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SCENES AND SKETCHES 
 
 LEGAL LIFE. 
 
 J MEMBER OF THE COLLEGE OF JUSTICE. 
 
 'v. \ 
 
 r.y'^ 
 
 WILLIAM P. NIMMO. 
 
 LONDON, 14 KING WILLIAM STKEET, STKAND, 
 
 AND EDINBUEGH. 
 
 1876. 
 
These Scenes and Sketches appear now for the first 
 time in print. 
 
. PREFACE. 
 
 TTITHERTO the published experiences of 
 ■^^ persons connected with the profession 
 of the Law — which is generally admitted to 
 aiFord good opportunities for acquiring know- 
 ledge of life and character — seem to have 
 been confined to Tales of Detectives and 
 Diaries of Clerks. I have no intention of 
 competing with the stirring stories of these 
 writers. Criminals have not interested the 
 author : the careers of commonplace votaries 
 of ambition have not occupied his thoughts. 
 The genteel forger depicted drinking the 
 health of his guests in Sillery when a sheriflf's- 
 officer relieves his hand of the glass and him- 
 self of liberty ; the tale of a prodigal son, 
 cured of a passion for the turf by the lawyer's 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 skill in exposing the knavery of blacklegs, 
 might excite the attention of not a few per- 
 sons. But even a lawyer who undertakes to 
 interest the public had best relate what has 
 most deeply and not unpleasantly interested 
 himself. Certain out-of-the-way characters, 
 not without folly, but "sublimated and 
 heteroclite creatures," as Yorick has it, with 
 a humour of disconformity to the common 
 creeds and ambitions of life, have amused 
 the author not a little ; and of some of these 
 he offers a reminiscence to his readers. Pos- 
 sibly, beneath the " humours " of their stories, 
 may be gathered a few solid grains appreciable 
 by the tastes of the most practical and be 
 generally accepted in full of all demands for 
 the needful substantial fare looked for in 
 publications of the legal profession. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE LAST 8PUILZ1B AT BATTLBKNOWB, . 
 
 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF THE R PEERAGE, 
 
 THE FOUNDEKS OF ADULLAM, 
 
 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE, 
 
 LATE SENIORS OF THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE, 
 
 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN, 
 
 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE, . 
 
 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE AT PETER BROCK'k, 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 60 
 134 
 166 
 219 
 253 
 281 
 310 
 
SCEMS AIN'D SKETCHES 
 
 IN 
 
 LEGAL LIFE. 
 
 THE LAST SPUILZIE AT BATTLE- 
 KNO WE. 
 
 /^LUSTERS of shaggy pine-wood liere and 
 there relieved the monotony of brown 
 heath called the LohUmuir. A sluggish stream, 
 too, where the curlew shrieked and the great 
 heron flapped lazy wing, took its way through 
 the long level tract to the " silver river." The 
 grey hills rose in the distance, and were bright 
 atop in the north-west sky. And the shepherd 
 looked down upon the heath, and up to the 
 clear stars of heaven, often with delight and 
 worship. The peasant of the plain, as the 
 
 A 
 
2 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 moon lighted up the dull bosom of the stream, 
 retired to r6st with the music of its murmur 
 in his ear. Simple laughter, love-songs, and 
 fiddles were nightly heard. In truth, the 
 people of the Muir were gay. It was owing to 
 the air, some said. Providence had given the 
 inhabitants liberally, quality and quantity, of 
 the "caller" air, and they were happy. Not 
 unlikely, too, some of the liveliness was due to 
 the presence among them of two or three irre- 
 pressible children of mirth and good-humour, 
 and conspicuously of Mr Arthur WeUesley 
 Craw, litigant. 
 
 If it was said in earlier and still recent days 
 of the career of that sanguine litigant Arthur 
 WeUesley Craw — eldest son of the late Daniel 
 Craw of the Scots Greys, who for distin- 
 guished services at Waterloo had been made a 
 lieutenant — that said namesake of the great 
 captain Avould need a leg lopped off to subdue 
 him to the respectable dulness of men of the 
 world, the suggestion ought not to have been 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 3 
 
 needed on Christmas night 18 5-. Within 
 the farmhouse of Battleknowe, tenanted by 
 his only brother, Horatio Nelson Craw, 
 the brother lay ill, about delirious, of a 
 fever ; a first child had been born recently 
 to Horatio's wife ; and the landlord, Gawin 
 Macllwraith, threatened- to eject the whole 
 family. He had already committed two 
 spuUzies, carrying ofi" without legal warrant, 
 or in spite of interdict, nearly all the effects 
 on the farm and in the house. To that house 
 had come, a few days ago the old -widow 
 of the lately deceased veteran, hero of the 
 great fight. She had come, frail in her weeds, 
 to greet the first of the new generation, and 
 melt, in the sacredly happy day, over the fresh 
 joy of her heart ; and behold, the father, her 
 son, was stricken unto death, his worldly gear 
 gone, and he and his becoming outcasts on 
 the earth ! 
 
 At four in the afternoon the windows of 
 the house were strongly barred and the doors 
 
4 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 barricaded. A knock had just been heard at 
 the front door. " It's honest Jim," said 
 Wellesley, returning to the only inhabited 
 room in a few minutes. He was pleased with 
 all society, and would have seen a friend in 
 a candid executioner. It was wonderful that, 
 fighting in the courts of law all his business 
 life with "scoundrels," and now pressed to the 
 verge of doom, his lips could smack as they 
 did of the delicacy of an honest name, or a fan- 
 cied one, on the palate. So thought Horatio's 
 wife, and particularly now, hearing of Macll- 
 wraith's man having been at their door. 
 
 But increase of danger had brought increase 
 of fancy : his. hopes were already of the next 
 generation. In answer to the mother's sigh, 
 he seized to his arms the unconscious bundle 
 of animation, known abeady as " young Dan'l," 
 "wee Dan'l," "the one," "the soldier." "To 
 think," cried he, "jist to think that this 
 mite'll bestride in his years a charger like the 
 great Jook's ! " 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 5 
 
 It remained to be seen whether at this 
 critical juncture his hopes of ten processes 
 at law, or of the infant, would be whistled 
 down the wind. At present it seemed as if 
 the cause of the young soldier would drive 
 away all other cares from hand and heart. 
 The modest attentions of his unaccustomed 
 hand towards the provision of the suckling 
 had hitherto not been unduly pressed, and 
 were easily and quietly ignored by the 
 women. To-day he waxed bold. Perhaps 
 that there was an imagined imputation that 
 his last " kite " had not flown but lay lifeless 
 upon his hands, and he must be accounted 
 poor — perhaps that the child was now older 
 in weeks — he had been busy for half an hour 
 in the almost empty kitchen with a "rich" 
 Christmas dinner "happily suited to all ages," 
 Coming in with an immense basin of reeking 
 " skink brose," or some counterfeit of that 
 strong and bulky compound dish for heroes, 
 he informed the mother that it was " Grandy's 
 
6 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 favourite," and that young Dan'l would may- 
 be "take after him there too." The experi- 
 ment of ascertaining whether the young hero 
 would make internal fortification after the 
 manner, congenial to the soil and blood, now 
 proposed to him, was not repeated. It was the 
 only moment that WeUesley was heard to repine 
 over his misfortune. The untoward accident 
 of that day; the refusal of banks to discount 
 his bill for £10 with three indorsers, was not 
 orgotten in the confusion caused by the child 
 crying over spilt hot water and oatmeal. He 
 remarked that " times are hard when you can't 
 start a bill for a tenner with three tracers." 
 
