion of fine days followed the cutting, and Johnnie 
 made preparations for leading in his harvest. Frames 
 were fitted to the sides of his cart ; a big wooden rake, 
 reversed and mounted on wheels, was attached to the 
 back door ; his harvesters tumbled into the vehicle 
 with provisions for the day in napkins beside them ; 
 the Bruce had his baccy, Benjie his mittens ; and 
 Johnnie himself, with a long fork over his shoulder, 
 mounted the forebriest, and admonished Danger by 
 his name to " get up ! " And away they went to the 
 admiration of all the wives in the town-end. 
 
 They were home again before mid-day ! The 
 equipage returned exactly as it had set out, excepting 
 
JOHN HENDERSON'S HAIRST 13 
 
 only that Johnnie walked by the side of his charger, 
 trailing his pitchfork behind him. What was wrong ? 
 What had happened ? Consternation and curiosity 
 among the neighbours reached a pitch when Johnnie, 
 without a word of explanation, entered his house, and 
 proceeding to undress himself, turned down the bed- 
 clothes, and crept into bed ! The Bruce emitted a 
 smileless laugh, and stalked off to his cottage ; the boy 
 abandoned the party in silence, and refused to be 
 questioned ; Benjie alone, in answer to repeated inter- 
 rogations, turned for a brief moment at the door of 
 his house, and cried out in a voice of unusual shrillness 
 — " We've cuttit the wrang field ! " 
 
IN PRAISE OF BALGEDDIE 
 
 I sing of a spot 
 
 Though the warld knows it not, 
 And it's nae great attraction to lord or to leddie ; 
 
 There's nae railway near it, 
 
 An' there's deevil haet to steer it, — 
 It's a canny country toun wi' the name o' Balgeddie. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Set me at liberty, and let me gang, 
 
 On my ain shanks' -naig, or the back o' a 
 neddy ; 
 I'll never be mysel', and I'll never sing a sang 
 Till I see the sun sklent aff the ruifs o' Bal- 
 geddie ! 
 
 ii 
 
 It sleeps amang trees 
 
 To the bummin' o' its bees 
 Fra the sawin' o' the seed till the barley's ready, 
 
 Then it waukens to a strife 
 
 For the dear staff o' life, 
 An' sleeps a' the winter again, does Balgeddie. 
 
 14 
 
IN PRAISE OF BALGEDDIE 15 
 
 in 
 
 Wi' the blue loch before it, 
 An' the simmer bending o'er it, 
 An' the Bishop Hill ahint it wi' never a sheddie, 
 
 whaur will ye find 
 
 Country quarters to your mind, 
 Or an auld cottar-toun wi' a kirk like Balgedd'ie ? 
 
 IV 
 
 Auld Reekie's fu' o' stour, 
 An' I'm deaved every hour, 
 Fra the time I get up till I gang to my beddie ; 
 But the loch's caller gleam 
 
 1 see it in my dream, 
 
 And I hear the bees bummin' on the braes o' Bal- 
 geddie. 
 
 gin I were a doo 
 
 1 wad flee awa the noo 
 
 Wi' my neb to the Lomond, an' my wings wavin' 
 steady ; 
 
 And I wadna rest a fit 
 Till at gloamin' I could sit 
 Wi' ither neibour-doos on the lums o' Balgeddie. 
 
 VI 
 
 The simmer canna last, 
 An' we ken it's wearin' past, 
 And the grace o' heaven goes like the flooer o' the 
 meddie ; 
 
1 6 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 But afore the hervest's through 
 I maun taste the barley-brew 
 And eat a shearer's scone on the rigs o' Balgeddie. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Set him at liberty, and let him gang, 
 
 On his ain shanks' -naig, or the back o' a 
 neddie ; 
 He'll never be himsel', and he'll never sing a 
 sang 
 Till he tastes the barley-brew on the rigs o' 
 Balgeddie. 
 
A HISTORICAL SWIM 
 
 The eastern end of Lochleven, shore and island, is 
 rich far beyond the average in legendary and historical 
 interest. Here at every footfall the pensive pilgrim 
 starts some echo of the past. It is doubtful if another 
 district of equal area in broad Scotland is haunted 
 by so many ancient memories and associations. The 
 Bishopshire, as the area in question still continues to 
 be called, must yield place in religious interest to 
 hallowed Iona, in patriotic interest to Stirling, in 
 literary interest to Edinburgh. But its history com- 
 bines, as perhaps no other locality in the ancient king- 
 dom quite can combine, these varied interests, though 
 it may be in unequal degrees. One does not forget 
 the claims of Dunfermline or of St Andrews. But the 
 history of the Bishopshire is indeed unique. The 
 Druids have left their traces here. It was here the 
 the Pictish kings, ending in King Brude, gave way at 
 last to Scottish supremacy enthroned at Scone. Here 
 it was that the holy servant of God, Servanus, next in 
 the odour of sanctity to Columba himself, founded, 
 with Adamnan's blessing on the work, the mother 
 church of Fife among no unfriendly pagans. 
 
 In this brief glance of ancient history we have not 
 yet passed the eighth century. Of later date we find 
 here, among other royal patrons of Holy Church, pious 
 memories of Macbeth and Malcolm Canmore. Bishops, 
 
 B 17 
 
1 8 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 like Malvoisin and De Bernham, of St Andrews, were 
 visitors here, consecrating and confirming, and found- 
 ing chapels and hospices, whose ruins in grassy mound 
 and monumental stone may yet be seen at Portmoak 
 and Scotlandwell. Here passed the public tracks or 
 roads from Perth, Abernethy, and Falkland to the 
 ferries of Fife. Hither came Wallace from the victory 
 of Blackearnside to a bivouac on the Bishop's moor 
 at Scotlandwell, and here, or from here as a base, he 
 performed the daring exploit, to recall which is the 
 main object of this paper. 
 
 We have not yet passed, we have barely entered, 
 the fourteenth century. The later history of the 
 Bishopshire reaches down to the Secession and the 
 time of Michael Bruce. It takes account of Prior 
 Wynton and his famous Chronicle, a work which laid 
 the foundation of Scottish historical literature no less 
 surely than did the Venerable Bede's lay the founda- 
 tion of English history; and it "fondly stoops" to 
 recall the gentle life of Michael Bruce, the poet of 
 " Lochleven," even if surrender must be made of the 
 Cuckoo Ode to its vociferous claimant. The ecclesi- 
 astical history of the Bishopshire, or at least of Port- 
 moak (Port St Malloch), ceased several generations 
 ago. Ebenezer Erskine seems to have carried it away 
 with him when he heard the voice of the Lord calling 
 him to Stirling and a bigger stipend. 
 
 Wallace's exploit at Lochleven seems to rest on the 
 authority of Henry the Minstrel, commonly known as 
 Blind Harry. The sage historian has looked askance 
 at this Scottish Homer, as if he were little more than 
 a romancer whose one object was at all hazards to 
 glorify his hero. He has been found wrong in some 
 
A HISTORICAL SWIM 19 
 
 of his dates, and some of his statements are undeniably- 
 false. Let it be granted : the sage historian himself is 
 fallible. But there is an air of robust realism in the 
 rude lines of the homely minstrel, such a circumstanti- 
 ality of detail in the incidents, and consistency in the 
 characters, combined with such restraint of feeling and 
 rapidity of movement, that you find yourself inclined 
 to accept his guidance, and to believe that he is at 
 least expressing the general belief and opinion of the 
 historical times with which he deals. True, he was 
 blind, and lived a couple of centuries after the deeds 
 he narrates ; but he had the traditionary voice of the 
 country in his ears, and he had the written record of 
 Arnold or John Blair, Wallace's own chaplain, for his 
 " staff and his rod," as he perambulated the land, 
 making and moulding, and chanting his metrical history 
 as he went. Of late, too, his credit, which has always 
 been respectable, has been rising : where he was 
 doubted he has been proved to be trustworthy ; inde- 
 pendent, documentary evidence, recently discovered, 
 has been his guarantee. 
 
 Henry the Minstrel's account of Wallace's bold 
 achievement at Lochleven is substantially as follows. 
 Fortune had lately been smiling on the Scottish hero. 
 He had driven Siward from St Johnston (Perth), and 
 baffled and beaten him among the woods of Abernethy 
 in various encounters at Blackearnside. It was at 
 the close of the fiercest of these affrays that Wallace, 
 quenching his thirst at a little " strand " of clear water 
 that " ran him by," declared " in sober mood " — 
 
 " The wine of France me thocht not half so good." 
 
 A day or two subsequently Siward was defeated and 
 
2o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 slain in open battle, and Wallace and his captains 
 overran Fife, seizing Cupar and St Andrews, Crail and 
 Kinghorn, till not a Southron was believed to be left, 
 and the Scots " rang at large " out-through the whole 
 of Fife. In Lochleven, however, there lay an English 
 company on the Inch, in a small house which they had 
 fortified. There was no castle ; their only castle wall 
 was the water that surrounded the island. Here 
 Henry is emphatic : — 
 
 " Castle was nane, but walled with water wight." 
 
 At the time of the discovery of this band of English- 
 men on Lochleven Island, a name that has always been 
 given to St Serf's Island at the east end of the lake, 
 Wallace would seem to have been engaged at Crail in 
 planning the reduction of a " house," or stronghold of 
 the enemy at Burntisland (then known as Kinghorn, 
 or, more correctly, Kinghorn Parva). The house was 
 taken, and next morning the hero and his band of 
 braves, according to an arrangement previously made, 
 quietly passed to the east end of Lochleven, and took 
 lodging towards nightfall on the opposite side of the 
 moor that then (as now to some extent) lay between the 
 Leven outlet and the ancient village and hostelry of 
 Scotland Well. After supper Wallace ordered his men 
 to go to sleep. A watch was deemed necessary, and 
 Wallace himself undertook it. While they were asleep, 
 towards midnight Wallace armed himself, and taking 
 with him eighteen chosen men, stole to the loch edge, 
 and cast his eye over the water to where the island lay 
 dark and still under the stars. Here, in a few whispered 
 words, he pointed out to his followers the necessity of 
 securing the island. It was, if left in the enemy's 
 
A HISTORICAL SWIM 21 
 
 hands, a place likely to do great scaith to the whole 
 country ; it might easily and soon be fortified by a 
 force of Southrons, and it was large enough to accom- 
 modate a numerous body. From here the foe could 
 operate against them at their convenience, and could 
 defy the Scots to oust them, as, no doubt, they had 
 good store of provisions ; and as for water — that could 
 not be kept from them, for they were surrounded by it. 
 Now was the time to seize the island. There were few 
 in possession of it, and apparently these few were non- 
 expectant of attack. He strained his eyes to pierce 
 the gloom. " I can see no watchman," he said. Then 
 suddenly making up his mind, " You will stay quietly 
 here," said he, " at this port, and I will swim across 
 and bring back a boat for you all." The port of St 
 Moak was not much over a mile from Scotland Well, 
 and its distance from the Inch of Lochleven was only 
 a few hundred yards. There had been in the old 
 days of the Celtic Saints, of whom Molloch or Moak 
 was one, constant comings and goings from the 
 monastery on the island to the harbour, where also 
 stood a religious house, on the mainland ; and in 
 the fourteenth century similar communication was 
 maintained. 
 
 Wallace cast off his clothes as he spoke, and with 
 only his shirt on his back and his long sword bound on 
 his neck, leapt into the cold water and swam across. 
 None opposed him. Probably the occupants were in 
 ignorance of the recent rapid changes which had placed 
 Wallace in possession of Fife. He took the boat, and 
 rowed back to his men, waiting silently for his return 
 in the gloom of the willow bushes or the fir-wood at 
 the port of St Moak. There was no time for delay. 
 
22 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Wallace recovered his clothes, and they entered the 
 boat and rowed back to the island. Never did men 
 wrapt in fancied security receive a more dreadful 
 awakening than did those thirty Englishmen that 
 early morning on Lochleven Inch. They were put to 
 the sword. None were spared, save the five terrified 
 women that happened to be there. The men had no 
 time to make even a show of defence, except by raising 
 their arms to shield their heads ; or an effort of escape, 
 except by a fatally short flight to the shingly beach. 
 The women were first put ashore. Amidst the merci- 
 less severity between foemen that marked those far- 
 off times, the practice of Wallace in saving women and 
 children from massacre on all occasions of war where 
 he was in command, stands forth for ever to the credit 
 and glory of his humanity. He made, however, no 
 scruple with the enemy's baggage and stores. He 
 would not " tyne it," he said. There was found great 
 store of provision on Lochleven Island. Wallace 
 resolved to stay till he and his friends had consumed 
 it. He seems to have been in a blythe mood. He 
 dispatched a message to acquaint his captain, Sir John 
 Ramsay, left in command of his men at Scotlandwell, 
 of his night's work, and to invite him to a banquet. 
 All were invited. The messenger was apparently not 
 one of his own men, but a rustic of Portmoak to whom 
 he had left in charge the ponies that brought him and 
 his eighteen men from Scotlandwell to the harbour of 
 St Serf. After dismissing the women, and dispatching 
 his messenger, Wallace drew up the boat on the island 
 beach, and retired with his men to a much-needed rest 
 in the beds in the monastery which had lately been 
 occupied by the unfortunate Englishmen. Their 
 
A HISTORICAL SWIM 23 
 
 bodies were probably committed to the kelpie's keep- 
 ing in the loch waters. 
 
 Meanwhile, during Wallace's absence, and before 
 daybreak of that momentous spring morning, the hero 
 had been missed by his men who were lodged in and 
 around Bishop Malvoisin's hospice at Scotlandwell, 
 and they were actually discussing the cause of his 
 absence when the messenger from the Inch arrived with 
 Wallace's invitation to a banquet in Lochleven, now 
 no longer an English possession. They rose at once, 
 and hastily dressing themselves went off to know from 
 Wallace himself the particulars of the situation. It 
 was a happy meeting — 
 
 " Thus 'sembled they in full blythe fellowship.' 1 
 
 They lodged on the island for eight days, feasting and 
 drinking on viands and liquors which had been intended 
 for English mouths, but which fate had destined for 
 theirs. Then bundling up what remained that was fit 
 to be carried, they were rowed in instalments to the 
 mainland, and leaving orders to burn the boat, set out 
 by the ancient north road for St Johnston. 
 
 There is some difference of opinion as to which of 
 the two historical islands of Lochleven Blind Harry 
 assigns the scene of this bold exploit ; whether to the 
 Inch, i.e. St Serf's Island at the east end of the loch, 
 or the Castle Island more than a mile away to the 
 north-west on the Kinross side of the lake. A first 
 reading of the minstrel's graphic narrative gives one 
 the idea that St Serf's is meant ; and a final reading 
 confirms it. If the Castle Island is meant, then Wallace 
 did not enter the water for this historical swim at Port- 
 moak. He would do so from the point on the mainland 
 
24 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 which was nearest to the Castle, that is, from the shore 
 near the old churchyard of Kinross. From Scotland- 
 well to Kinross, by Kinnesswood, Pittendreich, and 
 Orwell, is a distance of seven or eight miles ; and the 
 time necessary for this journey, even with horses, 
 along a dark and probably little-known road, for con- 
 sultation at the water edge, for the swim to the boat, 
 for the return to the shore to take up his followers, for 
 the invasion of the island and the work of destruction, 
 and for the arrival of a messenger at Scotlandwell 
 before daybreak with Wallace's invitation, seems all 
 too long to find room between midnight and the dawn 
 of a spring or summer morning. If there was a castle 
 upon the Kinross island, as there probably was, the 
 circumstance is at variance with the minstrel's de- 
 scription, quoted above — " Castle was nane," etc. 
 Other points in favour of St Serf's Island may just be 
 referred to, without " labouring " them. St Serf's is, 
 par excellence, the Inch of Lochleven, to which title 
 the Castle islet has no claim ; it had an area of about 
 thirty-five acres (more than double that now, since 
 the recent lowering of the loch level) — an area well 
 agreeing with Wallace's reported statement : — 
 
 •'-' Upon yon inch right mony men may be '-' — 
 
 while the Castle Island was barely two acres in extent ; 
 Wallace left his chosen band at a " port " — an expres- 
 sion significant of the mainland harbour for St Serf's, 
 namely Port-Moak ; the " doors " that were " struck 
 up " where the Southrons lay asleep could be found in 
 the monastery as well as in the Castle, and the mon- 
 astery of St Serf's had been annexed to the Priory of 
 St Andrews (at this time in English hands) more than 
 
A HISTORICAL SWIM 25 
 
 a century before ; and good store of provisions was as 
 likely to be at St Serf's as at the Castle Island. No 
 doubt there is a case for the Castle Island — the strongest 
 point of which being the likelihood of an English garri- 
 son occupying it ; but in a close examination of the 
 pros and cons of the case for each island, the evidence 
 seems to be in favour of St Serf's as the scene of this 
 heroic episode in the adventurous life of Wallace. 
 
 It may be of further interest to the general reader 
 if it is added for his information that worthy Mr Blair, 
 Wallace's chaplain, was a monk of Dunfermline, and 
 may have had intimate knowledge of Lochleven on 
 that very account ; and that Blind Harry was a visitor 
 at Falkland, and may reasonably be imagined as re- 
 citing his epic not only under the shadow of the 
 Lomond Law, but along the bonny slopes of the 
 Bishopshire. 
 
THE HUMOURS OF HALLOW FAIR 
 
 " Near Edinbrough a Fair there hauds," sang Fergus- 
 son many years ago. But though the Fair is still a 
 recurring reality, it is now scarcely more than a name. 
 Its fame is a thing of the past, and it has long ceased 
 to wear a festive aspect. Dry business alone now 
 draws buyer and seller to Hallow Fair, and that is so 
 little attractive that in Edinburgh itself not only is it 
 scarcely felt, it is in some quarters of the city forgotten 
 or even unknown to exist. A new generation has 
 arisen that knows not Hallow Fair. Yet time was, 
 and perhaps not beyond living memory, when all 
 Edinburgh was affected by its presence. Nor was its 
 fame and popularity confined to Edinburgh and a few 
 farms in the neighbourhood. The Fair was national, 
 and was probably the best known of many well known 
 Scottish Fairs. Its frequenters came from the far side 
 of the Grampians, and from beyond the Borders. 
 Aberdeen and Yorkshire met and commingled accents 
 and artifices at Hallow Fair. It was a Babel of tongues 
 from all the airts. Rivals in the national regard it 
 may have had — and it would be easy to mention other 
 famous Scottish Fairs — but the claim to fame of 
 Hallow Fair was at least as good as any. It was a 
 magnet of such irresistible force that even yet the 
 remark may be heard from Doric lips : — " He's in an 
 awfu' hurry, he's surely bound for Hallow Fair ! " 
 
 26 
 
THE HUMOURS OF HALLOW FAIR 27 
 
 Many and multiform were its joys ; among which, for 
 the youthful and the hale, the blinks of Venus and the 
 cup of Bacchus made it a temporary earthly paradise. 
 And thus it was that the Fair held near Edinburgh at 
 Hallowmas, on the brink of winter, acquired all over 
 the northern kingdom a name and a fame second to 
 none for " strapping dames and sturdy lads " on the 
 one side, and for " caup and stoup " and convivial 
 merriment on the other. But that was old Hallow 
 Fair. 
 
 Wilkie has painted the charms and humours of 
 Collessie Fair in colours that will live. Not less 
 effectively, and in fuller detail, does Fergusson's pen 
 present to the imagination the bustle and business and 
 all the fun of old Hallow Fair. One cannot do better 
 than look at it all over his shoulder. It was old Edin- 
 burgh then, with green fields and farms and hamlets 
 where now there are populous streets and piles of 
 masonry. In one of those fields, suitable for the pur- 
 pose, spaces were marked off, and tents and booths 
 and stalls erected ; and thither flocked people, and 
 herds, and horses, and equipages of all kinds, while it 
 was still the early morning of a November day. Visi- 
 tors from the country had been astir betimes, while 
 yet the stars were shining clear in the frosty sky. 
 Lowland Jocky had donned his Sunday clothes, and 
 now came forth in the superfluous glory of a new blue 
 bonnet ; Meg, buxom with health, and bright with 
 anticipated joys, wore her new " rokelay," in which 
 to accompany her Jockie to the Fair. Even the less 
 robust servant-girls of the town, in view of their holi- 
 day, were not on this occasion behind the sun in their 
 rising, but could see morning 
 
28 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 " With bonnie purplin' smiles 
 Kissing the air-cock of Saint Giles," 
 
 as they looked forth from aerial windows in lofty 
 "lands" of the High Street. The day might send 
 them a new lover, and they did not intend to miss their 
 market. They too were tricked out in the finery of 
 new winter " hap-warms," well fitted to keep out the 
 cold. 
 
 On his arrival at the Fair the first thing on the day's 
 programme of the male votary was refreshment, and 
 that was not far to seek. " Rows and ale " was the 
 form it took in the great majority of cases, and " rows 
 and ale " were to be had in tents on every hand. The 
 demand was so great that the supplies could afford to 
 be good, and the purveyor frequently added the gratis 
 gift of a slice of cheese — which, being well salted, 
 served the double purpose of a relish to his customer 
 and a ready sale to himself. The day was not far ad- 
 vanced when empty casks began to congregate in 
 corners, and fresh barrels in frothing rows were set 
 a-tilt on the groaning gauntrees. Issuing from the 
 tent, our rustic reveller was now in a jovial mood ; 
 and meeting a sweetheart, with whom he may have 
 made tryst weeks before, he defies publicity by treating 
 her to a hearty smack, which (more rustico) the nymph 
 probably resents, with the sly remark to be " mair 
 sparin' o' his gab." 
 
 " He'll tak the hint, and creish her loof 
 Wi' what will buy her fairin'- 
 To chow that day.'' 
 
 That is, he marches or " oxters " her off on a visit to 
 the confectioners' stalls, where she has her choice of 
 
THE HUMOURS OF HALLOW FAIR 29 
 
 a bundle of "parleys" or a package of "Scotch 
 mixtures," or other mouth-heating and blood-warm- 
 ing delicacy. 
 
 The stalls, stands, and shows were a great attraction 
 at old Hallow Fair. Crowds of purchasers and 'gaping 
 onlookers surged around them. The chapmen and 
 showmen kept up an unceasing patter of self-advertise- 
 ment, quite fifty per cent, of which was meant to deceive, 
 and was too often successful in deceiving. Everything 
 useful or useless seemed for sale, the useful cheap and 
 the useless gaudy. Too often, as it turned out, the 
 luggie leaked, the cutlery would not shave, the silver- 
 rimmed spectacles changed into copper. They looked 
 brave enough when the bargain was made, and they 
 were then at least things of beauty, if they were not 
 joys for ever. It was safe enough dealing with " the 
 tinkler billies of the Bow," if you knew them, or 
 with the coopers of Fountainbridge ; but there were 
 nomadic chapmen frequenting the Fair, who had no 
 reputation to lose, " landloupers " who had neither 
 local habitation nor name, against whom it was well to 
 be on vigilant guard. Their money was doubtful, and 
 their change by no means above suspicion. It was the 
 wives of well-to-do burgesses that were the special prey 
 of those " wylie loons." 
 
 " Fern year Meg Thomson got 
 
 From thir mischevious villains 
 A scaw'd bit of a penny note 
 That lost a score o' shillin's 
 To her that day." 
 
 The British Linen Company disowned it : it was no 
 utterance of theirs ! But Meg Thomson had her 
 revenge ; for thanks to a supple tongue, set wagging 
 
3 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 with honest resentment, the whole town soon knew of 
 her loss, and made " hooly bargains " for many a year 
 afterwards at Hallow Fair. 
 
 Among the various wares displayed on stalls at the 
 Fair we take special note of the " hand-skooves " and 
 " shanks " and other articles of hosiery, for which the 
 northern countries had a name, and which were usually 
 in charge of a stalwart Aberdonian from the braes of 
 Buchan or the banks of Bogie. His wheedling tones 
 and strange pronunciation caught the Lothian ear at 
 once, and the substantial character of his handicraft 
 was generally allowed, and in good demand. He 
 recommended it with both voice and violence of hands : 
 it was " as cheap and gweed," he declared, " as ever 
 cam fra weyr or leem," and he tore at it with a vigour 
 that was possibly a little feigned, at the same time 
 inviting backward customers to " tak a rug." As the 
 day wore on, and his piles and bundles of mittens and 
 stockings stood uncleared, he made pathetic appeal 
 to his poverty for patronage, begging them to show 
 their "pose" — his own, forsuith ! was but "light an' 
 teem that day ! " 
 
 When the Fair was at its " thrangest " or fullest, 
 and the " brose-caups " (as ploughmen, and rustics 
 generally, were called by the tradesmen of the town) 
 were well warmed with copious draughts of strong 
 ale, the recruiting sergeant, a glorious figure in scarlet 
 and ribbons, made his appearance between the tent- 
 lines, and with the brisk rattle of his attendant drum 
 soon made himself the centre of a crowd of admiring 
 eyes and ears. The drum suddenly ceased, and the 
 sergeant's voice was heard in the very speech that had 
 caught Costar and Pairman at Shrewsbury Fair, and 
 
THE HUMOURS OF HALLOW FAIR 31 
 
 was likely to be as effectual at Edinburgh. The King 
 wanted soldiers, and the country required them ; it 
 was gentlemen, whatever their occupation, to whom 
 he appealed, and volunteers only were welcome : to 
 every volunteer there were two guineas and a crown- 
 piece of bounty, the certain prospect of promotion, a 
 fine uniform, a gay and gallant life, and immediate 
 share in what was at that very moment in preparation 
 for them — 
 
 " A bowl o' punch, that, like the sea, 
 Wad soom a lang dragoon 
 Wi' ease that day ! " 
 
 Away from the stalls and tents, in an open space set 
 apart for the purpose, the horse market was held, and 
 a display of running and leaping was fixed for a certain 
 hour. It was a show not to be missed on any account. 
 Stallions and " bloods " pranced and neighed, and, led 
 by their attendants, who pranced beside them like 
 Gulliver among the Houyhnhnms, went scudding over 
 the lea-rig in a display of their paces which awoke the 
 critical admiration of all beholders. The show over, 
 the tents were besieged ; and the afternoon was con- 
 sumed in the cheap but uproarious sociality of ale and 
 song, argumentation and jest. The older men, break- 
 ing a half-year's soberness and taciturnity, give a loose 
 to their convivial instincts, and rant and roar as if they 
 were mad. Their wives, never out of practice, talk 
 with a volubility unbelievable ; children unite their 
 shrill cries to the all-prevailing hubbub, till, what with 
 the " yellochin' " and din of the males, and the skirling 
 and screaming of wives and weans, one might think he 
 was surrounded by the tongues of Babel in the hour of 
 
32 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 their fiercest confusion. The darkness of an early 
 night-fall emptied the tents, and drove both chapman 
 and reveller from the Fair. But the revels were not 
 yet altogether at an end. Hundreds found shelter, 
 and the means of continuing their revelry, in the 
 numerous taverns and hostels of Auld Reekie. Drouthy 
 neighbour met neighbour with a drouth as sympa- 
 thetic. The finer spirit of John Barleycorn was now 
 in demand ; " cadgily they kissed the caup," and drank 
 and " drove over " till it was late into the night. 
 Fortunate was the late reveller, who, having escaped 
 the allurements of Sergeant Kite, escaped also the 
 halberts and the hands of the city guard, as he groped 
 his way homeward from the pleasures and perils of 
 Hallow Fair. What was the moral of it all, for those 
 times as well as these ? Fergusson may be allowed 
 to give it in his own temperate words : — 
 
 " A wee soup drink does unco weel 
 
 To haud the heart aboon ; 
 
 It's guid, as lang's a canny chiel 
 
 Can stand steeve in his shoon. 
 But, if a birkie's owre weel sair'd, 
 
 It gars him. aften stammer, 
 To pleys that bring him to the Guard, 
 And eke the Council Chaumer 
 Wi' shame next day."- 
 
MISADVENTURES 
 
 A wind blew aff the Achil tops, 
 
 An' touzled a' the corn, 
 An' wreckit a' my faither's hopes 
 
 The day that I was born. 
 
 Then, when they tuke me to the Kirk, 
 But acht days auld, an' tender, 
 
 The minister fell thro' his wirk 
 An' clean misca'd my gender. 
 
 Then, when I first set aff to schule, 
 Puir innocent ! sae gleddly, 
 
 I bood to tummle owre a pale 
 An' dirty a' my deddly. 
 
 When I to twal' 'ear auld was grewn, 
 
 An' ventured to do wrang, 
 The only day I played the truan' 
 
 It rained the haill day lang. 
 
 The neist mischance that happened me 
 Was when I was apprenticed, 
 
 For when a'grocer I wad be 
 They band me to a dentist. 
 33 
 
34 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Then, when I kent I kenn'd my tredd, 
 
 Noo— what did I no' do ? 
 The wan soond tuith my mither hed— 
 
 That was the tuith I drew. 
 
 Then, when I stude before the priest 
 An' tuke the marriage-vows, 
 
 It was the bride's-maid 'at I kiss'd, 
 An' not my lawful spouse. 
 
 A christenin' was the next event ; 
 
 An' I have yet to learn, 
 In h'istin' up for baptizement, 
 
 The richt end o' a bairn. 
 
 UEnvoi — Mishap ! I've been sae lang thy sport 
 That when I come to dee, 
 I'll mak' a bummle o' some sort, 
 But what ? remains to see. 
 
THE SLEEPY HOLLOW OF SCOTLAND 
 
 But for its lake, the Lilliputian county of Kinross 
 might well be named the Sleepy Hollow of Scotland. 
 Hollow, though high, it unquestionably is, hemmed 
 in on its four sides by the majestic Lomonds, dark 
 Benarty, the serrated hills of Cleish, and a portion of 
 the long line of the pastoral Ochils. Standing on the 
 level of the green plain which these hills so snugly 
 enclose, one feels sequestered from the cares and calls 
 of the work-a-day world. You see neither outlet nor 
 inlet. The natives, you think, must have dropped from 
 the sky. Yet, notwithstanding appearances to the con- 
 trary, the connecting paths and passes are numerous 
 enough. There is, for example, the sinuous gap in 
 the Ochils, known as Glendevon and Gleneagles, 
 through which, direct from the distant Atlantic, are 
 hurried those vapours and clouds and storms which 
 give to this eastern and inland region the climate and 
 vegetation of Ayrshire. Northward, again, the narrow 
 craggy glen of the Farg, beloved of Ruskin, affords a 
 picturesque opening into Strath Earn ; and there are 
 other connections, which the horizon does not reveal. 
 But none of them would be so frequented as appreci- 
 ably to disturb the serenity of the little, self-contained 
 shire, were it not for the attractions of Loch Leven. 
 
 In itself the district has nothing to excite the cupidity 
 of the bustling avid world. It has neither mines nor 
 35 
 
36 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 manufactures, commerce nor cultivation, to make it 
 worthy of mention. It is the hereditary possession 
 of its present population. It is a land of bonnet lairds 
 of ancient line, and labourers thirled to the soil by long 
 and traditionary usage. It has, in short, all the con- 
 ditions and most of the materials necessary to the 
 creation and maintenance of a veritable Sleepy Hollow 
 — except its lake. That is the attraction which draws 
 the outer world into Kinross-shire, and saves it from 
 the fate (the happy fate ?) of Rutland in the sister 
 kingdom. But for its lake it might slip from the 
 national recollection, and cease to find a place in our 
 local geographies ; the postal authorities would cut 
 connection with it on the score of economy ; and even 
 our Mr Jenkins would stop his bags and his enterprise 
 at its borders. It is conceivably a pity that the lake 
 has defeated — or, to speak more correctly, is fast defeat- 
 ing — the manifest intentions of nature with respect to 
 the county. For the native is a richly interesting 
 study to the few outsiders who know him, more especi- 
 ally and more certainly if he be taken as far away from 
 the lake as the very limited circumference of the county 
 will allow. His peculiarities of mind and manner, 
 speech and habit, cannot long withstand the disin- 
 tegrating influences of the twentieth century : they 
 may have disappeared before it is long under way. 
 Uniformity is the great effect of our present civilization, 
 and the angles of the Ochil laird must soon be rounded 
 and rubbed away. Before the middle of the century 
 he will have had a foreign, that is an Edinburgh, 
 training ; he will have contracted metropolitan habits. 
 His homespun breeches will have been discarded. He 
 will wear starched stand-ups, take in a daily news- 
 
THE SLEEPY HOLLOW OF SCOTLAND 37 
 
 paper, and talk with a high English accent. The 
 patriarchal form of government will have gone from his 
 establishment, and his territorial dependents, bred to 
 Socialism, will be questioning his right to the ancestral 
 hills. The change will not be all for the better. His 
 personality relieved the monotony of life, and that 
 will have vanished. It would be to the writer a lasting 
 regret if his forecast should precipitate the change by 
 a single year. 
 
 The bonnet Lairds ! 
 The cocks o' the creation ! 
 Heaven bless their patriarchal beards, 
 And speed their generation ! 
 
 The lake it is that will prove the undoing of the 
 county. It is a possession, a diamond of the first 
 water, too valuable for a Sleepy Hollow. It invites 
 the disquieting admiration of aliens from far and near. 
 They come, year after year, in ever-growing numbers. 
 The prime attraction is, of course, the piscatorial re- 
 sources of the lake. These resources seem to have 
 been suspected of existence not yet quite a century 
 ago. Somebody then found that Loch Leven trout 
 would rise to the fly. The next discovery was that 
 Loch Leven trout could please the most fastidious 
 palate. They were good eating for an epicure. No 
 such delicately flavoured fish were to be found else- 
 where ; and the pinky tint of the flesh was as unique 
 as the flavour. They were bonnie fish and dainty 
 faring. True, the monks of St Andrews had for 
 centuries been cognizant of the culinary capabilities 
 of the fish, and annually, and not alone in Lent, had 
 consumed barrels and bushels of trout, pike, and eel, 
 
38 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 drawn by net from the deep hems and at the setts of 
 the lake. But the monastic system of living, as every- 
 body knows, was strictly conservative, and the Prior 
 of Loch Leven never accompanied the gift of loaves to 
 laymen with the fishes upon which the brethren feasted. 
 There was still a chance for a Sleepy Hollow. The 
 fish might be transported alive, as egg or as fry, to 
 more convenient ponds, and Loch Leven be left to its 
 natural owner, the County. The attempt was repeatedly 
 made, but in no case would it succeed. The translated 
 representatives lived and grew large indeed, but it was 
 found that they left behind them in the parent lake 
 the flavour which made them so desirable. Ccelum 
 et animum mutant was the verdict after every trial. 
 Unless the lake bottom with its peculiar feeding beds 
 can be got to accompany the emigrant fish, it seems 
 vain to expect the flavour characteristic of Loch Leven 
 trout outwith the banks of Loch Leven. 
 
 But, while the worth of the trout to the epicure is 
 in its flavour, its value to the angler lies in the exercise 
 it offers to the refinements of his art. It is the most 
 knowing and capricious of fish, besides being, like all 
 fishes, even perch, very susceptible to skyey influences. 
 It is now unaccountably bold, and now unaccountably 
 shy. The veriest tyro, whose tackle ever 
 
 " Glittered like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid," 
 
 will take his dozens, while a veteran sportsman returns 
 to the pier with attenuated patience and basket bare. 
 An east wind will bring up to the cold-curling surface 
 a hundred sportive snouts in eager competition for a 
 snap at your hackle or hare-lug, while a balmy west 
 will send them full fathoms five from lure and line and 
 
THE SLEEPY HOLLOW OF SCOTLAND 39 
 
 the perfection of casting to sulk among rannoch or 
 the bottom ooze. They will boycott an angler for 
 weeks. Your non-success is no proof of their scarcity. 
 To doubt their abundance is heterodoxy. Fabulous 
 loads have been taken, legally and illegally, by rod 
 and net, and by torch and spear, without perceptible 
 diminution of their numbers. They attain, too, a size 
 which even a salmon-fisher need not contemn. The 
 average weight is perhaps only a pound, but single 
 specimens have scaled eight, ten, and even eighteen 
 pounds. 
 
 The unsuccessful angler in the waters of Loch Leven 
 has this to console him, that, when sport is poor, the 
 lake scenery as a rule shows to finest advantage. 
 The bright sky and the clear air, adverse to fish-taking, 
 bring out the scenic loveliness of the lake and its 
 borders. It is, indeed, a magnificent fish-pond, being 
 of somewhere about six miles in extent. And it looks 
 its size. Unlike many of our northern lakes, which 
 run to mere length, it is compact in form, and affords 
 from any point of survey a prospect that fills and satis- 
 fies the eye. Its beauties are not of that obtrusive kind 
 which captivates at a first glance. They grow upon 
 the spectator, and dwell quietly in the memory as an 
 assemblage of such soft natural graces as the pencil of 
 Claude loved to portray. Embosomed deep among ad- 
 joining hills that lift a graceful line of green to the blue 
 heavens, the angler is likely to forget the elevation — 
 some four hundred feet above sea-level — at which he 
 plies his craft, unless the exhilarating effect of pure 
 air, a bath and balm to both lungs and eyes, sets 
 him a-thinking of it. Very few visitors are content 
 with a single experience, and regular comers agree 
 
4 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 in declaring that the last visit is always the most 
 delightful. 
 
 But there are other attractions than those of healthful 
 sport and pleasant scenery. It offers special advan- 
 tages to the naturalist, the botanist, and the geologist. 
 The sloping banks and marshy levels of the lake margin 
 present a richly varied flora and fauna. The geologist 
 will find in the formation of the lake bed a good speci- 
 men of glacial erosion, and in the neighbouring dome 
 of the Lomond Hill a remarkable instance of volcanic 
 action in moulding scenery. " In the West Lomond," 
 says Sir Archibald Geikie,* " the stratified deposits 
 rise almost horizontally to a height of 900 feet above 
 the vale of Eden, "their bared edges being cut away into 
 a steep declivity. Over them comes a thick bed of 
 greenstone, which runs as a dark precipice along the 
 crest of the slope, and supports a little patch of sand- 
 stone and limestone, on which lies the knob of green- 
 stone that forms the conical summit 1713 feet above 
 the sea. It is plain that a mass of rock, fully 900 feet 
 thick, has been hollowed out of the valley of the Eden, 
 and, as the strata are flat, and show here and there 
 their yellow edges along the green slopes, with the 
 vertical bar of greenstone at top, the hill presents 
 a suggestive monument of denudation. The tourist 
 who visits Loch Leven is placed at the best point of 
 view for seeing the hill to advantage. The broad 
 placid surface of that characteristically Scottish sheet 
 of water sweeps across to the very foot of the Lomond 
 chain, which rises from the level foreground with a 
 dignity not always seen even in a much loftier 
 mountain." 
 
 * Scenery of Scotland, chap. xi. 
 
THE SLEEPY HOLLOW OF SCOTLAND 41 
 
 The antiquary will find a field for his speculations 
 in scattered hints of Basque and Roman in the lake 
 neighbourhood. Quite lately the find of a crannog 
 drew antiquarian beards and bare chins to the water- 
 edge. And students of history derive contemplative 
 pleasure from a survey of the Inch, with its traditions 
 of St Serf and the Culdees, and the Castle Island with 
 its memories of Wallace and Queen Mary. There are, 
 besides, literary associations of no mean interest. At 
 Kinnesswood, between the lake and the Lomond, 
 lived and died the youth Michael Bruce, who is, at 
 least locally, believed to have produced, in his nine- 
 teenth year, that wonderful " Ode to the Cuckoo," 
 which holds a unique place in modern poetry : 
 
 " Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, 
 Thy sky is ever clear, 
 Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 
 No winter in thy year." 
 
 And the admirers of the Ettrick Shepherd will re- 
 member that the witch of Fife of his best ballad lived 
 at "green Benarty's base," and had moonlight and 
 midnight dealing on the lofty Lomond with " the gray 
 gray man " whose face was like the cauliflower — " for 
 it neither had blude nor bane ! " 
 
THE LAIRD O' LOOKOWREM 
 
 The Laird o' Lookowrem's a comical chiel ; 
 
 His capers maun be a divert to the deil, 
 
 For he struts, and he storms, an' dispatches to — well, 
 
 As if the haill diggin' belang'd to himsel'. 
 
 He's pack fu' o' pride, fra the tap to the taes : 
 There's nae thrissil wags on his cauld barren braes, 
 Pecks at the north wind wi' sae spitefu' an air 
 As he at a toun's body trespassin' there. 
 
 The pride o' the Laird's an offence to his purse ; 
 He hoards but to spend, an' he spends wi' a curse ; 
 He werena sae proud, had he mair to do wi' ; 
 And he wants a croun's credit for ilka bawbee. 
 
 He awns a cocklairdship (a very gude thing !), 
 A house something auld, but he's biggin' a wing ; 
 I'se wad capper-stowp, if he tries 't on wi' twa, 
 Fra the Laird o' Lookowrem the house flees awa. 
 
 He swears at his cotters, he swears at his nowte ; 
 His tongue's juist as free as the tail o' a cowte ; 
 And ance, when the minister trod on his tae, 
 He swore at the minister till he was blae. 
 
 42 
 
THE LAIRD O' LOOKOWREM 43 
 
 He gangs to the kirk, and he fills the haill seat ; 
 
 He saves baith his purse an' his pride when he's late ; 
 
 Then he mak's sic a din as he opens the door, 
 
 And ance, when he fell oure the beathle, he swore. 
 
 Laird o' Lookowrem, come down fra your hicht, 
 Come doun to the level, an' stand in our sicht, 
 And if by true measure ye're taller than we, 
 We'll grant ye full merit up to your degree. 
 
 Nae high heels o' lairdship, nae tiptaes o' pride, 
 Nae fit-stule that wealth wi' its trappin's would hide, 
 We'll gie ye fairplay, and by that we'll be bound, 
 A thin stocking sole, and your heel on the ground. 
 