 WeUesley went out to the stars. He trod 
 historic ground. Beneath the hillock on which 
 the steading was built tradition assigned the 
 sepulchre of thousands of slaughtered Danish 
 invaders. The reflection often firmed his foot 
 there. It was forgotten at this moment. He 
 stood idly, looking now upon the empty barn 
 and the tenantless byres and stables, and then 
 
AT BATTLEKJSrOWE. 7 
 
 towards Pennyburn, the residence of Mac- 
 Ilwraith, above which Jupiter glowed in speck- 
 less lustre. Unaccustomed to discomposure of 
 mind from conviction of his own ignorance, he 
 now felt low that he was discovered an igno- 
 ramus in the treatment, even in its first weeks, 
 of the tyro in the world ; he was subdued a 
 trifle that his incapacity at a lying-in was con- 
 fessed. The child's inability to appreciate the 
 approach of a spoonful of the mess except by 
 skirling, led Wellesley again into a train of re- 
 solving on compromise with Macllwraith. " I 
 sha'n't destroy him," muttered the namesake of 
 the great captain, as he returned to the house 
 door : " this mite, dang it, softens me to a 
 jelly." But he kept up. He was fain to think 
 he might put up with two hundred solid 
 pounds " down " while his antagonist should 
 be discharged of fifty insubstantial pleas. 
 
 The stars were shining in their cold 
 impartial splendour, and the breeze soughed 
 drearily, but at intervals, through the leaf- 
 
8 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 less elms. On this Christmas night, the party 
 at Battleknowe, it had been resolved a week 
 ago, would be at their chapel to worship even 
 side by side with Macllwraith. Debarred join- 
 ing in the ascending praise of the sweet music 
 of human voices ; within hearing of the half- 
 delirious murmurs of Horatio, the cry of the 
 child, and the deep sighs of the grandam, as 
 there played in his ears the melancholy wind 
 of heaven — Wellesley knelt. 
 
 With the familiar high -crowned hat in hand, 
 with breast of spotless threadbare linen ex- 
 posed to the winter night, in the thin blue 
 coat, in the yellow and black striped waist- 
 coat and coarse shepherd-tartan trousers, the 
 stricken litigant, sore at heart, sought his 
 knees upon the gravel. "Was he parting with 
 every cherished hope of these legal wars, offen- 
 sive and defensive 1 Was the grand struggle 
 over, perished like a dream 1 " The Lord was 
 his Shepherd, and he would not want. On 
 pastures green He led him by the quiet 
 
.AT BATTLEKNOWE, 9 
 
 waters." Goodness and mercy had not 
 followed him through life, as goodness and 
 mercy are generally known of men. His cup 
 did not overflow, nor was his head anointed 
 with oil. He needed no such witnesses for 
 the justification of his faith. 
 
 As he rose he heard his name called. 
 The mother of the child had caught the story 
 of the sad fate of the paper which " stuck in 
 the mud " even with " three tracers." What 
 faith had his long-defeated belief of victory 
 inspired that the mother should press into 
 his hands a few notes just raised by her, 
 with the aid of a ploughboy, upon her silver 
 candlesticks, the gift of her father ! Starving ; 
 justice, with which he had intoxicated them, 
 was sweeter than food or raiment. With 
 a buzz of approving wonder and joy on the 
 part of the grandam, the notes were trans- 
 ferred, that the namesake of Wellington 
 should use his skill instantly and proclaim 
 a victory even then. 
 
10 THE LAST SPDILZIE 
 
 In the mother's simple glow Wellesley was 
 recompensed for the wound her assertion of 
 her maternal skill over his awkwardness had 
 caused his feminine heart. He restored the 
 money to the bosom of the grandam. The right 
 arm of the child hanging out of the swaddling- 
 clothes took his attention. " Shades of my 
 fathers!" cried he, "it's the sword arm; 
 he's the hero, mothers ; see to him ; he's 
 a-daring the foe — young Dan'l." 
 
 Then there was a cry loud enough to drown 
 the soft voice of Wellesley, and the mother's 
 smile was disturbed. 'Twas but the shadow 
 of a shade. But the man saw it. He lifted 
 the young hero to the height of the low 
 ceiling. " It's the slogan ; the war-cry of the 
 Craws ! " In the movement the querulous 
 flesh was soothed into quiet. He lifted it 
 over the other bed in the waU. "The Colonel ! 
 Horashy (Horatio), Eashy, Eash" — The 
 last syllable of the fond familiar name 
 of the namesake of the great sailor died 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 11 
 
 away on his lips. "Eetem" (item), muttered 
 the prostrate farmer, his mind wandering on 
 recent inventory of his appropriated imple- 
 ments — " eetem, three drill-grubs." Having 
 given the child to its mother, with the aid of 
 the rushlight Arthur saw that the fever was 
 gaining upon the solid flesh and slow brain 
 of the hard-pressed man, his brother — the 
 victim of the chicaner Macllwraith. 
 
 A strange dark passionate appeal for a 
 moment possessed Wellesley. Now it was 
 gone ; and there followed a pleased smile, 
 born of his silent committal of the party 
 to the care of Heaven, and of the pleasure 
 and self-confidence which all his errands 
 gave him. The jaunty step of the thin 
 bent figure was watched with joy by the 
 two women as he issued forth to the world 
 — of the Lohilmuir. 
 
 He walks with pride and a sense of 
 strength, notwithstanding his pinched cheeks 
 streaked in slight lines with red, his thin 
 
12 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 staggery limbs, and his stooping back. A 
 pinch of snuff, a shake of the hand, a hearty 
 "good-day," could conciliate the fighting man. 
 His antagonists never offered them. Born 
 within sight of gentility — his father an officer, 
 his mother a cousin four times removed of 
 this same Macllwraith — he had been cast out 
 of the pale with the first breath of misfor- 
 tune. Henceforth his name was associated 
 with escheats, hornings, poindings, ejec- - 
 tions, molestations, intrusions, and damages. 
 Stronger dealers with him in affairs of 
 the world did not trouble themselves to 
 reciprocate his naturally conciliatory and 
 gentle manners. And it was the protest 
 against their inhumanity, the rage of a soft 
 heart disappointed of meeting goodness and 
 justice, that set him to disturb the dreams 
 of litigants and lawyers with terrible invec- 
 tives — on paper. He soon came to love the 
 sight of the thick folds of foolscap which 
 carried to the judges the long-winded state- 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 13 
 
 ments of his indignation : he relished the 
 macer's cries of " Craw versus Macllwraith in 
 re interdict," of " Macll wraith versus Craw in 
 re removiDg." His words were written with 
 his blood. 
 
 ,• Yet he could "roar you like any suck- 
 ing dove " even after an adverse verdict, there 
 being truly no adverse verdicts for him who 
 saw them as temporary mischances, speedily 
 to be forgotten in a glorious victory with 
 permanent consequences. 
 
 He interested the inhabitants of the Muir, 
 in whose "cause," they had a fancy, he 
 suflfered, while they smiled. "Labour stood 
 still," too, as this humorist "passed;" "the 
 bucket was suspended, the spring-wheel 
 forgot its round, even chuck-farthing and 
 shuffle-cap stood gaping" to accost or find 
 entertainment with the kindly jest or encour- 
 aging word of him who combated in the 
 temples of the goddess Astrsea. 
 
 He had engaged in many pursuits ; at first 
 
14 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 to find some extra means for a little sport — 
 to shoot, fish, hunt, and drink a little : and 
 then, and soon, only to live; to acquire the 
 modest provision for "kail" and porridge, 
 beyond outlays for his great causes begun in 
 the greater days of trading. The flesh might 
 seem low, but the spirit was high, though 
 wine in his stores had to succeed coals, and 
 wood slates. The great trooper had trans- 
 mitted to his eldest born a lofty spirit which 
 might pine but never die in the degenerate 
 and huckstering depots. Great names, to 
 him, drew attention from their meagre fur- 
 nishing, and soothed the pride of their little- 
 funded owner. The Great Britain Coal Dep6t, 
 the Albion Wine, Spirit, and Ale Company, 
 the American and Native Woodyard, and the 
 General Slate Association — on paper — made 
 amends for stony " jewel," grain whisky, 
 unconscionable gallons of small-beer, knotty 
 fir-trees from the far-off corners of the Muir 
 branded in death far beyond their reputa- 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 15 
 
 tion -when shivering in the winds), and slates, 
 of which the Laird of Tamloorie said, " Craw 
 had a slate off" — only one, and alas ! it was 
 allowed not to be from the quarry, but off 
 a tenderer work of creation. As to the 
 usquebaugh which the trader was in the 
 habit of burying in the ground, according 
 to a recipe of his own for fostering a mellow 
 age which his poor purse would not per- 
 mit of bringing about by the common speed 
 of the calendar, Tamloorie said, " It was no 
 Glenlivet, though it might be deuced good 
 Glencraw." As a wood merchant he ap- 
 peared last, and he liked the way best. He 
 was great in American literature ; the prairie 
 and the primeval forest excited his imagina-. 
 tion, and, "in the vein," he corresponded 
 with the great timber house of Quebec, Judd 
 & Co., for whom he was appointed sole agent 
 in North Britain. Sales were made, and a 
 great log arrived at the " American and 
 Native," over which Wellesley told stories 
 
16 THE LAST SPUILZIB 
 
 and held pathetic and merry discourse many 
 a time about the Mohicans and Hawkeye ; 
 boys fought over it at French and English, 
 and with the aid of plankings ran up huts in 
 the manner of pioneers in the country of 
 hapless Unca. But the sale prices got 
 somehow mized up with prior obligations of 
 the many-handed trader ; the log began to 
 blossom alone, and new suits at law following 
 — while the shaggy clusters of the fir-trees of 
 the nether muir had already paid the penalty 
 of disease or nature — the woodyard feU 
 into disuse. At this time there opened up 
 to the trader, who for some time had slept 
 with Erskine's " Institutes " at his hand 
 and the "Principles" of George Joseph on 
 the shelf above his head, the cause of assist- 
 ing his honest, simple-minded, and much- 
 wronged brother Horatio. 
 
 Fancy, Vanity — what you will' — ran her 
 golden thread still through the dull web 
 woven around the life of Wellesley. And 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWB. 17 
 
 though the unseen, the invisible spirit of 
 faith, may not clothe a man out-at-elbows, 
 or protect his midriff quite with a power 
 of sustaining laughter, he may with airy 
 visions, undisturbed by appetites which will 
 drag down altogether better than the vulgar, 
 readily make shift to live and be even happy. 
 Craw sang "the devil's in the man \" the first 
 night he was with his brother, over the 
 duplicate lease of Battleknowe, in which 
 there was an erasure not noticed in the test- 
 ing clause, and in an important part of the 
 deed — a deadly and fatal flaw often. That he 
 might " weed out " Macllwraith, and be even 
 planted in his stead, seemed not impossible 
 accomplishments in his greater moments. 
 
 He was in spirits beside Horatio, a man 
 of little "ooterance," who worked laboriously 
 and silently : who understood he had received 
 a lease with pure and simple obligations of the 
 landlord to build and drain, while they proved 
 to be coupled with conditions which made 
 
 B 
 
18 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 their value not worth the paper on which they 
 were written, Horatio hung his honest head 
 as he saw his little wealth and the labour of 
 his hands gone — gone as he had clasped to 
 his arms the handsome Isobel Armour, "the 
 flower of the Lohilmuir," 
 
 But Arthur Wellesley saw clearly how he 
 might outwit the chicaner. Yes, if the 
 chicaner fought with clean fine-steel weapons 
 at the law. If he stabbed in the back ; 
 if he disregarded this law, and, falling back 
 upon his long head and yet longer purse, 
 dared it where his deeds could only give 
 rise to new litigations, in which he would 
 wear out his adversary ! It happened so. 
 Wellesley appeared upon the scene as tenant, 
 and also owner of the plenishing, and was win- 
 ning his way through the labyrinths of the 
 law, when lo ! Gawin struck through the tor- 
 tuous passages and put his hands direct upon 
 the whole stock and plenishing. Moreover, 
 in the confusion of his antagonists (stunned 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 19 
 
 by the daring act), he had further pushed 
 on a process of ejection ; and now the 
 Craws were on this Christmas -day them- 
 selves liable to be driven out upon the muir. 
 The last remnants of their furniture would 
 at same time be seized by main force. 
 
 Honest Horatio the farmer had paid no 
 rent for two years past. Such of the straw 
 crop as could be reaped was lost in the 
 ruinous steading ; cattle strayed in the un- 
 fenced marsh, and were drowned, or died 
 of too much air in the sheds and yards. 
 
 Wellesley's hand hesitated on the door- 
 knocker of his crony the schoolmaster of 
 Pennyburn, as he passed through the village 
 on his way to the mansion of the Laird. 
 But the dominie was no mere conventional 
 expounder of geography and grammar, and 
 possessed a fine sarcastic wit and humour, 
 which he could exhibit with the additional 
 attraction 'of a good glass of Glenlivet — no 
 paltry cheerer on a winter night after a few 
 
20 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 miles' walk. And Wellesley knocked and 
 went in. Tobias Gibb relieved the pedagogic 
 solemnity of the day with afternoon's diver- 
 sion at the shrine of Momus. Laird Gawin 
 Macllwraith was the butt of his raillery and 
 mimic sallies. Wellesley, ever soft, gentle, and 
 low in speech, enjoyed the vigour of the 
 master's humour, and grinned with great 
 relish as his opponent was taken off, feeling 
 recompensed for much of the " iniquity " by 
 which he suffered in the caricature of the 
 iniquitous one. Playing with fire surely 
 now, to gather ridicule for the man whose 
 humanity he might wish to rouse! 
 
 It appeared that the Laird, besides disput- 
 ing the salary of Gibb, had condemned his 
 English pronunciation as modern gammon ; 
 and one way the master had of resenting 
 the heritor's interference with his teaching 
 was to increase the supposed affectation of 
 "fineness" of speech to an exaggeration. 
 He sympathised to the full with Wellesley 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 21 
 
 always. "Who shell step eyside," cried the 
 master, " like the mealankoly Dean, weary of 
 the world, end find thrown upon the docken- 
 grown footpath, beeside the beerial-place of 
 the Macllwraiths, the once tousy-headed skull 
 of Gawin, crees, 'A Scotteesh Machiavellees 
 or the deevil's.' " After a reeking glass or two, 
 with the hearty pedagogue's prayer for honest 
 Eashy, and a warm pressure of the hand for 
 the success of his mission, the suitor for justice 
 went forth ; the mirth ringing in his ears 
 not ceasing as he stepped into the dull gloomy 
 hall of Gawin and " spoke fair " to Elshenter, 
 the grim ser-vitor of a repellent lord. 
 