 He's wantin' a burd — and he'll want I'se engage, 
 Though the wing he's contrivin' 's to serve for her cage ; 
 Nae woman o' sense would put up wi' his pride, 
 Nae woman o' pence wi' his poverty bide. 
 
 The Laird o' Lookowrem's a marrowless man, 
 The Laird o' Lookowrem's the last o' his clan, 
 Nae woman I ken would come under his wing, 
 Nae widow or wench would do ony sic thing. 
 
 Come doun aff your pedestal there on the braes, 
 Come down here, an' stand on your heels an' your|taes, 
 And, if ye're a big man, the truth '11 be kenn'd ; 
 And the Laird o' Lookowrem, when measured, may 
 mend. 
 
HAMILTON OF GILBERTFIELD 
 
 " Hamilton the bauld an' gay." — Allan Ramsay. 
 
 Two contemporary Scottish poets of the eighteenth 
 century, both bearing the name of William Hamilton, 
 were not unnaturally long confounded in the popular 
 mind, and are even now, perhaps, not very well dis- 
 tinguished from each other by the designation " of 
 Bangour " in the case of the one, and " of Gilbert- 
 field " in that of the other. Yet as poets they had 
 little in common, except their name and the age in 
 which they lived. The younger of the two, Hamilton 
 of Bangour, has a small but assured place in the literary 
 history of his country as a refined writer of pensive 
 romantic pastoralism. His name must be for ever 
 associated with the ballad of " The Braes of Yarrow " ; 
 and it is no small part of his fame, to the student of the 
 history of English poetry, that it is to this ballad we 
 owe Wordsworth's beautiful series of Yarrow poems, 
 much of their pathos, and some of their imagery and 
 colouring. The other, Hamilton of Gilbertfield, less 
 known and little deserving our ignorance of him, was 
 of a robuster, or even coarser, genius, but did no less, 
 in his own way, good service to his country, both as 
 author and otherwise. As a soldier and a poet — he 
 was for many years a lieutenant in Lord Hyndford's 
 regiment — he was a patriotic Scotsman, and he fulfilled 
 
 44 
 
HAMILTON OF GILBERTFIELD 45 
 
 " great Nature's plan " in possessing in a marked 
 degree the three essential qualifications required by 
 Burns, being " honest, friendly, and social." His 
 verse, mostly in the homely vigorous dialect of Northern 
 English — an expression which includes Lowland Scots 
 —reflected his nature, and was greatly appreciated by 
 those whose hearing he sought. Burns thought him 
 a master of his craft, set him up as a model for imita- 
 tion, and generously but not all unjustly classed him 
 with Allan Ramsay and Robert Fergusson. At the 
 age of twenty-six, with ambition at the height and self- 
 confidence almost matured, Burns would have been 
 content with Hamilton's fame — 
 
 " Could I but dare a hope to speel, 
 
 Wi' Allan or wi' Gilbertfiel', 
 The braes o'- fame ; 
 
 Or Fergusson, the writer chiel', 
 A deathless name ! !! 
 
 But Hamilton's verses are in court, and can bear their 
 own testimony. Witness, then, his riming correspond- 
 ence, his " set-to at crambo," with the " canty callan " 
 of Edinburgh — Ramsay, the author of " The Gentle 
 Shepherd." In a series of three competitive epistles, 
 written in the summer of 1719, when he was probably 
 on the shaded side of fifty, it is a debated point whether 
 he has not equalled the Scottish laureate of the day in 
 liveliness of fancy, and in vigour and ease of expression. 
 Ramsay frankly owned the excellence of his lines — 
 " May I be lickit wi'* a bittle, 
 
 Gin of your numbers I think little ! 
 
 Ye're never ruggit, shan, nor kittle, 
 But blythe an' gabby, 
 
 An' hit the spirit to a tittle 
 O'- standart Habby." 
 
46 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 The four lines of criticism here are to the point ; 
 Ramsay compliments his correspondent on his skill 
 in that peculiar measure of which the quotation is a 
 specimen— now known as Burns' s stanza — then referred 
 to as the " standard " for all Scottish poets, the measure 
 in which Robert Sempill sang to celebrate Habby 
 Simson, the famous Kilbarchan piper. In this measure, 
 which True Thomas (sc. Carlyle) decried as a model of 
 the meanest sort — untrue in this ! — he finds the Laird 
 of Gilbertfield neither harsh in his versification, nor 
 trivial in his ideas, nor obscure in his diction, but 
 bright and free — in short, up to the mark at which they 
 were all aiming, the model of " standart Habby." It 
 is worth the reader's while to read this correspondence 
 — a correspondence which inspired that of Burns and 
 Lapraik, and which offers an amusing contrast to the 
 older and more characteristic style of correspondence 
 among " the Makaris," such as the flyting betwixt 
 Dunbar and Kennedy, in respect that Hamilton and 
 Ramsay flout and depreciate themselves, instead of, 
 in the good old hearty way, aspersing each other. But 
 a sample stanza of Hamilton may be given here, and 
 let it be one which implies a fact interesting to the 
 student of our language — viz., that Ramsay, like 
 Spenser and others, affected a diction older than that 
 of his day — 
 
 " Heh, winsome ! how thy saft sweet style 
 And bonny auld words gar me smile ! 
 Sure thou hast travell'd mony a mile 
 
 Wi' charge and cost, 
 To learn them a' keep rank and file, 
 And ken their post."- 
 
 The metaphor is characteristic of the old soldier. 
 
HAMILTON OF GILBERTFIELD 47 
 
 Burns borrowed it when, but with more vigour, he spoke 
 of his hastily summoned verses rattling in their ranks 
 in the rear of each other. 
 
 One can but refer here to Hamilton's once famous 
 poem on the East of Fife greyhound, "Bonnie 
 Heck ; " and throw out Scott Douglas's suggestion 
 that, not Burns, but rather Hamilton (if not Beattie) 
 was the author of the much canvassed poem, " On 
 Pastoral Poetry." It is time to refer to his long and, 
 though not very poetical, very patriotic work, a modern- 
 ised version of Blind Harry's metrical history or epic 
 of " The Acts and Deeds of the Illuster and Valiant 
 Champion, Sir William Wallace, Knight of Ellerslie." 
 It fills over 220 pages of forty lines, in the heroic couplet, 
 and is divided into twelve books, subdivided into 
 chapters of very unequal length. The work was 
 finished and dedicated, September 21, 1721, to the great 
 head of the Hamilton family, " the High, Puissant, 
 and Most Noble Prince James, Duke of Hamilton, 
 Castleherault, and Brandon, Marquis of Clydesdale, 
 Earl of Arran," etc., with a declaration of the author's 
 " greatest motive " in undertaking and publishing the 
 work, which was " to make the history of an ancient 
 hero intelligible to the age," and so to form the minds 
 of his countrymen to virtue by setting a glorious model 
 before their eyes. The motive was laudable, but the 
 method of carrying through the self-imposed task was 
 not confined to modernising— it summarised here and 
 expanded there, added and subtracted, and over the 
 whole exercised a power of abridgement which reduced 
 the original by about one-third of its length. Such 
 a method is odious to the finical scholar and the small 
 critic ; but the general public are by no means squeam- 
 
48 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 ish, and in respect to Hamilton's version of Blind 
 Harry's narrative they were abundantly satisfied, and 
 devoured with relish at least thirteen editions. The 
 best is said of Hamilton's version when it is allowed 
 that he has preserved the substance and the spirit of 
 the original. Occasionally he rises above the dead 
 level of plain sensible prose, as when he writes — 
 
 '- A false usurper sinks in every foe, 
 And liberty returns with every blow '-' — 
 
 a couplet which Burns thought worthy of Homer, and 
 reproduced in his own " Scots wha hae." Sometimes 
 he sinks from sight, if one may say so, notably when 
 the saintly ghost of " the Rev. Mr Blair " crosses his 
 fancy. A specimen of his style in the expansion of a 
 short passage of six lines, may be given, as showing 
 his treatment of a Scottish winter. With it he opens 
 Book V.— 
 
 '-' Cold Winter now his hoary aspect shows ; 
 Frost bound the glebe, while Boreas fiercely blows, 
 Sweeping the snow along the rising hills, 
 Which every glen and slanting hollow fills. 
 Cold grew the beams of the far-distant sun, 
 And day was done ere it was well begun ; 
 Long, dark, and hateful was the gloomy night, 
 Uncomfortable to each banisht wight, 
 Who durst not trust a roof to hide their head, 
 But skulk from hill to hill with cautious dread."' 
 
 He has nothing to show for many a passage in Blind 
 Harry that is, ethically, truly interesting. On these 
 lines, for example, he is silent — 
 
 '-'- All worthy men ! at reads this rural dyte, 
 Blame not the book tho' I be imperfyte ; 
 
HAMILTON OF GILBERTFIELD 49 
 
 I should have thank, since I no travail spar'd ; 
 
 For my labour no man hecht me rewaird ; 
 
 Nae charge had I of king or other lord. 
 
 Great harm I thought his guid deed should be smor'd; 
 
 I have said here near as the process gaes, 
 
 And feigned not for friends nor yet for faes. 
 
 For costs herefor was no man bound to me. 
 
 In this sentence I had nae will to lee — 
 
 But inasmeikle as I rehearsed not 
 
 Sae worthily as noble Wallace wrought."- 
 
 As Hamilton built upon the foundation and with 
 the material of Blind Harry, so the minstrel himself 
 built upon the historical notes taken by John Blair, 
 Wallace's companion and close friend during the 
 struggle of the Scottish nation against Southron 
 tyranny. Those notes, it would appear, Blair many 
 years afterwards extended into a prose narrative in 
 Latin in the Benedictine monastery at Dunfermline, 
 and from this personal record of an eye-witness, now 
 unhappily lost, Blind Harry received much or most 
 of the material from which he constructed his epic. 
 
 Hamilton of Gilbertfield, in Lanarkshire, lived to 
 a good old age, probably till well over the fourscore, 
 busying himself with his social duties, the composition 
 of verse, and the amusements and pursuits of a country 
 gentleman. He reminds one of William Somerville, 
 author of " The Chace," who, like himself, was also 
 the correspondent, and numbered among the friends, 
 of joyous Allan. Hamilton died in 1751. Both the 
 Hamiltons, he of Bangour as well as he of Gilbertfield, 
 would seem to have belonged by birth to that county 
 of the west the very air of which is said to inspire the 
 natives with poetry. Ayrshire has at least claimed 
 them. 
 
THE THREE BELLS OF SCOTLAND 
 
 What says the solemn Auld Kirk bell 
 
 At Sabbath morn and even ? 
 What has that monitor to tell 
 
 O' comfort to the leevin' ? 
 " We're a' gaun to heeven, 
 
 We're a' gaun to heeven, 
 As Noah's clean beass to the Ark 
 
 That entered seeven by seeven." 
 
 But the Free Kirk tin-kettle, 
 
 In haste to dispute it, 
 Rings out with some mettle 
 " I doot it ! I doot it ! 
 
 The nowte o' MacKillop 
 
 May enter by twa's ; 
 They're wantit to fill up 
 
 The craps o' the wa's ! " 
 
 U.P. Bell— Collection ! c'llection ! c'llection ! 
 
 Slow swings the solemn Auld Kirk bell 
 
 Aboon the dead an' leevin' 
 In easy-osy monotones — 
 " We're a' gaun to heeven ! 
 
 5° 
 
THE THREE BELLS OF SCOTLAND 51 
 
 Oor sins are a' forgeeven ! 
 We're a' gaun to heeven, 
 Dissentin' bodies twa an' twa, 
 
 An' huz by seeven and seeven." 
 
 But the Free Kirk tin-kettle, 
 
 Noo wud to dispute it, 
 Rings oot wi' mair mettle 
 " I doot it ! I doot it ! 
 
 To oor chosen stirkies 
 
 The sta's an' the store, 
 But for the Auld Kirkies 
 
 The back o' the door ! " 
 
 U.P. Bell— Collection ! c'llection ! c'llection ! 
 
ALL HALLOWS' EVE 
 
 -" Upon that night when fairies light." — Burns. 
 
 Hallowe'en, as everybody in Scotland knows, begins 
 at sundown on the last day of October, and goes on 
 till midnight. It is the Vigil of All Hallows, preceding 
 as it does the ancient Christian festival of Hallowmas 
 or All Hallows' {i.e., All Saints') Day. The festival 
 had already for many years been founded — the object 
 of the Church being to include within the Calendar 
 every Saint, known and unknown — when the day of 
 the original foundation was shifted, considerably more 
 than a thousand years ago, to the day of a heathen 
 festival, the first of November, with, of course, the 
 vigil or eve on the night preceding. It seems to have 
 been part of the plan of the early Church, in its conflict 
 with paganism, to supplant heathen festivals by festi- 
 vals of a Christian character. Nearly two centuries 
 after the transference of All Saints' Day to the first of 
 November, the second day of the same month was 
 set apart — for a singular reason, at once pitiful and 
 poetical — on behalf of all souls, living or departed, 
 more especially for those unhappy ones that were 
 thought to be still moaning in purgatory. Thus it 
 happens that the three days, consisting of the last day 
 of October and the first two days of November, have 
 occupied for about a millennium a place of prominent 
 
 S2 
 
ALL HALLOWS' EVE 5s 
 
 note in the Calendar and pious service of the Catholic 
 Church. 
 
 Part at least of the old pagan mysteries, which the 
 early Church failed to supplant, has lingered on to our 
 own times with a vitality which even the Reformation 
 has been unable to suppress. Protestant Scotland 
 connects no pious service with the Vigil of All Hallows, 
 but the name of Hallowe'en survives, and some of the 
 customs, social and superstitious, engrafted by an 
 indulgent Church or dating from the more ancient 
 times of pagan antiquity, are observed among us 
 even yet. 
 
 Of the more domestic customs associated with the 
 celebration of Hallowe'en, three may be specially 
 noted here — ducking for apples, burning nuts, and 
 sowing hempseed. The first is simply a social pastime, 
 innocent of all suspicion of diablerie, introduced into 
 the night's proceedings for the amusement of the young 
 folk. It is not in the canonical list of Burns, and was 
 probably little, if at all, practised in his day. Apples 
 he indeed mentions twice in his poem ; the herd boy, 
 Sawnie, is bribed with two red-cheeked specimens of 
 the fruit by the greatly-daring Meg, who by his watch- 
 fulness at the barn door hopes to " winn her three 
 wechts of naething " with the minimum of molesta- 
 tion ; and wee Jennie " with her skelpie-limmer's face " 
 (a graphic portrait in one word) shocks the outraged 
 feelings of her granny by proposing to the old woman 
 a partnership in the mystery of " man's first dis- 
 obedience." But neither of these references has any 
 connection with the tub and the floating apples. The 
 custom of ducking for apples probably crept into 
 Scotland from beyond the Border some time in the 
 
54 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 early part of the recent century. It is, and has long 
 been, common in the northern counties of England. 
 Burning nuts and sowing hempseed, each as a means 
 of forecasting the matrimonial fortunes of youthful 
 lovers, are ancient methods of appeal to Fate ; they 
 have long been, as Burns says, " favourite charms " 
 in both England and Scotland. In Scotland they 
 have always been sacred to Hallowe'en, while in 
 England burning the nuts seems to have been practised 
 at any time to resolve the doubts of impatient lovers, 
 and sowing the hempseed was an observance of Mid- 
 summer eve. In Shepherd's Week, under Thursday, 
 Gay thus records the practice two centuries ago of the 
 Devonshire peasantry : — 
 
 " At eve last midsummer no sleep I sought, 
 But to the field a bag of hempseed brought ; 
 I scattered round the seed on every side, 
 And three times in a trembling accent cried — 
 ' This hempseed with my virgin hand I sow, 
 Who shall my true love be the crop shall mow.' 
 I straight looked back, and if my eyes speak truth, 
 With his keen scythe behind me came the youth."- 
 
 There are some interesting points of difference, 
 besides the one already noted, between Gay's version 
 of the observance, as performed in England, and 
 Burns's account, given in both verse and prose, of the 
 practice as it obtained in Scotland. Surely Gay was 
 wrong in harvesting the hemp crop with a scythe. 
 Burns more correctly draws or pulls it. 
 
 An interesting part of the ceremonial of the old 
 Hallowe'en celebrations was the lighting of the Hal- 
 lowe'en fire — probably a genuine relic of the original 
 celebration. It still lingers in the north ; in Skye, it 
 
ALL HALLOWS' EVE 55 
 
 is nearly as common as it ever was. So late as the 
 early part of the century just closed it was no unusual 
 thing to see from the Perthshire side of the Ochils the 
 gathering gloom of Hallowe'en delayed by a score of 
 bonfires blazing along the hills. Torches were also 
 carried about through village streets, and from farm 
 town to farm town. As night advanced, and the fires 
 died down on hill and knowe, a hasty retreat to the 
 glow of the social hearth was beaten by the adven- 
 turous fire-raisers. The fading of those fires symbol- 
 ised the final departure of summer, and the surrender 
 of the outer world to the princes and powers of dark- 
 ness. Hence arose the superstition that Hallowe'en 
 was a night of exceptional licence to goblins, ghosts, 
 and fairies. On that devoted night they mustered 
 in all their force. The sluices of the evil world were 
 lifted, and the darkened abode of man was deluged 
 with a spate of mysterious and malevolent beings that 
 rode in triumph over the fields of human industry, and 
 peered into cottage homes as they passed, scaring the 
 inmates. Bold was the rustic that dared the wilder- 
 ness at the dead hour of Hallowe'en, and encountered 
 the fairies — euphemistically called " the good neigh- 
 bours " — in their grand annual processional ride. 
 And yet it was the only time, and the only way, of 
 winning back from fairy possession the humans they 
 had kidnapped for their weird septennial teind to 
 hell ! A Scottish lass, fair Janet of Yarrow, was brave 
 enough to undertake the danger : — 
 
 " This night is Hallowe'en, Janet, 
 The morn is Hallowday ; 
 And gin ye dare your true love win, 
 Ye hae nae time to stay. 
 
56 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 The night it is good Hallowe'en, 
 
 When fairy folk will ride, 
 And they that would their true love win, 
 
 At Miles Cross they maun bide.' ! 
 
 Gloomy though the night was, and eerie the way, 
 fair Janet set out to Miles Cross in her green mantle. 
 It was just the midnight hour when a " north wind 
 tore the bent," 
 
 " And straight she heard strange eldritch sounds 
 Upon the wind that went.'' 
 
 It was the approach of the fairy procession. Their 
 minstrelsy, which mingled with the ringing of in- 
 numerable fairy bridles, is a haunting melody : — 
 
 " Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill, 
 The hemlock small blew clear ; 
 And louder notes from hemlock large, 
 And bog-reed, struck the ear." 
 
 After many trials of her bravery and devotion, Janet 
 concluded a successful enterprise. 
 
 One other superstition of Hallowe'en may be noticed. 
 Children born on that night were endowed with a 
 singular power of clairvoyance — they had the faculty 
 of seeing spirits. Mary Avenel, being a Hallowe'en 
 child, was possessed of the power. " Touching the 
 bairn," said Tibb Tackett, " it's weel kenned she was 
 born on Hallowe'en was nine years gane, and they that 
 are born on Hallowe'en whyles see mair than ither 
 folk." It was a privilege of doubtful benefit. The 
 practicalfDame Glendinning thought there was " little 
 lucklin^Hallowe'en^sights." 
 
SPRING EVENING IN THE HOWE 0' FIFE 
 
 Now cotter-touns bestir themselves 
 And to the kailyard mak' repair, 
 
 Where Davy till the darkening delves, 
 And greenwood fires perfume the air. 
 
 And plants are dibbled, seeds are sawn, 
 And pickit earlies hauved and set, 
 
 And rizzar-busses backward drawn, 
 In bluidless crucifixion yet. 
 
 The grice is bought, and in the cru' 
 He's tumbled like a wee white mouse ; 
 
 And now's the time wi' clean wheat strae 
 To mend the theekin' o' the house. 
 
 And now in open parly meet 
 
 Our statesmen at the doup o' day, 
 
 While, up and down, the dusky street 
 Echoes to bairnies at their play. 
 
 And voices at the saft loan en' 
 
 Are mingling wi' the clank o' quoits ; 
 
 And Jocky's whistle pleads for Jen', 
 And Jenny's laugh her jo invites. 
 57 
 
58 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 At last into the hush of gloom 
 The moon peeps out with timid air, 
 
 As when Godiva from her room 
 Ventured, and lo ! the street was bare. 
 
 [Note. — The rhymes in the above verses, if pronounced 
 more Scottico, are unchallengeable.] 
 
SONGS THAT RECRUITED THE NAVY 
 
 If Fletcher of Saltoun had lived in the twentieth 
 century he would have found fresh argument for his 
 famous saying in the naval lyrics of Campbell. It is 
 hardly an exaggeration to say that they recruited the 
 British navy. The Government of the day recognised 
 their value with a pension of £200 to the poet ; and 
 never was pension more worthily bestowed. The 
 man that does not see in the triumph at Trafalgar the 
 heroic spirit of Campbell, as well as the bravery of Nelson 
 and the wisdom of Pitt, has not read history aright. 
 Campbell has a share in that glorious victory, duly his. 
 It is not by number or by length that the power of song 
 is to be judged. Campbell's sea lyrics of battle are 
 but two, and the more powerful and popular of the 
 two consists of only forty lines, including a refrain 
 (with slight variations) of four lines thrice repeated. 
 It is the bold and jubilant appeal to the Mariners of 
 England. Campbell was not more than twenty-four 
 when he published this magnificent battle song, de- 
 scribed by one of our foremost critics as " truly one 
 of the glories of our birth and state." The other, only 
 less popular, and clearly less spontaneous in its genesis, 
 is, of course, " The Battle of the Baltic," written four 
 years later. It is plain truth to say that no bolder and 
 more martial songs of sea or land exist in the English 
 language, and the Scotsman may be excused who 
 59 
 
60 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 regards them as matchless. This is high praise, when 
 one passes in quick review the noble strains that from 
 time to time all down our national history, have risen 
 in celebration of our supremacy on or over the sea. 
 One thinks of Drayton's " Ballad of Agincourt," of 
 Thomson's " Rule Britannia," Tennyson's " Ballad 
 of the Fleet," Kipling's "Flag of England." It is 
 memorable that the best known of all English national 
 songs of battle and the sea — " Rule Britannia " and 
 " Ye Mariners of England " — should be the work of 
 Scotsmen. No cross-grained Southron can gainsay it. 
 There is some doubt about the actual place and time 
 of the composition of " Ye Mariners." One likes to 
 associate it in its first draft with Edinburgh. That 
 it was finally made ready for printing in the year 
 (1800-1) of the young poet's German tour is undoubted. 
 There is a groundless statement in an American book 
 that it was written in 1801 at Hamburg. One objects 
 to the idea of its being " made in Germany." It was 
 sent in 1801, under the title of " Alteration of the Old 
 Ballad ' Ye Gentlemen of England,' composed on the 
 prospect of a Russian war," and signed " Amator 
 Patriae," to Perry of the Morning Chronicle. The 
 inspiring line — 
 
 " Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell," 
 
 could not, of course, have appeared in 1801. It was 
 in October 1805 that Nelson gloriously and victori- 
 ously fell. The original reading was — 
 
 " Where Blake, the boast of freedom, fell.' 1 
 
 Another change in the first edition may be noticed, the 
 
Songs That recruiter the navy 61 
 
 substitution, by a bold metonymy, of " launch " for 
 " raise " in the line which now reads — 
 
 " Your glorious standard launch again. "- 
 
 It is worth while to point out that -Blake — Robert 
 Blake, the destroying angel of Dutch and Spanish 
 fleets, and of at least one Turkish fleet — died, not 
 surrounded, as was Nelson, with the pomp and cir- 
 cumstance of glorious war, but as his ship was entering 
 Plymouth harbour on her return from a devastation 
 of Spanish ships at Santa Cruz. It may also be of 
 interest to point out Campbell's peculiar use of " bul- 
 warks." The word, it will be remembered, occurs 
 both in " Ye Mariners " and in " The Battle of the 
 Baltic "— 
 
 and 
 
 " Britannia needs no bulwarks, 
 No towers along the steep ; 
 
 " Like leviathans afloat 
 
 Lay their bulwarks on the brine.'' 
 
 In both cases he means floating batteries. In 1800-1 
 he went to see the floating batteries on the Danish coast 
 at Gluckstadt, and was much impressed with their 
 appearance. They were a necessity — and at the last 
 an ineffectual necessity — of Danish coast protection. 
 But to Britannia they were useless, since her march 
 was o'er the mountain waves and her home was on the 
 deep. This view of Campbell's use of " bulwark " gets 
 confirmation from the original copy of " The Battle of 
 the Baltic," which its author sent to Walter Scott 
 for judgment in March 1805. That copy or draft 
 
62 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 shows a ballad, constructed on the lines of Drayton's 
 "Agincourt," of twenty-seven stanzas. The fifth 
 goes in this way — 
 
 '■'- Another noble fleet 
 Of their line 
 Rode out, but these were nought 
 To the batteries which they brought 
 Like leviathans afloat 
 In the brine." 
 
 This interpretation of " bulwark " brings out the con- 
 trast, apt to be overlooked, but implied in the lines 
 which appear in the final version — 
 
 " Like leviathans afloat 
 
 Lay their bulwarks on the brine, 
 While the sign of battle flew 
 On the lofty British line." 
 
 In comparison with the floating batteries of Den- 
 mark, the British ships of the line at Copenhagen, such 
 as the Elephant, the Polyphemus, the Edgar, the 
 Bellona, the Russell, etc., might well present a " lofty " 
 front to the enemy. 
 
 Before leaving " Ye Mariners of England," let us 
 consider for a second the one fancied flaw in an other- 
 wise perfect lyric. Querulous critics feebly complain 
 that it is true neither in fact nor in fancy that Britannia 
 " quells the floods below with thunders from her native 
 oak." It may be allowed them that no amount of 
 broadside firing will stop a storm and "allay the waters." 
 But any patriotic Briton with a rudimentary imagina- 
 tion likes to think that when the guns of a battleship 
 outvoice the tumultuous din of the elements and survive 
 the storm, that battleship has " quelled the floods " on 
 
SONGS THAT RECRUITED THE NAVY 63 
 
 which she has ridden and over which she has defiantly 
 thundered. The lines simply express in poetical or 
 creative language that Britannia rules the waves. 
 And the statement is true, entirely true, in imagination. 
 " The Battle of the Baltic " was not, like " Ye 
 Mariners of England," an effusion. It was a composi- 
 tion of slow and unequal growth. In the form in 
 which we now have it, it shows little of all this. At 
 the same time it wears a less spontaneous air than the 
 earlier song. The cares of the world, as he wrote to 
 Walter Scott, were vexing the impecunious poet when 
 he was composing it. "I have only fought one other 
 battle," he told Scott (who was impatient for another 
 " Hohenlinden ") : it is Copenhagen. I wonder how 
 you will like it in its incorrect state." In its "incorrect" 
 state of twenty-seven stanzas it possessed great merit, 
 but it was vastly improved by condensation into eight, 
 and by the adoption of a statelier and more varied 
 measure. A specimen stanza of the original draft 
 has already been given ; and it is curious to observe 
 that an obvious enough mistake in it, which even 
 Campbell failed to discover, has escaped the eye of 
 every critic since his time. The rhyme discloses it. 
 Campbell probably meant to write— 
 
 " Like leviathans in view 
 
 Lay their bulwarks on the brine, 
 While the sign of battle flew 
 On the lofty British line." 
 
 " Afloat," which is the common reading, gives no 
 rhyme where a rhyme is required ; and it was, of 
 course, caught out of the original form of the stanza, 
 where it rhymes to " nought " and " brought " — 
 
64 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 badly enough according to present-day pronunciation. 
 The original length of "The Battle of Copenhagen" 
 (for such was the first title) was due to the plan on which 
 Campbell wrote it. He wished to write it, as he says 
 himself, " in that plain strong style peculiar to our old 
 ballads, which tells us where, when, and how the event 
 happened, without gaud or ornament, except what the 
 subject essentially and easily affords." His after- 
 thought required the excision of several historical 
 details, of which the following are surely worth pre- 
 serving : — 
 
 " Ere a first and fatal round 
 Shook the flood, 
 
 Every Dane looked out that day 
 
 Like the red wolf on his prey, 
 
 And he swore his flag to sway 
 O'er our blood. 
 
 Not such a mind possessed 
 
 England's tar : 
 ! Twas the love of noble game 
 Set his oaken heart on flame, 
 For to him 'twas all the same, 
 
 Sport or war. 
 
 All hands and eyes on watch 
 
 As they keep, 
 By their motion, light as wings, 
 By each step, that haughty springs, 
 You might know them for the kings 
 
 Of the deep. 
 
 'Twas the Edgar first that smote 
 
 Denmark's line ; 
 As her flag the foremost soared, 
 Murray stamped his foot on board, 
 And an hundred cannon roared 
 
 At the sign." 
 
SONGS THAT RECRUITED THE NAVY 65 
 
 The first version, which, as a historical account of an 
 engagement, is as trustworthy as Southey's classical 
 Life, takes notice of Nelson's remonstrance with the 
 Crown Prince for the firing which sometimes broke 
 out from a surrendered Danish vessel. " If another 
 chain-shot sweep," Nelson is made to say, " all your 
 navy in the deep shall go down ! " The reference is 
 probably to the Danbrog, which, after striking, fired 
 on the Elephant's boats, lowered by Nelson's own 
 order to save her surviving crew, for the ship was in 
 flames. It was the " pale conflagration " of this 
 vessel that " lit the gloom " of battle smoke. The 
 puling objection to the condoling song of the mermaid 
 is akin to the objection already noticed in "Ye 
 Mariners." It is the song of the sea, sounding in sym- 
 pathy with our mingled feelings of grief and pride. 
 
 "Rule Britannia" appeared originally in "The 
 Masque of Alfred," which latter, a flimsy garden-play, 
 was the joint composition in 1740 of James Thomson 
 and his fellow-countryman David Malloch (or Mallet, 
 as he called himself in England). Thomson's share 
 in the collaboration consisted of some of the speeches 
 and at least one song. That is all the information 
 directly given us on the point. " The Masque of 
 Alfred" usually appears among the works of both 
 poets. It is of little credit to either, except for the 
 included lyric " Rule Britannia." The question 
 whether Thomson or Malloch wrote this lyric is of 
 some interest, both because of the merits of the piece and 
 especially because of its national popularity. It voices 
 our British pride on all occasions of national rejoicing. 
 
 Little can be said in favour of Malloch's claim to the 
 authorship, and absolutely nothing that carries con- 
 
66 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 viction. It is only fair to his memory to say that 
 he never claimed it himself. Neither did Thomson 
 claim it. But the evidence is all for Thomson. Let 
 me say five or six words for Thomson. 
 
 i. As much the better of the two poets he is likelier 
 to be its author. 
 
 2. It appeared in a popular song-book (" The 
 Charmer ") in Malloch's lifetime over the initials 
 " J. T." (James Thomson), and this claim was un- 
 challenged. 
 
 3. In an edition of " The Masque " put forth by 
 Malloch after Thomson's death he retained only part 
 of a song by Thomson, the omitted part being replaced 
 by some inept verses of Bolingbroke's. Lord Boling- 
 broke's substituted stanzas are now happily forgotten, 
 and Thomson's dropped stanzas restored. The song 
 referred to was " Rule Britannia." 
 
 4. The sentiment of patriotism is so pronounced in 
 Thomson as to be a leading feature of his poetry ; and 
 there is not a single image or idea in " Rule Britannia," 
 taken stanza by stanza, which does not occur, or recur, 
 elsewhere in the general body of his poetry. Nothing 
 like this can be said of Malloch. 
 
 5. The evidence from style is for Thomson. To 
 Johnson's ear Malloch was merely an echo of Thomson. 
 He is cold, hard, commonplace : he wants the Thom- 
 sonian width and glow. 
 
 6. Much of the phraseology of " Rule Britannia " 
 will be found elsewhere in the pages of Thomson. 
 
 In support of arguments 4, 5, and 6, the following 
 quotations may be examined : — 
 
 (a) " Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas 
 
 That thunder round thy rocky coast, set up 
 
SONGS THAT RECRUITED THE NAVY 67 
 
 At once the wonder, terror, and delight 
 Of distant nations, whose remotest shore 
 Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm, 
 Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults 
 Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.'' 
 The Seasons, Summer, 11. 5595-5601 (Clarendon Press Ed.). 
 
 (6) " But she * too pants for public virtue ; she, 
 
 Though weak of power yet strong in ardent will, 
 Whene'er her country rushes on her heart, 
 Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries 
 To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame." 
 
 11. 18-22. 
 
 (c) " Happy Britannia I where the Queen of Arts, 
 Inspiring vigour, Liberty, abroad 
 Walks unconfmed even to thy farthest cots, 
 And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 
 Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime, etc. 
 
 Full are thy cities with the sons of art 
 And trade and joy in every busy street 
 Mingling are heard, etc. 
 
 Bold, firm, and graceful are thy generous youth, 
 By hardships sinewed, and by danger fired, 
 Scattering the nations where they go, etc. 
 
 Fair thy renown 
 In awful sages and in noble bards, etc. 
 
 May my song soften, as thy daughters I, 
 Britannia, hail ; for beauty is their own, etc. 
 
 Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas, etc. 
 
 Summer, 11. 1442-1601. 
 
 The whole of the long passage in " Summer," 
 indicated above in (c), may be regarded as an ex- 
 
 * The Muse. 
 
68 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 pansion of the lyric in question : more correctly the 
 lyric (which came later) is a masterly and inspiring 
 summary of this passage in " Summer," and more 
 especially stanzas 2, 5, and 6 : 
 
 " The nations, not so blessed as thee, 
 Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall ; 
 While thou shalt flourish great and free, 
 The dread and envy of them all. 
 
 To thee belongs the rural reign, 
 
 Thy cities shall with commerce shine ; 
 
 All thine shall be the subject main, 
 And every shore it circles thine. 
 
 The muses, still with freedom found, 
 
 Shall to thy happy court repair : 
 Blessed isle ! with matchless beauty crowned, 
 And manly hearts to guard the fair ! 
 Rule Britannia, rule the waves, 
 Britons never will be slaves." 
 
 There is the same noble climax both in the lyric and in 
 the passage in " Summer." 
 
 (d) " Yet hence Britannia sees 
 
 Her solid grandeur rise, etc. 
 
 Her dreadful thunder, hence 
 Rides o'er the waves sublime, . . 
 Hence rules the circling deep and awes the world.' 1 
 
 Summer, 11. 423-431. 
 
 It is easier to decide the authorship of the words of 
 " Rule Britannia " than to say who composed the music 
 with which they are for ever worthily associated- 
 Handel or Arne. 
 
THE GLOOM 
 
 The twin attractions of Dollar on the Devon, in the 
 small county of Clackmannan, are its old castle and its 
 modern academy. The claim of the latter to rank in 
 the first class as a school of science for boys has 
 been for some time honourably acknowledged. But 
 scarcely less recommendatory to parents, casting about 
 for such a place of education for their children as 
 will combine — what every school ought to do — sound 
 development of mind with healthy recreation of body, 
 are its position, site, and natural surroundings. Some 
 ten or twelve miles from Stirling, and within easy 
 reach of Edinburgh and Glasgow, from which great 
 centres it is nearly equidistant, the school building, 
 constructed with a pillared portico on the Grecian 
 model, stands where the picturesque declivities of the 
 long green range of the Ochils, descending at this 
 point from a height, in the Kingseat, of over two 
 thousand feet, merge in the banks and braes of Devon 
 Valley, a narrow strath of much quiet beauty and 
 fertility winding between the Ochils and the low hills 
 of Saline. A purer and healthier resort for growing 
 bones and brains, or finer scope for the pursuit of the 
 outdoor arts and sciences, than the hills and glens 
 around Dollar afford, could hardly be named. " Here, 
 Apollo ! are haunts meet for thee." 
 The educative influences of scenery, especially upon 
 69 
 
70 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 taste, and through the emotions, by subtle processes, 
 upon the moral nature, should never be overlooked, and 
 indeed can scarcely be over-estimated. Here, within 
 easy range, is every variety of scenic aspect of aesthetic 
 value, and every modification of it under the varying 
 changes of sun and season. The softness of the un- 
 dulating lowland is here brought into impressive con- 
 trast with the wild grandeur of rocky sylvan glens and 
 the gloomy or sunlit majesty of mountain solitudes. 
 These influences may be felt even from the school 
 playing ground : indeed, the scenery that inspires 
 them is partly visible from the class-room windows. 
 
 In its turn the Academy influences the town. Upon 
 the whole, Dollar is entitled to be catalogued as aca- 
 demical ; and to some it may, with pardonable 
 hyperbole, suggest the idea of an inland St Andrews. 
 The talk of the inhabitants has an academical flavour. 
 Their manner is indicative of the self-possession that 
 comes of culture. The streets are broad, and clean, 
 and quiet — except, perhaps, in that quarter of the 
 town where the rushing Dolour brawls down the little- 
 frequented thoroughfare that connects the ancient red- 
 tiled hamlet of Dollar with its modern slate-roofed 
 namesake. Altogether, in spite of the sad names about 
 the hill of Gloom, and the Dolour water, and the echoing 
 glens through which Care and Sorrow pour their molten 
 crystal from perennial urns, the little roadside hillside 
 town of Dollar, rural yet refined, social yet with in- 
 numerable delightful escapes from society, is a cheerful 
 place to live in, and a pleasant place to remember. 
 
 But the old castle overlooking the town draws 
 visitors from a wider area and in greater numbers than 
 does the school. In itself, the castle, or rather its ruins 
 
THE GLOOM 71 
 
 are, from an architectural point of view, of compara- 
 tively little interest. They convey to the mind none 
 of those ideas of magnificence, whether of strength or 
 of elegance, which the English castles of Warwick and 
 Kenilworth, let us say, inspire in the awestruck be- 
 holder. They are of the ordinary type with which 
 almost every parish in Scotland has made us familiar. 
 There is the square keep, or dungeon tower, rising 
 three or four storeys, and enclosing within walls, from 
 seven to ten feet thick, low, dim, dreary halls which 
 oppress you like prisons. The counterpart of the 
 keep of Castle Campbell, as the old castle at Dollar 
 is now generally called, will be found, with slight 
 dimensional differences, in the not distant ruins at 
 Burleigh, Lochleven, and Balvaird. Then, there are 
 the offices, military and domestic, the fortified wall 
 enclosing the courtyard, the barbican, traces of the 
 fosse, and suggestions of the drawbridge. Everybody 
 is acquainted with the chief features of an old Scottish 
 castle of the common kind. It is for its site and its 
 associations that Castle Campbell (or " The Gloom ") 
 draws public attention. 
 
 The site, if not unique, is at least remarkable. If 
 it were selected for the sake of delighting its original 
 owners with beauty, and variety, and range of scenery, 
 it could hardly have been bettered along the whole 
 long rampart of the Ochils. It stands on a huge 
 circular boss of greenswarded rock, right under which, 
 at a great depth, the waters of its lateral glens unite 
 to form the short but gradually opening gorge which is 
 the vista of its communication with the lowland land- 
 scape. The outlook is southward. On the east and 
 west, but across the severing glens already referred 
 
72 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 to, rise, at good breathing distance, hilltops and 
 terraces on which rests the span of the sky. North- 
 ward is the high green curtain of Saddleback, running 
 all the way from the hill boundaries of the castle on 
 the east to those on the west. To the spectator, look- 
 ing up the glen of Dolour from the vale of Devon, it 
 forms a magnificent background of gigantic green wall 
 to the gray old castle. The entrance to the castle, 
 the only possible one, is from the north. Here the 
 green in front of the gateway is connected, by a short 
 sunken neck of turf-clad rock, with the high and re- 
 markably level plateau from which rise at about a 
 mile's distance the swelling slopes of Saddleback. 
 Many a traveller hurrying along the Devon Valley 
 railway, must have been struck with curiosity, as he 
 looked up, to see the venerable and still majestic ruin, 
 removed from the outer world on its upland shelf, yet 
 watchful of its ancient interests below. To the visitor 
 on the flat top of the tower the interest which it excites 
 in virtue of its situation is not less keen. Looking 
 around him, he sees nothing of the castle but the 
 square, with its low parapet, in the centre of which he 
 stands : he seems to be fixed in mid-air in the middle 
 of a close-surrounding circle of hilltops, perfect but 
 for the abrupt gorge which flings his horizon suddenly 
 southwards over the shining links of Forth to the lands 
 beyond. A moment's reflection, however, forbids the 
 idea that the site was selected for the sake of the view. 
 The castle's age and the annals of Scotland are against 
 it. Edgar Atheling, and the fair Margaret who was 
 afterwards to leave her loved name in not a few places 
 on Scottish ground, may have been fleeing to the pro- 
 tection of Canmore, when, at Canmore's command, 
 
THE GLOOM 73 
 
 the foundations of this castle were being laid. For 
 some antiquaries give so distant a date as the eleventh 
 century to the mountain stronghold. In that remote 
 century Scotland was less a settled possession in which 
 to pick and choose for a habitation with the luxury 
 of landscape scenery, than a doubtful foothold for the 
 preservation of bare existence. Such refinement of 
 habitation comes at a time later in the life of a nation 
 than had been reached by Scotland in the eleventh 
 century, or than was to be reached for centuries to 
 come. One may, therefore, be certain that the site 
 of Castle Campbell, as we call it to-day, was not 
 chosen for the aesthetic loveliness of its outlook, but 
 for the necessities of a watchful security in the midst 
 of constant danger. The loveliness of the outlook 
 was an accident, that now remains to it in the days of 
 its weakness like the silent affection of Cordelia for 
 " poor discrowned Lear." 
 