 The litigant stood with an easy air in the 
 hall of his oppressor. To him the impressive- 
 ness of great possession and power was gone 
 even in the idea of them as held in trust for 
 the neighbours and him, as well as the owner. 
 He did not vex the graciousness allied to his 
 theory with practical demands for " unearned 
 increments," and was content gaily to suffer the 
 
22 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 man in possession to gather the whole fruits ; 
 while he himself might not fail to recognise the 
 magnanimity of his own concession. Elshen- 
 ter would have kept Wellesley out from his 
 employer's presence, the chicaner being engaged 
 with his lawyer. But such was at the moment 
 the power of " the people " that Wellesley 's 
 popularity in the Lohilmuir gained him admit- 
 tance with a little murmur. In the other cen- 
 tury, or thereby, the democrat reflected, there 
 would have been a moat or dungeon for the 
 resting-place of a troublesome tenant who 
 refused to go out of his holding until he was 
 recompensed for injuries. 
 
 The arch-enemy and his minister, seated at 
 a ponderous volume of Morrison's " Dictionary 
 of Decisions" in a cold library, did not seek 
 soon to notice the intrusion of their light- 
 footed opponent. 
 
 They had about them none of "the noble 
 scorn of great fiends." Wellesley had troubled 
 and vexed them sorely, until they took the 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 23 
 
 law in their own hands and were victors in 
 the game, as became the greater might; yet 
 when catching sight of the pale attenuated 
 intruder, they did not cry, " Aroint thee, 
 whipper-snapper ! go to thy sputterings of the 
 inkstand ! " for these sputterings had been very 
 costly to the client. Each wished to hear this 
 child of humour speak, that, apart from the 
 revising pen of his lawyer, he might commit 
 himself, and perhaps save them from decree for 
 pursuer in an action of damages for spuilzie. 
 
 Craw's poor frame, striding and bearing 
 up under the cruel stroke of the assassin ; his 
 mildly beaming eye, conscious somehow, in his 
 present not clear course, of some lofty kind- 
 ness even for the general weal ; brought no 
 smile of sympathy or pity from the strong 
 man. The lawyer was tamed with age, and 
 long concern with heavy matters not his own. 
 You and I, Bardus, who have not experienced 
 the unkind fate of being depressed by the 
 grave concerns of great gear, would have 
 
24 THE LAST SPT7ILZIE 
 
 melted at the sight. The faint screech of a 
 hiding owl, disturbed by the buzz of a crip- 
 pled bat soon to be destroyed, was the sound 
 emitted by the client at the approach of the 
 worn inheritor of heroism. Meantime Wel- 
 lesley walked up the long narrow room with a 
 bland air. It was the easy grace of a diplo- 
 matist who steps forward to make peace for 
 others with good nature and few words ; cour- 
 tesy, and no mere affected coolness or equality, 
 seeking to give the tone to the situation. He 
 bowed, a table being between him and the 
 pair ; but there was no response. 
 
 " Stair or Erskine 1 " inquired Wellesley of 
 the readers, gently rubbing his chin with his 
 hand, and a spark lighting up very brightly his 
 somewhat colded eyes. There was no notice. 
 
 A little watery regret, as he stood, stole 
 up behind the orbs of the victim of the proud 
 man's contumely. " Meckeenzie 1 " he cried — 
 some roguery at remembrance of the jovial 
 teacher of the three K's he had just left for 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 25 
 
 this cold, affectation of the superciliousness 
 of greatness — dislodging the fluid from the 
 surface of his grey eyes, to which it had 
 sprung. "Ees of opeenon weeth ye," con- 
 tinued the diplomatist ; " he's weeth ye 
 about subseets." Eoguish, yet not gone from 
 good-humour. 
 
 With a lofty wave of his hand, which in 
 its course nearly disturbed the tousy splen- 
 dours of red-headed Macllwraith, Wellesley 
 playfully gave over the "blood-thirsty" lawyer 
 to the enemy, and made them welcome to him 
 in accents supposed to be those observed in 
 the Southern Kingdom. They were certainly 
 not intended to be offensive. 
 
 " Wha-a-as hee thuzz 'i " asked the client of 
 his lawyer ; his ears now tingling as Penny- 
 burn English got into them. He inquired 
 concerning the identity of one he knew as 
 well as the lawyer's OAvn. Wellesley 's eyes 
 darkened and his brow lowered a little now. 
 
 " The Roman law ees against heem ; our 
 
26 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 modem lawyers, who er found following the 
 ceevil law where they cen " — the rest was 
 lost in the sound caused by the closing of 
 ponderous Morrison. 
 
 The English of the village dominie mad- 
 dened the ears of the hater of gammon — in 
 dialect — and he sat back in a rage, finding 
 a little vent for it in dislodging the reclining 
 arm of his solicitor with his elbow, and nearly 
 causing that gentleman to tumble and resolve 
 upon resignation of the valuable agency. 
 
 " Shades of my fathers ! " said the litigious 
 man in after-times when the wars were over, 
 " I gave Gawin a dose for his pretended for- 
 getfulness." He would point with pride to 
 his name in Shaw and Dunlop, and remark 
 that he puzzled the Lord President con- 
 foundedly. 
 
 " Da-a-am the deevil ! whaa are ye, maun 1 
 Are ye Craw 1 " cried Macllwraith, forced out 
 of his propriety of non-recognition of a broken 
 opponent. 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 27 
 
 Arthur Wellesley Craw stamped his foot, 
 and stood with his head reclining backwards 
 instead of forward. 
 
 He had often threatened on foolscap to 
 make the house of Pennyburn tremble to its 
 foundation. Without the physical force with 
 which Macgregor called attention to his pro- 
 menade on the heath, the indignant move of 
 Craw yet told to the completer awakening 
 of the others. 
 
 "Sir," cried he, "you know me well. I 
 am Craw j a fighting man, but a fair one ; 
 relegated for a time to the obscurity of 
 the Lohilmuir, because injustice, sir, stalks 
 abroad like a devouring wolf in the simple 
 folds" 
 
 " Yer brither's a sheep ! ye're the ither 
 sheep ! ha ! ha ! " growled Mac. 
 
 A glowing and proud countenance was 
 Wellesley's. "We are sons, sir, you would 
 forget, of Daniel Craw. He was the bravest 
 and the best of soldiers, sir ; and died by 
 
28 THE LAST SPTJILZIE 
 
 his wounds, for his country ; poorly and 
 shabbily rewarded by it, when the soil he 
 protected is rented to his sons to rob them 
 of their little inheritance. By God I I would 
 die before I would rob the defenders of my 
 country ; even to save my life, I wouldn't 
 take sixpence off a poor soldier's progeny 
 without value. But only to make a miser- 
 able gain of them, I'd" 
 
 The bell was tugged at violently ; the 
 champion of patriotism might have been 
 more unceremoniously treated, but that his 
 stick was in active use during his denuncia- 
 tion. 
 
 Having delivered himself of the front of 
 his wrath, WeUesley calmed greatly. He now 
 again remembered that he came with the 
 olive branch and the hand of reconciliation, 
 and he said he had come for peace for his 
 brother's and the child's sake. 
 
 " You've been in the militia yourself, though, 
 Laird, and might have strained a point to 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 29 
 
 favour the boys of the great Waterloo soldier," 
 rallying — as he must — with a subdued voice. 
 
 He consented to shut his eyes to the pre- 
 sence of the devil and Beelzebub. 
 
 "I waive aU the past wrongs this night 
 in consideration you draw in my favour on 
 your banker for three hundred. The sum's 
 a trifle, and won't buy oil for a tenth of the 
 sores even of the body of one of us." 
 
 Macllwraith smarted as he confounded the 
 simple humour of his opponent. The word 
 militia used in his presence was fatal to his 
 goodwill. Once on a time before his resignation 
 of a captaincy he led his men against the foe 
 in the shape of whin bushes upon a hillock- 
 top, and landed them, bruised and half drowned, 
 in the marsh beneath on the other side. 
 
 "Awa, awa', man! ye're a fule!" cried the 
 late officer of the " Droukit Fencibles." 
 
 "Say the word. Captain, and I'll forego 
 that hearing next week before the seven 
 judges," pleaded the farmer. 
 
30 THE LAST SPUILZIB 
 
 Brougham's was a name with which, he 
 often tried to conjure opponents, and suc- 
 cessfully. Harry and the House of Lords 
 were often cast at the heads of his co- 
 wranglers. " I'll have ye up before Harry 
 Broom," failed of effect now — the last shot 
 was fired. Macllwraith swore — not by Apollo 
 — at the lazy louts his servants, as he hung 
 on the beU-rope, which now fell down. 
 
 " There, mun," he cried, swinging it at his 
 opponent. " Tak' ut ; ut wazz a' ; a but rope 
 was a' ye brocht ta Battleknowe, an'^ a but. 
 wud, man. There's a but wud there t^e," 
 
 "And I wish wood and rope were at your 
 ain door, Laird Maclywraith, jist at this 
 moment. Ye might rue the indignity wi' a 
 little hanging, Laird. P«dxy used to say some 
 folk would be neen the waur o' a hanging." 
 
 The last sentences were delivered with a 
 smile of quiet playful humour. They were 
 words the use of which would naturally draw 
 down a pretty severe blow. But WeUesley 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE, 31 
 
 had a waj^ with him of tempering the asperity 
 of language with a gentle air, which to a 
 magnanimous opponent compassionate of mis- 
 fortune and simplicity might perchance take 
 out all sting. 
 
 The manner brought no forgiveness from 
 Macllwraith, as may be supposed. Elshenter 
 and his fellow, Glowry, were ordered to lay 
 hold of Craw and expel him. 
 
 "Ejec' hum ! " cried Macllwraith ; "ye'U be 
 ejec't again tae oot o' the farm — every dog 
 and cat o' ye." 
 
 Exasperated beyond endurance for years by 
 this litigation, in consequence of his first ori- 
 ginal sin, of taking advantage of the simple 
 inexperienced Horatio, he was driven into 
 harshness and cruelty. The flaw of his charac- 
 ter was originally only cupidity — perhaps only 
 penuriousness — and the little black spot en- 
 larged into a gangrene. 
 
 Craw saw before his eyes his stricken fevered 
 brother, the lying wife, and the child — wee 
 
32 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 Dan'l — shivering on the heath ! His face got 
 livid ; he struggled for breath : the left in- 
 herited fires of the brave trooper coursed in his 
 ill-filled veins, and nearly shattered the frame. 
 There was a cry as of a sick man roused to 
 struggle against the last stroke of doom. 
 
 About to spring at the throat of the tyrant, 
 his hands fell. " Eashy, young Dan'l ! " he 
 cried, thinking only now in his prostration of 
 his sick brother and the poor child ; it was in 
 a faint voice, and he fell a light and battered 
 bundle on the floor. 
 
 They took up the threadbare coat, the black 
 and yellow striped waistcoat, the shepherd-tar- 
 tan, and the well-brushed satin hat. These were 
 substantial. Without " the fiery soul," what 
 they covered made small show. " 111 appeal," 
 muttered the spirit. Then it was sent forth, 
 to walk in the valley — of the shadow of death. 
 
 Dominie Gibb was soothing his beating 
 mind with the aid of some pipefuls of honey- 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 33 
 
 dew near to his own door, on the watch for 
 
 the return of his friend. He chid himself for 
 
 having rather excited the litigious spirit of 
 
 Craw in times past. "Down with the deevil ; " 
 
 " Do for Gawin ; " "Let slip the dogs of war ; " 
 
 were cries which had not seldom issued from 
 
 his mouth. 
 
 " Have you seen the deevil ? Well 1 " he 
 
 asked now of the returned compromiser, with 
 bated breath. 
 ' " Give God the glory, Gibb. Heaven is my 
 
 rock and my shield, and my sword ! I have 
 
 vanquished ! " said the pale chief of the Craws, 
 
 his spider limbs scarce bearing him up as he 
 
 looked wistfully for sympathy into the face of 
 
 his social brother. 
 
 "An you have the three hunder in your 
 pocket 1 eh man, but this is good," asked the 
 schoolmaster as he wrung the hand of his 
 friend and stirred the heart of him to more 
 kindly warmth. 
 
 "Got," said Craw, "ye wouldna have Gawin 
 part wi' his life's blood to me." 
 
34 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 Then the humourist began to smoothe down 
 the horrors of practical defeat. He trudged 
 back; the master promising to follow him in a 
 quarter of an hour, when he had put his old 
 father to bed. 
 
 With the news of the reverses of fortune to 
 the Battleknowers, arose in the minds of many- 
 persons, opinions that the Craws must be in the 
 wrong. Such minds have existed before and 
 after the days of Job, and are more numerous 
 than those which have a genius for taking up 
 lost causes. Among the latter order of minds 
 was that of Joe Swinton, a young master- 
 drainer, who had been dejected for some days 
 with a cursed bashfulness which prevented his 
 calling at the farm to see the people whose 
 cause he espoused per fas et nefas. 
 
 The brave suffering woman, lying not 
 without hope at Battleknowe this Christmas 
 night, could not hear in the west wind's wail 
 the sigh over a once modest passion, quite 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 55 
 
 ■unknown to her, and the song of a generous 
 zeal for her salvation. But they went with 
 that wind from the drainer's cottage on the 
 hillside, as he looked forth to the Knowe 
 beside the golden sheen of his newly-thatched 
 roof. Oh, why could not he have plucked on 
 the slopes of the hiUs the wild thyme, the 
 daisies and soft purples, which the liberal shep- 
 herds gathered for the laps of the Phyllises 
 of the muirl Yea, the prolific pansies, the 
 yellow " belle of Bath " and " blue perfection " 
 of his own loved garden, which drew the soft 
 tears from his eyes each recurring June as 
 they reminded him of the old gardener at 
 Balquhidder, his father, now lying beside 
 cateran heroes in the brave kirkyard, why 
 should these have regularly shed their leaves 
 without the gaze of tenderer eyes than his 1 
 From these emotions, it may be guessed why 
 Joe had not already gone to Battleknowe. Oh, 
 the terrors for him of encountering that young 
 mother ! that babe, the innocent Dau'l ! 
 
36 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 Joe had recently been taken up with his 
 own martyrdom for opposing hrevi manu 
 the poinding of a widow of some eighty 
 winters. He had had no fears of the results 
 of interfering there, where gratitude took the 
 shape of many harmless old tears, and a pair* 
 of stockings which might even be tried on in 
 presence of the maker to ascertain if they were 
 a perfect fit. But tears of requital on the part 
 of young fair women required, he thought, 
 that they should by him be wiped away ; and 
 how should he be able to bear such a scene of 
 relaxed championship ? The giant would go 
 down and beat off the marauders, but in listen- 
 ing to the sighs of the unprotected beauty, 
 in handling, in the shape of soothing the 
 lately born babe, recompense for his chivalry, 
 he would be facing an ordeal more painful far 
 than the residence threatened in the widow's 
 case of durance vile. Joe quickly dressed 
 himself in his Sunday attire, including that 
 flaming crimson and green scarf, of which he 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 37 
 
 had hoped greater things than of his rosy manly- 
 face, long curly yellow hair, and stout limbs. 
 Then he stambled into Fergus White's, com- 
 panion of his labours and of his gayer hours. 
 Fergus was only to be asked to "Tibbie's," a 
 public-house close by the Battleknowe. That 
 invitation, to be quickly responded to, revealed 
 nothing. 
 