 The history of the castle may be considered in three 
 stages, according as the associations which cling to it 
 are legendary, properly historical, or modern. The 
 first of these stages, commencing, very much at the 
 choice of the reader, in the eleventh, twelfth, or thir- 
 teenth century, may be said to have ended with the 
 fourteenth, when the castle passed from royal hands 
 to the keeping of the Campbells of Argyll. With the 
 transference came, by and by, a change of name, from 
 Gloom to Campbell. Celtic scholars have found in 
 the older name some resemblance more or less con- 
 vincing (it depends on one's zeal for Celticism) to a 
 Gaelic expression which describes, though by no means 
 distinctively, the dangers of the surrounding ravines, 
 and which the Saxon tongue gradually transmuted 
 
74 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 into Gloom. But the Saxon or Lowland legends deny 
 the transmutation theory, and have a pretty story to 
 offer in place of it, which is certain to recommend their 
 explanation to all lovers of romance. It is of a Scottish 
 maiden of royal rank, who, fixing her affections, in 
 defiance of parental authority to control them, upon a 
 knight of low degree, was immured in a mountain hold 
 on the southern slope of the Ochils, where at her 
 leisure she could review her conduct, renounce her 
 lover, and ultimately be restored to the light of day 
 and the royal countenance — where, at least, she could 
 be prevented from making a scandalous elopement. 
 But the maiden was not to be coerced by chains and 
 darkness and the roar of torrents : she proved loyal to 
 her love, and was left to languish. It soothed her 
 misery to find in the aspects and voices of nature around 
 her a sympathy which the royal heart refused. The 
 nearer hill veiled itself in a gloom which the sun could 
 not pierce, and the notes of care and sorrow rose from 
 the bordering ravines, or mingled in mournful fraternity 
 at the feet of the inexorable castle, and pursued their 
 dolorous way down the lower glen. Gloom became 
 the castle's name, whatever it may have been before ; 
 and the brawling burns, drawn by human neighbour- 
 hood into fellowship with human passion, became the 
 Sorrow and the Care. Their union begets the Dolour, 
 and the Dolour, slightly modified in transit through 
 a commercial age, names the small town which is 
 known to the Post Office as Dollar. With all these 
 rootlets to maintain and foster it, the legend has 
 taken a pretty firm grasp of the locality, and is not 
 to be uptorn by any amount of grubbing on the 
 part of antiquary and etymologist. 
 
THE GLOOM 75 
 
 But the associations of the imprisoned maiden with 
 Castle Gloom do not end here. There is the maiden 
 tree, which she is said to have planted as a seedling on 
 the bank of the causeway which ran from the draw- 
 bridge to the inner castle-yard. Though no seedling 
 or sapling now, it requires a big effort of the imagina- 
 tion, it must be allowed, to think of the plane tree, 
 even with all its umbrageous masses upheld by a bole 
 of twenty-feet girth, as having been really a seedling 
 in the days of the refractory princess. A later and 
 less romantic tradition avers that its boughs were 
 utilised as a gallows, from which dangled the bodies of 
 traitors and other obnoxious persons in the manner 
 which Quentin Durward saw with horror when he set 
 out on his adventures in the dominions of Louis XL 
 This later tradition would connect it with that other 
 maiden who is now spending the evening of an active 
 life in a certain building dedicated to the preservation 
 of such relics at the east end of Queen Street in Edin- 
 burgh. But there is, further, the Maiden Well, also 
 associated with our legendary maiden. It sparkles in 
 ever limpid clearness at the bottom of a cliff in Glen- 
 quey, about a couple of miles to the north-east of the 
 castle, and on the edge of the old military road that led 
 from Glendevon and the district north of the Ochils to 
 the gate of " The Gloom." Thither our maiden was at 
 times permitted to extend her walk, and there she drank ; 
 and sympathetic herdsmen enclosed its waters with four 
 rudely-dressed stones, and named it in memory of her. 
 
 " But fare-thee-weel, sweet Maiden's Well ! 
 Baith sun and weet thy waters spare ! 
 Thou mind' st me of a maid thysel', 
 Sae meek thy modest air ■ 
 
76 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Thy siller threed is hardly seen 
 Winding the solemn hills between, 
 Yet a' the way thy banks o' green 
 Give proof that thou art there."- 
 
 The distinctly historical part of the castle's history 
 comes down to a fateful day in August 1645 ; and 
 ends there. The associations of this period previously 
 to the great event of that tragic day include memories 
 of Knox and Queen Mary, and several interesting 
 passages in the chronicles of the House of Argyll. 
 Mary was here first as an honoured guest at the mar- 
 riage of a (secularized) Abbot with the then Earl of 
 Argyll's sister : this was, says Miss Strickland, in her 
 once popular " Lives of the Scottish Queens," " in the 
 last week of the stormy year, 1562." Her next appear- 
 ance was made a few years afterwards, in the character 
 of a conquering queen to whom the castle had sur- 
 rendered. Tytler, most trustworthy of Scottish 
 historians, has noted the fact. Knox, under the pro- 
 tection of Argyll, found an asylum within its walls, 
 where he practised the freedom of speech and de- 
 meanour which, as Scott has vividly described in " The 
 Monastery," Henry Warden enjoyed, not always to 
 the comfort of the inmates, in the castle of Avenel. 
 A bit of the castle ground, just under the outer south 
 walls and overlooking the dreadful chasm of the Upper 
 Dolour, is known as the Sacramental Green, from the 
 circumstance that Knox, probably during his residence 
 with the covenanting earl, here presided at a species 
 of Holy Fair, to which the military retainers and 
 domestic vassals in and around the castle were doubt- 
 less duly summoned. The scene must have been pre- 
 
THE GLOOM 77 
 
 eminently picturesque, whether one considers the 
 landscape or the variety of figures which give it histori- 
 cal interest and animation . It is a subj ect for a painter. 
 The last historical event in the annals of Castle Camp- 
 bell, it need hardly be said, involved it in ruin. The 
 remote cause of its destruction is popularly found in 
 the burning of " the bonnie House o' Airlie." The 
 ballad has made the fate of the House of Airlie, and 
 the circumstances connected with it, familiar from end 
 to end of Scotland. Lord Airlie nursed his resolution 
 for revenge for five years, and an opportunity to carry 
 it out occurred during the march of' Montrose, from 
 Kinross to Alloa, through the Devon valley, in the 
 summer of 1645. Towards evening a large detach- 
 ment of the Royalist army, consisting mainly of 
 Macleans, long at feud with the Campbells, swarmed 
 up through the steep woodland at the back of 
 Dollar, secured the castle drawbridge, surprised the 
 scanty garrison, and applied the torch to the cap- 
 tured castle. The blaze of the burning pile lit up 
 the leafy or grassy recesses of the neighbouring 
 Ochils, and was cast in red reflection from the pools 
 of the Sorrow Water and the Care Burn. In the 
 lament of Lady Nairne — 
 
 " The lofty Ochils bright did glow, 
 
 Tho' sleeping was the sun ; 
 But morning light did sadly show 
 
 What raging flames had done. 
 For mirk, mirk was the misty cloud 
 
 That hung o'er thy wild wood — 
 Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, 
 
 And all was solitude: 
 
78 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Oh ! mourn the woe, oh ! mourn the crime, 
 
 From civil war that flows ; 
 Oh ! mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, 
 
 And mourn, the Great Montrose ! "- 
 
 The smoke was still rising from the burned castle, 
 and adjoining townships of Dollar and Muckart, when 
 the Marquis of Argyll, leading along with General 
 Baillie the Covenanting forces, came down the vale in 
 wary pursuit of the great Marquis. In temporary 
 revenge upon the Royalists, Argyll set fire to Menstrie 
 and Airthrie as he passed. The " hillfoots," as the 
 district under the Ochils from Dollar to Menstrie is 
 called, are now happily free from such savage and 
 misdirected revenges. 
 
 The modern history of Castle Campbell is a barren 
 record of desertion and neglect, during which the ruins 
 fell into dilapidation, followed by some attempt to 
 arrest, at least partially, the decay of nature and the 
 vandalism of the peasantry. The beauties of the 
 glen under the ruins were also made accessible by the 
 construction of a footpath, leading by reasonably safe 
 rustic bridges and embankments to the castle, and a 
 stream of visitors set in which seems to be increasing 
 with every returning holiday season. The number of 
 inscriptions cut and scrawled all over the castle is an 
 unlovely proof of its popularity with the sight-seeing 
 tourist. The Campbells, it may be added, have ceased 
 connection with the castle, except by name, since 1805. 
 The latest incident in the annals of Dollar which con- 
 nects the village with its ancient lords-superior be- 
 longs to the close of the eighteenth century — the grant 
 of a bleaching green to the wives of the township. 
 
THE GLOOM 79 
 
 The local annalist relates the incident at amusing 
 length. He tells how the village ambassador journeyed 
 with the village petition to Inverary, and how at every 
 step on the long journey the great Duke grew greater, 
 till the inevitable anti-climax was reached in a plain- 
 looking gentleman seated in a pony-phaeton. " What 
 gentleman will that be ? " asked the ambassador 
 of the butler, to whom he had been consigned 
 on his arrival. The butler anxiously corrected his 
 mistake : 
 
 " That, sir, is a nopleman. That pe his Grace ta Tuke 
 of Argyll, and far apove any shentleman." 
 
 " But you are surely joking : the great Duke would 
 never drive in a small phaeton like that." 
 
 " No, sir," said the butler severely ; " I am not 
 choking. That is chust ta Tuke. He haff thirteen 
 crant carriages, but he chooses to trive in the wan that 
 you see him in, and we have no pusiness." 
 
 " But surely he must have few horses when he drives 
 with a little beastie like that." 
 
 " Few horses ! " exclaimed the butler ; " did you 
 only saw his thirty crant horses, you neffer see ta like 
 of them pefore, nor neffer will too again ! neffer ! " 
 
 " But my lord would never dress in a common 
 tartan kilt like that gentleman," continued the am- 
 bassador, with well-affected incredulity. 
 
 " You are not to call him my lord, nor my shentle- 
 man too," said the butler ; " for a Tuke is far apove 
 a lord ; and as for his tress, it is his Grace's pleasure 
 to wear any tress. But he haff neffer so many peauti- 
 ful tresses, as you neffer see pefore, neffer ! " 
 
 " Well, well, I must not doubt your word any longer, 
 but believe it is really the Duke. And now I would 
 
80 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 like to see his Grace, and present the petition I have 
 come with from the inhabitants of Dollar." 
 
 " Yiss, yiss," replied the highlander, " I will now 
 take you to ta Tuke's presence, but rememper ! you 
 are not to say from ta hapitants of Tollar, but from ta 
 township of Campbell ; and when you leaff ta Tuke's 
 presence, you must walk packwards, chust ta same as 
 from ta king's." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to add that the petition was 
 favourably received, and that a free grant, in per- 
 petuity, was given of the piece of ground petitioned 
 for. 
 
 For those who come to Dollar to spend a holiday, 
 there is variety of pleasant pastime away from the 
 castle. The man must be difficult to please who 
 cannot find some healthy outlet for his mind, from 
 professional or business cares, by the streams and on 
 the hillsides here. Are you a botanist ? the flora of 
 the region is rich : a geologist ? there may be little 
 work for the hammer in fossiliferous strata, but there 
 is abundance of exercise for the eye in glen formations 
 and the phenomena of water-courses — the pot-holes 
 of the Devon are of special interest. Do you sketch ? 
 Amidst much that has been transferred to a thousand 
 portfolios, there are virgin views, and nooks never yet 
 visited. Perhaps you are a Waltonian ? Come, then, 
 with your wand and your willow basket and all " your 
 slender watery stores." The Ochils are bright with 
 innumerable trouting streams. Or do you prefer just 
 to moon about meditatively in a region of pure air and 
 enjoy the luxury of free respiration ? Here you may 
 walk at large and indulge your modest desire. And 
 for meditation you may find a subject in the monu- 
 
THE GLOOM 81 
 
 mental gable at Craiginnan, if your mind run more 
 sympathetically with the pensive simplicity of shep- 
 herds' lives than with the noise and splendour of feudal 
 castles. There is, whoever you are, but one necessary 
 condition to your enjoyment here — fine weather. 
 That is the " fairest maid on Devon banks " whose 
 genial presence we all, sometimes sadly, desiderate. 
 
 Fine weather, by thir banks abide, 
 
 An' prove to warl'y men 
 
 That, gang they far or gang they wide, 
 
 There's peace around the pen ; 
 
 That yet the golden age delays, 
 
 Of which they only dream, 
 
 With shepherd folk on Ochil braes 
 
 By Devon's gentle stream. 
 
THE PLUMM 
 
 I lay as in a waking dream, 
 Lull'd by the fall of fountains, 
 
 Where twenty of them feed a stream 
 Far up among the mountains. 
 
 The turf was soft beneath my head, 
 The water plashed before me, 
 
 And all the spacious heavens were red 
 With evening's blazon o'er me. 
 
 Between me and a steep smooth bank, 
 Green to the foamy margin, 
 
 Quiver'd a quite sufficient tank 
 To float a fairy barge in, 
 
 Fed by a full translucent wave, 
 Clearer than glass and colder, 
 
 That with a tremulous bounty gave 
 Its silver o'er a boulder. 
 
 With soft tumultuous rush it fell, 
 And half the bank besprinkled, 
 
 While many a large and little bell 
 Rose where its music tinkled, 
 
 82 
 
THE PLUMM 83 
 
 And floated slowly o'er the pool 
 
 Alone or in a cluster, — 
 And one that in the light lay full 
 
 Shone with a rainbow lustre. 
 
 The pool itself seemed in my sight 
 
 A liquid agate chamber, 
 Here dusky clear, there sunny bright 
 
 With just a tinge of amber. 
 
 Its tone was that of maiden's eye 
 That steals to stay within you — 
 
 Just bold enough not to be shy, 
 And shy enough to win you. 
 
 The bank was green, and smooth, and steep, 
 
 But where it met the boulder 
 A grove of brackens seemed to peep 
 
 Over its mossy shoulder. 
 
 And one large leaf above the rest, 
 
 Moist and maturely fronded — 
 (Another on the water's breast 
 
 Minutely corresponded) — 
 
 Hung over with a grace that art 
 Could never once have taught her, 
 
 As if to kiss her counterpart 
 That trembled in the water. 
 
 Down sank the light, the clouds grew dull, 
 
 The sky began to blacken, 
 And all its glory left the pool, 
 
 And all its grace the bracken. 
 
IN THE TRACK OF AN OLD TRAVELLER 
 
 In the early summer of 1803 an intelligent English 
 traveller, a graduate and in orders, arrived on horse- 
 back from Falkland at a public-house in Kinross, 
 which one has little difficulty in identifying with the 
 Green Inn, and was agreeably surprised to find that 
 it was as good as any he had seen in his own country. 
 The rooms were neat and clean, and, in respect both 
 of public and of private apartments, well aired and 
 spacious ; while larder and cellar — offices in the 
 economy of an inn believed to be specially interesting 
 to an Englishman — were proved and pronounced to 
 be excellent. There were good supplies of butcher's 
 meat, a variety of game, and fish both from the sea 
 and from the adjoining lake, the latter including such 
 different kinds as trout, pike, perch, eel, and flounder. 
 Whether the flounder still flourishes in Lochleven the 
 lakeside dwellers can say. In short, the Green Inn 
 of a century ago was a veritable Scottish Tabard, quite 
 answering to Dan Chaucer's famous testimonial to 
 the hospitality of the old Southwark hostelry, where the 
 rooms were " wide," and guests were " well esed atte 
 best." Our traveller makes no mention of the liquor, 
 but while it is safe to say that both ale and aqua flanked 
 the solids, it is no less certain that port — though its 
 popularity was on the wane — was his board companion 
 
 84 
 
THE TRACK OF AN OLD TRAVELLER 85 
 
 when the solids had disappeared. It must not be 
 forgotten that Kinross was a place of more importance 
 then than it is now ; and the inn stood on the great 
 thoroughfare from Perth to Queensferry, equidistant 
 exactly fifteen miles from each. It was a thriving 
 town, where " linen, leather shoes, and, above all, 
 hardware, particularly cutlery," were manufactured 
 to a considerable extent. The sullen cutlers of Kin- 
 ross, indeed, had made a name for themselves in razors, 
 scissors, and pen-knives throughout Scotland, and 
 were believed to be undermining the trade of Sheffield, 
 very much as the Germans are believed to be under- 
 mining the trade of Britain to-day — only with better 
 reason, for our traveller hints that the manufacturers 
 of Sheffield were furnishing the Scottish market with 
 articles which, though very cheap, were of an inferior 
 quality, whereas Kinross cutlery was of excellent 
 quality, whatever the price may have been. He did 
 not doubt that Englishmen both could and did " make 
 at least as good articles ; " but it would seem that the 
 Kinross cutlers did not share his pious belief, but 
 publicly claimed superiority by the daring challenge 
 which they engraved on their handicraft : — 
 
 -- In Kinross was I made 
 Both haft and blade ; 
 Sheffield, for thy life, 
 Show me such a knife ! '-'- 
 
 The history of the rise, progress, and alas ! downfall 
 of Kinross cutlery, and the hardware industry gener- 
 ally, has never been written ; yet the subject is one of 
 more than local interest. There is probably now a 
 
86 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 dearth of information on the subject ; and it is even 
 doubtful whether there still remain to the fore any good 
 reliable specimens of an art in which less than a century 
 ago Kinross rejoiced, and in competition claimed to 
 bear the bell. Was the industry at last swamped, 
 after all, by inferior articles " made in Sheffield ? " 
 Absit omen ! Or were there no " enterprising spirits 
 in the neighbourhood, such as the very respectable and 
 ingenious family of the Adams," courageous enough 
 " to enlarge the manufacture and extend the com- 
 merce ? " Our traveller, at least, was magnanimous 
 enough to desiderate such local patronage ; or he may 
 have been echoing in his journal the wish of mine host 
 of the Green Inn, expressed at the critical time when 
 Sheffield was pressing the siege of Kinross with the 
 tactics of modern Germany. 
 
 Next to the inn and the industry in cutlery, our 
 traveller found an interest in Kinross House. The 
 lake, both piscatorially and historically, drew his 
 attention, also, but to a less degree than one would 
 have expected. He notices, indeed, the legend of 
 Queen Mary's escape ; just mentions St Serf's island 
 (which then consisted of only " forty-eight acres of 
 good pasture ") ; and ventures the statement that 
 Alexander III. came often to Lochleven Castle to fish, 
 just as the Stuart Kings of a later time went often to 
 Falkland Palace to hunt. But Kinross House took 
 his special attention. He describes it as "a grand 
 and very elegant mansion," approached through an 
 avenue of " lofty trees, a spacious court, and by one 
 of the noblest stone staircases anywhere to be seen." 
 It was, in short, " a charming mansion ; " and among 
 its many felicities were the prospects around it — the 
 
THE TRACK OF AN OLD TRAVELLER 87 
 
 level lake, with its wavy, fish-abounding waters ; the 
 noble range of the Lomonds, with the massive dome- 
 like western Law, rising almost 1800 feet, like the 
 bastion of a Titanic wall ; and the grassy Aichils, 
 famous then (as now) for the superiority of their 
 natural herbage, their cheeses, and their mutton, the 
 salubrity of their pastoral solitudes, and the independ- 
 ence and simplicity of manners of their numerous 
 cock-lairds. And here our traveller made a towns- 
 man's reflection : — " In the vicinity of a great city (at 
 a distance of only thirty miles from Edinburgh) the 
 solitude of mountains, woods, and waters can hardly 
 be too great ; and there is a satisfaction in knowing 
 that you are not far from the highway that connects 
 you with the gay, active, and busy world." The satis- 
 faction is emphasised to us by the fact that twen- 
 tieth century science has reduced the distance 
 without diminishing the amenities of the Ochil 
 solitudes. 
 
 Journeying northwards from Kinross, our traveller 
 entered Strathearn by the Wicks of Baigley, where, like 
 Walter Scott only a few years before him, he suddenly 
 stopped, as if by instinct, to admire the prospect that 
 there burst upon his view. Descending into the 
 valley, he turned east at Baigley Inn, and struck into 
 the road which leads to Cupar, by Abernethy and 
 Newburgh. He passed the Farg, which on a later 
 occasion he found well supplied with excellent trout, 
 easily taken ; cast a glance of delight at the House of 
 Pottie, now Ayton House, beautifully situated above 
 Aberargie, at the base of a precipitous wood-covered 
 hill ; glanced shudderingly up the " dreary, dismal " 
 glen of Abernethy, through which there wound the 
 
88 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 principal route from Perth to the pier of Kinghorn ; 
 and found himself at the hospitable inn of ancient 
 Abernethy, where (he says somewhat enigmatically) 
 " tea and butter and bread formed only a slight pro- 
 portion of my repast." 
 
 Our traveller found much to entertain him, not only 
 in the inn, but in the ancient capital (as he styles it) of 
 the Picts and the Seceders ; in the people of the village, 
 whom he found living in dogs' ease — that is, on plain 
 fare and in idleness, each householder being for the 
 most part his own proprietor, and " well contented with 
 milk, eggs, potatoes, porridge, and preaching, all of 
 which they had in abundance " ; in the antiquities of 
 Round Tower and vitrified forts ; above all, in the 
 noble and diversified views from the Castle Law of 
 lower Strathearn. Indeed, he can scarcely find 
 language suitable enough to express his genuine ad- 
 miration of the scenery. "As to the Lower Strath- 
 erne," he writes, " it is so beautifully enclosed be- 
 tween verdant hills, so delightfully watered by the 
 Erne and the brooks and rivulets that fall into it on 
 either hand (such as the Nethy, the Farg, the Water 
 of May, etc.), so neatly divided into well-fenced and 
 well-cultivated fields, and so thickly interspersed with 
 gentlemen's seats, that it seems to be one garden or 
 piece of pleasure-ground. It we take in the scenery 
 of the Hill of Moncrieff, with the cliff of Kinnoul, and 
 the conflux of the Erne and Tay, expanding after their 
 junction into a spacious estuary, it would be difficult 
 for the magnificent taste of even an Emperor of China 
 to form a garden on a nobler scale." 
 
 He found Abernethy Inn less commodious, indeed, 
 than^the Green Inn of Kinross, but every whit as 
 
THE TRACK OF AN OLD TRAVELLER 89 
 
 hospitable. The proprietor was independent of his 
 inn, and received him rather as a guest than as a 
 traveller. Landlord and landlady seemed to conspire 
 to spoil him. He returned to it again and again, from 
 Newburgh and from Crieff ; it was his " own inn," 
 where he " took his ease," and was made to feel that 
 he was a member of the family. All this, too, in spite 
 of one little adventure, which, because of its humorous 
 character, may be given in his own words : — " Towards 
 the evening I returned to my public-house at Aber- 
 nethy. The family when I arrived was singing 
 psalms. When this was over, and some one, the land- 
 lord no doubt, began to read a chapter of the Bible, 
 I knocked gently at the door ; but no one answered, 
 and I stood at the door with my horse, upon my word, 
 I think the best part of an hour, when, the reading 
 being over, and also a long prayer, I was at last ad- 
 mitted." The whole episode reminds one of the ad- 
 venture of Alan Fairford at Tom Trumbull's in Annan, 
 as set forth in " Redgauntlet." They probably do 
 business on a different principle to-day in the ancient 
 town of Abernethy. But times have altered. Sunday, 
 or the Sabbath, was the great day for drinking then, 
 and the inn was supported by the kirk-goers, and 
 especially at " the occasions," as the Sacramental 
 festivals were called. We are expressly told that as 
 many as 12,000 would attend Abernethy Holy Fair, 
 and that on the preceding Saturday evening the town 
 would hum like a hive with people praying in their 
 kailyards and on the hill slopes around. 
 
 When at last our traveller left Abernethy, he 
 carried with him a discharged bill of the following 
 tenour : — 
 
9 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Breakfast — tea, eggs, ham, etc. . .^008 
 Supper, with whisky-punch . . .018 
 Breakfast, as before . . . .008 
 Dinner — kail and flesh, trouts, roasted fowl, 
 
 mutton, ham, port . . .010 
 
 Bottle of wine, and one of English 
 
 porter .036 
 
 Corn and hay for his horse . . .020 
 
 £096 
 
 There was no charge for bed, and the wine was cheap, 
 because it had been smuggled. 
 
O TAM FORDYCE 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee, 
 When an angry cast o' a back-end blast 
 
 Touzles my wet eebree, 
 For thou sits' sae snug by the red fire-lug 
 
 While I trudge to the dark citee. 
 
 ii 
 
 Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 As a man o' grit, an' a sample bit 
 
 0' the loons o' the north countree 
 Wi' their kindly praise o' Bogie braes 
 
 An' the kinnerin' sound o' Dee. 
 
 in 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 When the manuscrip', like an upturn'd hip, 
 
 Lies braid across thy knee, 
 An' thou reads' for help for anither skelp 
 
 With a dour an' a deadly e'e. 
 91 
 
92 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 IV 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 When thou shouts' " Go to, I will rise an' do ! " 
 
 And the purpose fires thine e'e, 
 And thy fancy spins, and the story rins 
 
 In a spate to volume three. 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 In thy garden bow'r at the gloamin' hour 
 
 Wi' the bairns around thy knee, 
 While thou tells' them tales, that are 'maist like whales, 
 
 Of ferlies ayont the sea. 
 
 VI 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 On Gadie side i' the simmer-tide, 
 
 Wi' thy rib, an' mine, an' me, 
 While thou lies thy length and enjoys thy strength 
 
 Wi' thy back on the benty lee. 
 
 VII 
 
 O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 When the bowl is brewn, an' thou sits thee doun 
 
 An' the cares o' this warld flee, 
 And thy face expands, and thy birse upstands 
 
 In the strength o' the barley-bree. 
 
O TAM FORDYCE 93 
 
 VIII 
 
 Tam Fordyce, dear Tarn Fordyce, 
 
 I like to think o' thee 
 In paradise, through fields o' spice 
 
 Stravagin' a pagan free, 
 As a nowte on Noth, or a cowte that go'th 
 
 At the back o' Bennachie ! 
 
 IX 
 
 L'Envoi — O Tam Fordyce, dear Tam Fordyce, 
 We canna mak' the weather, 
 
 Be't sun or rain, or baith or nane, 
 Here or hereafter whether ; 
 
 But here or there we'll mak' a pair 
 And hauve our chance thegither. 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH : A RETROSPECT 
 
 Viewed in whatever aspect, the Firth, or as it would 
 be called in Norway the fiord, into which the Forth 
 happens to flow, is a noble expanse of salt water, such 
 as in variety of interest is without comparison on the 
 Scottish coast. The majesty of its natural appear- 
 ance, through its whole length of fifty miles from Alloa 
 to the May, provokes the admiration of travelled 
 visitors. To the dwellers on its banks it is a joy for 
 ever. In the eyes of Scott it was a fitting part of the 
 environment of his own romantic town. With what 
 unfailing delight in youth, maturity, and age had he 
 gazed upon its scenic loveliness from Braids or 
 Blackford ! 
 
 Yonder the shores of Fife he saw, 
 Here Preston-bay and Berwick-law, 
 
 And, broad between them roll'd, 
 The gallant Frith the eye might note, 
 Whose islands on its bosom float 
 
 Like emeralds chased in gold. 
 
 The utilitarian view, or at least one aspect of it, not 
 the less interesting for its homeliness, has been well 
 expressed by Fergusson, whose hearty humorous lines 
 need no apology : — 
 
 Of a' the waters that can hobble 
 A fishing yawl or saumon cobble, 
 
 94 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH 95 
 
 An' can reward the fisher's trouble, 
 
 Or south or north, 
 There's nane sae spacious and sae noble 
 
 As Frith o' Forth. 
 
 In her the skate an' codlin sail, 
 The eel fu' souple wags her tail ; 
 Wi' herrin', fleuk, an' mackarel, 
 
 An' whitins dainty, 
 Their spindle-shanks the lobsters trail 
 
 Wi' partans plenty. 
 
 It is, however, the historical charm which gives to the 
 waters of the Firth of Forth their chief and most 
 abiding interest. Its memories of strife and storm, its 
 associations inextricably mingled with the national life, 
 its romantic episodes and scenes of private or indi- 
 vidual daring rise to the mind in fleet succession, and 
 form a subject fit to inspire even a Dryasdust with 
 eloquence. Who shall arise and write the history of 
 the Firth of Forth ? He will find material for a 
 chapter of heroic daring in that episode of " the 
 Fifteen," in which Brigadier Mackintosh passed with 
 his Highlanders in open boats from Fife to Leith, 
 despite hostile fleet and fortress — to share with gallant 
 Kenmure, against his better judgment, the fortune 
 of war at Preston. Our historian will find matter for 
 another chapter in the departure from Leith in July 
 1698, of the St Andrew, the Unicorn, and the Cale- 
 donia, on their ill-fated expedition to distant Darien — 
 an expedition which carried with it half the heart and 
 more than half the hopes of Scotland, and which was 
 fondly watched on its way down the Firth by thousands 
 of spectators from the esplanade of Edinburgh Castle 
 
96 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 till the white glimmer of its sails disappeared beyond 
 the May. Yet again our historian will find no un- 
 worthy theme in that wondrous contest which out- 
 lived the long hours of a summer's day of 1489, when 
 Sir Andrew Wood with the Yellow Carvel and the Flower 
 accepted the challenge of stout Stephen Bull lurking 
 " at the back of the May," and fought him and his 
 three big English ships all round the shores of Fife to a 
 successful issue, " while all the men and women that 
 dwelt near the coast came and beheld their fighting." 
 There are scores of such subjects that spring up before 
 anyone who sits down to muse for a few minutes on the 
 ancient history of the Firth of Forth — among which we 
 just catch a glimpse of the Spanish Armada hurrying 
 northward through a drift of cloud and rain to its doom 
 among " the stormy Hebrides." But mention of Sir 
 Andrew Wood reminds us of the palmy days of Scottish 
 naval enterprise, and here we may pause for a little to 
 consider, however briefly, the appearance which the 
 Firth of Forth presented about four centuries ago. 
 
 This takes us back to the reign of the gallant King 
 James, Fourth of the name. What the Elizabethan 
 age was to England, such was his in many respects in 
 the history of Scotland. Then for the first time did 
 Scotland become a power to be reckoned with in the 
 game of European politics. The policy of the country 
 was no longer merely friendly alliance with France and 
 hostility to England. Intimate relations were formed 
 with Spain, Venice, Burgundy, Flanders, and Den- 
 mark. Much of the vigorous foreign policy was due 
 to the personal character of the King. He let it be 
 known that he would tamely submit to no affront, that 
 he would have proper respect shown to the Red Lion. 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH ctf 
 
 His vigilance was equal to his vigour ; he was probably 
 the most active man in his kingdom, and he seemed 
 to be ubiquitous. There was no variety of industry, 
 art, or science which he did not practise or patronise. 
 He was the patron of learning and literature, the 
 fosterer of fishing and commerce, the organiser of 
 armies and a navy. Dunbar, the brightest literary 
 star of his Court, offers a vivid and comprehensive 
 glimpse of his varied and untiring activity in his 
 well-known " Remonstrance " : — 
 
 " Sir, ye have many servitours, 
 And officers of divers cures (offices) ; 
 Kirkmen, court-men, and craftsmen fine ; 
 Doctors of law, and medicine ; 
 Diviners, rhetors, philosophours ; 
 Astrologers, artists, oratours ; 
 Men of arms, and valiant knights, 
 And many other goodly wights ; 
 Musicians, minstrels, merry singers, 
 Chevalours,* callanders, and flingers (dancers) ■ 
 Coiners, carvers, carpenters, 
 
 Builders of barks and ballengers (sea-going vessels) ; 
 Masons, laying (building) upon the land, 
 And ship-wrights, hewing upon the strand ; 
 Glaziers, goldsmiths, lapidars, 
 Printers, painters, and 'poticars,' - etc. 
 
 Under his kindly liberality and countenance literature 
 and the early drama throve in Scotland till they ex- 
 celled the contemporary literature and drama of 
 England ; but among all his many concerns none is 
 more noticeable than his devotion to the sea. It was 
 he that gave Scotland her navy — indirectly it was he 
 
 * Not cavaliers, but hairdressers. 
 
98 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 that gave England hers ; and it was under his direc- 
 tions that Scotland first bade fair to be a great com- 
 mercial community, and first began to look for her 
 chief annual harvest to the fisheries along her coasts. 
 The great national disaster, in the dusk of one Sep- 
 tember evening, under Flodden Edge, quenched the 
 bright promise of those hopeful times, and threw 
 Scotland back into the rear of nations for well-nigh 
 two centuries. 
 
 The success of Sir Andrew Wood of Largo in his 
 famous fight at close quarters with Stephen Bull, to 
 which reference has already been made, was the first 
 great achievement of the reign. It was the event of 
 the second year of the reign, when King James was 
 in his seventeenth year. The reader will find a full 
 account of the victory in " the pictured page " of 
 Lindsay of Pitscottie, the Livy of the history of Scot- 
 land. Sir Andrew had put out to sea, at the urgent 
 request of the King, to clear the " Firth of Scotland — 
 our Firth," as the Firth of Forth then was called, of 
 " certain English ships that spoiled our merchants and 
 their friends that came into our waters." He had 
 been completely successful, taking five fully armed 
 English ships that were a-privateering off Dunbar 
 Castle, and towing them to Leith, where the King 
 received the prizes, and suitably rewarded the victor. 
 Then northward had come Stephen Bull, at the com- 
 mand of Henry VII., to reassert the superiority of 
 England in Scottish waters, and he, after a brief exercise 
 of terrorism among the smaller craft of Crail and King- 
 horn, soon met his match in Sir Andrew, and shared 
 the indignity he had come to avenge. James's treat- 
 ment of Bull, who, to do him justice, had fought a 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH 99 
 
 gallant fight, was characteristic of his chivalrous 
 nature. " He received the English captain and all his 
 men," says Pitscottie, " and gave them gifts of gold 
 and silver, together with their ships, and sent them 
 home to the King of England as a propyne, but with 
 the message that the King of Scotland had as manful 
 men both on sea and on land as the King of England " ; 
 and therefore the latter had better keep his captains 
 at home, and cease from perturbing the Scots in Scot- 
 tish waters, or they would fare the worse for it in future. 
 Henry was much annoyed at the news and the message, 
 " but yet he thanked the King of Scotland for the 
 delivery of his men and the entertainment they had 
 received." It is somewhat amusing to find that, while 
 James had gifts of gold and silver for his English cap- 
 tives, he had none for the Pope, who had just ordered 
 a subsidy from Scotland for a new Crusade against the 
 Turks. " I have no store of gold to send you," wrote 
 James to His Holiness in 1490 ; " my kingdom does 
 not overflow with silver and gold, although it is not 
 lacking in other commodities " — and he goes on to in- 
 form Innocent VIII. that his treasury had been pretty 
 well exhausted in reducing his own unruly subjects 
 to peace and unity, and in repressing the persistent 
 inroads of " our old enimies of England." 
 
 The clearance of the Firth of Forth from English 
 pirates was immediately followed by the expansion of 
 Scottish trade and a more vigorous and profitable pro- 
 secution of Scottish fisheries. James saw clearly the 
 immense advantage to be gained by the cultivation 
 of those industries. Acts were repeatedly passed by 
 the Scottish Parliament to encourage and develop 
 them. One Act, of 1493, commanded a fishing fleet 
 
ioo EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 of boats and busses from each maritime burgh, pro- 
 portioned to its size and substance ; and gave the local 
 authorities power to press into the peaceful service of 
 the sea every unemployed or idle man, on pain of banish- 
 ment from the burgh which he burdened by his in- 
 dolence. Another Act, of 1508, all but fixed a load- 
 line for vessels engaged in foreign trade ; no ship was 
 to be loaded beyond what it could well carry, and 
 especially no merchandise, whether of export or im- 
 port, was to be stored above the deck or overloft of the 
 ship, unless with the written consent of the owner of 
 the goods. The Act, it must be owned, was rather for 
 the preservation of the goods than for the safety of the 
 lives of the sailors. Meanwhile, a vigorous sea-police 
 was instituted under the direction of a famous family 
 of Leith seamen of the name of Barton. Under 
 Andrew Barton, and his younger brothers Rob and 
 John, pirate-hunting became a profession ; and the 
 profession developed into piracy. Andrew had been 
 trained under the knight of Largo, and was captain 
 of the Yellow Carvel ; Hob, or Rob, belongs rather to 
 the reign of James V. Following up the exploits of 
 Sir Andrew Wood in Scottish waters, Andrew Barton 
 carried the terror of his name throughout the whole 
 area of the North Sea, and even beyond it. He made 
 reprisals on the Flemings, the English, and especially 
 the Portuguese for injuries, done or suspected, to 
 Scottish shipping. A grisly present of three barrels 
 filled with the heads of Flemish pirates was one of his 
 gifts to King James. He hovered around the Thames 
 estuary, as in former times Stephen Bull had hovered 
 around the estuary of the Forth. Unhappily, he shared 
 inhis turn, a similar, or rather a worse, reverse of fortune. 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH 101 
 
 He was overpowered in 1511 by Howard, " Edmund 
 the Admiral," son of the Earl of Surrey, and his head 
 was borne in triumph through the streets of London. 
 His ship, the Lion, to which hangs a tale not now to 
 be told, became the second best ship in the English 
 Navy. It was not so that Bull had been treated ; 
 and James's indignation at Henry's ungenerous treat- 
 ment of Andrew Barton was a factor in the tragedy 
 of Flodden. There can be no doubt that a gallant sea- 
 man was lost to his country in Andrew Barton. Living 
 about a century after Chaucer's " Shipman," he had 
 all the hardihood and skill of the poet's ideal : — 
 
 He knew well all the havens, as they were, 
 From Gothland to the Cape of Finisterre ; 
 Hardy he was, and wise, to undertake ; 
 With many a tempest had his beard been shake. 
 
 There can be no doubt that King James's resolution 
 to be a power on the water roused the maritime rivalry 
 of England. The navies of both nations were then in 
 their infancy ; but, for a short time at least, there 
 seemed to be more dash and daring in the northern 
 Navy. The ship-yards of Fife from Queensferry to 
 St Andrews rang for years with the din of hammers, 
 and the sound of their industry was re-echoed from 
 the Lothian side of the Firth. Leith was busier than 
 ever it had been before, and a new dock was erected 
 at Newhaven, in which were built two great ships — 
 the James and the Margaret. But the greatest ship 
 of the Scottish fleet was the Great Michael, the con- 
 struction of which strained the resources of the country. 
 Every wright in Scotland, as well as many foreign 
 carpenters, invited or impressed by the King from 
 
loa EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Denmark, France, and even distant Venice, was em- 
 ployed in rearing the mighty fabric. The timber it 
 required depleted the plantations of Fife, except the 
 woods around the plesaunce of much-loved Falkland ; 
 and solid beams of oak, and masts and yards of pine, 
 were imported at much outlay from France and from 
 Norway. No larger ship had ever been known out- 
 with the Gates of the Mediterranean. Her artillery 
 was in keeping with her size and strength. No city 
 or fortress in France had ever been besieged by more 
 or heavier guns than she carried. With bombards and 
 basilisks, falcons and serpentens, not to mention a vast 
 lesser artillery of myands, hagbuts, and culverin, she 
 seemed, when at last floated out to the Roads, as 
 formidable as she was impregnable. While one hun- 
 dred and twenty gunners manned her armament, her 
 tackling required the handling of three hundred 
 mariners, and she had accommodation for a force of 
 one thousand fighting men. Her walls were ten feet 
 thick — " which no cannon could go through " : the 
 King caused her to stand the test. " And if any man 
 believe," says Pitscottie, " that this description of 
 the ship be not of verity, let him pass to the gate of 
 Tullibardine, and there, before the same, he will see 
 the length and breadth of her planted with hawthorn 
 by a wright that helped to make her." The dimen- 
 sions do not impress one so much as the general de- 
 scription does — " twelve score feet in length and 
 thirty-six feet within the sides." Her first master 
 was Sir Andrew Wood, and her skipper Andrew Barton. 
 The King showed the pride he took in possessing the 
 first ship of the time by a daily visit to her for many 
 successive days, and by frequently dining and supping 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH 103 
 
 on board, and pointing out to his lords her many noble 
 qualities. Sad to think, she was to gladden the heart 
 and eyes of the King for only two short years. The 
 year after Flodden she passed by purchase into the 
 possession of France. That she ever did anything 
 notable is not on record. 
 