 Ferg's pretty sister Jean was at the moment 
 to bend to the reisiny fire her lily cheek ; 
 speechless, but with expression of pleased, 
 kindly surprise, which modest maidenhood so 
 weU wears at man's impetuous interruption 
 of her duties, she met Joe. 
 
 It was clear to Fergus, who saw a stout 
 cudgel behind Joe's back, that an enterprise 
 was in hand, and he judged rightly upon whose 
 account it was undertaken. " Yer the protec- 
 tor o' the weemen, Joe," said he. 
 
 " I'm kind o' wearied up yonder, Ferg," 
 he blurted out. A Jacobite under pretence of 
 a party of pleasure gathered one of war. A 
 
38 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 sudden sense of solitude on a Christmas night 
 was a pretty excuse for the speedy summons of a 
 jovial few to Tibbie's. But he stopped short. 
 Then he averted his face from Jean. Then 
 his heart beat ; and he took a sly glance 
 at the maid, and saw that her face was 
 glowing crimson — all at once — not yet over 
 the bright wood-fire which she quickly stirred. 
 She had failed to conceal a pride in Joe. 
 
 "Dang'd," cried Joe internally, as he made 
 out for the stars, enjoining Fergus to de- 
 spatch, " she's jist perfection ! " In his 
 philanthropic and military ardour, Joe had 
 unwittingly caught a mistress for his wan- 
 dering heart. He w^as no longer hampered 
 with idle fears. He slapped his leg ; beads 
 of perspiration broke over his brow, and his 
 own cheek was suffused with crimson beams. 
 The brave deserved the fair, and won her ! 
 And he walked briskly, and not less gently, 
 on to baulk the spuilzie, gathering more com- 
 panions in arms. 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 39 
 
 It was balm to the hurt mind of the name- 
 sake of the great captain to be waylaid for a 
 few minutes at Tibbie's. Fergus was warbling 
 some native and plaintive wood-note, wild 
 enough, as Wellesley and the schoolmaster 
 were brought in ; scouts having been sent 
 out on the turnpike to give notice of the 
 approach of the enemy from Pennyburn or 
 Barrelwell, the head town of the shire, from 
 which the myrmidons of the law would issue 
 forth. Cries of "Battleknowe for ever," "Here's 
 a health to thee, Craw," "Well done, old fellow," 
 made dim pain yield to visible delight in the 
 grey eyes of the litigant. The strong voice 
 of the emotional drainer, with a can of punch 
 in his hand, toasting him as " a right good 
 friend," made him shake mostly with sus- 
 pense of some coming glory. He was easily 
 pleased ; real kindness charmed away his 
 senses when he was told they would all 
 " stand by him to the death." That night, 
 he informed the party, firstly, that it was 
 
40 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 the proudest moment of bis life, and secondly, 
 that they should meet him quam primum for 
 further refection, deliberation, and defence 
 at the Mons Capitolinus, by which place he 
 was understood to mean the barn of the 
 steading, which stood on particularly elevated 
 ground. In it, on a happier day, he had given 
 a great feast (after a Eoman fashion the best 
 Latin scholar thereabout might think). This 
 night- it could scarcely provide a can of milk 
 or a peck of meal ; but what of that 1 "There's 
 nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so." 
 Gibb delighted in pleasantry, and was never sa- 
 tisfied unless there was some nonsense going on. 
 "The degeueeracy of the ege is astoneesheeng," 
 cried he, " they qneet negleect the bottle " — 
 remembering a character of the drama, in a 
 phase not unlike his own. " Bring Gawin to 
 our feast — let the beesiness of life go sweetly 
 and meerilee, as it will eef een spired by the 
 good fellowship promoted by our right barley 
 bree — when eet is weeth us, not when we 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE, 41 
 
 become stale by its departure." There was in 
 that man's merry, careless soul, never lost to 
 himself or intemperate, a dread of that grave 
 futurity of which his education had taught him 
 to hope so much. The wag in hurried succession 
 drank to the memory of the hero of Waterloo, 
 and to the grandchild just born. Wellesley 
 had forgot his pains still more eflPectually in 
 his intoxication with these attentions when 
 the doctor appeared. 
 
 Horatio was worse — perhaps dying. Officers 
 and plain men were on their way to effect the 
 ejection. The party rose, every face flushed 
 with rage but Swinton's. It was proposed to 
 procure guns, drive the men back to the 
 Burgh and throw Macllwraith into his own 
 duck-pond. " Gentlemen," said Joe, who had 
 scarcely tasted of the potent liquors liberally 
 placed by him at the disposal of the party, 
 " I'm a law-biding citizen of this reealum and 
 use morell swayshun." It was problematical 
 whether the captain of the band would not 
 
42 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 have shown himself to be only physically 
 strong too, had he not loved. The new " per- 
 fection " kept steady the genial current. 
 
 Within the Mons Capitolinus it behoved 
 Joe to decide how best he would act worthily 
 of the cause, and of the loftiness of its treat- 
 ment which he had so righteously imagined. 
 He felt brave with only war before him. 
 Within the house, in the candlelight, he 
 would be sure, even in the solemnity and 
 sadness reigning there, to blunder ridicu- 
 lously in his high office of defender of the 
 weak and innocent. Wee Dan'l would be 
 committed to his arms, and render them 
 powerless — the young mother would lean 
 upon him and he would tremble. Without, 
 he could amply play Sir William Wallace, and 
 strike a terror by an attitude, without words, 
 such as he remembered the portraits of Messrs 
 Kean and Macready to have done to him on 
 thin pasteboard in their characters of Eich- 
 mond and the hero of Scotland. There might 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 43 
 
 be much power in an attitude, and Joe 
 strode about in the barn as Sir William — Sir 
 William speechless, for when he sought words 
 there came but the speech of Tim Todd the 
 tinman, hero of " The Blasted Bud of Elfin 
 Woods," or on the " Wolf's Prowl," the fa- 
 vourite tale of the "Penny Burly Journal" 
 which had helped to supersede the fine swell- 
 ing sentences of the older literature, concerned 
 only with noble heroes. Tim had the follow- 
 ing : " Midnight marauder, doubled - dyed 
 villain, rapscallion ! foul not the fair things 
 of heaven with polluted hands. Harm but 
 a hair, or by yon ever living moon (that 
 ever living moon was good and something 
 after the old style), thou diest on the ger-een 
 se-M'ard (so was that). Elsie, my soul's solder 
 to this cracked life \ " Nothing was to be 
 made of the teaching of the language of men 
 —beyond the Lohilmuir— by "The Blasted 
 Bud," It was not possible to borrow its elo- 
 quence to render chaste the hearts of Sheriff- 
 
44 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 officers. It seemed, put to the test, wild and 
 mean. Yet words were used everywhere 
 from the Senate to the field of war with 
 effect — to reason and persuade and move to 
 tears. In " The Woman Slayer : or the Toils 
 of Duke Dastardado," which was a tale of 
 high life beyond the Lohilmuir — speech had 
 reformed an obstinate poacher who had in 
 turn reformed by moral persuasion the Duke 
 Dastardado. Much was said in it about 
 " Polydorus laid," " murderers' scowls," " unna- 
 tural monsters," " fatteners on crime," " beau- 
 teous child," " loved Hermione," phrases 
 which seemed not inappropriate to the situa- 
 tion ; and as something eloquent must be 
 said, in place of that something powerful 
 which the new recruit to the realms of 
 mind had been hitherto accustomed to do, Joe 
 did not see that he could address the coming 
 enemy without the aid of a word or two from 
 the poacher in Dastardado. He had misgiving 
 of his ability to fulfil the office he had under- 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 45 
 
 taken just when advised the enemy was at 
 hand. 
 