 Twice at least in the reign of James IV. did England 
 take serious alarm at the growing naval power of Scot- 
 land ; once when Warbeck's flimsy cause was — fOr 
 whatever reason — briskly taken up by the Scottish 
 Court, and again — seventeen years later — when James 
 was mustering " a martial nation's vast array " on 
 the Burgh Muir of Edinburgh preparatory to his last 
 great invasion of England. On the former occasion 
 the traitorous Lord Bothwell had secretly informed 
 Henry VII. of the design of the Scottish King to 
 attack England both by land and by sea with a great 
 force, for the maintenance of which he had coined his 
 very chains, his plate, and his cupboards ; and had 
 advised " his Grace " that he might do a great deed 
 with a secret army on the sea, for all the shipping and 
 inhabitants of the haven towns of Fife and the Lothians 
 were to pass with the King in one mighty concerted 
 movement, leaving the Firth of Forth and all its ports 
 and lands exposed and open to capture, pillage, and 
 destruction ! Boece hereupon makes mysterious men- 
 tion of an English Armada of one hundred vessels which 
 Henry, in alarm, dispatched to the Firth to prevent or 
 recall the threatened Scottish expedition. But what 
 became of those " sixty swift-sailing ships (celoces) 
 and forty transports, with many troops and every 
 warlike provision, which should sail round the Scottish 
 shores ? " Were they one of the " inventions " of 
 
io 4 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Boece upon which Mr Andrew Lang waxeth eloquently 
 indignant in his new History of Scotland ? They 
 seem at least to have sailed away into space, never to 
 be seen or heard of more. On the other occasion re- 
 ferred to, Henry VIII. had more than one pair of eyes 
 on the movements of his Scottish brother-in-law. From 
 Dacre, in February 1513, he learned that at Leith and 
 Newhaven there were thirteen three-masted men-of- 
 war, besides the Christ of Lynn, the Margaret, and 
 the James, and ten vessels of smaller size. But most 
 interesting are the letters from his ambassador, the 
 priest and jurisconsult, Nicolas West, who had been 
 specially sent to Edinburgh to discover the inclina- 
 tions of the Scottish King, and to watch his plans. 
 West did not find his mission a pleasant one. James 
 chaffed him, Margaret resented his want of tact, the 
 nobles eyed him coldly, and the common people were 
 rude to him. His interview with Queen Margaret is 
 amusing reading. It was on a day that befitted his 
 behaviour — April 1, 1513 : — " After dinner she set her 
 down in a chair and had a long chat with me. . . . She 
 asked me if your Grace had sent her legacy ; and I 
 said ' yea,' and that I was ready to deliver it to her, 
 if the King would promise to keep the treaty of peace. 
 And she asked, ' And not else ? ' and I said ' No.' . . . 
 And before I had fully finished, the King came upon 
 us, and so we broke communication." He liked Scot- 
 land and the people so ill that he would rather have 
 gone as ambassador to the Turk — " the country is so 
 mysere and the people so ungracious, and, over that, I 
 shall have scant money to bring me home, the country 
 is so dear." His opinion may be set over against that 
 of the Spanish ambassador, Don Pedro de Ayala, who, 
 
THE FIRTH OF FORTH 105 
 
 in a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella in 1498, described 
 the people as handsome, courageous, and active, and 
 so hospitable as "to dispute with one another as to who 
 shall have and entertain a foreigner in his house." 
 West saw he was being trifled with, and treated as 
 an unwelcome guest. " On Monday," he wrote, " be- 
 cause I had no business, for a pastime I went down to 
 Leith, to see what ships were prepared there. I found 
 none but nine or ten small topmen, amongst which the 
 ship of Lynn was the biggest, and other small balingers 
 and creyers, and never one of all those was rigged for 
 war but one little topman of three score tons. And 
 from thence I went to the New Haven, and there lieth 
 the Margaret, a ship nigh of the burden of the Christ 
 of Lynne, and many men working upon her, some 
 setting on her maintop, some caulking her above 
 water, etc." Within less than half a year from the 
 time of this visit to Leith and Newhaven, the bustle 
 and din of preparation which had then hardly begun 
 was over both on shore and inland, James had crossed 
 the border with his well-equipped army, and had been 
 defeated and slain at Flodden, and whatever plan of 
 aggressive action had been marked out for his fleet 
 was; in the awful calamity which had overtaken 
 the nation, necessarily abandoned. Naval enterprise 
 ceased in the Firth ; commerce found little encourage- 
 ment in the unsettled and contentious times that 
 followed ; and the teeming fisheries were prosecuted 
 with lax and languid interest, greatly to the benefit 
 of the Dutch, whose busses became a familiar spectacle 
 from both sides of the Firth for many succeeding years. 
 
THAT SWANSTON ! 
 
 Frae Samoa far, Cairketton scaur 
 Looked sweetly doun on Swanston ; 
 
 But Swanston's seP, the truth to tell, 
 It's honoured if it's glanced on ! 
 
 When Louie's leg was owre his naig, 
 How nobly then he pranced on ! 
 
 As if the choice o' human joys 
 An' Heaven itsel'— was Swanston ! 
 
 Tak' Ochilside : I'll brag it wide, 
 Whatever airt ye've chanced on, 
 
 The barest knowe that sterves a yowe 
 May cock its nose at Swanston ! 
 
 Its cottars' wa's, its braes, an a's 
 
 Been overly enhanced on ; 
 An' Ochilside may scorn wi' pride 
 
 To be compared wi' Swanston ! 
 
 Gang to the toun, look up an' doun, 
 Look whaur an' what thou canst on : 
 
 Unless the glint o' April's in't, 
 There's naething in that Swanston ! 
 
 1 06 
 
THAT SWANSTON! 107 
 
 When hawthorn buds adorn its wuds, 
 An' cuckows shout in Swanston, 
 
 I maun alloo it tholes a view, 
 But nocht to be entranced on ! 
 
 For bare an' bleak Cairketton peak 
 Glooms maistly doun on Swanston, 
 
 An' ye wad need his een to see't — 
 To ken what he romanced on ! 
 
 What is't endears to manhood's years 
 The distance we've advanced on ? 
 
 The hopes we bred, the fears we fed, 
 An' left behind — at Swanston ! 
 
 But village green, wherever seen, 
 
 By bonnie bairnies danced on, 
 It's Auburn sweet to native feet ; 
 
 To ither folk it's — Swanston ! 
 
"BLIN' HARY" 
 
 The spirit of patriotism has breathed through Scottish 
 poetry from its very beginning. We have not alone 
 in these later times the voices of Burns, Scott, and 
 Campbell, with the living proof of " Scots Wha Hae," 
 " Breathes there the Man," and " Ye Mariners of 
 England." There is the pious tradition from early 
 times of Barbour and " Blin' Hary." Those rude 
 epics of Scotland's eldern day, the " Brus " and 
 " Schir William Wallace," are not likely to be for- 
 gotten ; though little read now, they are ever to be 
 remembered as having fed and fostered for centuries 
 the love of freedom and the love of country which 
 still find expression — much to their credit — in the 
 national character, literature, and life. 
 
 Of the two, though Barbour is more reliable as a 
 historian and not less interesting as a poet, it is Blin' 
 Hary that is much the better known both by name 
 and by repute to the people. Even yet in remote 
 rural parishes, one may hear casual mention of him 
 among the older peasantry, and a tattered version of 
 his " Wallace " may be unearthed from the dim 
 recesses of cupboard or almry. Certainly a century 
 has not yet passed since he was produced of a winter 
 evening by the farmer's ingle, and read aloud to eager 
 auditors with as much regularity as the family Bible. . 
 Probably the character of brave Wallace and the 
 
 1 08 
 
"BLIN' HARY" 109 
 
 utterly unselfish nature of his work appealed more 
 intimately to the heart of the common people ; his life 
 of hardship and his tragic death awoke at least a deeper 
 sympathy than the happier fortunes of the heroic Bruce. 
 But something, too, there was in the personality of its 
 author to give stronger and longer recommendation to 
 the epic of Wallace than to that of the Bruce. The 
 studious and scholarly Barbour could hardly have 
 been known in person to many outside his own 
 academic circle, but the figure and voice of Blin' Hary 
 were familiar more or less all over the Lowlands, and 
 his blindness gave him an additional claim to the 
 affectionate regard of his fellow-countrymen. When 
 at last, early in the sixteenth century, his figure dis- 
 appeared from this earthly scene, he was still for many 
 a year seen, in the popular imagination, going his rounds 
 and reciting his heroic numbers throughout the land. 
 His book was one of the earliest to be printed by Chep- 
 man and Myllar ; and, when black-letter copies began 
 to grow scarce, or became illegible to the eyes of a 
 later generation, there came (in 1722) a version of his 
 narrative which, whatever its faults, preserved his 
 spirit and gave the substance of his narrative, and 
 protracted for at least five generations his name and 
 fame in a new lease of popularity among the villages 
 and farms of Scotland. Whatever its faults, let us 
 speak of this eighteenth century version — Hamilton of 
 Gilbertfield's — with respect ; it inspired the patriotic 
 fervour of Burns. The classicus locus of Burns's 
 acknowledgment is well known, and the acknowledg- 
 ment is too emphatic not to be remembered : it occurs 
 in his autobiographical letter to Dr Moore, of date 
 August 2, 1787, and is in these words : — " The first 
 
no EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 two books I ever read in private, and which gave me 
 more pleasure than any two books I ever read again, 
 were the ' Life of Hannibal ' and the ' History of Sir 
 William Wallace.' . . . The story of Wallace poured a 
 Scottish prejudice in my veins which will boil along 
 there till the flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest." 
 But, while the acknowledgment here is beyond doubt 
 to William Hamilton's abridged and modernised version 
 of Blin' Hary's " Wallace," it needs confirmation from 
 Burns's earlier acknowledgment, in a letter to Mrs 
 Dunlop, of date (probably) November 1786 : — " In 
 [my] boyish days I remember in particular being 
 struck with that part of Wallace's story where these 
 lines occur : — 
 
 ' Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late, 
 To make a silent and a safe retreat.' 
 
 I chose a fine summer Sunday . . . and walked half 
 a dozen miles [from Mount Oliphant] to pay my 
 respects to the Leglen Wood . . . and explored every 
 den and dell where I could suppose my heroic country- 
 man to have lodged." Burns's quotation reveals his 
 author, though, as he was quoting from memory, it 
 is not quite correctly given ; the couplet in Hamilton's 
 version (Book II., chap. I., 11. 11-12) stands thus : — 
 
 " Then to [the] Laugland Wood, when it grew late, 
 To make a silent and a soft retreat," 
 
 under the rubric, " How Wallace killed the churl with 
 his own staff in Ayr." The Leglan (or, as Blin' Hary 
 has it, Laklyne) Wood is, it may be added, at Auchen- 
 cruive, in a peninsula made by a bend of the river Ayr 
 about three miles from its mouth. 
 
"BLIN' HARY" in 
 
 Who was Blin' Hary ? Not much can be confidently 
 said in answer. Even his surname has not survived 
 the four centuries that separate him from us. His 
 Christian name and his physical want seem to have 
 been sufficient to designate him from the first — that is, 
 from the time when he began to be known publicly. 
 To the people of his own generation he was only " Blin' 
 Hary." He is " Blin' Hary " in the Royal Treasurer's 
 Accounts in the reign of James IV. ; and he is " Blind 
 Hary " in his great poetical contemporary William 
 Dunbar's " Lament for the Makaris." Mair, the 
 historian, who as a little boy may have seen the wander- 
 ing minstrel in East Lothian, says he was born blind— 
 " a nativitate luminibus captus." The statement is 
 very open to debate. The epic itself gives evidence 
 that the author of it must have for some time, however 
 briefly, enjoyed the blessing of light. His descriptions 
 of places and objects are natural and picturesque ; he 
 has the colour sense of his countrymen, an appreciation 
 of the ludicrous in form and dress, and a genuine 
 feeling for nature. Mair was probably repeating the 
 common opinion, which is always more inclined to 
 the marvellous than to the natural, when he wrote 
 of " Henricus " as blind from birth. The case of 
 Dr Blacklock, blind from his sixth month, is not 
 forgotten, but what was possible in the time of Dr 
 Blacklock is simply incredible in the age, and more 
 especially in the case, of Blin' Hary. 
 
 Blin' Hary's epic extends to not much short of 
 twelve thousand lines, divided into eleven books of 
 very unequal length — from about 450 in each of the first 
 three books to nearly 2000 in the ninth. The measure 
 employed is almost entirely the heroic couplet — a form 
 
ii2 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 of verse which Chaucer had introduced from France ; 
 and, though the lines are for much the greater part 
 stiff and devoid of grace, they are not devoid of strength 
 and dramatic power, are instinct with a simple candour 
 which carries one's sympathy, and show a variety of 
 learning as well as a knowledge of human nature which 
 proves that the author was a man of mental and moral 
 capabilities much above the average. How he was 
 educated and to what station of life he belonged is con- 
 jectural only : it has been supposed that he was con 
 nected with some monastery or brotherhood in a 
 secular capacity, and that his education and talent 
 gave him admission to the houses of the great and even 
 to the King's Court. That he had admission and found 
 patrons among the Scottish nobility is undoubted ; he 
 recited or chanted, probably to the accompaniment of 
 a harp — whence his designation of " the Minstrel " — 
 " coram principibus," says Mair, his rhymed narrative 
 of the exploits of the national Champion, receiving in 
 return the food and clothing which his recitations well 
 deserved ("victum et vestitum quo dignus erat"). 
 There is written evidence of his appearance at the Court 
 of James IV., now at Stirling and now at Linlithgow, 
 where for the entertainment of verse and voice with 
 which he regaled the ears of Royalty he was rewarded 
 with various sums, small indeed, but sufficient to show 
 that he was no unwelcome visitor. His last recorded 
 visit to the Court was in 1492. Dunbar, in 1508, 
 lamented his death — an event which, however, may 
 have happened several years before that date — placing 
 him in an honourable list which opens with Chaucer 
 and Gower, and includes Barbour, Wyntoun, Maister 
 Robert Henrisoun of Dunfermline, and " Huchowne 
 
"BLIN' HARY" 113 
 
 of the Awle Ryale." The stanza in the very notable 
 poem in which his name is embalmed may be given : — 
 
 " He has Blind Hary and Sandy Traill 
 Slain with his schot of mortal haill, 
 Whilk Patrick Johnstoun might not flee : 
 Timor mortis conturbat me." 
 
 While there is some doubt about the date of Blin' 
 Hary's death, there is considerably more about the 
 year of his birth. Dunbar, though he may very well 
 have known him personally, belongs to a later genera- 
 tion. It is almost certain that the minstrel's reputa- 
 tion as a popular reciter of the deeds of Wallace was 
 already established about the time of Dunbar's birth 
 — that is, about the year 1460. His epic was in manu- 
 script in 1488, taken down in all probability from his 
 dictation by a certain John Ramsay. This MS. is one 
 of many precious old literary relics in the Advocates' 
 Library, Edinburgh, where it is fittingly preserved 
 under the same cover with the earlier work of our 
 Scottish Ennius, the " Brus " of Barbour. There can 
 be little doubt that the epic of " Wallace " was a gradual 
 growth extending over many years. Repeated recitals 
 now of this incident, now of that, in the chequered 
 career of Wallace, would enable the bard to improve 
 the piece, to extend it with the addition of graphic 
 details, to connect it with other pieces till the cycle 
 was complete ; and, no doubt, in the process, while 
 the poet was aiming at effect, the narrative must have 
 suffered somewhat as a record of history. His narra- 
 tive as a whole, such as it is, after bringing it as near 
 to perfection as he could, he probably thus dictated 
 to the scrivener, the aforesaid John Ramsay, towards 
 
 H 
 
ii4 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 the end of his life. It may, with all its manifest slips 
 and inaccuracies as a history, fairly enough be regarded 
 as a pretty faithful expression of the general feeling 
 in Scotland with respect to Wallace from the year of 
 the hero's unhappy death in 1305 down to the close 
 of the fifteenth century. Blin' Hary's view of the life 
 and character of Wallace became traditional. Edition 
 after edition of his book, beginning about the year 1508, 
 was printed, not at Edinburgh only, but at Glasgow, 
 Perth, Aberdeen, etc., and eagerly bought up and read 
 by a sympathetic and patriotic nation. Lieutenant 
 Hamilton's version in 1722, though a travesty in many 
 places, preserved most of the original spirit and 
 picturesqueness, and became equally popular. The 
 oldest existing edition, represented by a solitary copy 
 in the British Museum, bears date 1570. The last 
 noteworthy Scottish edition was published by Messrs 
 W. Blackwood & Sons for the Scottish Text Society in 
 1889 — the text carefully edited by Mr Clark, of the 
 Advocates' Library, and copiously annotated by the late 
 Dr Moir, of the Aberdeen Grammar School. 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 
 
 It has been said regretfully that drama did not exist in 
 the age of Chaucer, for, if it had then been in existence, 
 the genius of that poet would readily have taken dra- 
 matic form, and would have shown to finer effect than in 
 " Canterbury Tales." The statement is true enough if 
 literary drama be meant ; but the regret for a proba- 
 bility will be withheld, in view of the splendid realities 
 of Chaucer's work as a narrative poet. The literary 
 drama of England began, as everybody knows, in the 
 sixteenth century, to culminate with amazing rapidity 
 in the marvellous plays of Shakespeare ; but it is not 
 absolutely true that drama was non-existent in the 
 fourteenth century, or that Chaucer was ignorant of 
 its existence. As a matter of historical fact, dramatic 
 representations in the form of miracle plays were a 
 common and popular form of entertainment all 
 through Chaucer's lifetime, and even for generations 
 before he was born. His own writings give incidental 
 proof of their existence as popular institutions in medi- 
 aeval England. His Wife of Bath, who was nothing 
 if she was not social, was a frequenter of all convivial 
 gatherings and merry-makings, such as, to follow her 
 own enumeration, vigils, processions, preachings, pil- 
 grimages, miracle plays, and marriages. His jolly 
 Absolon, too, the parish clerk in the Miller's fabliau, was, 
 besides being the possessor of varied accomplishments, 
 "5 
 
n6 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 a capable actor in the miracle play, and apparently a 
 dab at the impersonation of Herod — a part which, we 
 are told, he preferred, as it showed off to advantage 
 his youthful strength and the agility of those wonderful 
 legs of his which he loved to encase in scarlet hose 
 and " casten to and fro." It may be inferred from 
 Chaucer's references that while the miracle play was 
 already in the fourteenth century broad-cast over the 
 land, it was still more or less under the patronage, if 
 not altogether under the control, of the Church ; that 
 its performance was on a platform or high scaffold, 
 where the actors were well in view of the great throngs 
 of people that assembled to witness it ; and that 
 the language of the dialogue was no longer confined 
 to Latin, but was in the vernacular or common speech 
 of the people. 
 
 The rise of the miracle play or mystery as an insti- 
 tution of mediaeval Europe is to be traced to an early 
 century of the Christian era, and may be regarded as 
 dating in England from the time of the Norman Con- 
 quest. Norman ecclesiastics at least seem to have 
 brought into the country a kind of dramatic representa- 
 tion, acted lecture, or object lesson in Bible story, 
 which by-and-by developed into miracle play. It is 
 better to regard miracle play and mystery as con- 
 vertible terms ; but a distinction between them, which 
 is purely theoretical, classifies as mysteries those early 
 plays which have for their subject some part of the 
 Bible narrative, more especially the salvation of man 
 by the birth, death, and resurrection of Christ ; while 
 the name of miracle plays is reserved for such repre- 
 sentations as found their theme in miraculous incidents 
 connected with the lives of the saints. The object of 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 117 
 
 the clergy in introducing those plays was the edifica- 
 tion of the ignorant in religious knowledge ; they 
 argued that if it was right to have the miracles of God 
 painted, it was not wrong to have them played, and 
 that the enactment of them was likely to impress 
 them in a livelier manner on the minds of men than 
 could be done by a mere motionless picture. So long 
 as the clergy could keep those dramatic expositions 
 in their own hands, producing them in Latin and per- 
 forming them in the churches, they seem to have kept 
 their aim — which was the edification of the people — 
 pretty well in view ; yet there is proof that so early 
 as the twelfth century a spirit of fun and even licence 
 had crept into the Latin plays ; and when the ver- 
 nacular began to be used, whether in Italy, Germany, 
 or any other country, familiarity, irreverence, and 
 farce in no long time made their appearance. The 
 result was that the popular miracle play was soon in 
 the hands of the laity, and the clergy, disowning 
 it, shut the doors of the church and even the 
 gates of the churchyard against it. Acting, indeed, 
 for edification, still went on in the building and 
 within the precincts of the Church, but Pope 
 Gregory (in 1210) prohibited the clergy from acting 
 anywhere else. 
 
 The first miracle play performed in England of which 
 we have definite record belongs to the year 1110, when 
 the (future) Abbot of St Albans edified his people with 
 a dramatic representation of the legend of St Catharine. 
 It was in Latin, and for the most part a spectacular 
 show. In the fourteenth century, by which time the 
 dialogue was in English and the acting performed by 
 laymen, the miracle play was at the height of its popu- 
 
n8 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 larity, and had become an essential part of the festivi- 
 ties during the Easter, Whitsuntide, and June holidays 
 of the incorporated trades or guilds throughout the 
 country. The whole Bible narrative, historical and pro- 
 phetic, from the fall of man to the final judgment, was 
 drawn upon for the construction of those guild plays ; 
 each incorporated trade of the larger towns appro- 
 priated to itself a particular act in the vast panoramic 
 representation ; tradespeople, assisted in some instances 
 by friars (to whom more freedom was allowed than 
 to their brethren under monastic rule) were the actors, 
 were selected for their histrionic skill, and well paid 
 for their services by the guilds that employed them ; 
 and great gatherings of people from all quarters 
 followed with lively if uncritical interest the long suc- 
 cession of dramatic scenes provided for them. We 
 read of miracle plays of from thirty to forty thousand 
 lines in length, through which, of course, the people 
 must have stood or sat day after day for many hours 
 together. A play of such liberal dimensions, says 
 Professor Saintsbury in his masterly sketch of " The 
 Earlier Renaissance," "must have lasted for at least a 
 week of more than eight hours' days. ' Vixere fortes ! ' " 
 Such devotion may well be said to prove the genuine 
 delight in drama, however primitive, that exists 
 naturally in the heart of the general public. It also 
 shows that, when literary drama came to be written, 
 there would be, in a country so well prepared to receive 
 it, a ready response to its superior attractions. This 
 truth goes far to explain the sudden, the phenomenal 
 growth of the Elizabethan drama — although, of course, 
 it does not explain the genius of Shakespeare. And 
 here it may be noted that the miracle play retained its 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 119 
 
 popularity in the provinces even when the literary drama 
 had culminated in London. That Shakespeare himself 
 witnessed some of those miracle plays may reasonably 
 be admitted. That they were still being acted down to 
 about the close of his life cannot be denied. Neither 
 the Reformation nor the rise of the literary drama 
 killed them. They were still attracting crowds at 
 Chester and Newcastle at the very close of the six- 
 teenth century. The " Three Kings of Cologne " was 
 performed at the latter town in the year 1599. Even 
 in our own day, though not in this country, the miracle 
 play lingers, an interesting survival of the drama of 
 mediaeval times. The passion play of Ober-Ammergau, 
 in Bavaria, is still piously performed at the recurrence 
 of every decade. 
 
 Of many sets or cycles of old English miracle plays 
 once the property of the guilds, four survive in a state 
 of preservation sufficient to enable one to form a fair 
 idea of their art and the tone of their teaching. These 
 are usually named from the towns to which they be- 
 longed — the Chester, Wakefield, Coventry, and York 
 sets. The Chester and the York sets compete with 
 each other for the higher antiquity. The Wakefield 
 set is sometimes called the Townley set — from the 
 family near Wakefield who had the custody of them. 
 Whoever wrote them must have borrowed largely 
 from each other, as they have many features in com- 
 mon. Plagiarism could then have been of no account, 
 as the plays existed merely for the public amusement, 
 the primitive dramatist's fame being a thing of no 
 moment. The art of the dramatist is often childish 
 in the extreme ; anachronisms are abundant ; and 
 the realism has scarcely a pretence to be historical* 
 
120 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 it is the familiar realism of the writer's own age. Con- 
 joined with the primitiveness of the art is the irrever- 
 ence of spirit which pervades even the most sacred 
 scenes. In the hands of the Church the religious play 
 was most in evidence at Christmastide and Easter, 
 but when it got into the hands of the craftsmen the 
 great June festival of "Corpus Christi" was the time 
 appropriated for its enactment. The festival, insti- 
 tuted by Pope Urban in 1264, became the great annual 
 holiday of the tradespeople, and the miracle play was its 
 chief feature. The number of plays then enacted in 
 any of the large towns by their guilds seems to have 
 been determined by the number of guilds that desired 
 to take a part (or pageant) in the representations. 
 The York set, as they have come down to us, number 
 forty-eight plays ; the Chester set half that number. 
 In the York set the Barkers or Tanners led off with the 
 Fall of Lucifer ; the Plasterers came next with the 
 Creation to the Fifth Day ; to the Cardmakers was 
 assigned the Creation of Man ; the Fullers represented 
 Adam and Eve in Paradise ; the Coopers enacted the 
 Temptation and Fall of Man ; the Armourers under- 
 took the scene of the Expulsion from Eden ; the 
 Glovers enacted the Sacrifice of Cain and Abel ; the 
 Shipwrights built the Ark ; and the Fishers and 
 Mariners acted in the scene of Noah and the Flood. 
 And so on the succession of scenes from the Bible story 
 went, till each guild had borne a part, more or less 
 appropriate, in the long series of pageants. In one 
 of the " Canterbury Tales " already referred to there is 
 mention made, totally without Scripture warrant, of 
 the difficulty Noah had in getting his wife into the 
 Ark:— 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 121 
 
 " Hast thou not heard 
 The sorrow of Noah with his fellowship * 
 Ere ever he could get his wife to ship ? 
 Liefer to him, I dare well undertake, 
 At that same time than all his wethers black, 
 That she had had a ship herself alone. "■ 
 
 The authority for this piece of uncanonical knowledge 
 was doubtless the miracle play, and possibly enough 
 the York or the Chester play dealing with the subject, 
 for the antiquity of both goes back, it is believed, to 
 the fourteenth century. A part of the York scene 
 may be given : — 
 
 Scene — The Ark 
 
 Shem — Father, I have done now as ye command ; 
 My mother comes to you this day. 
 
 Noah — She is welcome. I well warrand 
 
 This world shall soon be waste away. 
 
 Wife (entering) — Where art thou, Noah ? 
 Noah — Lo ! here at hand. 
 
 Come hither fast, dame, I thee pray. 
 
 Wife — Trowest thou that I will leave hard land 
 
 And turn up here ? Nay, Noah, I am not boune 
 
 To go now over thir hills. 
 
 Do, bairns, go we and truss to town. 
 
 Noah — Nay ! certis, soothly, then must ye drown. 
 
 Wife — In faith, thou wert as good come down, 
 And go do somewhat else. 
 
 * Mate. 
 
122 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Noah — Dame, forty days are nearhand past 
 And gone, since it began to rain ; 
 Alive shall no man longer last 
 But we alone. 
 
 Wife thinks he is mad, or next thing to it ; tells him 
 so, and turns away abruptly, saying " Farewell, I will 
 go home again." At this Noah's patience gives way. 
 He descends from the door of the Ark, and lays hands 
 upon her. " Woman," he exclaims, " art thou mad ? " 
 And he repeats his warning — 
 
 Everything with bone or blood 
 Shall be o'erflowed with the flood. 
 
 Wife — In faith, thou wert as good 
 To let me go my gate. 
 Out ! haro ! 
 
 Noah (detaining her) — What now ? What cheer ? 
 
 Wife — I will no nearer, for no kind of need. 
 
 Noah — Help, my sons, to hold her here, 
 
 For to her harm she takes no heed. 
 
 Ham — Be merry, mother, and mend your cheer ; 
 
 This world bes drowned, it is no dreid (doubt). 
 Wife — Alas, that I this lore should lear' ! 
 Noah — Thou spill'st us all — ill mayst thou speed. 
 Japhet — Dear mother, stay with us ! 
 
 There shall you nothing grieve. 
 
 Wife — Nay ! home it me beho'es, 
 For I have tools to truss. 
 
 Noah — Woman, why dost thou thus, 
 To make us more mischieve ? 
 
 Wife — Noah, thou mightst have let me know. 
 Early and late thou went thereout, 
 And aye at home thou lett'st me sit — 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 123 
 
 Noah — Dame, hold me excused for it ; 
 
 It was God's will, without a doubt. 
 
 Wife — What I think'st thou thus for to go quit ? 
 Nay, by my troth, thou gett'st a clout. 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 She is, however, hurried into the Ark. The Chester 
 version of the incident makes Noah's wife deliver the 
 blow as she is pushed by Shem and pulled by her 
 husband aboard the boat. Noah takes it philosophi- 
 cally, having gained his point—" Ha ! ha ! " he says, 
 " this is hot ; but better say nothing about it ! It is 
 good to be still ! " 
 
 The Morality Play, which was much in evidence in 
 the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, sprang out of 
 the Mystery, and marks an important development in 
 the early drama. The characters here were virtues 
 and vices, abstract ideas allegorically presented, and 
 indeed any quality or condition of human life. The 
 aim of the Morality was generally the inculcation of 
 some virtue or the representation of the triumph of 
 some moral principle. The transition from Mystery 
 to Morality may be seen in the Coventry plays, in 
 which appear such personages as Poverty, Death, 
 Contemplation, etc. The little humour that exists in 
 the Morality proper is furnished by the Vice at the 
 expense of the Devil. Some see in the Vice the clown 
 of the more modern drama, and in Lucifer or the Devil 
 the pantaloon of pantomime. Good specimens of the 
 Morality are to be found in the French of Gringoire 
 or in Sir David Lyndsay's " Satire of the Three 
 Estates." The Morality was so far in advance upon 
 the Mystery that it widened the field of dramatic 
 
124 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 interest by lifting the theme beyond the boundaries 
 of Scripture and the limited scope of saintly legend, 
 and still further by demanding the construction of a 
 plot, and some attempt at characterisation, in order 
 to maintain the interest of spectators or audience. 
 It was, notwithstanding, dull enough, till humorous 
 scenes (called Interludes) were interpolated, with the 
 sole object of keeping the audience together. When 
 the Interlude detached itself from the Morality another 
 important stage in the development of drama was 
 reached. In the composition of those independent 
 Interludes, which at first were little more than drama- 
 tised anecdotes, John Heywood, who found a patron 
 in Henry VIII., achieved distinction ; and his play of 
 " The Four P's " — Palmer, Pardoner, Pedlar, and 
 'Poticary — stands a characteristic example. Mean- 
 while the Renaissance was at work ; the classical 
 plays of Terence, Plautus, and Seneca were read and 
 enacted at the schools ; plays on the model of those, 
 with a farcical infusion in the comedies from the Inter- 
 ludes were constructed ; and about the middle of the 
 sixteenth century the modern drama, began, in its 
 three divisions of comedy, tragedy, and historical 
 play, with the appearance of Ralph Roister Doister, 
 Ferrex and Porrex, and King John respectively. The 
 first of these, an adaptation from Plautus, was the work 
 of Dr Nicholas Udall, headmaster of Eton, and was 
 acted in 1551 ; the second, sometimes entitled " Gor- 
 boduc," on a subject from ancient British history (or 
 myth), was built on the lines of Greek tragedy as 
 written by Seneca, and is memorable, not only as being 
 our first native tragedy, but also for its use of blank 
 verse, a measure that has ever since been associated 
 
THE MIRACLE PLAY 125 
 
 with English tragedy. It was the joint composition 
 of Thomas Sackville (Lord Buckhurst) and Thomas 
 Norton, a barrister ; and appeared about ten years 
 later than Udall's comedy. " King John " was the 
 work of John Bale, and is of very great importance in 
 the development of English drama, being the first of 
 the famous series of Chronicle Plays which, as Pro- 
 fessor Saintsbury points out, " provided Shakespeare 
 with some of the best opportunities of his genius, and 
 England with a body of dramatic history which no 
 other country can parallel." 
 
CHAUCER, 
 
 Father of English verse ! Of Scottish too ! 
 Witness the pensive prince in Windsor Tower, 
 The happier Palamon of as fair a flower 
 
 As Emily the sheen. And Gavin knew 
 
 To mix his colours with an art as true 
 
 As thine and Nature's ; and from whence the power 
 Of the bold Friar who stole behind the bower 
 
 To hear strange talk and laughter revelling through ? 
 
 Ah, but while each has heired a kindred part, 
 Virtue of wayward Celt or Saxon sane, 
 
 The strength of sense, the magic touch of art, 
 Clearness to see, and courage to say plain, — 
 
 I miss the grace, the gaiety of heart, 
 The dash of Norman in the Celtic strain. 
 
 126 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 
 
 I had for months been afflicted with sleeplessness, and 
 had tried in vain every practicable cure that sympa- 
 thising friends suggested. At last in the company of 
 an artist friend, to whom most of the nooks in northern 
 Europe are familiar, and who permits me to refer to 
 him here as Micky, I crossed the North Sea to Christian- 
 sand, and after a long day's travel of about forty miles 
 due north into the lovely and little-frequented Saeters- 
 dale, arrived late at night at Kile Fiord, a noble ex- 
 pansion of the Otter, and found shelter and sleep in a 
 little wooden inn perched on a rocky projection of the 
 shore. 
 
 From a profound sleep, worth going to the end of 
 the earth to experience again, I awoke long after dawn. 
 The temptation to lie still was strong, but I was curious 
 too to see my surroundings. Accordingly I leapt from 
 my feather cushions to look out of the window, and, 
 on discovering a misty morning with menaces of rain, 
 leapt back again not without satisfaction. The truth 
 was I felt the road of the preceding day still at the soles 
 of my feet, and was not sorry at the prospect of an idle 
 day or two in comfortable quarters. It would, be- 
 sides, I reflected, be a pity to pass from the locality 
 without viewing it under a summer sky. I could see, 
 from my glimpse, despite the mist I have mentioned, 
 that the neighbourhood was scenically attractive. 
 127 
 
128 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 There was the lake, lapping against the live rock, im- 
 mediately under the window, and expanding right 
 and left into a magnificent sheet of water with winding 
 wooded shores ; directly opposite rose, and was lost 
 in the sky, a long wall of hillside, seen dimly, with its 
 scattered pines of vivid green, through a white clinging 
 mist ; and all around the horns of a hundred water- 
 falls were sounding, now faint and now loud, in the 
 veering breeze. I must also notice as an attraction a 
 few row-boats, tumbling at their moorings just below 
 the window. All this scene I observed at a glance, 
 and was back in bed with the vision still before me. 
 Not even in the Highlands of Scotland had I witnessed 
 scenery which the description of the great Marquis 
 answered so spontaneously. The lines slipt into my 
 head at once. 
 
 The smoking mounts, the misty lake, 
 
 The rock's resounding echo, 
 The winds that sigh, the trees that shake 
 
 Shall all with me sing heigh-ho ! 
 The tossing seas, the tumbling boats, 
 
 Tears dripping from each oar — 
 
 I fell asleep with all these images of noise and activity 
 surging around me. 
 
 It must have been a couple of hours afterwards that 
 I became semi-conscious of an intruder who seemed 
 to be denouncing us from the doorway. It was our 
 landlord, in a pilot jacket and oilskin hat, reiterating 
 in a louder voice his demand to know if we meant to go 
 " med dampskibet idag." He was dismissed with a 
 curt negative, and, shortly thereafter, the snorting of 
 an infant steamer was heard, that became at once 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 129 
 
 more frequent and more faint, and at last died away. 
 We learned on descending to breakfast that the land- 
 lord was both skipper and owner of the fairy steamer, 
 and that it plied daily to and fro, in the open season, 
 between his own door and the north of the lake. 
 
 We were discussing some delicious trout when the 
 sun burst through the mist in splendour, and lit up 
 the valley with a radiance that converted the lake into 
 a luminous sapphire and the shores into luminous 
 emerald. We rushed out to welcome the return of 
 Balder. The yellow light was warping through the 
 wet pine woods. It was surprising how soon the sky 
 cleared, and the rocks and vegetation dried. The 
 mist, as you gazed, melted into air, into thin air ; the 
 rain drops sparkled, and burned with the most brilliant 
 coloured fires, and expired ; and a fresh gloss was left 
 on the leaves that was not dimmed by many successive 
 noons. 
 
 At Kile — so it turned out — we made a lengthened 
 sojourn, enjoying the rare luxury of forgetting the 
 passage of time and the sequence of the days. We 
 were beyond the rush of business and the rustle of 
 newspapers. The web was before us, to cut and come 
 again at pleasure ; and an agreeable change it was 
 from the small measurements into which modern 
 civilization has parted and portioned our time. The 
 artificial division of the hour was unknown. Think 
 of this, ye slaves of the big cities, around whom swarm 
 with importunate and fretful buzz the hornet minutes ! 
 We were in Arden, and fleeted the time carelessly as 
 they did in the golden age, — before the invention of 
 clocks. No blessing to the memory of the man that 
 invented the first clock ! Life as we all like it is out 
 1 
 
130 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 of earshot of the tick of pendulums and the hammer 
 of horal bells. Shakespeare was right to place no 
 clock in the purlieus of his Forest, and to commit the 
 solitary " dial " in Arden to the Fool's " poke." In 
 short, to be thoroughly enjoyable life should 
 
 Frolic backwards and forwards 
 Free of the curb of the year. 
 
 But there stood an American clock on a shelf over 
 the stove in the inn-parlour. It regulated the de- 
 parture of the steamer, and the Admiral, as we openly 
 christened the good-natured fellow of a landlord, was 
 always consulting it. Under pretence of repairing it, 
 Micky — small blame to him, but let the fact be re- 
 corded — purloined the pendulum. We then let our 
 watches run out, and took our time from the sun. 
 And he was every way worthy of our trust, for he never 
 deceived us. He was never too late in setting, nor 
 too early in rising. 
 
 How did we fill up the day ? I must first tell you 
 how we filled up the night. 
 
 With sleep — deep, whole, fragrant and refreshing. 
 It was not the shallow puddle of towns where you are 
 neither out nor in — but bottomless, and clear as the 
 cloud-superior heavens. It was not the discontinuous 
 expanse of fractured and fissured veneering — but 
 whole and homogeneous, " whole as the marble, 
 founded as the rock ! " It was not the unwholesome 
 respiration of your neighbours' congregated breaths— 
 but the inhalation of balm from the pure " cisterns of 
 the midnight air." It was not semi-suffocation, with 
 long tragic struggles and electric awakenings, as if you 
 were quoited out of the land of Nod like another Cain 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 131 
 
 and a criminal, and Somnus would have nothing to do 
 with you — but rest, repose, recreation. You awoke 
 " like man new-made," wondering unregretfully where 
 your old ribs had gone to, and sensible of the superi- 
 ority of the new set which had been introduced so 
 mysteriously. 
 
 Gentle reader, don't imagine that I am only hyper- 
 bolizing — that I am writing with the rhetoric of the 
 ink-bottle ! — I am dipping my pen in grateful recol- 
 lections. Could a man write so ecstatically about it if 
 he had not experienced it ? Yes, it was sleep ! the 
 luxury of sleep ! Genuine sleep is a luxury. That 
 was the draught which was permitted to the eyes of 
 Macbeth, but denied to his lips. It was 
 
 The innocent sleep ; 
 Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care, 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, 
 Chief nourisher in life's feast. 
 
 It was all these, except the death of each day's life. 
 There was nothing, either of a negative or positive 
 nature, in each day's life to make its death desirable. 
 And this, the sole item, in that list of beatitudes, 
 which it was unnecessary for our happiness to desire, 
 brings me back to the question, from which I started 
 away to sing the praises of sleep — How did we fill up 
 the days ? 
 
 A complete description of our daily life at Kile 
 would be so long, that I will rather give a summary 
 and a specimen of it. We climbed the cliffs on all sides 
 of us, and were rewarded with many a virgin view ; 
 we explored the bays in a boat, and the woods on foot, 
 
132 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 discovering now the voiceless escape of a tiny stream 
 and now the vociferous imprisonment of a waterfall ; 
 we listened to Norsk songs and legends, learning, 
 without inquisitiveness, the folk-lore of the country, 
 in proverb, ballad, and story, direct and fresh from 
 native lips ; we angled both in elv and vand,* and 
 supped and breakfasted on the produce of our hooks ; 
 we fared sumptuously and frequently ; we smoked ; 
 we read Andreas Munch's delightfully realistic " Pic- 
 tures of North and South ; " we had the companion- 
 ship of Burns, and found him as Norwegian in Norway 
 as he is Scottish at home ; we lounged ; Micky almost 
 finished a sketch ; I nearly began a poem. A very 
 large part of the solid day was consumed in gazing 
 about : the views never tired — were always friendly, 
 but never grew familiar. At every step on shore, at 
 every boat's length afloat, there was a new combina- 
 tion making a new picture. Even as you looked, the 
 same view changed its expression, subtly and not 
 always insensibly, as a stirring wind, turning the 
 foliage and rippling the water, altered the reflection, 
 and produced a gradation of light and shade different 
 from what had been the moment before, — or as, more 
 rarely, a white cloud got entangled in the sun, and 
 filtered through its pearly down, or, if less dense, 
 dropped through its golden meshes a modified brilliancy 
 on the scene below. Changes there were, too, of 
 course, due to the sun's own silently changing position. 
 Neither the light nor the shadows of morning are those 
 of evening. In the morning the light is more effulgent, 
 and the shadows darker and more defined. The 
 shadow of a tree or a leaf lies then on the land or still 
 * Stream and lake. 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 133 
 
 water like a drawing. The outline is as clear as if a 
 pencil had traced it. But the rising sun shines on a 
 dewy world and looks through a perspective-glass of 
 freshened air. Earth is dry when he declines, and the 
 air moisture is diffused in a different proportion, so 
 that his light both falls through a different medium, 
 and is reflected from a different surface. 
 
 There is much in the mood, physical as well as 
 mental, of the spectator to modify scenery. One's 
 eyes are never quite the same in their communications 
 to the brain : that is, — the same scenery, and the 
 same aspect of scenery, viewed under precisely the same 
 external or natural conditions, will yet, in virtue of 
 the creative power that sits behind the eyes, produce 
 totally new effects. The lines and hues may be the 
 same in position and tone ; but somehow there is 
 gathered from the picture a feeling, a thought, a sug- 
 gestion which it did not offer before : a new interpreta- 
 tion, in short, springs from the symbolism of Nature. 
 
 Many must be familiar with the contrast afforded 
 by the typical moods of summer morning and of 
 summer evening. Nowhere have I observed — per- 
 haps I should rather say felt — it with more force 
 than among the Lammermuirs behind Yester. The 
 youthful grace and gaiety of morning, the heather- 
 flower coquettishly flinging off its dreams and its dew- 
 drops, the airy fairy breeze, and the liveliness of the 
 rested lambs increasing with the increasing light — 
 these I have seen, or seemed to see, again and again ; 
 and as often and as inevitably have I been affected by 
 a pathos as of forsaken loneliness at evening, a passivity 
 of despondency in bush and breeze and sheep, and a 
 resignation to neutral and bleak, even to dead tints, 
 
134 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 diffused in an equal degree of light over the same 
 scenery. I have, however, felt the same contrast 
 with equal force in Norway, with this difference that 
 it was suggested in Norway by the noise of a hidden 
 waterfall, while in Scotland it was suggested by the 
 silence of the open uplands. In the early morning the 
 voice of the waterfall in a distant wood was the cry of 
 liberty : in the evening when, after a long day's ramble, 
 I again entered the circle of its sound, it was the cry 
 of a strong captive to whom the pines could only give 
 the pity of their presence. The family of Mr Peter 
 Bell, to whom a primrose by a river's brim will be a 
 yellow primrose, until it parts with its petals, under 
 whatever skies it is viewed, will, no doubt, enter their 
 protest against this inconceivable nonsense. I will, 
 therefore, while I present a metrical rendering illus- 
 trative of my feelings on the subject, concede in justice 
 to them a statement exhaustive of theirs : 
 
 The sound, that seemed at sunrise — when the glow 
 
 Of morning, mingling with the early breeze, 
 
 Caught the still water through the lakeside trees — 
 The voice of Liberty, now seems to grow 
 The muffled moan of an imprisoned woe ; 
 
 And Fancy, peering through the evening, sees 
 
 An agonizing Samson on his knees, 
 With the pines looking on, and whispering low ! 
 How does a noise, monotonous and rude, 
 
 Take tone when blown into a poet-mind, 
 Concording with the mystery of its mood, 
 
 And suiting with the sympathy it designed ! 
 ! Tis but a waterfall within a wood 
 
 To Peter Bell, and others of his kind. 
 
 The foregoing sentences may serve as a general 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 135 
 
 description of our mode of life at Kile Fiord : let me 
 now give a more detailed account of it by narrating 
 the experience of a typical day. 
 
 One forenoon we were seated in a boat in the middle 
 of the fjord lazily casting our lines, when Micky said 
 — " I heard your song last night, Ole ; it was a courting 
 song, was it not ? " 
 
 Ole was a cousin of the innkeeper's wife ; we did not 
 learn more of his personal history, except what the 
 narrative shows, and that he was having a three- 
 weeks' holiday from Drammen, and was spending the 
 whole of it at Kile. We had made his acquaintance 
 the day after our arrival. He was strong, sociable, 
 and about thirty ; and the only bashful man we met 
 in the country. It is not intended that there is no 
 medium between bashfulness and forwardness, of course. 
 We were fast friends, and had made many excursions 
 together. 
 
 Ole blushed, drew and cast his line, and then said, 
 without looking round, " Whatt ? " 
 
 " I had been sketching, and was watching the effect 
 of sunset on the water. It was at the little promontory 
 where we cooked a kettle of fish three days ago," said 
 the artist. 
 
 Ole said nothing yet. He was absorbed in his line. 
 
 " It was near the farmer's house," continued Micky, 
 " where the pretty girl lives." 
 
 Ole smiled. He was playing a young black-salmon 
 at the time. Having lifted it in, he smiled ; and then, 
 suddenly composing his features, said quite solemnly — 
 " We are engaged — Margit and I." 
 
 Micky had given his rod to the boy who was with 
 us, and had begun to sketch Ole : the pencil dropt 
 
136 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 from his fingers among the " take " at the bottom of 
 the boat. I, too, looked round at the announcement. 
 
 " And when is it to be ? " I asked, after we had 
 severally congratulated him. I was hoping it might 
 be soon, and that we might perhaps have the pleasure 
 of witnessing the ceremony. 
 
 " Not till the next spring." And 016 went with 
 some reticence into reasons. 
 
 Micky came back to the song ; and Ole, who seemed 
 as if he had acquired new confidence, offered to sing 
 it— an offer that was accepted. 
 
 " You have heard it already," he said ; " but I will 
 sing it for your friend." 
 
 I doubt if the following translation, or rather para- 
 phrase, will convey one-half of the beauty of the 
 original. The music, and the quality of Ole's voice, 
 gave it charms independent of the poetry : these 
 and the circumstances must be imagined, because they 
 cannot be described. 
 
 Meet me, love, by the lake to-night, 
 When the pines are asleep in the waning light, 
 When the swallow has ceased o'er the water to fly, 
 And all is dim but thy bonnie brown eye. 
 
 I will tell thee more in the pinewood shade, 
 When thy small hand in my own is laid. 
 And the dusk grows deep — I will tell thee more 
 Than ever was breathed in thine ear before. 
 
 Thou seest the snow on the hill-top high — 
 It has lain for years, and for years it will he ; 
 There it has been, and there it will be 
 — So lasting and pure is my love for thee ! 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 137 
 
 That was the song proper : what followed was 
 hummed in a lower tone : 
 
 She is sure to come, I will wait for her there ; 
 She will steal through the dusk as the stars grow clear ; 
 She will steal to her lover, to his arms she will fly, 
 The light-footed lass with the bonnie brown eye ! 
 
 We had several songs after that, both Scottish and 
 Norwegian, and both humorous and pathetic. None 
 was out of place. We could not have sung in better 
 circumstances. Nature is never against any species 
 of healthy sentiment. Human nature is — often. A 
 song of Bjornsen's, beginning, 
 
 What shall I see, if ever I go, 
 Over the mountains high ? 
 
 set us talking about the isolations of even neighbouring 
 dales. 
 
 " A man may live for years in the Ssetersdale and 
 never enter the Telle Mark," said Ole. " There are 
 no connecting roads, and the hills are high. Each 
 dale has ideas, customs, and even a mode of dress 
 peculiar to itself. News and notions travel up and 
 down the dale, but don't cross the mountains. A 
 dale is a world in itself." 
 
 But what Ole said of Norwegian dales may be said of 
 many human lives — isolated in the midst of society ! 
 
 Towards evening we were seated on a wooden form 
 in front of the inn. We had just dined — and I have 
 even now a grateful recollection of the pancakes that 
 served as epilogue to that dinner. Our landlady had 
 surpassed all her former achievements. Not only 
 
138 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 was their savour grateful to the palate and their light- 
 ness to the stomach, but their delicate tenuity of 
 texture appealed with indescribable charm first to 
 the eye and afterwards to the tongue. They were 
 of the rarest consistency imaginable. A score of 
 them laid in layers seemed no thicker than a krone- 
 piece. They were all superficies, and capable of dis- 
 proving the tri-dimensional character of matter. 
 They would have satisfied Euclid's definition of a 
 plane — length and breadth without thickness. But 
 the accomplishment or fine art of pancake-making is 
 not confined to the basin of Kile, or the valley of the 
 Otter — it is national, it is Norwegian. If Scotland 
 is the land of cakes, certainly Norway is the land of 
 pancakes. 
 
 But, as I said, it was evening, and we were seated 
 in front of the inn. Nobody spoke. There was a 
 pleasant sound of wind and water in the air, which 
 kept the silence from becoming oppressive. White 
 streaks were visible on the hillside opposite. Those 
 were tiny waterfalls ; the larger ones are more retiring. 
 I have said " hillside," but the expression is very 
 misleading when applied to the flank of a Norwegian 
 fjeld. Said fjeld is composed of a multitude of hills — 
 not five or six, as in ^Scotland — but more probably 
 fifty or sixty all visible at a glance. 
 
 Presently a small object, which looked like a water- 
 beetle, made its appearance on the vand, or lake, 
 about a couple of miles to the left of us. It was the 
 admiral's return. Bjornen, the beetle, steamed right 
 up to our feet where the pier was. Only the sun, then 
 setting, and ourselves, witnessed the arrival. We sat 
 and saw the whole operation of mooring, unlading, and 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 139 
 
 disembarking. Nobody came out of the inn, and we 
 did not move nor speak. The steam spent itself in a 
 final puff ; the fire was out, or going out ; the skipper 
 simply tied the boat to a stake, and walked into his 
 house with his hands in his pockets. He had brought 
 neither passenger nor parcel. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, his grandson, a little white- 
 headed boy of ten, came running out with a kerchief 
 round his neck, and a fishing-rod in his hand. He 
 leaped into a skiff and paddled deftly out from the 
 miniature harbour, and away over the vand, his blue 
 neckerchief flapping in the evening breeze. We had 
 given him some English fly-hooks, and he had just got 
 permission from his grandfather to try them on a 
 favourite bit of water near the opposite shore. His 
 sister, scarcely a couple of years older, made after him, 
 handling a pair of oars with the swiftness and ease of 
 knitting-needles. The wind blowing freshly, but not 
 in the slightest degree coldly, towards us, caught her 
 long reddish-yellow hair, and flung it forward over 
 her face in a very picturesque manner. Seen against 
 the slate-blue of the lake, it rather resembled flame 
 than waving hair. 
 
 " You can't get to the farm-house now, Ole, until 
 they come back," said Micky, referring to the appro- 
 priation of the two skiffs by the children. 
 
 " Unless Ole makes off with the steamer," I said. 
 
 " Why ! " said Ole, " I can walk." 
 
 The farm-house where Margit lived was on a promon- 
 tory not more than a mile by water from the inn, but 
 about four times that distance by the shore. 
 
 Ole however, remained where he was. Micky lit 
 a cigar, and passed on his case, and presently we were 
 
i 4 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 all three looking into the evening through wreaths and 
 rings of tobacco smoke. 
 
 " Give us a demon-story now, Ole, and the enchant- 
 ment is perfect," said Micky ; " there must be some 
 huldre in the neighbourhood ; or perhaps, niften comes 
 to Kile ? " 
 
 " I will tell you a true story of the wood-demon," 
 said 016. 
 
 We puffed in silence for a minute, and then 016 
 began : — 
 
 " There was a man, as it might be myself, who was 
 in love with a girl whose name was Margit. They used 
 to meet in a wood near a lake, as it might be Kild Lake. 
 One evening the young man, who was called Erik, 
 arrived at the trysting-place at the appointed time ; 
 but there was no Margit. He waited, but still no 
 Margit. He still waited, but she did not come ! 
 
 " A sudden stillness fell out of the sky. The very 
 pines, tall and motionless, seemed to be holding their 
 breath as if in fear or expectation. Just then the new 
 moon glittered among the green pine-tops. Erik 
 looked up, and looked long, with wonder. When he 
 lowered his eyes, into which the moon had cast some 
 of her silver, it was to see a man — was it a man ? — 
 right in front of him, calmly looking into his very soul. 
 It was the wood-demon ! 
 
 " Margit, in the meantime, had obtained permission 
 of her mother to go into the wood ; but she tarried by 
 a clear pool to admire the reflection of a string of amber 
 beads, which she then wore for the first time, and which, 
 indeed, belonged to her mother ; and so, without her 
 knowing it, the time slipt past, and her lover was kept 
 waiting. When at length the new moon looked up at 
 
LIFE AT KILE FIORD 141 
 
 her out of the pool, she recollected herself, and set off 
 towards the trysting-tree. 
 
 " She was still a hundred paces off the place, when 
 the demon said to Erik : 
 
 " ' At once, then ! your cap and your jacket ! some- 
 thing is coming this way — my trees are signing to me ! ' 
 
 " Erik gave up his red tassel'd cap and grey jacket 
 without saying a word, and the Demon put them on. 
 ' I'll hold to my bargain ! ' said the Demon, ' you will 
 find a boat moored to the witch-hazel behind you. 
 Row out into the lake — before you are half across, the 
 boat, I promise you, will be laden with gold ! ' 
 
 " Erik stole to the boat, and pushed from the fringe 
 of pines and bushes out into the open lake under the 
 stars. ' If only the Demon keeps to his word,' he 
 sighed ; ' it's a great gain to me if he does ; but if he 
 does not, it's a loss.' 
 
 " He was now approaching the middle of the lake, 
 when lo ! gold was lying among his feet. The stars 
 shone upon it. He ceased rowing ; his eyes shone. 
 He could not look at it sufficiently — he stooped to feel 
 the pieces. They were still increasing. They seemed 
 to rise from the bottom of the boat. They were already 
 almost to his knee when he began to fear the boat 
 might be overloaded, and seizing the oars he made for 
 the shore with all the speed he. was capable of. In 
 vain. The cargo of gold was still increasing, the water, 
 with its great green eye, was already looking into the 
 boat, and he was in the middle of the lake. He started 
 from the thwart, flinging down the oars ; and, clutch- 
 ing the gold, flung it in great handfuls into the water. 
 Large drops of perspiration stood on his brow, and fell 
 among the gold ; he could not throw it out fast enough. 
 
142 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 It gained upon him. The boat's edge trembled level 
 with the lake brim. At last the stealthy water made 
 a noisy rush, and down went the boat, the gold, and 
 the man standing among the gold. The hushed stars 
 shone down on a vacant surface, where broke first a 
 great many little hissing bells, and then, after a while, 
 in silence, one large one." 
 
 After a little while Micky spoke : " But it was to 
 have been a true story, 016 ? " 
 
 " And was love never betrayed or bartered then ? 
 Were human hearts never abandoned and sacrificed 
 for gold ? " demanded 016. 
 
 016 told the story with a dramatic force that was 
 unexpected. His pauses— his gestures — were one half 
 of the effect. Much of the remaining half was due to 
 time and place. It is impossible for me to say how 
 little the legend may impress the mere reader. 
 
 Other stories of trolls or demons followed, until the 
 return of the children, demonstratively jubilant over 
 the success of the English flies, interrupted our 
 sagaman, but not our entertainment. 016 went off 
 in one of the skiffs to visit Margit, and we followed the 
 young people into the inn kitchen, where the landlady 
 was busily knitting, and the admiral just awakening 
 from a doze. After some preliminary chat on the 
 piscatorial capabilities of the lake, suggested by a 
 plateful of excellent trout, which Pigen, the young 
 girl, produced as her share of the evening's catch, 
 while the boy was deep in a trencher of milk and curds, 
 we directed the conversation to the tales and tradi- 
 tions of the country, into which, after various false 
 starts, we at last got fairly launched. 
 
 In this manner we spent many pleasant days and 
 oblivious nights at Kile. 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 
 
 THE IRON MINES OF GELLIVARE 
 
 A summer voyage up the Baltic, to the utmost limit 
 of its inland waters in far Haparanda, is as pleasant 
 as a sail in springtime on the Mediterranean ; and it 
 has still the charm of novelty to recommend it, though 
 it is doubtless destined to be much run upon in the 
 immediate future. True, it cannot unfold so rich and 
 varied a panorama of scenic loveliness as the coast of 
 Southern Europe ; and it is comparatively deficient in 
 such historical attractions as draw all men to the 
 classical shores of the Mediterranean. Yet in the 
 Bothnian Gulf, under a typical Norland sky, one gazes 
 into a wider, loftier, and serener expanse of heavens 
 than overhangs the Levant, and there is, of course, in 
 those higher latitudes, a longer luxury of light with a 
 sweeter coming on of evening. The Baltic coast has 
 also associations of its own, both of ancient and of 
 modern history. Britons, at least, should find pro- 
 found interest in memories of the Norsemen and of 
 Nelson — something even of classical value in the Saga 
 of Beowulf and in Campbell's heroic ballad of The 
 Battle of the Baltic. It is, however, in its more invigor- 
 ating effect upon the health that a Baltic voyage takes 
 precedence of a sail in Southern waters. Are your 
 nerves shattered ? your eyes dim ? Is your pulse 
 143 
 
144 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 languid ? your appetite gone ? Are you, in short, 
 " run down ? " Here, on these inland waters of the 
 North, you will be strengthened and quickened, 
 brightened and braced. You will be borne, with 
 scarcely a heave on the water, through successive 
 baths of purest air and light, wholesome to the eyes, 
 healing to the lungs, restful and refreshing to body and 
 spirit ! One difficulty there is before you can taste 
 of these enjoyments, and it meets you at the outset ; 
 you must first cross the North Sea. This, it must be 
 allowed, is a sufficiently nasty bit of water, when 
 its fit of temper is on — quite equal to the creation 
 of a racket which will challenge comparison with the 
 turmoil 
 
 When winds are out on Biscay's sleepless bay. 
 
 But as soon as the Skaw comes in sight, you are at the 
 gates of the Baltic, when your pleasures begin, and 
 prove all the sweeter for the preliminary pain. 
 
 Many lines of traffic converge upon Elsinore, and 
 you have the companionship of vessels of all kinds, 
 till you find yourself between Stockholm and the en- 
 trance to the Gulf of Finland. From this point north- 
 wards to the head of the Norbotten Sea, you are natur- 
 ally in less-frequented waters. What vessels you do 
 pass or meet are mostly on the Swedish side ; their 
 cargo southwards is either wood or iron ore ; north- 
 wards it is largely coal. But hour after hour may pass, 
 with nothing above and nothing below but the sky and 
 the water. If the weather be calm, your ear detects 
 the slightest sounds — the lap of the water on the ship's 
 side, the low clacking of the engine with its reiterated 
 rhythm, the "ting" of the log register at the stern, 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 145 
 
 the aerial laughter of a solitary seagull which persists 
 in following the vessel for reasons of its own ; but they 
 only serve to accentuate the stillness. You turn in 
 your hammock under the derrick with a renewed 
 sense of indolent delight ; or you toss aside the popular 
 novel, which has ceased to interest you, for the placid 
 pleasure of dreaming and dozing in a deck-chair. You 
 might as well be in Mediterranean waters. But a 
 breeze springs up from the north ; it is cool and re- 
 freshing, without having the sting of the east in it. 
 The surface of the water, smooth as glass before, has 
 now a corded appearance, as of innumerable fine lines 
 arranged in a regular wavy pattern ; by-and-by white 
 caps show on the distant waves that now begin to rise ; 
 the lapping play of water against the ship's side gives 
 place to a brisk hissing sound ; the gull has taken the 
 water ; you get up to taste the joys of activity — to 
 pace the deck, or face the breeze on the bridge, or 
 enjoy a chat at the door of the engine-room. Mid- 
 night comes, yet it is not by any means dark ; the glow 
 of the August sunset is still luminous to the north- 
 ward ; the wind has died away, and the air is soft and 
 balmy. 
 
 The Baltic, including its great northern arm, the 
 Gulf of Bothnia, is by no means a difficult sea to navi- 
 gate ; yet it is not without its dangers, which consist 
 chiefly in the number of its rocks and shallows. Many 
 soundings have yet to be taken ; and not a season 
 passes without the apparition of a stick where it was 
 not looked for, moored to a weight, and marked, it 
 may be, " One fathom." But with good charts and 
 a careful lookout in familiar courses, the danger from 
 shoal water is, in clear weather, at a low minimum ; 
 
 K 
 
146 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 it is, of course, greatly increased by fogs. The season 
 of fogs on the Baltic is from April to the end of June, 
 with the chance of many a lovely day in the latter 
 month, when the fog lifts, and leaves not a rack behind 
 in the thin air ; for the rest of the summer, onwards, 
 indeed, to October, clear skies by day and night keep 
 spanning those northern waters. Then comes a period 
 of rain, and sleet, and snow ; traffic falls rapidly away ; 
 at last the frost grips the Baltic, and holds at least its 
 upper waters ice-bound for six months. The port of 
 Lulea, which is already the principal town on the Baltic 
 side of the Norrland of Sweden, and is probably destined 
 in the near future to be one of the leading ports of 
 Sweden, has this disadvantage, that it is closed to 
 traffic for at least half the year. Last winter it became 
 ice-bound on the 3rd of November, and was not again 
 free till well into May. The periods of opening and 
 closing, however, show considerable variation. It is 
 sometimes June till the port is clear of ice ; and on 
 the other hand it is sometimes even December ere the 
 port is ice-bound for the winter. In 1886, for example, 
 Lulea harbour, which opened to navigation on the 
 22nd of May, closed so late as the 30th of November ; 
 in 1893 it opened so late as 2nd June, and closed on 
 6th November. 
 
 Winter is more fiercely felt and lingers longer on the 
 east coast of Sweden than in places of the same latitude 
 on the west coast of Norway. The gracious influence 
 of the Gulf Stream is scarcely, or not at all, extended 
 to the Baltic shores. Thus it happens that Hammer- 
 fest is free while Lulea is yet locked in ice. It should 
 also be noted that there is less salt in the Baltic than 
 in the main sea deep. Indeed, the water is practically 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 147 
 
 fresh, eastwards and northwards, from the point where 
 the great bifurcation of the Baltic proper, into the 
 Gulfs of Finland and Bothnia, begins. The water of 
 Lulea harbour is put to all the uses of fresh water : 
 for washing, cooking, and drinking. One has only 
 to remember the narrowness of its gateways — the two 
 Belts and the Sound — by which the Baltic has com- 
 munication with the ocean, and the vast quantity of 
 fresh water poured into it from the innumerable lakes, 
 and swamps, and snow plains of Finland and Lapland, 
 to understand how the Baltic should be so much less 
 salt than the North Sea. It is perhaps necessary to 
 say that the non-saline nature of the waters of the 
 Baltic is not without effect in navigation. A ship of, 
 say, a thousand tons, loaded up to her marks, settles 
 a good inch deeper in the fresh water than in the more 
 buoyant waters of the briny ocean ; and an inch more 
 or less counts for something to the master of a sea- 
 going Baltic trader, in a question of shoal water, more 
 especially of artificial channels and harbour-bars. An- 
 other peculiarity of Baltic waters is the amount of lime 
 they hold in solution. Practical evidence of this is 
 well known to engineers, in the incrustation which 
 gathers thickly on the boilers of steamships plying 
 regularly on those inland waters of the north. The 
 abundance of calcareous rock in and around the Baltic 
 is well known to geologists. The large island of Goth- 
 land is based on a vast mass of limestone. 
 
 From the South Quarken, where the Gulf of Bothnia 
 begins to narrow to half its previous width, the traffic 
 seems to increase, gathered as it is within smaller com- 
 pass. Here one may realise the quantity of deal 
 battens, and boards, exported from Norbotten, from 
 
14$ EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 a view of the numerous schooners, barques, and steam- 
 ships, laden almost to the last inch of freight, continu- 
 ally going south. The wood standards are piled far 
 above the deck, in most instances to the level of the 
 bridge in steamships, and not infrequently there is a 
 list of the cargo to a degree which would prove danger- 
 ous in tidal waters. At the North Quarken the naviga- 
 tion of a vessel calls for special knowledge, and a pilot is 
 taken on board at the fishing village of Rodkallen, 
 about iyi miles from Lulea, to guide the ship over 
 shoal water among buoys and broomsticks through 
 the channel which gives admission to Lulea harbour. 
 This channel, Tjufholmsundet, which connects the 
 capacious basin of a natural lagoon with the Baltic, 
 was the work of several years, and since its completion, 
 in the autumn of 1893, has already given such an im- 
 petus to the development of Lulea as a foreign shipping 
 port, that its inhabitants are beginning to anticipate 
 for Lulea equal rank with Malmo or Norrkoping. The 
 channel is through sand and rock for almost a mile, 
 the depth is 23 feet, and the width with this depth 
 95. A tug is, of course, indispensable, and the passage 
 is necessarily slow. It has already happened that the 
 channel has been temporarily blocked by a sunken 
 steamer. Once through the channel, even large 
 vessels find ample room and verge enough to manoeuvre 
 and move freely in the commodious basin of Lulea 
 harbour. The basin, about eight miles in length by 
 four in breadth, has a depth of over 30 feet, which is 
 at times considerably increased, according as the wind 
 checks the outflow by the channel. The harbour may 
 fairly be described as excellent, and there are few of 
 larger dimensions anywhere in Sweden. A statement 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 149 
 
 of the various dues and charges levied upon ships enter- 
 ing the port may not be uninteresting. The charge 
 for towage through the Tjufholmsundet varies, accord- 
 ing to the size of the vessel, from about three to about 
 five guineas ; pilot dues, which are at present calculated 
 on the vessel's draught of water, are to be regulated in 
 future at so much per registered ton ; lastage, a royal 
 tax, of recent imposition, is at the rate of rather more 
 than one penny per ton ; light dues are at the rate of 
 threepence a ton ; dredging dues, one penny per ton ; 
 harbour dues, a halfpenny per ton ; and tonnage dues, 
 about a farthing per ton. 
 
 The advantages of Lulea as a shipping port are 
 almost equalled by its commercial facilities on land. 
 It has railway connection with Sweden, and with Lap- 
 land by means of the recently constructed route to 
 the famous iron mines at Gellivare. It is no exaggera- 
 tion to say that the discovery, and still more the con- 
 struction of adequate means to utilise the discovery, 
 of valuable and inexhaustible mines of iron ore at 
 Gellivare, one hundred and twenty miles up-country 
 to the north-west of Lulea, have given, within the last 
 five or six years, a commercial importance to Lulea 
 which it could never have obtained by any develop- 
 ment of its traditional and time-honoured trade. As 
 the port of shipment of Gellivare ore it has in a sur- 
 prisingly brief period come into familiar notice among 
 many of the ports and iron markets of western Europe, 
 and the importance it has thus acquired has been 
 beneficial to all its industries. There are now regular 
 lines of steamers plying from and to Lulea, both 
 Swedish and foreign. The general imports are coal, 
 salt, and other articles of merchandise ; the exports 
 
150 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 are mainly ore, timber, and tar. Over 23,000 tons of 
 coal were imported in 1895, of which no inconsiderable 
 quantity was from Fife pits, shipped at Methil and 
 Burntisland. The exports of iron ore, in the same 
 year, amounted to very close upon 400,000 tons ; along 
 with such a development of the old trade in tar and 
 timber as is represented by 2500 barrels of the former, 
 and 20,000 standards of the latter. The growth of 
 the iron trade has been almost phenomenal. It began 
 very modestly some eight or nine years ago with a few 
 thousand tons. It is contended that last year's ac- 
 counts will show that Lulea has out-rivalled Oxelsund, 
 and doubled its own exports of ore of the previous year. 
 The mines, or rather the mountain mass of iron ore, 
 at Gellivare have been known for many years : the 
 yellowish-red scum, indicative of the presence of iron, 
 has floated on the Lule-elf from time immemorial. So 
 far back as i860 attempts were made to utilise the 
 discovery by the construction of canals which should 
 connect the navigable parts of the Lule water as far up 
 the river as Storbacken, from which place a railway was 
 to be made to the iron mountain. These attempts, 
 though persevered in for a while, fell through, and 
 were not again renewed for several years. Now, how- 
 ever, there is railway communication the whole way, 
 from Lulea to Gellivare, and long mineral trains run 
 daily from the mountain-side to the loading wharf, 
 about half a mile distant from Lulea. To each mineral 
 train are attached two or three carriages for passengers 
 — but the traffic is essentially in goods. Each waggon 
 contains 25 tons of ore, and the powerful hydraulic lift 
 by which the mineral is raised to the " shoots " takes 
 up three waggons at one time. Loading thus goes on 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 151 
 
 with despatch, and a thousand tons may easily be 
 delivered into a ship's hold, from two " shoots " 
 working at once, in the course of a day. The charge for 
 loading wood goods is considerable — from half-a-crown 
 to three shillings per standard ; but the delivery of 
 ore is in general free, the goods being simply shot into 
 the hold, a hanging target of iron only being employed 
 to break the force of the metal as it leaves the shoot. 
 The ore is of various qualities of excellence, the best 
 class containing as much as ninety-eight per cent, of 
 pure iron. Very much, if not most, of the iron ore of 
 Gellivare obtains a ready market in Rotterdam and 
 Amsterdam, whence it is transported to Germany, 
 much of it finding its way to Krupp's works ; but a 
 considerable and increasing quantity goes to English 
 foundries on Tees-side. There is, indeed, a pretty 
 regular line of traffic in Gellivare ore now established 
 between Lulea and Stockton. There is no export of 
 iron from Lulea to France, a country which in other 
 articles of merchandise has a steady connection with 
 Norbotten land ; but a ship's load, just sent on trial 
 to Dunkirk while this is being written, may, it is hoped, 
 be the means of stimulating French custom. The 
 enterprise of the Company to whom the mines belong, 
 and whose headquarters are in Lulea, is worthy of 
 success, and is ably supported by the brothers Asplund 
 — the elder of whom is British vice-consul at Lulea. 
 It may be mentioned here that copper ore also, of 
 promising quality and abundance, has just been dis- 
 covered at Gellivare. 
 
 Lulea has more than doubled its population since its 
 connection with Gellivare was completed. It now 
 contains a resident and thriving population of about 
 
152 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 eight thousand. The Elf or Water, of the same name, 
 at the mouth of which it stands on a spit of land that 
 is almost insular, marks the ancient division between 
 Sweden and Lapland. One may still observe, in the 
 obscurer parts of the town, and especially among the 
 dock labourers, faces and figures which are character- 
 istic of a Lapp or Finnish origin ; but the great majority 
 of the inhabitants reveal the tall stature, free move- 
 ment, fair hair and complexion, and frank, intelligent 
 expression of the Swede . Even far inland, to the north 
 of the Lule-elf, though you are closer upon the traces 
 of the aboriginal possessors of the land, you cannot 
 fail to see that the Swede has ousted the Lapp from the 
 fairest and most fertile valleys, and relegated him to 
 the rank and condition of a dependant. Nothing, per- 
 haps, will show the enterprise of the inhabitants of 
 Lulea so convincingly as the fact that the telephone 
 and electric light are in general use. There are, besides, 
 excellent hotels and good shops ; Swedish baths, with 
 peculiarities of their own ; a West-end, well-built, well 
 laid out, and with an air of repose and culture one 
 hardly expects to find in so distant a nook of Northern 
 Europe ; the latest news from London, South Africa, 
 Armenia, the Soudan ; Burns's Poems, and his picture, 
 in the booksellers ; sewing-machines in every house, 
 even side by side with the primitive spinning-wheel 
 and hand-loom in the houses of the peasantry ; bicycles 
 on the unpaved streets ; Scotch whisky ; tropical 
 fruit ; and the English language, in a town where 
 Britons are rare, pretty generally understood and even 
 spoken. Besides Britain, such other European states 
 as Denmark, Russia, Germany, Holland, France, Spain, 
 and Portugal are represented by vice-consuls. 
 
TO LULEA IN NORBOTTEN 153 
 
 Seen from the harbour, Lulea gives one the impression 
 of a new and singularly clean town, to which the 
 large spick-and-span church, a recent erection, picked 
 out with red and white bricks, on a knoll in the centre 
 of the town, largely contributes. Away from the town, 
 on the north, west, and south sides, you descry nothing 
 but low rocks and hills of no commanding height, 
 covered sparsely with dark-green pines of small and 
 even stunted stature. If you enter those woods, 
 which cover the whole country for miles around, except 
 where a small clearance has been made for a patch of 
 rye, or grass, or potatoes, you are oppressed with their 
 silence ; for here, owing probably to the absence of 
 flies, there is an absence of birds, almost total, indeed, 
 but for the occasional glimpse of a wagtail balancing 
 himself on a stone in a brook, or flitting around the 
 wheel of a sawmill. But if song-birds are absent, 
 blackberries and such humble fruit as " the kind 
 hospitable woods provide " are fairly abundant, and 
 apparently left to waste. The tinkle of a cow-bell, 
 and the song of a solitary woodman are the only sounds 
 to be heard in a Swedish forest in summer. There is 
 more life and gaiety on the water. The farms are on 
 the river-sides, each stead, or gaard, marked out in 
 the distance by its own oriental-looking well-sweep ; 
 and it is safe to say that there is no farmer without a 
 boat or two, which every child or woman can manage 
 with ease. Rowing and singing on the Lule are in- 
 separable exercises ; and, however it may originate, 
 the songs of Sweden are of a tone plaintive and sombre 
 enough to pass for hymn tunes, especially in those 
 secluded parts of the country which border on, or are 
 beyond, the Arctic circle. To a liking for song the 
 
154 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Swedish peasant unites a love of poetry ; and it was 
 of no little interest to a Scotsman to find in August 
 of last year, on a rustic inn table at Svartla, two days' 
 journey inland from Lulea, the echo of Scottish re- 
 joicings over Burns, and a rendering of " A man's a 
 man for a' that " for the Swedes and Lapps of far Nor- 
 botten, a verse of which may be given here : 
 
 Ej hofe det redligt armod val, 
 
 Sla blicken ned — och alt det ; 
 Vi ga forbi en sadan tral, 
 
 Vi trotsa armod — alt det I 
 Och alt det, och alt det 
 
 Vart stand ar lagt, och alt det ; 
 Men rang ar myntets pragel blott, 
 
 Och mannen guld, trots alt det ! 
 
 There is excellent fishing for salmon and trout on 
 the Lule ; and the scenery, from the rapids at Hedens- 
 fors, to the falls at Edefors and Jockmock, is always 
 pleasing, and sometimes touched with sublimity. At 
 Svartla the river has a width equal to three times 
 that of the Tay at the North Inch of Perth, and is 
 traversed for many miles, both up and down, by small 
 steamers, which do a brisk trade, and convey a small 
 but motley throng of passengers during the summer. 
 There is one handsome town on the Lule, Boden by 
 name, for which even a more brilliant future is antici- 
 pated than for Lulea. As yet its rather ambitious 
 hotel and its capacious church are the only visible 
 points of interest to a visitor. The railway from Lulea 
 to Boden was made by an English firm, and for some 
 time worked by an English company. It was at last 
 taken over by the Swedish government, and incorpor- 
 ated with the state railways. 
 
NOW FAREWELL TO LULO 
 (the amphibrachs of a fifth engnieer) 
 
 Now farewell to Lulo, 
 
 Its kirk and red steeple ; 
 Its sandy square, full o' 
 
 Tall yellow-haired people ; 
 Its ruddy-faced seamen, 
 
 So loud of their talk ; 
 Its corset-less women, 
 
 That swing as they walk ; 
 To ship-chandling Forsman, 
 
 And Asplund, the maire, 
 And Oberg, the Norseman, 
 
 So vain of his hair. 
 
 ii 
 
 We leave thee, Norbotten ; 
 
 But can we forget ? 
 Thy scenes, unforgotten, 
 
 Shall stay with us yet. 
 We bear to our birthland 
 
 No vision that fades : 
 This flood of the northland 
 
 Shall show from the Braids ; 
 i55 
 
156 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 And far on farms inland 
 
 Of Fifeshire shall fall 
 The deeper peace Finland 
 
 Is mantled withal. 
 
 in 
 
 Farewell to Norbotten, 
 
 To Lulo farewell ; 
 These scenes unforgotten 
 
 The future shall tell. 
 The calm pinewood shadows, 
 
 The sled and the goard, 
 The huts in the meadows 
 
 With meadow-hay stored, 
 The well-sweeps, not going, 
 
 The snow-ploughs and skis, 
 The rafts and the rowing — 
 
 We'll not forget these. 
 
 IV 
 
 Aboard leaps the pilot, 
 
 We float and are free, 
 And down past the islet 
 
 We glide to the sea. 
 The tower, and the narrows, 
 
 We hail, and pass through ; 
 And, smoking of claros, 
 
 Look round on the view. 
 The broomsticks at Quarken 
 
 They keep us all right, 
 But fogs make us harken 
 
 And peer through the night. 
 
NOW FAREWELL TO LULO 157 
 
 By Gothland and Olan' 
 
 We pant down the Baltic, 
 Where the waves, that are rollin', 
 
 Begin to smell salt-ic ; 
 And, when we stand oppos- 
 ite old Elsinore, 
 The billows o'ertop us, 
 
 And break, and fall o'er, 
 And drench us, and drive us 
 
 On three courses tearing, 
 And hammer, and rive us, 
 
 And keep the Chief swearing. 
 And when from the Skagger 
 
 We front the full sea, 
 And into it stagger 
 
 As drunk as can be, 
 Then up and down lifting 
 
 We send to old Harry 
 The freight that keeps shifting 
 
 (Thy gift, Gellivare !) 
 Till, signalled aboard, 
 
 Comes Tom from the Tees, 
 And the moon finds us moor'd 
 
 At Whitelaw's in peace. 
 
SHAKESPEARE AT SCHOOL 
 
 It is still generally believed that Shakespeare, like 
 other great geniuses, was independent of teaching or 
 training, and that therefore he neither required nor 
 received what is commonly known as a good educa- 
 tion. There is no good ground for the belief, which 
 is, perhaps, traceable to a much-misunderstood refer- 
 ence of Ben Jonson to the scholarship of Shakespeare, 
 but is more probably due to a vulgar habit among man- 
 kind of indolently relegating to the marvellous and 
 the mysterious whatever phenomenon demands for its 
 intelligent apprehension the trouble of research and 
 examination. That Shakespeare was well educated 
 admits of no doubt. His parents could well afford 
 the expense, if expense were necessary ; and there 
 was in his native town of Stratford quite adequate 
 means. Stratford Free Grammar School was one 
 of the foundations of Edward VI., and had been 
 in existence about a score of years before young 
 William Shakespeare was of an age to benefit by its 
 services. The members of the town Corporation 
 were entitled to the free education of their boys at 
 the school, and just when John Shakespeare's son 
 William was ready for public school life, John Shake- 
 speare was filling the honourable office of Chief Alder- 
 man or Mayor of Stratford. What he learned at school 
 we know, not only in a general way, but even in some 
 
 i S 8 
 
SHAKESPEARE AT SCHOOL 159 
 
 interesting detail. He was, of course, well grounded 
 in the classics. Lilly's Latin Grammar, there is no 
 doubt, was his daily companion for some years. He 
 may have used for translation Erasmus's Colloquies, or 
 Corderius's ; and it is possible, if not probable, that 
 he learned the rudiments of Greek from Clenardo's 
 Institutes. English, of course, he learned, but for 
 the most part incidentally, both at school and else- 
 where : but music and the Ptolemaic system of 
 astronomy, with some practice in arithmetic, were part 
 of the studies of the grammar schools, and may have 
 been taught at Stratford. As for natural history, 
 that he acquired of himself in the fields and woods 
 around Stratford. Of these various studies of his boy- 
 hood, from his seventh to his fourteenth year at least, 
 a special interest attaches to Lilly's Latin Grammar. 
 The little manual was appointed by many successive 
 Statutes to be used in the grammar schools of England ; 
 and it held, or rather has held, its place, in some form 
 or surviving feature, down almost, if not altogether, 
 to our own times. George Borrow knew it well, as an 
 interesting page in Lavengro can testify ; and the 
 writer of this paper was painfully familiar with at 
 least its Latin rules for conjugations and genders, its 
 " As in presenti," and its " Quae maribus solum tri- 
 buuntur." There is, on reflection, some consolation 
 in knowing that even a Shakespeare may have been 
 caned in boyhood for the same Latin rules which 
 brought many a blistering " palmy " to later and lesser 
 little mortals. What else but those Latin rules of 
 Lilly and the dread of the cane (or, one should rather 
 say, to avoid anachronism, the birch) made Master 
 Shakespeare of a morning proceed, " like snail, un- 
 
160 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 willingly to school ? " But William Lilly, " golden 
 grammarian " though he was, must not get all the 
 credit or blame of those immortal Latin rules. It is 
 said that the famous Erasmus, not to mention Dean 
 Colet, had a share in their construction. They may, 
 therefore, well share among them the fame of so 
 original and so long-remembered and widely-known 
 a line as " Quae maribus solum tribuuntur mascula 
 sunto ! " Adam, of the Edinburgh High School, by 
 the way, seems to have credited the immortal rule to 
 Ruddiman, the northern grammarian, but if Lilly and 
 Co. were its inventors it claims a remoter antiquity 
 by nearly two centuries. 
 
 But in addition to the subjects of study and the very 
 manuals in use at such a school as Stratford Grammar 
 School in the latter half of the sixteenth century, we 
 may have, from Shakespeare's own pen, a realistic 
 presentation of a pupil under examination. It bears 
 all the look of a transcript from the life. We shall 
 probably not be far wrong in supposing the pupil to 
 be young Shakespeare himself, and, if there be objec- 
 tion to the idea of a Welsh preceptor in a Warwick- 
 shire school, it may readily be removed by remember- 
 ing that a single county separates Warwickshire from 
 the Principality. The subject of examination is Lilly's 
 Latin Accidence :— 
 
 Master — Come hither, William ; hold up your head ; 
 come. William, how many numbers is in nouns ? 
 Pupil — Two. 
 
 Master — What is fair, William ? 
 Pupil — Pulcher. 
 
 Master — What is lapis, William. 
 Pupil — A stone. 
 
SHAKESPEARE AT SCHOOL 161 
 
 Master — And what is a stone, William ? 
 
 Pupil — A pebble. 
 
 Master — No, it is lapis ; I pray you remember in your prain. 
 
 Pupil (demurely) — Lapis. 
 
 Master — That is good, William. What is he, William, that 
 
 does lend articles ? 
 Pupil — Articles are borrowed of the pronouns, and be thus 
 
 declined : — Singulariter, nominativo, hie, hsec, 
 
 hoc. 
 Master — Nominativo, hig, hag, hog ; pray you, mark ; 
 
 genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusative 
 
 case ? 
 Pupil — Accusativo, hinc. 
 Master (irritably}— I pray you, have your remembrance, 
 
 child ; accusativo, hung, hang, hog ! (Calling 
 
 away) — Leave your prabbles, there ! (To pupil) 
 
 — What is the focative case, William ? 
 Pupil — O, vocativo, O. 
 Master (impressively) — Remember, William ! focative is 
 
 caret. What is your genitive case plural, William ? 
 Pupil (rubbing his temple) — Genitive case ? 
 Master — Ay. 
 
 Pupil — Genitive, horum, harum, horum. 
 Master — Show me now, William, some declensions of your 
 
 pronouns. 
 Pupil (impatiently) — Forsooth, I have forgot. 
 Master (sternly) — It is qui, qua, quod ; if you forget your 
 
 quis, your quaes, and your quods, you must be 
 
 preeches ! Go your ways and play ; go. (Pupil 
 
 goes off nimbly.) A good sprag memory. 
 