 The officers were coming up the road 
 within a few yards of the house. " Eabble- 
 hounds, midnight marauders," forsooth ! 
 
 " Ye'll tak a dram, offishers ! " said Joe, 
 with a well-filled bottle in one hand and a 
 bright glass in the other. 
 
 He drew his lips about with slow tempting 
 humour, and his eyes twinkled as they sought 
 to anticipate the unspoken answer of the 
 men in the affirmative. 
 
 The request in itself was concerned only 
 with a mouthful of strong drink, but the 
 certain answer silently entailed a good recep- 
 tion to Joe's endeavour after eminence of 
 command among men. 
 
 "There's fivver in the hoose — very bad — 
 verra," said Joe, as the glass was returned to 
 him by the first man. 
 
 That man, the prominent features of whose 
 appearance were a billycock hat and an eye of 
 
46 THE LAST SPtJILZIE 
 
 which the observer remained doubtful whether 
 it saw or was in a perpetual state of wink 
 in the closing stage, struck a match on Joe's 
 sleeve and protected the burning brimstone 
 beneath Joe's nose. 
 
 " Ye'U wait till the mornin', may be," said 
 the pleader, as the second officer, having 
 emptied his glass, croaked away many criti- 
 cisms of men and things entirely by the aid 
 of an adjective which the usurper, of the 
 house of Cawdor, used very forcibly when he 
 assigned the cause of his vision of the stained 
 dagger. 
 
 The fourth man (as the third drank, with a 
 deliberate eye on the remaining contents of 
 the quart bottle) who possessed a figure of 
 unnatural litheness, due probably to an unre- 
 munerative justice, tossed over Joe's head a 
 great tuber, which it was the lithe man's 
 humour to catch within a few inches of Joe's 
 face. 
 
 " By golly," cried the lithe man. If they 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 47 
 
 siiig at gravemaking, they may grin at a 
 spuilzie. 
 
 " Ye'll be nane the waur o' an eke," cried 
 Joe. The third man particularly seemed to 
 him to possess an infectious dulness of spirit 
 which it was reasonable to suppose did not 
 give way to sweet humours under a gill. 
 He seemed, be it confessed, restless for im- 
 provement. And the proposal was received 
 by all with sufficiently manifest approval. 
 
 "There's a soger (soldier) in the hoose," 
 Joe said, already knowing that the child 
 had been dedicated to the service of Her 
 Majesty in the army, and in a famous regi- 
 ment thereof. 
 
 The hoarse man croaked his favourite adjec- 
 tive and laughed loudly. The lithe man rolled 
 a barrow which uttered a plaintive, because 
 rusty, cry at intervals, sufficient to tickle a 
 conclave of cardinals. Cyclops again threw 
 doubt upon his title to the name. The dull 
 man took a step. 
 
48 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 " Oot wi' yer soger," growled he, speaking for 
 the first time, and therefore with authority. 
 
 Joe had borne their insolent playfulness 
 with marked patience, not from stolidity — for 
 he began by boiling internally with rage — but 
 from thankfuln ess and wisdom. The ne w " per- 
 fection," sympathy with "old Bell" andEashy, 
 the contrast of his own stalwart body with the 
 shrivelled forms before him, bore him up. But 
 it seemed as if when he was asked to bring 
 out the young soldier that all the glory of 
 his humanised nature was to perish for the 
 nonce, because his hand was unaccustomed 
 to child lifting. Joe, with almost pitiful fear 
 depicted on his honest face as the men looked 
 into it, said — " The soger's — the soger's — by 
 tbe holy poker," a favourite phrase of Joseph's 
 restrained but boiling warmth, " the soger's 
 a suckling, he's at the mother's breast!" 
 
 There was a roar of laughter, hearty human 
 laughter, from a body of men becoming di- 
 vested of all sense of quarrel. 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 49 
 
 "By golly!" cried the lithe man leaping; 
 the hoarse man spoke his adjective, in use 
 for all states of mind ; Cyclops threw further 
 doubts of his belonging to the Cyclopean 
 brood ; the dull man took a step and 
 returned. 
 
 Then a noise proceeded from the barn. The 
 officers were seen from that quarter not to 
 move oflf, and Fergus, having read history, 
 and just learned from Joe of the "Ac'" 
 anent the deforcement of messengers, resolved 
 upon making the men afraid. But chiefly 
 from that strong sense of security which doth 
 hedge a sheriff-officer, the myrmidons of the 
 law did not budge ; yet they were about won. 
 
 Won they, but for the impetuosity of the 
 reserve forces. The men within the barn 
 caught sight of the Macllwraith men behind 
 it; and it is not in human nature come to 
 fight an enemy to be idle with its enemy 
 by. Both parties came with a rush, and as- 
 sailed the door of the tenant's house. 
 
50 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 Meanwhile mthin the sick-room the young 
 mother had lain watching for the approach 
 of the dreaded officers of the law, and eager 
 to be worthy of the birth that represented 
 to the world there was a new generation of 
 the blood of the heroic trooper. With the 
 suppressed sighs of the young mother, the 
 occasional groans of the grandam, and the cries 
 of the child, there mingled continually now 
 the ravings of the dying farmer. 
 
 " Eetem," he muttered, still upon his stolen 
 effects, — "eetem ten-scoops, four an' sax. 
 Will, man, yer roch ; there's more than a 
 glimmer o' sense in ye ; ye're crouse (spirited), 
 but we maun a' bend," — dwelling upon the 
 conduct of a refractory ploughboy. 
 
 And then he would dream of his horses, 
 whose stables were empty of them, never to be 
 occupied again by Dinmont, and Star, and 
 Specky. " Be guid to the willing auld horse." 
 
 So this honest man, this "noblest work of 
 God," who loved his Bible and his wife (the 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE, 51 
 
 child he little knew), and had a ready- 
 hand for a neighbour, unambitious, simple, 
 laborious, perished simply of injustice. 
 
 He had thought (dreaming in delirium), of 
 the humblest of his late followers. I envy not 
 that man's heart who derides the honest fel- 
 low because in his calmer hours of illness he 
 thought not of himself. 
 
 The young mother heard the knocking at 
 the door, while Wellesley and the school- 
 master stood in the adjoining room. She 
 thought she heard above the noise a cry for 
 the appearance of her son. Hastily wrapping 
 the child in the martial cloak of its grand- 
 father, one of the ' articles yet safely guarded 
 from the clutch of Macllwraith, in an instant 
 she stood in the doorway. Her dark hair 
 falling over her back, and her pale face 
 showing the courage of just pride and indig- 
 nation, she with her head exposed confronted 
 the assailants. 
 
 "If ye seek my husband, Horatio." cried 
 
52 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 the brave woman, "he will be found beyond 
 my own corpse." 
 
 The scene was animated as a picture by 
 Wilkie. Not a foot stirred, nor was a voice 
 heard. 
 
 But the young soldier's head had not yet 
 come forth. The child had been asleep ; now, 
 perhaps, taking a liking to the keen air of 
 the muir, of which he had since his birth 
 only a polluted sample, he struggled up 
 through the mother's grasp. He gave a sharp 
 cry, not of pain ; and seeming to steal up 
 through the brass fastenings, he was thought 
 to thrust his little hand out towards the 
 door and hold it straight. This was the 
 grandson of the old Lieutenant. 
 