 Ben Jonson's reference to Shakespeare's scholarship 
 as amounting to " small Latin and less Greek " has 
 been much misunderstood. It is not enough to say 
 that Jonson was a habitual braggart, vain of his learn- 
 ing ; and that, while Shakespeare may well have been 
 inferior in his knowledge of the ancient classics to 
 
1 62 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Jonson, who had been under Camden at Westminster 
 till he was sixteen, he may have been a very respect- 
 able Latinist and Greekist for all that. Excuses of 
 this kind for Shakespeare are an injustice to the memory 
 of Jonson. His statement should not be wrested from 
 the context in which it occurs, but should be taken, in 
 common justice to the author of it, along with the whole 
 tone and tenour of the twelfth of his miscellaneous 
 poems in the Underwoods. That poem is the noblest 
 eulogy ever pronounced, not only on Shakespeare by 
 any writer, but upon any man by any other. It is a 
 well-reasoned estimate of the genius of Shakespeare by 
 one who had ample means of knowing him, and the 
 very restraints to which the eulogist subjects his judg- 
 ment prove the sincerity and fairness of his praise : — 
 
 " I confess his writings to be such 
 As neither man nor muse can praise too much ; 
 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage." 
 
 Or, again : — 
 
 " He was not of an age, but for all time ; 
 And all the Muses still were in their prime, 
 When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm 
 Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm." 
 
 He was " the wonder of the stage ; " and, though he 
 had not a native's knowledge of the language of ancient 
 Greece or Rome, yet in his knowledge of human nature 
 and of the spirit of the ancient times, as exemplified 
 in his Greek and Roman plays, in Troilus and Cressida, 
 and in Julius Cassar, Coriolanus, and Antony and Cleo- 
 patra, he could give points to such acknowledged 
 
SHAKESPEARE AT SCHOOL 163 
 
 masters of the ancient drama, whether in tragedy or 
 comedy, as " thundering iEschylus, Euripides, and 
 Sophocles," not to mention " Pacuvius, Accius, him 
 of Cordoua dead " (Seneca), or to " tart Aristophanes, 
 Terence, and witty Plautus." The ancient writers 
 of tragedy in this list Jonson could have wished to be 
 alive again to hear the buskin of a greater than them- 
 selves " tread and shake the stage " with characters 
 drawn from the history of their own country ; while, 
 with respect to the ancient writers of comedy, in Jon- 
 son's estimation, Shakespeare outdistanced them all, 
 and in comparison with all that " insolent Greece or 
 haughty Rome " sent forth, stood alone and unap- 
 proachable. It is in the pursuit of this line of argu- 
 ment that Jonson, the last man to undervalue scholar- 
 ship, but by no means the first to overvalue it, or to 
 suppose that the possession of it included every other 
 excellence, speaks of Shakespeare's " small Latin and 
 less Greek." Jonson himself would have been the 
 first to recognise the superiority of Julius Caesar to 
 his own Catiline, not alone under the dictum that 
 " the poet is born," but under its complement, as ex- 
 pressed in his own line : — 
 
 " For a good poet's made, as well as born." 
 
 If Shakespeare was not a prodigy of learning in his 
 youth, it can hardly be denied that, as revealed by his 
 works, his learning increased with his life, and became 
 only inferior to his genius. It well entitles him to be 
 regarded as one of the most learned men of his time. 
 His knowledge of natural history and rural industries, 
 of civic life and civil history, of politics and law, naviga- 
 
1 64 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 tion and soldiering, literature, mental science and the- 
 ology, appears broadcast in his plays and poems. In 
 subjects that are more strictly scholastic, he shows the 
 attainments of a well-grounded scholar. He employs 
 words with the precision of an etymologist. And in 
 the use of English he stands unmatched. It would be 
 easy to compile a list of his inaccuracies and anachron- 
 isms. A small critic or poor scholar of our times could 
 do the same for Milton. But were all Shakespeare's 
 anachronisms, or most of them, made ignorantly ? 
 When he placed spectacles on the nose of a dim-sighted 
 Roman of the early Republic, did he know no better ? 
 It was merely a touch of the realism of his own times, 
 to produce a lively effect on the minds of his auditors. 
 It was a concession to what his age had been accustomed 
 to by the Miracle Play. If he put serpents and lions into 
 a forest of Flanders, or gave the inland kingdom of 
 Bohemia a seashore, it was in the mere wantonness 
 and with the masterful supremacy of genius. So Scott 
 made the martial kettledrums rattle on the military 
 march, and refused on the remonstrance of your mere 
 critic to silence them, though the expedition required 
 secrecy and silence. 
 
VISCOUNT CANADA 
 
 The title of Viscount Canada was actually borne by a 
 Scotsman of the seventeenth century. It has long been 
 extinct — at least, for more than a century and a half 
 — and, even when in use, was seldom sounded in the 
 public ear, being covered by the higher style and title 
 of Earl of Stirling. It was originally bestowed by 
 Charles I., on the occasion of his coronation at Holy- 
 rood, some eight years after his accession to the English 
 crown, upon Sir William Alexander, designated of 
 Menstrie, who had formerly been a member of the house- 
 hold, not only of Charles himself, while still a prince, 
 but of his brother Henry before him as well. Alex- 
 ander's connection with Canada — a connection which 
 suggested the title — is an interesting fact in the still 
 unwritten history of early Scottish colonisation. 
 There can hardly be a doubt that it was through his 
 services to the Royal family (that of James VI. and I.), 
 and perhaps also owing to the distinction he had 
 achieved as an author, that in 1621 a grant of land 
 was made to him which included the whole of that 
 Canadian peninsula at Fundy Bay, then known (if 
 known at all) as part of the French colony of Acadie, 
 now known all the world over as Nova Scotia. The 
 country first received its permanent name in the 
 charter granted to the Scottish knight, Sir William 
 Alexander. Four years after receiving the first 
 165 
 
1 66 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 charter, the second was granted when Charles I. came 
 to the throne in 1625. The name he gave to his in- 
 tended colony proves the patriotism of Alexander, 
 and indicates at the same time the Scottish character 
 which he meant his colony to have. He seems to have 
 anticipated something of the design of Paterson in 
 the latter's unfortunate attempt to found a New Cale- 
 donia at the Great Isthmus ; he cherished, it is true, 
 no such glowing schemes of national wealth and dreams 
 of commerce and conquest, but it was his intention to 
 found on the Continent of America a colony which 
 should be in all respects essentially Scottish, and which 
 should bear the parent country's honoured name. 
 Alexander, like Paterson some sixty or seventy years 
 later, was destined to see and survive the failure of his 
 great Colonial design ; yet there was to be a notable 
 difference between their similar destinies as projectors. 
 The humbler scheme was eventually, after many 
 changeful experiences, to result in the present thriving 
 British Colony of Nova Scotia — a name for ever to be 
 associated with the patriotism of Alexander ; the 
 more ambitious scheme, on the other hand, was a 
 collapse as complete and lasting as it was sudden and 
 quick, and no one thinks of associating the name of 
 the lost Scottish colony (now appropriated by a French 
 convict station in the Pacific) with the name of either 
 Paterson or Panama. 
 
 Alexander's scheme for colonising Nova Scotia was, 
 it is said, carefully and elaborately wrought out, and 
 was deserving of success. There was, however, the 
 great difficulty from the very commencement of 
 French opposition. Emigrants from France had 
 settled on the fertile shores of Fundy Bay, both sides 
 
VISCOUNT CANADA 167 
 
 of it, so early as 1604 ; and the only pretext upon which 
 the British could claim the region was the circum- 
 stance of the discovery of Canada (the Nova Scotian 
 coast in 1497) by the Cabots of Bristol. Alexander's 
 attempts to colonise the peninsula according to his 
 great scheme were therefore thwarted, and were ulti- 
 mately defeated by the French Acadians ; and the 
 district of Acadia, which included both Nova Scotia 
 and what is now known as New Brunswick, was for- 
 mally ceded by the British Government to the French 
 by the treaty of Breda in 1667. The British Colonists 
 in America, and notably the English Colonists of Vir- 
 ginia, did not, however, agree to the cession ; and con- 
 tinual bickerings and contentions, not only about the 
 land, but also about the fishings, went on between the 
 British Colonists and the French settlers and squatters, 
 till, in 1713, by the Treaty of Utrecht, the peninsula 
 was given up, along with other important tracts of 
 North America, by Louis XIV. to the British Crown. 
 Any French settlers that then cared to remain were per- 
 mitted to do so, the only condition required of them 
 being an oath of allegiance within two years to King 
 George. Many never took the oath, and yet re- 
 mained ; but as they were industrious and quiet, and 
 as France and Great Britain were now allies in the 
 political arena of Europe, they were left unmolested 
 on their farms and in their homesteads. This peaceful 
 state of affairs did not long continue, however ; Britain 
 and France soon found themselves on opposite sides in 
 the war that arose about the Austrian succession, and 
 the French Governor of Canada (then a French colony) 
 entered upon a policy of " pin-pricks " and aggression 
 against the British colonies all over North America. 
 
1 68 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 The Acadians naturally sympathised with their country- 
 men, but when they passed from a condition of sym- 
 pathetic neutrality, and gave active aid in intelligence, 
 provisions, money, and even men, against the British, 
 Governor Lawrence, who then maintained British 
 rule on the other side of the Atlantic, interfered, and 
 determined on that course of action — constituting the 
 most notable episode in the history of Nova Scotia — 
 which is known as the deportation of the Acadians. 
 Nearly 18,000 of them in the autumn of 1755, were with 
 little warning removed in English ships from their 
 Acadian homes, and dispersed here and there among 
 the English colonies, " where " (says Haliburton, the 
 historian of Nova Scotia) " they could not unite in any 
 offensive measures, and where they might be neutral- 
 ised to the Government and the country." It was 
 upon this event that the poet Longfellow built his well- 
 known poem in English hexameters, " Evangeline, a 
 Tale of Acadie." It is a genuine poem, widely loved 
 for its gentle heroine, but one needs to be reminded 
 that it is not history. " Some at least of the 
 Acadians," says Samuel Longfellow, the poet's brother 
 and biographer, " so far from being innocent sufferers, 
 had been troublesome subjects of Great Britain, 
 fomenting insubordination, and giving help to the 
 enemy. It is very possible that the poet painted in 
 too soft colours the rude robustness of the peasants of 
 Grand Pre." It was a childish excuse which some of 
 the Acadians offered for their disloyal conduct — that 
 they had never sworn allegiance to England. It was 
 sufficient to remind them of the terms upon which only 
 they (or their ancestors) could remain in Nova Scotia. 
 These, and all other facts in the history of Nova 
 
VISCOUNT CANADA 169 
 
 Scotia after the year 1640, were unknown to William 
 Alexander, for in that year he died, convinced of the 
 failure of his great scheme of Scottish colonisation. 
 His title of Viscount Canada may have partly consoled 
 him, or may have come to be regarded by him as little 
 more than a bitter mockery. That some sympathy 
 for him in his disappointment was felt seems to be 
 shown by a proposal which was made to compensate 
 him with a money payment ; and it is said that 
 £10,000 was actually promised him, but though much 
 needed — for he died insolvent — it was never paid. 
 Paterson in his day of disappointment fared better 
 than Alexander, for the Darien projector received by 
 way of compensation for his troubles and losses at the 
 Isthmus a sum of nearly £20,000. 
 
 Alexander was a voluminous author, chiefly of verse. 
 If bulk alone counted, he would deserve to rank among 
 the great poets of his country, for his single work on 
 Doomsday extends to more than 10,000 lines. But 
 he wrote besides a series of dramas, on Darius, Croesus, 
 Julius Caesar, etc., to which he gave the collective title 
 of " The Monarchic Tragedies." He also made large 
 but ineffectual love in a long series of songs and sonnets 
 to Aurora. In spite of his vast and varied output, 
 Alexander must take rank as a minor poet. Critics have 
 now and again brought his name into petty associa- 
 tion with that of Shakespeare. A short passage in 
 his drama of " Darius " (the date is 1603) — 
 
 " Those golden palaces, those gorgeous halls, 
 With furniture superfluously fair, 
 Those stately courts, those sky-encountering walls 
 Evanish all like vapours in the air " — 
 
170 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 is sometimes said to have suggested the magnificently 
 solemn passage in " The Tempest " which begins with 
 the words : — 
 
 " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces " — 
 
 too well known to need repetition here. The transitori- 
 ness of worldly pomp is, no doubt, a commonplace of 
 thought, yet it may be allowed that an echo of the 
 Scottish poet's lines was lingering in the mind of 
 Shakespeare as he wrote this part of " The Tempest." 
 His " Caesar," too, is believed to show here and there 
 certain verbal resemblances to Shakespeare's drama 
 of the same name, but it is not yet decided by scholars 
 whether there is indebtedness, or, if there be, on whose 
 side it lies. An ordinary pair of eyes would make 
 light of these fancied resemblances. Alexander was 
 on intimate terms of friendship with Drummond of 
 Hawthornden, a poet of about his own age ; and it 
 may be mentioned that, in addition to other offices 
 held by him, Alexander was Secretary of State for 
 Scotland from 1626, and was, besides, Keeper of the 
 Signet, and one of the Judges Extraordinary of the 
 Court of Session. 
 
AN OLD SCOTTISH SUBSCRIPTION LIST 
 
 The subscribed capital of the Darien speculation reached 
 the respectable sum of £400,000. It was more than 
 respectable ; it may fairly be described as enormous, 
 when one takes into account the value of money and 
 the poverty of Scotland two centuries ago. It must 
 be remembered that it was purely Scottish capital. 
 The scheme, as unfolded by Paterson, its great pro- 
 moter — by far, indeed, the greatest company promoter 
 of his time — seemed in every way of looking at it a 
 grand one. Both the English and the Dutch at first 
 looked on it with approval, and subscribed, the 
 former £300,000, the latter (including the merchants 
 of Hamburg) about £200,000 ; but they had withdrawn 
 their names from the Company, partly through 
 jealousy and partly through alarm. Rightly or 
 wrongly, King William was believed to have created 
 the alarm. The Scots were undeterred from their 
 scheme by these defections ; they seemed rather to 
 prosecute it with more zeal, the more it was seen to be 
 strictly national. Of the £400,000 which they sub- 
 scribed, more than half was paid up ; and there is no 
 reason to doubt that the remainder would have been 
 ready if the scheme had not collapsed. The sub- 
 scriptions were from all ranks and from all quarters 
 in Scotland. Not only was it Scottish money ; it was 
 the money of the Scottish people. Rich and poor, 
 171 
 
172 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Highlander and Lowlander, master and servant, lord 
 and loon — all were represented in the list of contribu- 
 tors to a scheme of colonial enterprise which, as un- 
 folded by the eloquence of Paterson, took captive the 
 whole Scottish heart. 
 
 There is some interest in glancing over the list of 
 subscribers. In Glasgow alone there were about 132 ; 
 Edinburgh furnished very many ; Leith, Dundee, Ayr, 
 and Aberdeen were well represented ; such towns as 
 Haddington, Dunbar, Inverness, Banff, Dumfries, 
 Irvine, Linlithgow, Montrose, and— amongst other 
 towns in Fife — Strathmiglo, furnished their several 
 quotas. The different sums subscribed varied in 
 amount from £3000, written by Lord Belhaven, among 
 others, down to a modest £100, ventured by Hugh 
 Robertson, Provost of Inverness, to take one instance, 
 or — to take another — by Thomas Rattray of Slogging- 
 hole (wherever in broad Scotland that lurking place 
 may be). The following subscribers put down their 
 names for the maximum sum of £3000 each ; — Lord 
 Belhaven, as aforesaid ; John Stewart of Gairntilly 
 (sic), the Duke of Queensberry, the Duchess of Hamil- 
 ton, Lord Basil Hamilton, the Town of Glasgow, the 
 Good Town of Edinburgh, the Royal Burghs, and the 
 Easter Sugarie, Glasgow. Two Edinburgh mercers, 
 Robert Blackwood and James Balfour, gave £2000 
 each to the project ; while a like sum was contributed 
 by the Principal of the College in Glasgow, and by Sir 
 R. Chiesly, the Provost of Edinburgh. The Earl of 
 Leven and a Glasgow merchant, William Arbuckle, 
 signed for £2000 each, at the same time that the Provost 
 of Glasgow put down his name for £1000. The sum of 
 £1200 appears opposite the Merchant Company of 
 
OLD SCOTTISH SUBSCRIPTION LIST 173 
 
 Edinburgh, the Merchant House of Glasgow at the same 
 time venturing £1000. The Faculty of Advocates, 
 the Earl of Annandale, and Michael Allan, merchant in 
 Edinburgh, each contributed £1000. The same sum 
 stands opposite each of the following names : — 
 Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, Lord Panmure, the Earl 
 of Sutherland, the Earl of Haddington, the Earl of 
 Southesk (grotesquely spelt Southesque), Viscount 
 Stair, Viscount Strathallan, Viscount Tarbat, Lord Hay 
 of Yester, John, Marquis of Tweeddale, Lord High 
 Chancellor of Scotland ; and Cockburn of Ormiston, 
 the Lord Justice-Clerk. Archibald Earl of Argyle, 
 ventured £1500 ; William Lord Jedburgh the same ; 
 and Pat. Thomson, Town Treasurer (presumably of 
 Edinburgh), also the same. The Marquis of Athol and 
 theEarlsof Lauderdale and Lothian put down £500 each. 
 A glance may now be taken at the sums subscribed 
 by trades societies, burgh corporations, etc. The 
 town of Brichen (sic) entered the scheme for £700, the 
 Baxters (Bakers) of Edinburgh and those of Glasgow 
 each laid out £200 ; while their floury brethren of the 
 Canongate put down £100. The Edinburgh Chir- 
 urgeons (or barber-surgeons) signed for £600 ; the Cor- 
 diners (shoemakers) of Edinburgh, the Cordiners of 
 Glasgow, the Coupers (coopers) of Glasgow, and those 
 of Canongate, £100 each. Cowan's Hospital, Stirling, 
 stood for £500. The Guildrie of Dundee and the 
 Guildrie of Stirling subscribed £200 each. The town 
 of Perth invested £2000; the town of Haddington, 
 and the Trades House of Glasgow, £400 each ; the 
 Canongate Tailors, £300 ; those of Glasgow, £200 ; 
 the towns of Paisley (Pasely) and Ayr, £200 each ; 
 St Andrews, £100 ; the Skinners of Edinburgh, £300 ; 
 
174 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 the Trinity House, Leith, £200 ; the Seaman's Box, in 
 Dundee, £100 ; the Hammermen of Edinburgh, £200 ; 
 and those of Glasgow, £100 ; and the Masons of 
 Glasgow, £100. 
 
 Of country gentlemen who subscribed, we find in 
 the list the names of John Bruce of Kinross and the 
 Master of Burleigh, who put down £500 each ; William 
 Bennet of Grubbet (the friend of Allan Ramsay), 
 whose name stands for £300 ; Mr Robert Bannerman 
 (" brother to Elsik "), who wrote £200 ; Mr Wm, 
 Aikman of Cairney, in Forfarshire (father of Aikman 
 the painter, praised by Ramsay and lamented by 
 Thomson), whose subscription stands at £200 ; Wil- 
 liam Oliphant of Gask ("The Auld House ")," £500 ; 
 Walter Riddell of Frier-Shaw (is this.Friars-Carse ?), 
 £100 ; John Sharp of Hoddam (sic), £600 (C. K. S.'s 
 opinion on the subject would have been delightful) ; 
 John Scott of Gorrenberrie (a designation that recalls 
 the ballad of Jamie Telfer), and a certain White of 
 Bennochie, who advanced £200. 
 
 The list of subscribers from the professions includes 
 the name of Thomas Darling, described as " Doctor 
 of Edinburgh Grammar School,", who put down £100 ; 
 that of Mr James Gregory, Professor of the Mathe- 
 matics in the College of Edinburgh, who signed for 
 £200 ; Mr John Hamilton, minister of the Gospel at 
 Edinburgh ("for himself and after his decease to the 
 children of his first marriage "), who ventured £200 ; 
 James Ramsay, writer in Edinburgh, who gave £200 ; 
 Mr William Scott, Professor of Philosophy in the 
 College of Edinburgh, and Mr William Mackgie (sic), 
 precentor in Stirling, who invested £100 each. 
 
 Merchants, writers, chirurgeons, doctors of medi- 
 
OLD SCOTTISH SUBSCRIPTION LIST 175 
 
 cine, ministers of religion, Lords of Session, landed 
 proprietors, skippers, noblemen, " relicts," servants, 
 soldiers, and tradespeople of every class almost will 
 all be found among the " adventurers in the joynt- 
 stock of the Company of Scotland trading to Africa 
 and the Indies." As one turns the pages of the list, 
 there is always something suggestive, or puzzling, or 
 amusing to take the eye. Here is, for example, a 
 Glasgow " regent " entered for £100 ; or it is a " litster" 
 in Edinburgh, or a tanner in Leslie, down for the same 
 sum ; or it is A. Kirkwood, " servitor " to the Lord 
 Murray, or Wm. Lawrie, " tutor of Blackwood," who 
 seeks to invest a hundred or two. A few gallant army 
 captains are in the list ; one, describing himself as a 
 " Guiddon " to His Majesty's " troup of Guards," 
 sets down £200 after his name. A " master of the 
 revels " subscribes £100. Andrew Thomson, servant 
 to Charles Divvie, merchant in Edinburgh, adventures 
 £100, Divvie himself advancing £400. There are 
 coppersmiths and " peutherers," feltmakers and watch- 
 makers, glaziers and gaugers. Here is Dame Isobel 
 Nicolson, Lady of Cockpen, subscribing £100 ; and here 
 Mr William Kerr, " brother-german " to the Earl of 
 Roxburgh, doubling that figure. There are students, 
 vintners, and soap-boilers subscribing modestly ; 
 while George Warrender, merchant in Edinburgh, and 
 the Countess of Weems (sic) adventure a couple of 
 thousands each. 
 
 Altogether there are about 650 members of the 
 Company whose several subscriptions stand at £100 ; 
 about 550 who each contribute between £100 and 
 £1000 ; and about 132 who set down a sum of £1000 
 or over, none contributing more than £3000. 
 
176 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 The foregoing facts connected with the history of 
 Scottish Colonial enterprise will be found in an old and 
 scarce publication " printed and sold by the heirs and 
 successors of Andrew Anderson, printer to the King's 
 Most Excellent Majestie," and bearing date 1696. 
 Another small publication of the same period points 
 out, with pardonable patriotic pride, that the number 
 of subscribers to the scheme and the amount of their 
 subscriptions proved that Scotland at the close of the 
 seventeenth century was " neither so poor nor so 
 disjointed" as those who were inimical to her interests 
 vainly imagined. 
 
AN OLD SCOTTISH COLONIAL VENTURE 
 
 Paterson's magnificent project for the establish- 
 ment of a Scottish colony at Darien had been ad- 
 vanced for years before it was taken up in a practical 
 way. Gradually his eloquence and his arguments 
 prevailed among men of office and influence in the 
 country, of whom the family of the Johnstons of 
 Warriston deserve special recognition. Jesper, the 
 laird, subscribed £500 to the venture, and his brother, 
 the Secretary for Scotland, secured for the Company 
 the goodwill and the good offices of the Earl of Tivi- 
 dale's Administration. At the same time (1696) the 
 Lord High Chancellor, John, Marquis of Tweeddale, 
 was induced to put down his name for £1000. Under 
 such favourable auspices an Act was " touched by 
 the sceptre " for the erection of " The Company of 
 Scotland trading to Africa and the West Indies." A 
 mighty encouragement to the stability of the Company 
 lay in two provisos which the promoters of the scheme 
 obtained from the Scottish Parliament — 1st, that the 
 Company were to be Customs-free for the first twenty- 
 two years ; and 2nd, that all ships of the Company taken 
 or damaged by any other nation should be made good 
 at His Majesty's charge. When the full text of the 
 Scottish charter was known in England, the Company 
 was at once opposed by the English East India traders ; 
 subscriptions promised to the scheme in England were 
 
 M 177 
 
178 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 not forthcoming ; and, influenced by the English 
 example, the traders of Hamburg withheld a sub- 
 scription of about £100,000. The Scots, however, 
 resolved " to stand on their own bottom " ; and, as 
 we saw in a recent paper on the subject, the Scottish 
 nation, including almost all the nobility and gentry, 
 all the cities and royal burghs, and a fair representa- 
 tion of all sorts and conditions of the general public, 
 subscribed £400,000, and made preparations for carry- 
 ing through their scheme and enjoying the advantages 
 of their charter. 
 
 No time was lost. Men were got, ships were built, 
 cargoes were made up, and " a noble house in Milne 
 Square, Edinburgh," was bought to serve as offices 
 and warehouses of the Company. The ships were not 
 only merchantmen, but men-of-war as well. Before 
 the Revolution of 1688-89 Scotland had no battle- 
 ships ; by the year 1698 she could boast of a pretty 
 good squadron, some of the vessels of which mounted 
 sixty guns and upward. Some of the principal ships 
 of the Company were named respectively the St 
 Andrew, the Unicom, the Caledonia, the Dolphin, and 
 the Endeavour. On board the first expedition of the 
 Company were 1200 seamen and soldiers, the latter con- 
 sisting of a body of the most select infantry the country 
 could muster. The three stout ships and two tenders 
 of the first expedition were equipped and stored at 
 Leith, and sailed away with a prosperous gale in July 
 1698 under the eyes of half the nation and with the 
 good wishes of the whole of it. Leith harbour was 
 lined with thousands of onlookers, and the Castle 
 Esplanade at Edinburgh was filled with a crowd of 
 interested spectators. They saw the little fleet sail 
 
OLD SCOTTISH COLONIAL VENTURE 179 
 
 down the firth, gradually dwindle in the distance, and 
 at last die away on the water edge. That little fleet 
 carried with it more than a dimidium of the Scottish 
 heart ! 
 
 The voyage was round by the Pentland Firth, and, 
 though in those days necessarily long, was prosperous 
 past all expectation. The emigrants arrived safe at 
 Darien about the middle of November. The first thing 
 they did was to hold a thanksgiving service to God : — 
 
 " What should they do but sing his praise, 
 Who led them through the watery maze ? "■ 
 
 They then sounded the coasts, and finding a capacious 
 harbour or bay in which big ships might safely ride, 
 they made choice of it for their purpose as a trading 
 community, and christened it the Port of New St 
 Andrew. Their first object was defence, and ac- 
 cordingly they raised a fortified platform to defend 
 the entrance of the harbour at a place where the width 
 was not above a cannon shot across ; then, upon the 
 low-lying neck of a promontory in the bay, extending 
 to about thirty acres, they proceeded to build houses, 
 and thatched the roofs with plantain leaves a foot and 
 a half long. Then, for better security of their fort, 
 they cut the isthmus on which it stood for about 130 
 paces, and admitted the sea. Over the cutting they 
 laid a bridge of communication ; and, having mounted 
 fifty guns and told a garrison of 600 capable men, they 
 reckoned their position tolerably secure. The enemy 
 they had chiefly to fear was Spain, though they would 
 not allow that that country had any right to the 
 ground ; as for the natives to whom it belonged, they 
 
i So EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 made sure of coming to easy terms with them. Their 
 first consideration, therefore, after making their settle- 
 ment secure, was to send deputies to the Indians to 
 treat. 
 
 Meanwhile parties had been prospecting in the 
 neighbourhood, and discovering the amenities and ad- 
 vantages of the region. These parties made, from 
 time to time, report of " clear springs, soft as milk, 
 and very nourishing " ; the fertility of the soil, the 
 amazing exuberance of the vegetation needed no proof : 
 they saw it wherever they turned their eyes ; yet was 
 the land " far richer in its bowels," and they discovered 
 that, not above twelve leagues away, there was a great 
 gold mine, in which were constantly employed a 
 thousand blacks, and from which Spain annually drew 
 a revenue of a million of money ! The surface of the 
 country was for the most part valuable forest land ; 
 and as there was, from the height of the trees and the 
 density of the foliage, no underwood, one could gallop 
 conveniently through the forest shade for many miles, 
 free of sun and rain. They found even a refinement 
 of pleasure in those forest rides, for " the air made on 
 the tops of the trees a pleasing melancholy music," so 
 that some romantic youth of the infant colony called 
 those woodland avenues and alleys " the shades of 
 Love ! " The whole account reminds one of Gonzalo's 
 glowing description of the Enchanted Isles. 
 
 The policy of the Scottish Colony (which, by the 
 way, was named New Caledonia) was to be friendly 
 with the Indians, as the natives were called, and to be 
 hostile to Spain. An embassy was dispatched to the 
 nearest native potentate, of which Paterson himself, 
 the great projector, was a leading member. His name 
 
OLD SCOTTISH COLONIAL VENTURE 181 
 
 does not occur in the list of subscribers to the Darien 
 Scheme, but he had naturally a great interest in the 
 success of the scheme ; and many years afterwards he 
 was paid, and well paid, by the Government of George I. 
 for his services to Colonial enterprise. Paterson might 
 almost be called the Cecil Rhodes of his day, though 
 he was without the success of Cecil Rhodes ; and 
 Darien was a rather melancholy Scottish Fashoda. 
 The embassy then, with Paterson at its head, pro- 
 vided itself with beads, linen, wool, cloth, etc., 
 and set out. The Indian King, hearing of their ap- 
 proach, sent musicians, dancers, and a body of spear- 
 men to meet them. The young spearmen brandished 
 their lances in a way sufficiently alarming, but their 
 object was to do honour to the strangers by showing 
 them their skill with the lance. The embassy duly 
 admired the display and appreciated the honour ; 
 they found the young braves to be clean-limbed 
 fellows, six feet high. By these young giants our 
 handful of Scottish adventurers were conducted to 
 the presence of the King. Him they found under a 
 tree, on a pile of wood logs, attired in a cotton frock. 
 His court was naked. He had the further distinction 
 of having his face stained or painted red, and of having 
 an oval gold plate hanging from the cartilage of his 
 nose, over his mouth, and covering it from corner to 
 corner. What emotion of pleasure or pain he might 
 show on sensitive lips was thus hidden from a prying 
 court. 
 
 Paterson addressed his dusky Majesty in a politic 
 and pithy speech. He told him that the Scottish 
 mission had come (a) to admire him ; (b) to trade with 
 him ; and (c) to offer their services to him against his 
 
1 82 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 foes. Each point was duly dwelt upon till the King 
 was impressed : he smiled, and twirled his plate of 
 gold. A naked noble of the court, prime minister or 
 other, replied for the King. The reply was most 
 favourable : a league was made, and a welcome assured 
 to the bearded Scots " while gold and floods were 
 in Darien." Business over, pleasure began. The 
 strangers were first treated to a " windy " drink, and 
 thereafter they dined exhaustively on strange dishes 
 with the King. Immediately afterwards they were 
 entertained to violent exercise, by an invitation, which 
 they did not venture to refuse, to hunt the peccary. 
 At night they were accommodated with green ham- 
 mocks, slung from tree boughs in the open, and slept 
 pleasantly (all sinful savage indulgences declined) to 
 the moaning of the wind in the trees. Next morning 
 they were regaled with barbecued peccary for break- 
 fast. They spent in this manner two pleasant days ; 
 and when they departed they took with them some 
 Indian boys, who were to learn the Scots language, 
 and act as future interpreters between the King and 
 the Colony. These boys were, besides, as good as 
 hostages to the Scots, and this the natives seemed to 
 perceive, for they desired an exchange. The Indian 
 mothers howled at parting with their children, but 
 their husbands comforted them, pointing out the 
 prospective benefits of the arrangement. 
 
 During their stay with the King, and on their way 
 to and from his country, the commercial instincts of 
 the Scots, as well as their natural curiosity, made them 
 observant of several facts, the knowledge of which 
 they meant by-and-by to turn to good account. They 
 observed that there were no horses, oxen, or sheep in 
 
OLD SCOTTISH COLONIAL VENTURE 183 
 
 the country ; and no cats, but abundance of rats and 
 mice. Clearly there was room for a Whittingtonian 
 enterprise here ! They noticed that a red variety of 
 cedar abounded ; that there was great plenty of dye- 
 woods, cinnamon, pepper, sugar-cane, and smoking 
 tobac ; they had seen cigars as thick as one's wrist, 
 and two or three feet long, and the smoke blown out 
 into everybody's face by the smokers ; and they had 
 seen no end of fruits of many kinds, especially bananas 
 and pine-apples, or ananas, the latter the " crown of 
 all," tasting of all delicious fruits together. 
 
 On their return to the fort and port of St Andrew 
 (the latter also called New Edinburgh), the deputation 
 made report of their success, and a solemn thanks- 
 giving was offered to Heaven for all its mercies and 
 blessings to their enterprise. The Governor of the 
 Colony listened to Paterson with tears of joy in his 
 eyes, and a competition sprang up in the little town for 
 the custody and training of the Indian boys. The 
 boys proved extremely intelligent and clever, and 
 made rapid progress. 
 
 For several months everything seemed to prosper 
 with the Scottish Colony. The climate was favour- 
 able ; but they had yet to learn that summer was the 
 unfavourable season. They were unmolested ; but 
 they were soon to know that Spain meant to dispute 
 the possession of the country on which they had settled ; 
 and, although they were to approve their valour in 
 many a skirmish, they were to be liable to constant 
 attacks and the fortunes of war. They were well pro- 
 visioned, but their provisions ran done before they 
 could draw supplies from home or from harvest ; and, 
 when they sent to request aid from the British Colonies 
 
1 84 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 of North America, they were mortified and alarmed 
 at a jealous and even inhuman refusal. For eight 
 months they waited for aid from Scotland or from 
 sister Colony ; but none coming, they broke up their 
 community ; and when, some time after their departure 
 from Darien, the second expedition from home, almost 
 as large as the first, arrived at the deserted port of 
 St Andrew, it was to discover the melancholy and dis- 
 astrous fact that the Darien scheme was a failure. 
 
 The writer of this rapid sketch of the first great 
 Scottish Colonial enterprise (Nova Scotia and William 
 Alexander not being forgotten) must acknowledge his 
 indebtedness to (amongst others) a little book of fifty- 
 four pages, in eight chapters, written by " a gentleman 
 lately arrived from Darien," and published in London 
 in the end of 1699. The booklet, so far as it goes, is as 
 interesting as, and is certainly not less reliable than, 
 the recorded adventures of a Rougemont ; it bears 
 title, " The History of Caledonia in the Scots Colony in 
 Darien in the West Indies, with an Account of the 
 Manners of the Inhabitants and Riches of the Country." 
 
THE POETRY OF WINTER 
 
 " The proper study of mankind is man," said the 
 master of the school, and forthwith turned his back, 
 and taught his pupils to turn their backs, on Nature 
 and the country. His practice was even more ex- 
 clusive than his theory, for he took no account of the 
 rude fathers and forefathers of the hamlet ; it was con- 
 ventional man he meant, and he made him his sole 
 subject. If he saw Nature at all, it was by reflection 
 from a mirror. A Scottish youth, fresh from the 
 Pentland slopes, and full of memories of the Cheviots 
 was the first recalcitrant pupil. He dared to dispute, 
 and disprove, the dictum of Pope. He differed from 
 the recognised master in toto. He faced Nature, 
 making her the direct subject of his poetry ; and, to 
 the delighted wonder of all, the result justified his 
 daring initiative. Gray, it is true, was not, at least 
 in theory, quite acquiescent in the bold action of 
 Thomson ; with " The Seasons " before him, a success 
 in quickly renewed editions, he could write to Beattie 
 that, in his opinion, description of Nature ought never 
 to constitute the subject of poetry, though he allowed 
 its use as a graceful ornament. Yet Gray was a co- 
 worker with Thomson in exploring and widening the 
 poetical domain — a pioneer, if a step or two behind the 
 leader, in the new poetry that led away from Pope and 
 185 
 
i86 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 the limits of his narrow reign. Like his own Eton boy, 
 who dared to descry unknown regions — 
 
 " Still as he ran he looked behind, 
 He heard a voice in every wind. 
 And snatched a fearful joy." 
 
 In his practice Gray was less timid and more whole- 
 hearted, particularly in his prose, as witness his letters 
 from Scotland and the Lake District, and especially 
 those earlier letters that describe his visit with Walpole 
 to the famous monastery of the Grande Chartreuse, 
 when exclamations of rapturous joy burst from him 
 all the way ; not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff 
 but was charged with religion and poetry. Thomson's 
 raptures in companionship with Nature were never 
 more genuine. 
 
 There can be no doubt that Thomson's love of his 
 subject went far to make his treatment of it a success. 
 He was sincerely enamoured of Nature. The wild, 
 romantic country was his delight. " I know no sub- 
 ject more elevating, more amusing, more ready to 
 awake the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical 
 reflections, and the moral sentiment, than the works 
 of Nature. Where can we meet with such variety, 
 such beauty, such magnificence — all that enlarges 
 and transports the soul ? . . . But there is no thinking 
 of these things without breaking out into poetry." 
 Thus he wrote, with much more of the same tenor, in 
 his prose preface to the second edition of " Winter ; " 
 from which it appears that, in his view of the question, 
 Nature was not only a fit and proper subject for poetical 
 study, but the greatest and grandest of all — in short, the 
 best possible. With, then, the whole wide domain of 
 
THE POETRY OF WINTER 187 
 
 Nature before him, he chose winter as the particular 
 subject of his first essay. To the ordinary observer, it 
 is by no means the most inviting of the seasons. 
 Thomson himself allows that the aspect of Nature in 
 winter is in general a forbidding one. It is sullen and 
 sad, with endless vapours and clouds and storms ; it 
 depresses the spirits — the soul of man dies in him, 
 loathing life. Gloom oppresses the world, diseases 
 are rife, death is common. Was he not singularly 
 unhappy in his choice of a theme with which to in- 
 augurate his great crusade against Pope and the fol- 
 lowers of Pope ? Is there, in short, any poetry in 
 winter at all ? 
 
 Thomson's merit lies in the answer which his treat- 
 ment of the subject offers to the question. Under 
 his guidance we may discover the poetry of winter. 
 We shall look where he points, and listen as he directs, 
 and some share of his own enthusiasm for Nature in all 
 her shows and forms may enter our soul like the pos- 
 session of a new sense. His first great scene is a rain- 
 storm. The skies are foul with mingled mist and rain, 
 the plain lies a brown deluge ; hill-tops and woods are 
 dimly seen in the dreary landscape ; the cattle droop 
 in the sodden fields, the poultry crowd motionless and 
 dripping in corners of the farmyard. It is a world of 
 squalor and wretchedness. Yet there is the bright 
 contrast of the ploughman rejoicing by the red fire of 
 his cottage hearth, talking and laughing, and reckless 
 of the storm that rattles on his humble roof : " Gaudet 
 arator igni." Meanwhile streams swell to rivers, and 
 rivers rise in spate ; the current carries everything be- 
 fore it, stacks and bridges and mills — nothing can stop 
 its progress, dams are burst, rocks are surmounted, 
 
1 88 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 glens and gullies are choked with the mad plunging 
 water. 
 
 " It boils and wheels and foams and thunders through ! " 
 
 Surely there is but one other flood in literature to 
 match the dread realism of Thomson's, and Burns in 
 all likelihood had looked upon Thomson's before he 
 described his own. Mr Watts-Dunton, in a recent 
 criticism, has restricted Thomson's love of Nature to 
 Nature in her gentle and even her homely moods ; 
 the river in spate is only one of many passages in 
 Thomson's poetry that offer a direct contradiction to 
 the statement. Not only have we Thomson's repeated 
 word for it that Nature at her wildest was to him a 
 peculiar delight, and the horrors of winter were con- 
 genial to him, that they swelled his soul with a pleasing 
 dread, and charmed and inspired him, but the fervour 
 and fulness and entire adequacy of his sublimer de- 
 scriptions completely prove it. The criticism might 
 be just if applied to Cowper or Goldsmith, but shows 
 a strange misconception of the genius of Thomson. 
 
 A wind-storm is the next great feature of the poem. 
 It could not possibly have been omitted, for is not 
 winter the wind season ? Among the signs of its on- 
 coming we notice the play of the withered leaf, 
 " snatched in short eddies ; " or the phenomenon of 
 the startled cormorant, as it 
 
 " Wheels from the deep and screams along the land." 
 
 For his details Thomson instinctively turns to the strong 
 incisive Anglo-Saxon ; in these he is always effective. 
 Comparatively tame is his use of Latin-English, which 
 is too often the conventional diction of his century. 
 
THE POETRY OF WINTER i8g 
 
 The warning of the cormorant is given with telling 
 effect, but, almost in the same breath, we are told, 
 
 " On the passive main 
 Descends the ethereal force." 
 
 His imagination carries him to the open sea, where we 
 have a vision of a storm-driven navy now scaling the 
 mountain billows and now shooting into the trough of 
 the waves as into an abyss ; our thoughts are with 
 the sailors ; with them we hear " the wintry Baltic 
 thundering overhead." It is the fate of some of those 
 battleships to be wrecked on some sharp rock or in- 
 sidious shoal. Byron's rolling ocean is not more 
 merciless or contemptuous of human weakness than 
 Thomson's ; a rock arrests the career of an Armada 
 with all its towering pomp of canvas and tiers of guns, 
 " and in loose fragments flings it floating round." The 
 career of the wind-storm is next followed on land. 
 Here we get a glimpse of the dark wayfaring stranger 
 toiling against the wind, and all aghast at the horror 
 of his situation. Sounds that resemble groans and 
 shrieks and the sighs of despair, fill the whole heavens ; 
 trees fall crashing in the forest ; houses are threatened 
 till they rock, and the slumbering inmates, shaken into 
 a consciousness of their danger, sit up and listen in 
 alarm. 
 
 A snow-storm is now presented, such as the poet 
 had known in early life on the Cheviots. Here, prob- 
 ably, Thomson is at his best. The approach of his 
 various storms is well led up to, that of the snow- 
 storm best of all. We recall what we have often seen, 
 as we read. The air grows colder, the sky saddens, 
 there is a preternatural hush, and then the first flakes 
 
ioo EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 make their appearance, thin-wavering at first, but by- 
 and-by falling broad and wide and fast, dimming the 
 day. It is, as if by magical transformation, a world 
 of purity and peace. It is now that we have the 
 charming vignette of the redbreast at the parlour 
 window. The picture is perfect of its kind ; for clear- 
 ness and delicate accuracy of detail it is unmatched. 
 We hear the beat of the wing on the window pane, we 
 see the slender feet, and the eye looking askance with 
 mingled boldness and shyness at the smiling and 
 amused children. But we are soon summoned away 
 to the sheep-walks on the Cheviots. All winter is 
 driving along the darkened air. The snow is falling 
 and drifting. It is this drifting which the shepherd 
 fears. Its effect is not only to hide, but to alter the 
 landmarks. Scenes familiar become foreign ; the 
 landscape wears a strange look ; valleys are exalted, 
 and rough places are made plain. At last the shep- 
 herd is completely bewildered, and he stands disastered 
 in the midst of drift and snowfall. The whole moor 
 seems to be revolving around him, as winds lift the sur- 
 face-snow like a blanket and whirl it around. The first 
 realisation of his danger, his destiny, is finely suggested. 
 Few scenes are more pathetic than Thomson's lost 
 shepherd perishing in the snow. The pathos is height- 
 ened by that little crowd of curly heads at the cottage 
 door or window, not many furlongs distant, where 
 
 " His little children peeping out 
 Into the mingling storm, demand their sire 
 With tears .... 
 
 Alas 1 nor wife nor children more shall he 
 Behold, nor friends, nor sacred home." 
 
 A glance of pity is cast towards " the bleating kind " 
 
THE POETRY OF WINTER 191 
 
 (which was believed to be the only poetical way of pre- 
 senting sheep) ; the hares, too, and all the brown in- 
 habitants of the foodless wilderness, come in for a 
 share of Thomson's kindly sympathy, with all his 
 innocently suffering " poor earth-born companions 
 and fellow-mortals." But for wolves and such-like 
 murdering savages he has nothing but horror and 
 aversion. Fortunately we are free of wolves and 
 avalanches, and may spend our winter evenings safe 
 from those foreign perils even in a country cottage. 
 But, leaving the luxurious student in his cottage home, 
 we have yet to witness a frost-storm, and this scene 
 it is that constitutes the fourth and last great division 
 of Thomson's winter. 
 
 Now begin the joyous winter days, when through 
 calm blue skies sparkles and flies everywhere " the 
 ethereal nitre," as — to be truly poetical — we must 
 call the frost. The streams shrink, and, purged of 
 the last trace of mud, run pure with a strange trans- 
 parency. Thin sheets of ice form at the hard-frozen 
 banks, and give out in the gentle wash of the water a 
 faint rustling sound, which alone indicates their pres- 
 ence. They grow and thicken, and at last the whole 
 imprisoned river growls below a firm board of ice. 
 Away in the frozen uplands the shepherd forgets the 
 use of a bridge, and, stepping on solid crystal, looks 
 down curiously into the sullen deeps of the river. In 
 the still moonlit air sounds carry far — sounds of feet 
 and sounds of voices. The tread of the hasty traveller 
 is heard miles away, each step ringing loud on the 
 frozen road. Near villages all but the very young and 
 the very old continue their sports of sliding, sleighing, 
 or skating into the night. The national winter pas- 
 
192 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 time of curling, the roaring game of old Scotland, by 
 some strange oversight, receives no mention. It was 
 left to a later poet, David Gray, no unworthy Thom- 
 sonian, to supply the deficiency. Panoramic views 
 of Lapland, Siberia, and the Arctic Pole are caught 
 into the magnificent description. Then comes the 
 break-up of the frost-storm, announced by hollow, 
 blustering winds from the south, and the clean, rigid 
 frost-work that had transformed the earth into steel 
 and stone is subdued, and resolved into " a weeping 
 thaw." 
 
 Such, with compliments to Wilmington and Chester- 
 field (which no doubt served their ephemeral purpose), 
 and a few appropriate (but uninteresting) reflections, 
 is the substance of Thomson's metrical essay on Winter. 
 Scarcely a phase, aspect, or feature of the subject is 
 forgotten. We are treated even to a visit to the city, 
 hurried along its swarming streets, pausing for but a 
 moment to hear the rattle of the dice-box, or look into 
 the brilliantly lighted ball-room, or take a peep at the 
 stage. Our guide is more in his element in the roomy 
 farm-kitchen, where, in a semicircle that unites " the 
 cheeks o' the fire," the ghost or goblin story goes round 
 till comes the inevitable reaction to rough practical 
 joking, such as takes the shepherd's heart, and rustic 
 coquetry that terminates in a reel to the rhythmic 
 monotone of fiddler or diddler. Miniatures of winter 
 we have in the work of other poets in profusion, among 
 which one remembers old Chaucer's picture of Janus 
 " sitting by the fire with double beard and drinking of 
 his bugle-horn the wine ; " Spenser's sketch of the old 
 man, all in frieze, with chattering teeth and " purpled 
 bill ; " and, best of all, Shakespeare's description of 
 
THE POETRY OF WINTER 193 
 
 the season " when blood is nipt and ways be foul," 
 and " roasted crabs hiss in the bowl," with a suggestive 
 view of Tom bearing logs into the hall, while without, 
 in the cold air, " Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail " 
 to infuse a little heat into chilled finger-tips. But the 
 subject as a whole fell once for all to the hand of Thom- 
 son, and there are few that will deny he has given it 
 exhaustive and adequate treatment. 
 
THE FIRST "WINTER" 
 
 James Thomson, the first of Scottish literary ad- 
 venturers in England, came up to London, alone and 
 comparatively friendless, in March 1725. He was 
 then in his twenty-fifth year, a fugitive from the 
 ministry of the Presbyterian Church, and — so far as 
 we know — not a line of the poetry which was to con- 
 vey him to fame was yet in writing. He was conscious, 
 however, of the possession of poetical talent, and at 
 twenty-five, as somebody has said, hope beats high in 
 the human breast. After just one year's obscurity, 
 not without a bitter feeling of loneliness, of which he 
 once complained in a letter to David Malloch, he 
 suddenly found himself on the highroad to fame with 
 a fair prospect, if not of fortune, at least of independ- 
 ency not far in front of him. He had written " Winter : 
 a Poem," and had given the manuscript to John Millan 
 in exchange for three guineas ; and the first edition, 
 in a folio of sixteen pages of text, was on sale at Locke's 
 Head, in Shug Lane, " near the upper end of the Hay 
 Market," in March 1726. Two years later the new 
 poet commanded in open market fifty guineas for just 
 such another poem on " Spring." In the interval of 
 those two years five editions of " Winter " were 
 called for, the second appearing within three months 
 after the first. These facts sufficiently show that the 
 new poetry of natural description had taken the public 
 
 194 
 
THE FIRST "WINTER" 195 
 
 ear with a surprise of delight, and that a Scottish poet 
 was popular in England. 
 
 When " Winter " first appeared it consisted of only 
 504 lines of blank verse. The new wine was served 
 in its own measure. Four years later, when the first 
 edition of the collected " Seasons " was published, 
 "Winter" numbered 781 lines. In its final form, as 
 it left the hand of its author in 1746, it had grown 
 to 1069 lines. Thomson had a positive mania for 
 correcting. Alterations and additions in the text of 
 " Winter " began in the second edition, June 1726. 
 As long as he lived, and had the leisure (he never 
 wanted the inclination), he was scarcely ever done 
 with adding and altering. His last changes in " The 
 Seasons " — and his changes, by the way, were not 
 always, though mostly, for the better — were made in 
 1746, two years before his death. But to return to 
 " Winter," with which his fame began, and which 
 remains the show piece of the series, the poem as it 
 is generally known to us — that is, the text of 1746 — 
 deserves all the commendation it has at any time re- 
 ceived ; but when one turns to the original text of 
 1726, it really excites no small degree of wonder that 
 from such a small and modest beginning Thomson's 
 " Winter " made its way, to become the epoch-making 
 work which we now know it to have been. Copies of 
 the first draft (for so one may fairly describe the 
 first published text) are to be found, one in the British 
 Museum, and one in the Advocates' Library. If there 
 be other copies of it in private collections, it is unknown 
 to the present writer. It is worth the student's while 
 to examine the first draft of " Winter," and to com- 
 pare it with the completed poem. Not much more 
 
196 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 than two-thirds of it, short though it is, will be found 
 in the finished work. Nearly ioo lines of it were 
 dropped, or rather were transferred to another poem, 
 and thus it is upon an addition of some 660 lines that 
 the reader looks who knows the poem only in its final 
 form. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the 
 last edition of the text of " Winter " as put forth by 
 its author in 1746 presents, when compared with the 
 first text of twenty years previously, what is sub- 
 stantially a new poem. 
 
 It has been erroneously supposed that when Thom- 
 son was writing his " Winter " poem at East Barnet, 
 near London, in the autumn and winter of 1725, he 
 was at the same time contemplating a poem on each 
 of the other seasons. The error has arisen from a mis- 
 interpretation of Thomson's promise to sing of autumn, 
 a promise which undoubtedly appears in the first text 
 of " Winter." But the fulfilment also appears, and 
 just immediately after the promise. It is contained 
 in the 100 transferred lines to which reference has 
 been made above. The necessity for the transference 
 of those lines shows pretty conclusively that the scheme 
 of a series of poems on the seasons had not yet occurred 
 to him when, in the autumn of 1725, he was engaged 
 upon his " Winter " poem. The lines have autumn, 
 or, as the poet also expressed it, " departing summer " 
 for their theme. They were appropriately incorpor- 
 ated with the poem on " Autumn " when the turn of 
 autumn came to be treated in the afterthought of the 
 " Seasons." His purpose to describe " the various 
 appearance of nature " in the other seasons was first 
 announced in the prose preface which he wrote for the 
 second edition of " Winter " : he had done so well with 
 
THE FIRST "WINTER" 197 
 
 the winter theme that doubtless friends, wishing to 
 be complimentary, hoped he would favour them with 
 the other seasons too. But till he took " Autumn " 
 in hand — and "Autumn" was taken last — he did not 
 seek, naturally enough, to withdraw the lines from 
 " Winter." They served as an approach to the main 
 theme. On this point we may hear the poet himself. 
 He begins by stating his subject. It is winter, sullen 
 and sad, with all his rising train of vapours and clouds 
 and storms. " Be these my theme ! " At the same 
 time, he cannot choose but consecrate to " Autumn " 
 " one pitying line " — for so it ran when the poem was 
 still on the anvil. But in the published text of March 
 1726 it reads : — 
 
 " Thee, too, inspirer of the toiling swain, 
 Fair Autumn, yellow-robed, I'll sing of thee, 
 Of thy last tempered days and sunny calms, 
 When all the golden hours are on the wing." 
 
 And so he does, fulfilling the promise there and then, 
 and having at the moment of so writing no separate 
 ulterior poem in view. Commencing with the hover- 
 ing hornet poised threateningly in the genial blaze of 
 September, he sings on through falling leaves and 
 sobbing winds and withering flowers, for nearly one 
 hundred lines, till he arrives at his " theme in view ! " — 
 
 -" For see where Winter comes himself, confessed, 
 Striding the gloomy blast I " 
 
 It was not till after March 1726, when his first venture 
 was in a fair way to win popular favour, that the joy 
 of successful authorship inspired him with the idea of 
 rounding the revolving year in separate flights on the 
 other seasons ; but before that, in the shadow of 
 
1 98 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 obscurity, bereavement, and comparative poverty, 
 he wrote of himself as " one whom the gay season 
 suited not, and who shunned the glare of summer." 
 To him, as he was then circumstanced, they were un- 
 congenial seasons and uncongenial subjects. His 
 personal mood when he chose winter was very much 
 that of Burns when he sang, dolefully enough — 
 
 " Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, 
 And, raging, bend the naked tree ; 
 Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul, 
 When Nature all is sad like me ! "- 
 
 Conspicuous by their absence from the first text of 
 " Winter " are the now well-known passages that de- 
 scribe the visit of the redbreast, the shepherd perishing 
 on the moor in a snowstorm, the goblin story at the 
 village hearth, the descent of the wolf-pack, skating in 
 Holland, the surly Siberian bear " with dangling ice all 
 horrid," and one or two others ; while there is scarcely 
 more than a suggestion, afterwards developed, of the 
 storm at sea, the still freezing moonlit night, and the 
 student in his snug retreat " between the groaning 
 forest and the shore." In all essential features, how- 
 ever, the wet day at a farm, the flooded glen, the white 
 storm, and the " weeping thaw " are familiarly and 
 effectively presented ; while the opening lines, sixteen 
 in number, with their glimpses of the boy-poet sporting 
 in the snow at Southdean, or watching from the manse 
 window a storm brewing over Carter Fell, are almost 
 word for word as we know them. 
 
 A peculiar interest attaches to the lines that depict 
 the robin on the parlour floor. They were first added 
 in the second edition. They were a happy after- 
 
THE FIRST "WINTER" 199 
 
 thought, pleasing the fancy, doubtless, at their first 
 appearance and in their original form, but improved 
 upon by certain delicate touches in later editions. A 
 curious accident befell the lines in 1730. In that year 
 was published the first edition of the collected Seasons, 
 sometimes known as the subscription volume, with 
 the larger and better portion of the passage descriptive 
 of the robin omitted. In the same year, but subse- 
 quently to the issue of the subscription volume, an 
 edition in octavo of Winter by itself appeared, in which 
 the omitted lines referred to were duly restored. The 
 probability is that the omission was mechanical and 
 a pure accident. It is, of course, just possible that 
 Thomson may in a weak moment have made the mis- 
 take of the over-fastidious Gray, who, after admitting 
 the redbreast into his Elegy, ruthlessly struck it out, 
 to the destruction of a fine picture and a fine touch 
 of pathos as well. It may be of interest to look at the 
 first study of Thomson's charming vignette of the 
 winter robin : — 
 
 " The redbreast sole, 
 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, 
 In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves 
 His shivering fellows, and to trusted man 
 His annual visit pays ; new to the dome, 
 Against the window beats ; then brisk alights 
 On the warm hearth, and, hopping o'er the floor, 
 Eyes all the smiling family askance, 
 And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is, 
 Till, more familiar grown, the table crumbs 
 Attract his slender feet." 
 
 Of the numerous verbal alterations made in the first 
 text of Winter it is unnecessary here to speak. One 
 
200 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 amusing mistake, however, which was promptly 
 pounced upon for correction in the second edition 
 may be noticed. As is well known, it was an amuse- 
 ment of printers — at least it was their practice — in 
 the eighteenth century to dignify all nouns with capital 
 initials. And accordingly they set up Thomson's 
 MS. in the following style — 
 
 " The Cattle from th' untasted Fields return, 
 And ask with Meaning low their wonted Stalls." 
 
 This did not satisfy the poet, who saved the reputa- 
 tion of his cattle by correcting — 
 
 " And ask with meaning Low their wonted Stalls." 
 
THE KIRKYARD SCHOOL OF POETRY 
 
 A partiality, almost a love, for lugubrious themes 
 distinguishes the first half of the eighteenth century 
 from other periods in our literary history. Death and 
 bereavement, being of constant occurrence, no doubt 
 offer at all times a subject for gloomy contemplation, 
 and the subject has now and again been accepted in 
 the more cheerful and less indolent times of our litera- 
 ture. Drummond took up the theme in his " Cypress 
 Grove," Burton at his leisure anatomised the whole 
 subject of melancholy, and Thomas Browne in his 
 " Hydriotaphia " looked upon mortality with the eye 
 of an antiquary and a poet. Poetry like the " Death 
 of Blanche the Duchess," or the lyrical lament for the 
 " Flowers of the Forest," does not belong to this cate- 
 gory, for its gloom is broken, if it is accentuated, by 
 cheerful memories which afford escape from the pressure 
 of grief. But a special and pervading sombreness 
 invests the first half of the eighteenth century, such as 
 cannot be found in any other period before or since. 
 Something in the air, or in the conditions of the age, 
 sent our poets and poetical prosers at that particular 
 time into a protracted fit of more or less sincere mourn- 
 ing. The field of literature was suddenly traversed 
 in all directions by funereal pageants, followed by 
 portentous trains of mourners. It was in an especial 
 sense the age of elegy. The air was full of farewells 
 
 301 
 
202 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 to the dying and mourning for the dead. Indeed such 
 a very considerable proportion of the verse-writers of 
 the period, and not of the verse-writers only, were so 
 wholly and apparently so happily devoted to lamenta- 
 tion in the gruesome surroundings of the churchyard, 
 where one pictures them — like Milton's " gloomy 
 shadows damp " — 
 
 " In charnel vaults and sepulchres 
 Lingering and sitting by some new-made grave 
 As loth to leave it " — 
 
 that the suggestion of a Kirkyard school of poets and 
 poetry at last presents itself to the mind as a con- 
 venient and not unfitting description of them and 
 their work. 
 
 Typical representatives of the gloomy conclave well 
 known to the ordinary reader will be found in Blair, 
 Young, and Gray. It is to their achievements in the 
 Kirkyard School that they owe their living reputation. 
 The first, indeed, was a kirkyard poet pure and simple ; 
 setting aside an elegy on William Law and a few 
 Scriptural paraphrases, his one work was " The Grave." 
 Young was a voluminous and ambitious author in 
 all the great departments — satirical, dramatic, even 
 lyrical ; but it is his enormous, almost Miltonic epic, 
 his nine-booked, ten thousand-lined " Night Thoughts," 
 which preserves his name. Gray wrote little, yet in 
 various moods, and all of it of its kind was excellent ; 
 but it is his " Elegy in a Country Churchyard " — what- 
 ever his wishes or expectations may have been — which 
 will for ever bear his name to posterity. The gloom 
 of these three potent poems mingled, and projected 
 a shadow which extended down to the close of the 
 
THE KIRKYARD SCHOOL OF POETRY 203 
 
 eighteenth century, and even, despite the romance of 
 Wordsworth and Scott, well into the nineteenth. 
 The " Elegy," the least lugubrious of the three, is 
 indeed still read ; and, until recently, much of the 
 tone of pulpit expostulation with the wayward sinner 
 was borrowed from the sepulchral warnings of Young. 
 Blair is scarcely more than a name even in his native 
 Edinburgh, but he by no means deserves the fate of 
 oblivion. His work, if it wants the solemn dignity 
 and perfect form of Gray's, and the elaborately powerful 
 rhetoric of Young's, is not the least poetical of the 
 three. A score of followers and imitators of these 
 the three archmasters of the Kirkyard School sprang 
 up under the shadow of their inspiration, of whom 
 the world now knows nothing ; yet they were not all 
 destitute of merit in this particular kind, and leave will 
 here be taken to notice Michael Bruce, the young 
 Kinross-shire poet who died on attaining manhood, 
 as no unworthy disciple of Gray. His " Elegy written 
 in Spring," the pathetic title of a poem to which the 
 personal note gives a peculiarly tender interest, is not 
 without gleams of original reflection, and the sadness 
 which pervades the latter half of its ninety-two lines 
 one feels to be at least personally sincere : — 
 
 " Farewell, ye blooming fields, ye cheerful plains ! 
 Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound, 
 Where melancholy with still silence reigns, 
 
 And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. "- 
 
 The lines might stand as the motto of the Kirkyard 
 School. Within a few months after writing them in 
 his cottage lodging at Forest Mill, "amid nameless 
 deserts and unfertile wilds," he was in his grave in the 
 
2o 4 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 little churchyard by Lochleven. It is the note of 
 sincerity that is lacking in Young. Rhetoric and ex- 
 aggeration enter largely into the means by which he 
 produces his effects. One's knowledge of his life and 
 character detracts greatly from the value of his teach- 
 ing. We know him to have been proud, parasitic, 
 insatiably ambitious, to have fretted his youth and 
 early manhood away at All Souls in vain attempts 
 to gratify " the universal passion," to have been equally 
 baffled in his political attempts, to have entered the 
 Church in a kind of forlorn hope at fifty or thereabout, 
 to have sighed for the rest of his long life of eighty- 
 four years for the mitre that never came, and, despite 
 his marriage with an earl's daughter and the wealth 
 which it brought him, to have died a dark, soured, 
 disappointed man. Yet in the midst of his ambitious 
 schemes for promotion he could write : — 
 
 " This is creation's melancholy vault, 
 The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom, 
 The land of apparitions, empty shades ; 
 All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond 
 Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed." 
 
 This may be true, but it was not a living faith in his 
 own practice. His exaggeration shows itself in the 
 well-known apostrophe to death : — 
 
 " Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? 
 Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain, 
 And thrice ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn."- 
 
 This tale of woe is imaginary, and was meant for mere 
 dramatic effect. But we find him admitting that he 
 was " an artist at creating self-alarms, rich in ex- 
 
THE KIRKYARD SCHOOL OF POETRY 205 
 
 pedients for inquietude, and prone to paint the dread- 
 ful." It is different with Gray. Under the pomp and 
 dignity of his diction there is genuine feeling in the 
 " Elegy." Yet one can hardly approve Burns's criti- 
 cism about Gray's power " to pour the moving flow 
 warm on the heart." It was Burns's own emotion, set 
 aflame by his own vivid imagination, that warmed 
 the pathos of Gray's classical lines. It is less to 
 complaint or pathos that Blair applies himself. The 
 terrors of death are his subject, and these he investi- 
 gates with something of the coolness and close observa- 
 tion of a doctor dealing with a disease. Consistent 
 with orthodoxy, no bounds of thought or expression 
 restrain his daring. Yet there is pathos in the lines 
 beginning, somewhat unpromisingly, " Friendship, 
 mysterious cement of the soul," — lines which sug- 
 gested to Burns all the imagery and part of the senti- 
 ment of his " Highland Mary ; " and there is taste as 
 well as feeling in the simile with which the poem 
 concludes : — 
 
 " Tis but a night, a long and moonless night ; 
 We make the grave our bed and then are gone ! 
 Thus, at the shut of even, the weary bird 
 Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake 
 Cowers down, and doses till the dawn of day, 
 Then claps his well-fledged wings, and bears away." 
 
 Blair's dreadful lines on suicide, and the scarcely less 
 awful passage on the death of the strong man, may 
 well be omitted by a critic friendly to his memory. 
 His description of the school-boy's fright in a church- 
 yard in the gloaming offers a more pleasing and not 
 less characteristic specimen of his poetical talent : — 
 
2o6 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 '- In the lone churchyard at night I've seen, 
 By glimpse of moonshine chequering thro' the trees, 
 The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand, 
 Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, 
 And lightly tripping o'er the long, flat stones, 
 With nettles skirted and with moss o'ergrown, 
 That tell in homely phrase who he below. 
 Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he hears, 
 The sound of something purring at his heels ! 
 Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind, 
 Till, out of breath, he overtakes his fellows, 
 Who gather round, and wonder at the tale 
 Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, 
 That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand 
 O'er some new-opened grave." 
 
 It is of some interest to know that in the year 1742 
 the three great masters of funereal poetry were all 
 busy with their MSS. quite independently and un- 
 consciously of each other. Blair was giving the final 
 touches to his " Grave ; " Young was approaching 
 the end of his long laboured " Night Thoughts ; " and 
 Gray was planning and prosecuting his exquisite 
 " Elegy." Dates of publication are not in all respects 
 safe guides in literary chronology. Gray's " Elegy " 
 was thrown aside unfinished for seven long years, and 
 was only forced into publication in 175 1. The " Night 
 Thoughts," were published by instalments from 1742 
 to 1744. " The Grave " was not in print till 1743, but 
 it is a well-established fact that Blair had made some 
 progress with the work before his appointment to the 
 parish of Athelstaneford in 1731, and that the MS. of 
 the poem was — but for the final touches which always 
 precede publication — virtually completed while the 
 " Night Thoughts " were still running to another and 
 
THE KIRKYARD SCHOOL OF POETRY 207 
 
 yet another lengthening book. It is unquestionable 
 that Blair owed nothing to Young, whether as regards 
 thought, diction, or metrical composition. Writing 
 on kindred subjects, and viewing life and death from 
 the same standpoint of clerical orthodoxy, they could 
 not fail to have coincidences of thought. But Blair's 
 versification is not the long rush of declamation ending 
 in a shower of rocket-like epigrams, such as character- 
 ises the manner of Young ; it is rather of the lively con- 
 versational kind, not without slips to the level of a 
 coarse prose, which we associate with the dialogue of 
 the earlier metrical drama. 
 
 Popular as were the many-volumed " Night 
 Thoughts," they had for many years a rival in the prose 
 " Meditations among the Tombs " of the Rev. James 
 Hervey, rector of Weston-Favell, in Northampton- 
 shire. The vogue of those tawdry Meditations was 
 as phenomenal (and as fading) as the voice of Ossian, 
 thin-quavering from Macpherson's gramophone. They 
 have no place in literature. It is astonishing how 
 " precious memorandums " — to borrow Wordsworth's 
 phrase — like the following amused the mind and fed 
 the piety of our grandmothers : — 
 
 " I descend the steps, and am visiting the pale nations of 
 the dead. Good heavens ! What a solemn scene ! How 
 dismal the gloom ! Here is perpetual darkness and night 
 even at noonday. How doleful the solitude ! Not one trace 
 of cheerful society ! Hark ! How the hollow dome resounds 
 at every tread ! The echoes that long have slept are awakened, 
 and lament and sigh along the walls. A beam or two finds 
 its way through the grates, etc." 
 
 So late as fifty years ago stuff of this sort was still sup- 
 posed to edify the youthful rustic mind of a Sunday 
 
208 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 evening. Gray even was less admired. Indeed, Gray's 
 reputation has suffered somewhat in Scotland from his 
 association with Hervey. But of Hervey's hollow 
 parade of platitudes, set off with purple and sable 
 patches drawn from every melancholy author, it is 
 unnecessary here to speak, except to notice how much 
 he was indebted for the effects he produced to un- 
 acknowledged Scottish writers (honoured doubtless 
 with his intromissions !). His " Meditations " came out 
 in 1746, but he had already perused Blair's " Grave," 
 which he dubbed " a valuable poem," without giving 
 a hint of the authorship. If the reader wishes to know 
 the Rev. James Hervey's mode of procedure in popu- 
 lar composition, let him turn to " A Winter Piece," 
 usually bound up with the " Meditations," and he 
 will find himself reading a " wersh " and weakened 
 paraphrase of Thomson's " Winter." 
 
 The Kirkyard School was a gradual growth, the 
 formation of which was begun before it benefited by 
 the labours of Blair, Young, and Gray. We cannot 
 bring Pope into connection with the founders, though 
 a golden note of mingled romance and pathos and 
 despair, such as few poets have ever attained to, sounds 
 forth now and again in his " Elegy on the Death of an 
 Unfortunate Lady," and mingles with the passion of 
 " Eloisa." But the Irish poet, Thomas Parnell, and 
 Tickell, the friend of Addison, may be regarded as 
 having helped to lay the foundation of the Kirkyard 
 School. Tickell's one grief was the death of Addison, 
 and the elegy which he wrote on that occasion — the 
 date is 1719 — includes many striking lines, which en- 
 title the poem to be better known than it is. The 
 funeral ceremony is thus described : — 
 
THE KIRKYARD SCHOOL OF POETRY 209 
 
 " How silent did his old companions tread 
 By midnight lamps the mansions of the dead, 
 Thro' breathing statues, then unheeded things, 
 Thro' rows of warriors, and thro' walks of kings I 
 What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire, 
 The pealing organ, and the pausing choir, 
 The duties by the lawn-robed prelate paid, 
 And the last words that dust to dust convey'd I 
 While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend, 
 Accept these tears, thou dear, departed friend, 
 Oh, gone for ever ! take this last adieu, 
 And sleep in peace ! " 
 
 Parnell, who wrote verse, more or less, all his life, pro- 
 duced all his poetry within five years of his death, in 
 1718. Domestic grief made him a poet. His " Hymn 
 to Contentment," and his " Night Piece on Death," 
 both in the octo-syllabic metre, are steeped in pensively 
 poetical melancholy. The latter poem presents him 
 to us in the place of graves, deciphering by dim moon- 
 light on the flat smooth stones " the chisel's slender 
 help to fame," and finding some comfort, as he paces 
 softly " by all the solemn heaps of fate," in this reflec- 
 tion upon the dead around him : — 
 
 " Time was like thee they life possess'd. 
 And time shall be that thou shalt rest." 
 
 His grief drove him from society to churchyards and 
 silent vales, but he learned — though the knowledge, 
 as is usual, had little influence upon his practice — that 
 solitude was the nurse of woe. 
 
A PARODIC LILT IN PRAISE OF DEVON 
 
 I fished last summer in the Ken, 
 
 I tried a cast on Dee, 
 Nor, Devon, did I know till then 
 
 How much I owed to thee. 
 
 It wasna that their barbed wire 
 
 My galligaskins tore, 
 That raucous keepers, red with ire, 
 
 Stood on their banks, and swore ; 
 
 But pastoral pleasance there was nane, 
 
 That Devon anglers feel 
 When catching aye the ither ane, 
 
 An' pappin't i' the creel. 
 
 Thy voice is low, thy verdure rich, 
 
 Thy linns an' lands are free ; 
 And thine, too, are the banks from which 
 
 I cuist my 'prentice flee ! 
 
 210 
 
MILTON'S SCOTTISH TUTOR 
 
 The claims of Scotland to literary credit and renown 
 are wider than they appear in strictly Scottish author- 
 ship. Ben Jonson's grandfather was from Annan- 
 dale ; Dryden's family was of Border origin ; Cowper, 
 perhaps sportively, traced his ancestry to Fife ; Byron 
 boasted that he was half a Scot by birth, and by heart 
 a whole one ; Macaulay's grandfather was minister cf 
 Cardross ; and, not to extend the list further, Tom 
 Hood's father belonged to Tayside. No claim has yet 
 been advanced for Scottish blood in the veins of Milton, 
 but the fact is undeniable, though too little known, 
 that Scottish influence, close, strong, and long-con- 
 tinued, went to the development of his genius, and that 
 in this way Scotland has some portion of honourable 
 credit in the poetical fame of Milton. This influence 
 came to Milton, and the credit comes to Scotland, 
 through Thomas Young, a native of Perthshire and 
 graduate of St Andrews, Milton's private tutor in the 
 poet's boyhood, and his correspondent and friend for 
 many years thereafter. Young's influence upon Milton 
 may be described as threefold — literary, religious, and 
 political. He introduced him to the study of poetry, 
 and encouraged him in original versification ; he 
 deepened and directed, if he did not create, his Puri- 
 tanism. Warton asks if he did not " imbibe his Puri- 
 tanism " from Young ; and he induced Milton to join 
 
2i2 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 the Smectymnuans in their famous controversy with 
 Bishop Hall. Would it be too much to say that he 
 came near to setting Milton the great task of his 
 poetical life ? The poet, as everyone knows, early 
 resolved to write what the world would not willingly 
 let die, and made long and laborious preparation for 
 the great work. There still exists, in the poet's own 
 handwriting, in Trinity College, Cambridge, a list of 
 likely subjects for the ambitious undertaking, epic or 
 drama, to which he dedicated his " one talent." It in- 
 cludes both religious and legendary subjects, and 
 among the latter the Perthshire legend of Hay the 
 Ploughman — the founder of the noble families of 
 Erroll and Kinnoull. It is, at the least, possible that 
 he may have learned the legend from his Scottish 
 tutor, who was a native of Luncarty, the very scene 
 of the heroic adventure with which the legend deals. 
 Neither this, as we know, nor any other Scottish legend, 
 nor even the long-cherished legend of the British King 
 Arthur, was destined to be the poet's ultimate choice ; 
 but it is interesting to know that a Perthshire legend 
 was at one time a possible theme, and that a Perthshire 
 man probably suggested it. Milton's own notes of 
 the legend are so brief that they may be presented 
 here : — 
 
 " Hay, the ploughman, who with his two sons that were at 
 plough, running to the battle that was between the Scots and 
 Danes in the next field, stayed the flight of his countrymen, 
 renewed the battle, and caused the victory, etc." 
 
 That a Thomas Young was young Milton's tutor 
 had been known to students of the history of English 
 literature as long as Milton himself had been known 
 
MILTON'S SCOTTISH TUTOR 213 
 
 to them ; there is reference in the young poet's 
 own writings, both in prose and in verse, to " his pre- 
 ceptor, Thomas Junius." The discovery that this 
 Thomas Junius (or Young) was a Scotsman is due to 
 ex- Professor Masson, the historian of Milton and his 
 times, who, now nearly half a century ago, had the fact 
 suggested to him by Young's nom-de-ftlume to a treatise 
 on the Lord's Day. At the time of the appearance of 
 this treatise it was not convenient for a Puritan clergy- 
 man of Suffolk, where Young was then located, to give 
 his name without disguise on the title-page of such a 
 book, and he chose to present himself as " Theophilus 
 Philo-Kuriaces Loncardiensis." The last word of the 
 designation furnished the clue to Young's nationality ; 
 and a search among the records of the Perthshire parish 
 of Loncardy, or Luncarty, revealed, first to Professor 
 Masson, and afterwards to Dr David Laing, much inter- 
 esting matter connected with the parentage and educa- 
 tion of Milton's Scottish tutor. 
 
 Young was twenty-one years older than his famous 
 pupil, having been born in the parish of Luncarty, in 
 the south of Perthshire, in the year 1587 — a year for 
 ever memorable to Scotsmen as the date of Queen 
 Mary's execution. His father, William Young, was 
 then, and had been for about five years, " parson and 
 vicar of the parish kirk of Loncardy." He was, at 
 the same time minister of Redgorton parish, and his 
 income and emoluments from all sources show that 
 he must have been in exceptionally comfortable cir- 
 cumstances for a rural clergyman. Laing informs us 
 that his stipend for the united parishes amounted 
 to £32 ; that he had also, out of " the Thirds of Scone 
 Abbey/' a further sum of £29, 13s. 4d., besides ten 
 
2i 4 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 bolls of bere and eight bolls of meal, with the manse, 
 glebe, and kirkland of Luncarty. He continued to 
 enjoy this desirable living, it would appear, down to his 
 death, in 1625. His son, Thomas, the subject of this 
 paper, was educated at Perth Grammar School and St 
 Andrews University, at which latter place he graduated 
 M.A. in 1606. Laing conjectures that he thereafter 
 studied at a Protestant University in North Germany. 
 By-and-by he came to England, driven, perhaps, by a 
 wandering instinct not unknown to his countrymen, 
 more probably by the commotion which King James's 
 attempts to introduce Episcopacy had raised in Scot- 
 land. He found employment in London, at first as a 
 tutor, and apparently also as an occasional preacher 
 in the pulpits of the Puritan clergy. It was while 
 earning a precarious livelihood in this way that, in the 
 year 1618, he came, no doubt duly recommended, to 
 the well-to-do scrivener's house at the sign of the 
 Spread Eagle in Bread Street, and was appointed tutor 
 to young Johnny Milton, then a boy of ten. 
 
 He seems to have held this office of private tutor 
 to the future poet for about five years — certainly not 
 later than 1623. The success of his tuition, operating, 
 no doubt, upon natural ability of a superior order, was 
 such that the boy was fit for public school life, at St 
 Paul's, by the time he had reached his twelfth year ; 
 and the nature of it may easily be inferred from a 
 passage in Milton's " Elegia Quarta," the composi- 
 tion of the poet's eighteenth year : — 
 
 Primus ego Aonios, illo prae-eunte, recessus 
 
 Lustrabam, et bifidi sacra vireta jugi, 
 Pieriosque hausi latices, Clioque favente 
 
 Castalio sparsi lseta ter or a mero. 
 
MILTON'S SCOTTISH TUTOR 215 
 
 That is, " For the first time in my life did I, with him, 
 visit the glens and green glades of Parnassus and 
 Olympus, drink of their mountain streams, and re- 
 peatedly (through the aid of books) refresh my spirit 
 at the Castalian spring." In plain prose, it was to 
 Young that Milton owed his introduction to classical 
 poetry, and his appreciation of its charm and inspiring 
 power. Professor Masson sees in the latter part of 
 the passage an acknowledgment of Young's services to 
 Milton in " setting him upon the making of English 
 and Latin verse." Possibly the words carry that 
 meaning. 
 
 Young's influence on the youth was not limited to 
 " lessons." The boy found in him a second father, to 
 whom he could not be sufficiently grateful for all the 
 good he had done him. The teachers at the public 
 school of St Paul's did not supersede Young in the 
 estimation of Milton. Milton's testimony will be 
 found in the first and fourth of his Familiar Epistles, 
 as well as in the Fourth Elegy from which quotation 
 has just been made. The first of these testimonial 
 letters to Young bears date March 26, 1625 — nearly 
 two years after Young had ceased to be Milton's tutor, 
 and had gone to fill an appointment in Hamburg. It is 
 in prose, and contains a warm acknowledgment of the 
 writer's gratitude. " I regard you as a parent," he 
 says, and goes on to say he is continually thinking of 
 him, hearing his voice, and recalling his looks. The 
 affectionate feeling between pupil and tutor was 
 mutual, for the same letter conveys Milton's special 
 thanks for the gift of a Hebrew Bible which had 
 recently been sent him from Hamburg. We learn 
 from Milton's " Fourth Elegy " the nature of Young's 
 
2i6 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 appointment in Germany : he was chaplain to the 
 English factory (i.e. merchants) at Hamburg. How 
 long he filled this position is not clearly made out, but 
 in 1627 or 1628 we find him appointed vicar of Stow- 
 market in Suffolk, and inviting his former pupil, now 
 in his twentieth year, and a student of Christ's College, 
 Cambridge, to come and see him in his new quarters. 
 Milton's second letter to Young (the fourth of the 
 Familiar Epistles) is dated July 21, 1628. No doubt 
 there was much correspondence between the two 
 friends from this time onward, and tradition favours 
 the reasonable idea that Milton was an occasional 
 visitor at the vicarage of.Stowmarket, where a mulberry 
 tree of his planting is, or at least used to be, an object 
 of some interest. In the letter of July 1628, we have 
 Milton accepting Young's invitation, for next spring : 
 — He will be glad to withdraw from the tumult of the 
 city, and see his friend, to whom he owes so many 
 favours, at last settled in his rural manse, where (he 
 says) " you live quite content on your little farm, with 
 a moderate fortune but a princely mind." 
 
 In 1639 Young published anonymously his Dies 
 Dominica. This was the year of Milton's return from 
 Italy. Then began the famous Smectymnuan con- 
 troversy on the subject of Church government 
 between Bishop Hall, who led off, in 1640, on the side 
 of Episcopal authority with his Remonstrance, and the 
 five Puritan clergymen — Stephen Marshall, Edward 
 Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Newcomen, and 
 William Spurstow — the initials of whose names, taken in 
 the order given here, make up the word Smectymnuus, 
 the Puritans' nom de guerre. " The controversy 
 awakened all my attention," says Milton. He gave 
 
MILTON'S SCOTTISH TUTOR 217 
 
 up for the time his poetical schemes, and, plunging 
 into the fray, did knightly service in the cause of re- 
 ligious liberty on the side of Smectymnuus. It is un- 
 necessary to follow the controversy here. It may be 
 noticed, however, that the very heart of Smectymnuus 
 was the Scotsman, Thomas Young — the central of 
 Cleveland's five faces that went " guizing under a 
 single vizor." 
 
 It may be of interest to add further that Young 
 was one of the English representatives in the famous 
 Assembly of Divines at Westminster, and that shortly 
 thereafter (in 1644) he received the honorary degree 
 of M.A. from Cambridge, and was appointed Master 
 of Jesus College in that University. 
 
A FAMOUS CHRISTMAS HYMN 
 
 On the morning of Christmas Day, 1629, a young 
 student of Cambridge, who had lately taken his BA. 
 degree, and more recently still had attained his 
 majority, finding himself at home for the holidays at 
 that festive season, and temporarily free from the cares 
 of regular academic studies, conceived the idea of a 
 " verse or hymn or solemn strain " by way of com- 
 memorative offering in honour of " Christ's natal 
 day." His home was a house in Bread Street, Cheap- 
 side, London, distinguished from other houses in the 
 street by the sign of a spread eagle, the custom of 
 numbering houses, so universal now, not being then in 
 use ; and his father was in prosperous circumstances as 
 a scrivener, or commercial lawyer, of long standing, 
 established for over a quarter of a century in that 
 particular house in the very heart of the great city. 
 The house was a quiet one, pervaded by the sweetly 
 sober, but by no means sombre, spirit of the early 
 Puritans. Music and religion were its constant inmates, 
 and learning and poetry also made their abode in it 
 when, as on the occasion now referred to, the elder son 
 of the family came up from Cambridge to spend a short 
 vacation at home. 
 
 The Cambridge student — he was of Christ's — John 
 Milton by name (for there is no further need of with- 
 holding it), lives for us yet, thanks to the painter's 
 
 218 
 
A FAMOUS CHRISTMAS HYMN 219 
 
 mimic skill, in what has come to be called the Onslow 
 portrait. Vertue's engraving has made us familiar 
 with that portrait. It represents Milton at twenty- 
 one, femininely fair, as one might expect from his 
 nickname of " the lady of Christ's," yet with unmis- 
 takable touches of manliness in the noble forehead, the 
 full eyes, and the firm yet smiling lips. Professor 
 Masson has truly said of it — " There could scarcely 
 be a finer picture of pure and ingenuous youth." It 
 shows, in about equal degrees, a mingling of power and 
 refinement. Lofty thought and studious application 
 — in a word, the poet and the student, are indicated 
 in the countenance. And true it is that, young as he 
 was, Milton had already for half his lifetime been read- 
 ing for the love of it, and exercising himself in the 
 language of poetry with a view to the poet's vocation. 
 Still, it may safely enough be said that until his attain- 
 ment of manhood Milton had done nothing in either 
 Latin or vernacular verse which revealed, or even gave 
 hint of, the great fountain of poetry within him. At 
 last the conception in the early morning of Christmas 
 Day, 1629, of the famous Ode on the Nativity, nobly 
 executed and finished within a few days thereafter, 
 gave not merely promise, but proof that a great poet 
 had again appeared in England. Hallam thought it 
 " perhaps the most beautiful ode in the English 
 language." 
 
 There is in Milton's own letters, written in Latin 
 verse, and therefore less known than they deserve to 
 be, an interesting statement on the composition of 
 this famous ode. The statement is in some detail. 
 It occurs in a private friendly letter to one who was 
 the most intimate probably of his early companions — 
 
220 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Charles Diodati, his former school-fellow at St Paul's. 
 Young Diodati had written him from the country, 
 describing the good time he was having among friends 
 with whom he was staying, and Milton a few weeks 
 thereafter, that is some time about New Year's Day, 
 1629-30, replied in a strain similarly free and confi- 
 dential on the subject of his own doings. His friend 
 no doubt wanted to know what was engaging his atten- 
 tion. He would tell him. He was writing a poem on 
 the human birth of God, with all the well-known cir- 
 cumstances, legendary or historical, with which that 
 wonderful event was accompanied — the stall and the 
 manger, the new star in the sky, the cherubim quiring 
 in shepherds' ears an era of peace on earth, and the 
 downfall of Pan and paganism. That was his gift as 
 a poet kneeling at the cradle of the infant Christ. The 
 idea of such an offering, as by a happy inspiration, 
 occurred to him on the very verge of Christmas Day, 
 while the stars were yet shining in the dim dawn of the 
 December morning 
 
 " Dona quidem dedimus Christi natalibus ilia : 
 Ilia sub auroram lux mihi prima tulit." 
 
 (Elegia Sexta.) 
 
 The sketch as here given of his poem to his friend is 
 sufficiently faithful, though necessarily succinct. The 
 first faint idea of the poem, from which the whole 
 noble strain arose as from a keynote, was singularly 
 poetical. It was, in the young poet's imagination, 
 the first Christmas Morn ; he would join the star-led 
 travellers with their gifts of gold and frankincense and 
 myrrh — nay, he would in eager adoration anticipate 
 them, and present his own gift of song before their 
 
A FAMOUS CHRISTMAS HYMN 221 
 
 arrival. The idea is beautifully developed in the pre- 
 lude to the ode proper : — 
 
 " See how from far upon the eastern road 
 The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet I 
 O run ; prevent them with thy humble ode, 
 And lay it lowly at his blessed feet : 
 Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 
 
 And join thy voice unto the angel quire, 
 From out his sacred altar touched with hallowed fire." 
 
 Then commences the ode, properly so called — " It 
 was the winter wild," etc. In regard to melodious 
 utterance it would be difficult to say which of the 
 various sections into which the ode or hymn may be 
 divided gives fullest proof that here was already singing 
 the future author of Paradise Lost — whether the section 
 which describes the peace and purity of Nature, chastely 
 clad in snow, or that which emphasises the sudden peace 
 of warring kings and nations, or that which renews 
 the strange music of the Gloria in Excelsis, or, lastly, 
 the long, concluding section which triumphs over the 
 downfall of widespread Paganism. It would be easy 
 to show in this great ode, as a whole, most of the great 
 characteristics of the mature poet. They are not un- 
 mixed with imitations, notably of Spenser, but here 
 for the first time are the loftiness of thought and the 
 majesty of expression which Dryden regarded as the 
 most distinctive' features of Milton's poetry. The 
 power of investing a mere list of historical or geo- 
 graphical names with the pomp of poetry is also mani- 
 fest even here, as it is repeatedly manifest in the famous 
 epics of his riper years. One charm there is in the Ode 
 on the Nativity to which the later and greater Milton 
 
222 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 strangely became a stranger, the charm of rhyme. 
 Perhaps of all the stanzas that which describes the 
 world's peace at the time of Christ's birth is at once 
 most characteristic of the poet, and best known to 
 the general reader : — 
 
 " No war, or battle's sound, 
 Was heard the world around ; 
 The idle spear and shield were high uphung ; 
 The hooked chariot stood 
 Unstained with hostile blood ; 
 The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; 
 And kings sat still, with awful eye, 
 As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.' ! 
 
 But, indeed, there is not a stanza in the whole poem 
 which is not sufficient to show, as some one has said, 
 that a new master's hand had again touched the lyre 
 of English poetry. Poets few or none have at so early 
 an age approved their possession of the faculty divine, 
 not even Keats, as did Milton at twenty-one, when he 
 penned this famous Christmas hymn. 
 
CONCERNING THE CUCKOO 
 
 " Sumer is i-cumen in, 
 Lhude sing cu-cu." — Old Song, circa 1260. 
 
 If the testimony of our two greatest poets be considered 
 conclusive of the cuckoo's character, there is no bird 
 throughout the British Islands less liked by both 
 bachelors and benedicts, for Milton, speaking for the 
 former class, describes it as a "rude bird of hate," 
 and Shakespeare, representing the latter, declares that 
 its cry is odiously " unpleasing to the married ear." 
 Yet it cannot be denied that in general the cuckoo is a 
 popular favourite, whose note is waited for with im- 
 patient pleasure, and welcomed with rapture by all 
 lovers of the rural life, whatever be their sex and 
 whether they be single or social. How is this ? 
 Association has much to do with the bird's popularity, 
 for it is the voice of spring, babbling of sunshine and 
 flowers and visionary hours, and filling the imagina- 
 tion with an endless prospect of green bowers over- 
 arched by skies for ever clear. But the mystery that 
 invests the bird has probably as much to do with the 
 matter in question. And a little contemplation of the 
 subject suggests a threefold source of the mystery, 
 affecting its voice, its movements, and the manner of 
 its nesting. Poets have presumably the best ear, yet 
 there is remarkable diversity in their description of 
 223 
 
224 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 the cuckoa's note. It is monotonous, hollow, curious, 
 joyful, twofold, arresting even the careless ear of the 
 wandering schoolboy and prompting his mimicry ; 
 blithesome to the meditative Wordsworth, and filling 
 his grave mind with a spirit of rejoicing. But the 
 mystery of the voice is not in its timbre or peculiar 
 vocal quality alone. It is a wandering voice, ven- 
 triloquial, coming from invisible sources, revealing 
 nothing of its origin, sounding at once far off and near, 
 making you look a hundred ways and disappointing 
 your curiosity in every quarter ; and in this more 
 especially the mystery lies. Vox et preterea nihil — it 
 is no bird, but an invisible thing haunting the air, a 
 voice, a mystery ! You listen, and, like the Ancient 
 Mariner, look sideways up, and seeing nothing you 
 ask, like the Prince in the enchanted isle, " Where can 
 this music be ? " By a natural inference the strange 
 invisibility of its producing cause converts, as by magic, 
 the earth we pace into an insubstantial fairy place 
 that is fit home for such a vocal phenomenon. But 
 this Ariel of the bird world can be seen, and the writer, 
 at the risk of destroying a lovely illusion, having seen 
 him time and again, will describe him. He haunts the 
 same localities in his annual visits year after year, 
 with a conservative attachment to the favoured spots 
 which make him loveable. Is it a supreme act of folly 
 to go hunting the gowk ? I have done so repeatedly, 
 not without amusement, in the woods at Swanston, 
 on the hills above Peebles, on the sunny slopes of the 
 Lomonds, at the head of Glenfarg, in every case within 
 well-defined areas — rarely without the reward of a 
 glimpse of the low-flying bird, occasionally with the 
 delight of a full and comparatively prolonged view. 
 
CONCERNING THE CUCKOO 225 
 
 He is undoubtedly an arboreal bird, frequenting groves 
 and wooded hills, and preferring cover to champaign, 
 but I have met him, too, miles from a tree clump or 
 even a tree, on the benty uplands of the Lammermoors. 
 My best sight of him was on a May evening, more than 
 thirty years ago, while descending Spartleton towards 
 Garvald. There he sat on a paling not a hundred 
 yards from a shepherd's cottage, and not twenty 
 from myself, lowering his head to the first part of his 
 ghostly double note, and recovering at the second. 
 Thrice he repeated his shout, twice while I was looking, 
 but restlessness is a characteristic of the bird, and per- 
 haps aware of my presence he speedily flew away. It 
 was my first view of a live cuckoo, and I remember 
 being struck with his size ; he was quite a foot in length 
 as he dipped to take the first note, was of an ash grey 
 on the back, barred with brown on the breast and 
 belly, not unlike a sparrow-hawk, and looked, if I may 
 say so, overclad. The length of the pointed wing as 
 he leapt forward rather than rose, and the still greater 
 length of the rounded tail, marked above with white 
 spots, were indeed noticeable features of the bird. To 
 complete the description, the bill was long, slender, and 
 slightly curved, and the legs, like the root of the bill, 
 yellowish. Linnaeus classed the cuckoo erroneously 
 as a bird of prey ; and country people, who are 
 mostly incurious observers, have mistaken the hawk 
 for the cuckoo, but the cuckoo has neither the strongly 
 curved beak nor the formidable legs and claws of the 
 sparrow-hawk. The note of the cuckoo, it may be 
 added, is mostly in the key of C or D, and the interval 
 generally a major third. 
 Another mystery of the cuckoo is in its movements, 
 
226 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 According to the author of the finest of all cuculian 
 odes (pace Wordsworth) — whether young Bruce or 
 younger Logan shall not be decided here — it comes 
 with the daisy and goes when the pea is florescent. 
 Soon as the daisy decks the green its certain voice we 
 hear ; soon as the pea puts on the bloom it flies the 
 vocal vale. This is delightfully vague and poetical, 
 but deplorably indefinite. It is generally in Scotland 
 towards the end of April, it is heard for a period of 
 about six or seven weeks, and 
 
 " In August 
 Go he must." 
 
 Yet he lingers sometimes well into September. The 
 old folk deny that he goes at all, declaring that he 
 turns into a hawk, and preys upon partridges and 
 poultry. Gilbert White (clarum carumque nomen !) 
 saw a flock of cuckoos pursuing dragon flies and other 
 insects over a pond at Selborne ; but it would be wrong 
 to infer from this fact the sociability of our bird — it 
 was rather the plentifulness of food that brought them 
 together on that occasion. The cuckoo flies alone. 
 
 " O could I fly, I'd fly with thee ; 
 We'd make on social wing 
 Our annual visit round the globe, 
 Companions of the Spring." 
 
 So sang the poet, but even if he had received from 
 Apollo a suit of wings, and could have flown, his place 
 in the trio would have run the hazard of refusal from 
 the unsocial bird. Male or female, it prefers solitude 
 and a solitary life. Even the time of courtship, though 
 passionate, is brief ; and it is by no means mono- 
 gamous. Unknown to it, whatever other joys com- 
 
CONCERNING THE CUCKOO 227 
 
 pensate for the loss, the connubial bliss which Thomson 
 sets forth with a warmth of feeling that shows how 
 much he approved the virtue of constancy in love : — 
 
 " As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, 
 Not to be tempted from her tender task, 
 Or by sharp hunger or by smooth delight, 
 Though the whole loosened Spring around her blows, 
 Her sympathising lover takes his stand 
 High on the opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 
 The tedious time away ; or else supplies 
 Her place a moment, while she sudden flits 
 To pick the scanty meal." 
 
 In the case of the cuckoo, there is neither patient dam 
 nor sympathising lover. To-morrow to fresh woods 
 and partners new is the cuckoo's motto and rule of 
 life. After four months' taste of British air and fare, 
 the bird takes French leave for France by the Straits 
 of Dover, passes from the Spanish peninsula by the 
 Straits of Gibraltar, and winters in African sunshine. 
 But the greatest mystery connected with the cuckoo 
 (i.e. the British species, not the genus), and it still 
 puzzles the naturalist, is the manner of its nesting. 
 As Pompey in the play has it, the bird " builds not 
 for himself." The female foists its egg, and thus 
 fathers its young, upon an alien bird. This parasitic 
 habit, not unknown to, though rarely practised by, 
 other birds, probably occurring in their case through 
 mistake or stupidity, is the invariable practice of the 
 cuckoo. No one ever saw a cuckoo's nest. How it 
 came to be the practice of the cuckoo is the puzzle. A 
 French anatomist, Mons. Herissant, as White informs 
 us, thought he had discovered the secret in " the 
 internal structure of their parts, which incapacitates 
 
228 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 them from incubation." He found, and the Selborne 
 observer also found, that " the crop or craw of a 
 cuckoo does not lie before the sternum at the bottom 
 of the neck, as in the gallinae, columbae, etc., but im- 
 mediately behind it, on and over the bowels, so as to 
 make a large protuberance in the belly." White, 
 however, also found that birds, such as the fern-owl, 
 internally formed in a similar manner with cuckoos, 
 are, in spite of " the disposition of their intestines," 
 actually known to sit for certain on their own eggs in 
 nests of their own construction ; and so M. Herissant's 
 conjecture " seems to fall to the ground, and we are 
 still at a loss for the cause of that strange and singular 
 peculiarity in the instance of the cuculus canorus." 
 Jenner's theory is based on the supposition that the bird 
 has no time to build and incubate, being in a hurry 
 to depart ; but its sojourn in Europe is at least as long 
 as the swift's, and even if it were greatly shorter, the 
 question would remain to account for the hurry. The 
 Darwinians seek an explanation in natural selection 
 and the survival of the fittest ; what was at first only 
 an occasional occurrence was attended with better 
 success to those practising it than the regular method 
 of building and brooding, and it became, through 
 survival of the fittest, the universal habit of the species. 
 The cuckoo's egg is small, being about the size of the 
 tit-lark or moss-cheeper's, yet the latter bird is not 
 more than one-third of the bulk of the cuckoo. The 
 egg, which is first laid on the ground, is carried in the 
 deep-cleft bill of the mother bird, and deposited, not 
 as by random in any nest that happens to be con- 
 veniently near, but in the nest of a bird that (as Gilbert 
 White puts it) is "in some degree congenerous " — 
 
CONCERNING THE CUCKOO 229 
 
 that is, insectivorous or possibly granivorous. There 
 is no doubt that the food of the cuckoo consists of 
 insects, worms — hairy worms preferentially — and seeds 
 or fruits ; they have been found in its usually well- 
 stuffed maw. When exactly the notion arose that 
 it is predaceous, it would be curious to inquire. It 
 was not unknown to Chaucer, though in The Parle- 
 ment of Foules the " fool cukkow " comes forward as 
 representative of the worm-fowls ; indeed, the same 
 slanderous indictment of murdering its foster parent 
 is charged against the cuckoo by both Chaucer and 
 Shakespeare. " Thou murderer of the heysugge on 
 the branch that brought thee forth, thou ruthless 
 glutton ! " are the words in which the merlin denounces 
 the cuckoo. The accusation of the Fool in King Lear is 
 better known — 
 
 -' The hedge sparrow fed the cuckoo so long 
 That it had its head bit ofE by its young."- 
 
 The heysugge is the hedge-sparrow, and this is one of 
 the congenerous birds which is made the dupe (but 
 not the victim) of the cuckoo. It is, along with the 
 wagtail and the tit-lark, the innocent most practised 
 upon by that insidious bird. But the class of birds 
 that are duped, or cuckoo'd, includes also the robin, 
 the yellow-hammer, the stone-chatter, and the chaffinch. 
 How naturalists arrive at the knowledge that the 
 female cuckoo lays from six to eight eggs in a season, 
 never two in the same nest, it is not easy to say. 
 White proposed to himself a solution of the difficulty 
 by the simple but drastic method of " opening a female 
 during the laying time." But he does not record the 
 result of the experiment, if he made it. But a most 
 
2 3 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 marvellous thing remains to be mentioned on this sub- 
 ject of the cuckoo's eggs, viz. — that it seems to possess 
 the power of marking and colouring each egg so as to 
 render it approximately like the eggs of the nurse-bird 
 of whose nest it means to make choice. The cuckoo 
 is generally regarded by our earlier writers as a foolish, 
 shallow, simple bird, an ungentle gull, a fool bird, 
 destined for ever to be as lewd (ignorant or witless) as 
 it is unkind ; and in Scotland we do not need to be 
 told that a gowk and a simpleton are synonymous 
 epithets. But a scientific study of the bird and its 
 ways suggests rather the selfish and successful rogue 
 than the silly and senseless fool. Its life is one long 
 holiday ; it has the pleasures without the domestic 
 cares and pains of love ; and its distribution of its eggs 
 — not to speak of its strange power in pigment in the 
 marking of them — looks uncommonly like premedita- 
 tion and forethought. The bird surely has the sporting 
 instinct ! The result, at least, is to its advantage ; 
 it is a successful forger and utterer of false eggs ; the 
 dupe, whether pipit or hedge-sparrow, wagtail or 
 stone-chat, is imposed upon and tricked from beginning 
 to end ; and the race of cuckoos is maintained from 
 spring to spring. The young cuckoo is speedily 
 hatched by its foster-parent, grows inordinately, and 
 generally succeeds within ten or twelve days in mono- 
 polising both the nest and the nurse's attentions by 
 ousting the legitimate family, eggs or younglings, 
 from their proper home. It is worthy of note that 
 male cuckoos far outnumber those of the other sex. 
 
 Of the many superstitions connected with the 
 cuckoo, one deserves special notice from the place it 
 has gained in the youthful poetry of Milton. The tradi- 
 
CONCERNING THE CUCKOO 231 
 
 tion is to the effect that the happiness of young lovers 
 in " the spring time, the only pretty ring time," is 
 consequent upon their hearing the nightingale before 
 the cuckoo ; and, of course, conversely, that the cry 
 of the cuckoo, if heard before the song of the nightin- 
 gale, forebodes ill-luck in wooing and wedding. This 
 interesting and beautiful bit of English folk-lore ex- 
 plains the reference in the well-known " Sonnet to the 
 Nightingale," one of the Horton poems, written by 
 Milton in the interval between the completion of his 
 academical course and the visit he paid to the Conti- 
 nent. " Thy liquid notes," he says — 
 
 " First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill 
 Portend success in love. Oh, if Jove's will 
 Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay, 
 Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate 
 
 Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; 
 As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
 For my relief, yet hadst no reason why." 
 
 Milton was probably twenty-four when he wrote the 
 sonnet — in the prime of his young manhood, and yet 
 neither a wooer nor wedded. Yet his fancy, too, like 
 that of ordinary young men, turned in spring to 
 thoughts of love. An earlier than Milton's reference 
 to the legend will be found by the curious reader in 
 Skelton's lines to Mistress Isobel Pennell (" Garden of 
 Laurel ")— 
 
 " Hear this nightingale 
 
 Among the birdes smale 
 
 Warbling in the vale — 
 
 ' Dug-dug, jug-jug. 
 
 Good year and good luck ! ' " 
 
 But the quotation carries us away from the cuckoo to 
 the nightingale. 
 
EASTER HOLIDAYS 
 
 Once more, once more again 
 
 On me, from city cares who fly, 
 Lochleven, like a loving eye, 
 Looks round the shoulder of the hills ; 
 And all life's artificial ills 
 
 Pass from me with their pain ! 
 
 The smoke will leave a stain : 
 
 In absence of the cleansing shower 
 The dust will dim the freshest flower : 
 Happy the heart on whom the dust 
 Of active life (for blow it must) 
 
 Grows not a thing in grain ! 
 
 Nor are those ills in vain : 
 
 They come upon our passions here 
 
 Like winter rigours on the year — 
 
 The purer are the daisies' dyes 
 
 When Spring comes round, bluer the skies, 
 And welcomer the rain ! 
 
 To some the breezy main : 
 
 To some the moors and burns : to some 
 That cannot go, sweet thoughts will come ; 
 To me enfranchisement from ills 
 When gleams, as now, between the hills 
 
 Lochleven o'er the plain. 
 
 232 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 
 
 or, The Fortunes of a Scottish Ploughman 
 a tale of the east ochils 
 
 A ploughman Tam Wilson was a pleughman bred, 
 But had a sowl abune his tredd. 
 
 But with 
 ambition 
 
 The savings- 
 bank 
 
 Nae hairumscairum chield was he 
 To birl awa' his dear-won fee 
 On ale or sweeties, or sic trash, 
 To hae a name, or mak' a clash 
 For a fine free an' easy mind : 
 Tam was to better things inclin'd. 
 
 Tam kent a bank — at nae wood side, 
 Where moonbeams thro' the branches slide, 
 And lovers meet, an' a' the rest o't, 
 An' fairies keek, an' mak' a jest o't ; 
 But a bare shop where money lies, 
 And, as by magic, multiplies. 
 And here he pat whate'er he earn'd ; 
 An' then he turn'd his lug, an' learn'd, 
 Where'er he gaed, the saws o' sense 
 That taught him hoo to guide his pence. 
 
 He saw at markets and at fairs 
 Hoo folk set out an' sauld their wares ; 
 233 
 
234 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 How to sell ^ e studied weel the wheedlin' airt 
 and save That garr'd the sumph wi's siller pairt, 
 Yet think himsel' a clever duel' 
 To skin the chapman art sae weel. 
 And ae wise maxim, first owre a', 
 He gathered in fra' what he saw — 
 The adage, never faithless found, 
 That bids the penny herd the pound. 
 
 Seif-ed-ucation Tam > like the brethren o' his station, 
 
 at the'bothie Had unco little education ; 
 
 But, i' the lang fore-winternicht, 
 
 He edged his kist in by the licht, 
 
 An', while his neebor loons were snorin', 
 
 Or owre some new-brent ballad roarin', 
 
 Or, maybe, if the nicht was fine, 
 
 Awa' to tryst some gigglin' quine, 
 
 He took his bannet aff his pow, 
 
 An' doon he sat beside the lowe, 
 
 And swat, an' gied his brains a rackin', 
 
 Addin', dividin', an' subtrackin'. 
 
 Working 
 
 Stracht thro' the Gray his way he urged, 
 sums Nae coont he miss d, nae answer forged, 
 
 Simple an' compound, big an' wee, 
 To Practice and the Rule o' Three : 
 Some say he master'd Tare-an'-Tret, 
 Tho' sair it garr'd him fidge an' fret. 
 
 At ither times he gat his bottle — 
 Whisky ? it never wat his throttle ! 
 'Twas Peery's ink, a better liquor ; 
 Then on the bottom o' his bicker 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 235 
 
 He laid his copy, seiz'd his pen, 
 An' dipt it in the ink, an' then 
 nd Row'd up his sleeve-band, no' to blot, 
 composition An', schowlin' at the letters, wrote. 
 And, if the letters werena braw, 
 An' sometimes lowse, or sair athraw, 
 His thochts were aye wi' skill conneckit, 
 And aye wi' taste his words seleckit. 
 
 Noo, lad, I'll lay a croonpiece wauger 
 Ye're thinkin' Tam wad be a gauger. 
 Oh, man ! but ye're a grovellin' wicht ! 
 Tam's fancy had a higher flicht ; 
 In fact, he didna clearly see 
 Whaur he micht licht ; but bide awee, 
 A tack the And, i' the meantime, ye may ken 
 first perch Tam thocht the first perch to ascen' 
 A pedlar's pack — a rowin' stane 
 That gathers moss, the only ane ! 
 
 His measures were matured completely, 
 And a' his plans laid sae discreetly, 
 That when, ae term-day, i' the fa', 
 Tam quat the pleugh for gude an' a', 
 He had nae mair ado than tak' 
 A muckle bundle on his back, 
 Weel stored wi' ribbons, knives, an' rings, 
 Wi' claith, an' capes, an' orra things, 
 An', wi' the leeshence (twa pound odd), 
 On the road! Cut a stoot rung, an' to the road ! 
 
 Noo, in his new-adopted life, 
 
 Wi' change o' scene an' folk sae rife, 
 
2 36 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Sae weel contrived for interviews 
 
 An' wrestlin's wi' the rural muse, 
 'm°tie}oJt°- g Tam micht hae father'd mony a sang 
 path way" To cheer him as he jogg'd alang. 
 
 But Tammy's sowl was sae intent, 
 Sae eident aye on business bent, 
 A corner o't he couldna spare 
 For lichter matter than his ware ; 
 No poetry The muse was ither than a true ane, 
 
 An' rhymin' rather waur than pleughin'. 
 
 Yet sometimes, as he stoopt to drink 
 At some clear upland burnie's brink, 
 The gowan, wi' its silver rim, 
 Or primrose would look up at him, 
 An', by their sweet suggestive hues, 
 Would set Tarn's fancy on the muse, 
 But of a kind An' glitter thro' his day-dream doverin's 
 Like heavenly sixpences an' sovereigns ! 
 
 Lang, lang, an' mony a mile he trudg'd, 
 An' some, ye needna dout, he grudg'd, — 
 For Fortune's but a fickle jaud, 
 An' e'en her best is mix'd wi' bad ; 
 But, gude or bad, or baith thegither, 
 Tam took his customers wi' his weather. 
 
 In winter's mirk, or simmer's sun, 
 Familiar wi' the varyin' wun', 
 Fra hoose to hoose he made his ca's, 
 Display'd his wares, an' gaed his wa's, 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 
 
 The stocking- 
 foot filling 
 
 A weary figure bendin' low, 
 Like Pilgrim wi' his pack o' woe ; 
 Contentit if, when gloamin' gray 
 Shut in anither anxious day, 
 His hogger had a mellower chime 
 To show he had improved the time. 
 
 237 
 
 Setting up in 
 business 
 
 When mony a day had come an' gane, 
 An' mony a pack, an' pair 0' shoon, 
 An' mony a groat — na ! that's a bam ! 
 The bawbees biket when they cam' — 
 At last, in a sma' country toun, 
 Tam laid his sair-worn ellwan' doun, 
 An', strong wi' speculative hope, 
 Set up a haberdasher's shop. 
 
 Behind the 
 counter 
 
 I tellna here hoo hard he strove, 
 An' tackled to the wark, an' throve : 
 Tam aye had gude-will to his wark — 
 Bear witness mony a sweaty sark, 
 Baith wi' the flail an' at the pleugh, 
 An' warstlin' wi' his pack, an' noo 
 Ahint the coonter, rack'd in mind 
 At aince to deed an' fleece mankind. 
 
 Getting on 
 
 Aneuch that Fortune's wayward ba', 
 That rows obedient to nae law, 
 Play'd gently in to Tammy's feet : 
 Tam cuist the coat, an' gae't a heat, 
 Doun the lang years he sent it spinnin' 
 An' follow' d hard an' het wi' rinnin'. 
 
238 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 When thrice the sun had wheel'd his roun', 
 A fermer enter'd this same toun, 
 As blithe a carle as ever stappit, — 
 Tho' simmer, in a gray plaid happit, — 
 
 A an l oU fr0m Twel' mile, a weary fit, fra hame, 
 
 acquaintance An' Willie Gowanlock his name. 
 
 Up thro' the middle o' the street 
 He paced wi' patriarchal feet, 
 Took up his station at the Cross, 
 An' glower'd aboot him at a loss. 
 His faithfu' collie, dune wi' daffin', 
 Stude heedless o' the toun-tyke's yaffin', 
 An' lookit in his maister's face 
 As if his inmost wish to trace. 
 At last, a muckle painted sign, 
 Wi' gowden letters glitterin' fine, 
 Tane Willie's wuld an' wanderin' ee : 
 He stude, an' spelt, an', thocht awee — 
 Tam Wilson's " What's this ? " quo' Will ; " my eesicht's 
 
 sign-board- failin', 
 
 the Cosmoca- . , . 
 
 peiion But isna that cast-metal-pahn ? 
 
 An' — Lord forgie's for a' oor ills dune ! 
 What's that below't but Tammas Wilson ? 
 The very man, I'll tak' my aith ; 
 But Lord, he deals in daft-like graith ! " 
 
 Twa staps brocht Willie to the place, 
 An' there was Tammy's weel-kent face. 
 Tammy, wi' smirk an' smile sae ready, 
 Was showin' gum-flooers to a leddy, 
 An' twa wee spunkie prentice-loons 
 Were measurin' claith an' brushin' goons. 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 
 
 Should auld 
 acquaintance 
 be forgot ? 
 
 Tarn's 
 monocle 
 
 Bankrupt I 
 
 239 
 
 " Tammas, your hand ! I'm gled to see ye ! 
 Haith, lad, but things are thrivin' wi' ye ! 
 Ye'll mind o' me, an' Ruth, my dochter ? 
 It's juist gey far, or I'd hae brocht her. 
 Hoot, fy ! Ye mind, she used to squeeze 
 Your pooches fu' o' cakes an' cheese 
 What time ye trailed the packman's tether : 
 I used to think ye fain o' ither." 
 
 Tam raised his ee-gless, glower'd, an' spak'— 
 " I doot, my man, there's some mistak' ; 
 I dinna ken ye ! — George, the door ! — 
 John, dinna mak' sae muckle stoor ! — 
 Weel, madam, what's your further orders ? 
 See, here's some braw new soo-back borders 
 Their like for cheapness near nor far is, 
 They cam' yestreen direct from Paris ; 
 The newest shape, the best design, 
 Baith stuff an' trimmin' shuperfme ! " 
 
 Weel was it said, the holy saw, 
 " Pride gangs afore an awfu' fa'." 
 To show a customer gude-will 
 Tam wrote his name across a bill ; 
 The scoundrel ran, an' Tammy brak', 
 Paid aucht i' pound, an' took a pack ! 
 
 The pack once An' noo, owre hill an' muir again, 
 Thro' lanely shaw, an' rocky glen, 
 Owre bog an' slap, an' dyke an' stile, 
 He travell'd mony a weary mile. 
 His weel-kent face aince mair was seen 
 At fair an' dance on village green. 
 
2 4 o EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Nae birth was near but Tammy kent it ; 
 An' wakes an' waddin's he frequentit. 
 Black-wavin' crapes, an' ghostly weepers, 
 Tap-knots, an' snoods, an' dancin' cheepers, 
 Razors an' hones for gay young shavers, 
 An' Sabbath scarfs, an' marriage-favours— 
 In short, whatever ane could lack, 
 It bude to come fra Tammy's pack. 
 Sae quick his wares flew roond aboot him, 
 Hoo had the country dune withoot him ? 
 
 A nigtfs 
 adventure in 
 the snow 
 
 A fall I 
 
 Ae snawy nicht in winter-time — 
 
 Sae dark ye couldna see a styme — 
 
 Tammy, returnin' fra a toor, 
 
 Ventur'd a short cut owre a moor. 
 
 Around him howled the eerie blast, 
 
 The snaw was driftin' fierce an' fast ; 
 
 Tam pu'd the bannet owre his lug, 
 
 An' gied his belt anither tug, 
 
 An', ruminatin' owre his lot, 
 
 Calmly pursued his ain jog-trot, 
 
 Till, swith ! a whin-stump catch'd his cuit, 
 
 An' owre he tumbl'd like a peat ! 
 
 The witch-wind scream'd wi' eldritch laughter, 
 
 An' doun the snaw-ghaists danced the dafter ! 
 
 Up gat puir Tammy, sair benighted ; 
 The heavy fa' had dung him doited : 
 Up Tammy gat, puir luckless fallow ! 
 His scatter'd senses wadna rally. 
 
 A' roond he glower'd, but glower'd in vain- 
 The mirk was solid as a stane. 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 
 
 241 
 
 No bones 
 broken 
 
 He siched as if his hert wad brak', 
 
 Then graipit till he fand his pack, 
 
 Then fand his legs — nae banes were broken- 
 
 An' spak' — the words alood were spoken — 
 
 " There was an auld sang nearhan' endit ; 
 
 But, lad, we're livin', an' we'll mend it : 
 
 Drive on, ye jaud, an' be mair tenty ! " 
 
 Lost on the 
 moor 
 
 Tammy's 
 prayer 
 
 But whatna road, where roads were plenty ? 
 
 He stude, the centre o' the compass, 
 
 An' hearken'd to the windy rumpus 
 
 A' roond the muir's mysterious border, 
 
 An' guess'd, an' glower'd, but naething furder. 
 
 The gate to gang, hoo could he find it ? 
 
 The gate he cam', he didna mind it ! 
 
 The sweat stude cauld on Tammy's brou, 
 " Lord save's, or here's the end o't noo ! 
 Twa minutes syne I kent it brawly, 
 An' noo ! Lord pity a puir fallow ! " 
 
 Hope ! 
 
 Lauch na ! devoutly Tammy pray'd, 
 An' shortly cam' the timely aid. 
 Ten random staps he hadna gane, 
 Ten resolutions hadna tane, 
 When, as he turned a distant knowe, 
 Laigh on the left he spied a lowe. 
 
 Stracht to the licht his way he steer'd ; 
 Its lively ray the darkness cheer'd ; 
 He lost it in a treeless glen, 
 But up the bank he saw't again 
 
 Q 
 
242 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Streamin' far oot into the nicht — 
 
 A social soul-enlivenin' licht, 
 
 At ilka stap a Scots ell nearer, 
 
 Broader at ilka stap, an' clearer, 
 a farmhouse Till, owre a cheese-stane nearhan' stumblin', 
 door Tammy was at a door-sneck fumblin'. 
 
 The door flew open wi' a bang, 
 The lassie stoppit in her sang, 
 The collie startit wi' a flurry 
 
 The farmer's An' barkit like a very fury. 
 
 ingle Xhe auld man, at the fireside pechan' 
 
 An' stitchin' at an auld tow brechan, 
 Threw up his haunds abune his pow, 
 An' sat, an' naething said but " Vow ! " 
 
 Tammy appeared, a ghaistly sicht ! 
 He glower'd to left, he glower'd to richt ; 
 Familiar seem'd the scene throughoot, 
 But yet he couldna mak' it oot, 
 An auld Till thro' his mind there flashed the truth- 
 acquaintance " it's Willie Gowanlock, an' Ruth, 
 An' this is Heathery-leys, an' there, 
 That's Ringwood birsin' up his hair." 
 
 Auld Willie like a statue sat, 
 
 An' glower'd, but said nor this nor that : 
 
 " Willie ! " quo' Tam, " ye ken me fine — 
 
 Willie, man, for auld langsyne ! 
 
 1 tried the muir, but gaed clean wild ; 
 An' hoo it blaws ! juist hearken till'd ! " 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 243 
 
 Oot spak the lass—" It's Tammas, faither ; 
 The farmer's Bid him inowre — it's awfu' weather." 
 monocle! jje raised the brechan till his ee — 
 
 " I ken nae Tammas — wha are ye ? 
 
 I doot, my man, there's some mistak' ; 
 
 I dinna ken ye — shaw your back ! " 
 
 Ruth's in- -j-jjg i ass j e ran an ' barr'd the door : 
 
 dignation 
 
 "A bonnie thing to say, I'm sure ! 
 Wasna the lamp expressly lichtit 
 To cheer the traveller benichtit, 
 And i' the window-bunker set 
 To guide puir wanderers to oor yett ? " 
 
 Ruth spak' wi' kindlin' ee an' cheek, 
 An' trimmed wi' care the reshy week ; 
 Then to the Sure returnin' back, 
 She eased puir Tammy 0' his pack ; 
 And kindness His coat wi' her ain hand she shook, 
 An' led him to the ingle-nook. 
 
 Tammy made AuM Willle Startit t0 his fit : 
 
 ■welcome " Tammas, the play's play'd oot — we're quit 
 
 See, there's my luif, it's frankly gien ; 
 
 Ye're welcome, as ye've ever been. 
 
 Ruth, fesh a riddlefu' 0' peats ; 
 A gude willie- Tammas, draw in, an' toast your cuits ! 
 wauckt! The peatreek, lassie ? that's weel mindit — 
 
 Ahint John Flo 1 el ye'll aiblins find it." 
 
 A happy nicht Nae hoose was spent a happier nicht in ; 
 
 The minutes fiash'd an' fled like lichtnin' : 
 
244 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 The auld gudeman was fu' o' jokin' ; 
 An' Ruth, tho' bendin' owre a stockin', 
 In kirtle jimp, an' shapely boddice, 
 To Tammy's een show'd like a goddess. 
 
 A common Ye lee, ye rhymin' bardies a', 
 Cupi/ " 01t Wha say, when leaves begin to fa', 
 
 An' norlan' winds blaw cauld an' dry, 
 An' swallows gaither i' the sky, 
 The nakit Laddie greetin' rins 
 Soothward awa' where sunny win's, 
 Wi' lang, lang, saft an' silken hair, 
 An' blue, blue een that ken nae care, 
 Wait on the purple hills to meet 
 An' welcome his wee travell'd feet. 
 
 Cupid at the Q u( j e faith, ye've something yet to learn ! 
 He's no' a feckless lassie-bairn. 
 The lang, black winter thro' he tarries, 
 The hardy wean ! an' shutes his arrows 
 Wi' quicker haund an' keener aim : 
 The loonie's nearer to his game. 
 He's left the shaw, the glen, the ley ; 
 He's come, wi' Robin, a' the wey 
 To barns an' stackyards, doors an' windows ; 
 An' weel he kens it's no' the Indies 
 That ane may skaithless want the breeks ; 
 An' sae he seeks the chimla-cheeks ; 
 An' there he sits, an' trims his bow, 
 Lauchs till himsel' an' nods his pow, 
 An' chuckles like a wee Red Etyn 
 " Ho ! ho ! the famous winter shutin' ! " 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 245 
 
 Tammy in Tammy he shot, an' shot again ; 
 
 His heart was prinklin' wi' the pain. 
 
 Upon the wa', abune the press, 
 There hung a fairy keekin'-gless : 
 Twa peacock feathers, droopin' lang, 
 Fra the twa tapmost corners sprang, 
 An' at the fit, in country fashion, 
 a "pin-cushion Hung a wee red three-cornered cushion. 
 Not redder was that cushion's cover 
 Than was the hert of our true lover, 
 Nor mair preen-holed than Tammy's hert 
 By Cupid's fleet an' frequent dert ! 
 
 His heart like 
 
 Effects of being Strange are the vagaries 0' drink ! 
 
 l Tammy° n But stranger yet than ane can think 
 The varied changes love can wirk : 
 It drave Tam regular to the kirk ; 
 
 He becomes It drave him to the Book o' Truth, 
 
 2S^1 ^ drave him t0 the Tale o' Ruth. 
 
 It nearhan' drave him to the Muse, 
 But he'd the firmness to refuse 
 To listen to her bursts o' sang 
 That floated on the air alang, 
 An' garr'd his nerves, against his will, 
 Wi' a strange novel sweetness thrill — 
 For, sprung o' Covenantin' blude, 
 He dooted if she cam' o' gude. 
 
 But, crush its utterance as he micht, 
 The feeling struggled to the licht — 
 
246 EXCURSIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 There's no a 
 bonny flower 
 that springs 
 
 A holy poetry that flings 
 
 Its arms roond a' created things. 
 
 As, for a taste, — when Spring cam' on, 
 
 An' gowans thro' the black yird shone, 
 
 but minds me An' sweet primroses starr'd the mould- 
 They were as fair a sicht as gold — 
 The love, deep-plantit in his breast, 
 Bloom'd in a bookay on his vest. 
 
 Whate'er o' beauty Tammy saw 
 Cheerin' the gloom o' glen or shaw, 
 It gat the witchery o' its grace 
 In Tammy's fancy fra a face 
 Where Beauty's seP, embracin' Truth, 
 Was shining in the eyes o' Ruth ! 
 
 Tammy 
 marries ! 
 
 Sair a' that winter did he toil ; 
 An', when the gowk brocht in Aprile- 
 For ne'er a lassie yet consentit 
 To a May marriage but repentit — 
 He ceased the pedlar's wanderin' life, 
 An' he and Ruth were man and wife. 
 
 Ten years 
 later 
 
 Ten years o' sober married bliss, 
 Ten years o' weel-deserv'd success, 
 And, in the canty burrowstoun 
 Where cautiously he settled doun, 
 Wha was sae mensefu' or sae douce ? 
 Had roucher board, or brawer hoose ? 
 Wha's wife was less to gossip gien ? 
 Wha's bairns wi' whiter collars seen ? 
 
TAMMAS WILSON 247 
 
 Wha's servant lass was better guidit ? 
 Wha ampler for the puir providit ? 
 Wha's name was named wi' mair respect ? 
 Tammy pros- What bailie spak' to mair effect ? 
 
 perms without TIT , , , , , , 
 
 pride Wha bore the sacramental cup 
 
 Wi' cleaner hert or holier grup 
 Than Tammas Wilson ? Wha wad 
 
 dream'd o't ? 
 A pleughman aince, an' not ashamed o't ! 
 
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 A Highland Web. By L. H. Soutar, Author of "Sea- 
 dune, a Highland Village," etc. etc. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 The Conflict of Owen Prytherch. By Walter M. 
 Gallichan (Geoffrey Mortimer), Author of "The Story 
 of Seville," "Tales from Western Moors," "Like Stars 
 that Fall," etc. etc. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 A Gentleman's Wife. By Aubrey Lee, Author of "John 
 Darkee," etc. etc. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 "One of the most interesting stories published for a long time past. 
 . . . We can vouch for the interest of the plot and the charm of the 
 writing." — Literary World. 
 
 "A strong story and an original. Aubrey Lee wanders from the 
 common path of novels most advantageously." — Bristol Times. 
 "A very charming book." — Woman. 
 
 EDINBURGH: GEO. A. MORTON, 42 GEORGE STREET 
 LONDON; SIMPKIN, MARSHALL 81 CO. LTD.