 All eyes were bent on the child, including 
 the namesake of the Great Duke, as if he — 
 Dan'l— had commanded there. The blood of 
 the peasants thrilled, for they all remembered 
 the dead warrior ; and into reverence, which 
 had no superstition in it, the humour of the 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 53 
 
 men passed at the strange odd movement of 
 the new posterity of the martial spirit, in the 
 third generation. The lithe man, who had in 
 the silence sounded two notes of his mocking 
 instrument, stopped ; the hoarse man drew 
 down his muffler ; the dull one changed his 
 stiff attitude for a bend at the side of the hero ; 
 and he of the doubtful eye raised no further 
 doubt concerning it, for all were sure he 
 saw. 
 
 For a kiss no man dared whisper ; but 
 there was a fight to shake the tiny hand 
 with good-will. If it had menaced, they were 
 ready to believe it now offered in friendship. 
 The memory of the hero of the great fight, . 
 the proud mother, a look, or a fancied one, in 
 the child, restrained every tittle of mocking 
 humour. It was delightful to see respect 
 and gleesome tenderness united in callous 
 executioners of the law before the least of 
 their intended victims. They each promised 
 offerings of relics of the heroic times. The 
 
54 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 hoarse man had a bullet at home extracted 
 from his great-grandfather's limb, on the side 
 of "Prince Charlie" at CuUoden ; and that 
 bullet seemed to the hoarse man somehow to 
 make him by descent companion-in-arms with 
 the animated bundle before him. Cyclops 
 informed the group of Battleknowers that his 
 uncle was a sergeant in the Black Watch. The 
 lithe man possessed the horse-pistol of a Spanish 
 colonel, which would be duly exhibited to the 
 boy. There was a look towards the dull man 
 to learn his connection with the military ; but 
 he had none, and was very sorrowful, groaning 
 audibly. 
 
 Wellesley took the child from the mother 
 as the officers and Pennyburners went down 
 the Knowe. " It's him ha' done it," he cried ; 
 "the Colonel ha' vanquished them." He looked 
 into the young soldier's face for a cry of exul- 
 tation. 
 
 But, either a warrior taking his rest, or one 
 of too lofty a temper tq exhibit exuberant' 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 55 
 
 rejoicing over the surrender of the foe, Daniel 
 lay still. 
 
 The fascination that made them lambs was 
 a secret happiness to all of these men, commonly 
 believed to be wolfish. The hoarse man spoke 
 and yet did not use his adjective. The party 
 knew then how moved he had been. The lithe 
 man dashed his tuber off in the direction of 
 Pennyburn. It was the only property on 
 the farm disturbed. The form of its seizure 
 and subsequent disposal relieved the mind of 
 the conscientious officer and the feelings of 
 the restless man. And the peasants of 
 Pennyburn, who had offered no relics of great 
 deeds, gave modest assurance of their interest 
 in the fortunes of the boy, whom they refused 
 to harm. The gean, the blaeberry, and the 
 bramble, the cushet and the wild rabbit of 
 their woods, the humble but ample provision 
 for childish joys at their command, would be 
 his. In time, the steeds of their stables for a 
 scamper on the muir would be vestdy for him, 
 
56 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 before he should bestride his own charger, like 
 his grandfather— for the goal of fame, like the 
 Great Jook's. 
 
 The noise without seemed to have awakened 
 the farmer from his fevered dream. But the 
 terrors of ejection were always present to him. 
 The wind rose angrily in the west, and brought 
 a pall of clouds over the moon. As it moaned 
 through the lifeless branches of the elms 
 round the steading, seeking out the recesses 
 of the sick-room, and then fell in the grow- 
 ing darkness, there rose a cry of agony, falling 
 after a little time into a soothed-like sigh. 
 The prostrate frame of the farmer shivered, 
 and the vital spark went out. There had 
 been no warrant in the natural constitution of 
 the man that he should so sicken and die. 
 
 This was the last spuilzie at Battleknowe. 
 A string of daisies in the hands of Dan'l 
 pleased, in little time, the regenerative 
 Wellesley as much as a process at law had 
 excited him. The healthy laughter of the 
 
AT battleknowb. 57 
 
 child was as sweet to him as the voices of 
 the Judges at advisings in the Inner House 
 had been once on a time. The young hero's 
 yearning cry at the sight of horses — grey ones 
 Wellesley took him to — brought a glow into 
 the cheeks of the middle-aged gentleman. 
 He wasn't grown sentimental over a baby. It 
 was lovely to see how healthily interested and 
 amused the old haunter of bars and jury- 
 rooms, and hunter of counsel and solicitors, 
 became over the young soldier. It was a 
 happiness he found in his weaker, poorer 
 days. Had he been strong and rich, the 
 lawyers, too, would still have seen him passion- 
 ate over injustice. So did worthy Wellesley, 
 as most of us do or try to do— graciously, gene- 
 rally unconsciously — hug what we are called to, 
 and do, like, and, with some show of sense, do 
 not whine over the past as necessarily given 
 to folly. It is not unlikely some good was 
 accomplished by the indignant man's war- 
 fare.. So let him play without much of our 
 
58 THE LAST SPUILZIE 
 
 moralising or his whining. Let the curtain 
 come down now over him and the child 
 falling asleep on his breast as he dreams still 
 of victory in days to come. 
 
 It is not always that Time brings about its 
 revenges with the unerring certainty ' de- 
 picted in "The Eake's Progress" and "The 
 Idle Apprentice." The burning torch and the 
 whip of scorpions were not applied to wound 
 very deeply him of Pennyburn or his. 
 
 A quarter of a century passed away, and 
 the intrepid officers of Africa receive homage 
 from their countrymen. In the burgh-town 
 of the Lohilmuir there is a banquet and a 
 ball, where a bronzed captain, born at the 
 Battleknowe, is the hero of the time. The 
 Lady of Pennyburn, young, fair, and without 
 a husband, trembles as she leans upon the 
 arm of the gallant soldier. But she sees him 
 soon leave her for another who bears the name 
 of Swinton. 
 
AT BATTLEKNOWE. 59 
 
 The scene changes to Battleknowe, and 
 the soldier is accompanied there by this 
 same fair damsel, daughter of the " eminent " 
 contractor. 
 
 The officer, with an effort at some gaiety, 
 drew his companion to him ere they turned 
 to leave the spot. There were tears there 
 for the story of the fatal night — sunshine for 
 the day just breaking. 
 
(60) 
 
 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF THE R 
 
 PEERAGE. 
 
 T SOUGHT Sandy Eedford, one fine early 
 autumn afternoon, beneath the elms of 
 Hillside, and in the shady lanes leading to 
 and from the retreats of peace-loving citizens 
 who affect the southern slopes of the city's 
 environs. I had heard it said that Sandy had 
 his eye on a great mansion there, to which he 
 intended bringing a bride. 
 
 It was the hour of leisure before dinner. 
 I was informed that the modest lawyer (he 
 being a member of a legal body) had just 
 returned home by way of Uddingston and 
 Holyrood to his house in St James Street. 
 
 I desired conference of my acquaintance 
 respecting the pedigree of a reputed descendant 
 of one Dugald Macpherson, a relative of Eed- 
 
LAST CLAIMANTS OF THE K PEERAGE. 61 
 
 ford's late mother, whose loves had somewhat 
 confused the vision of the proper branches 
 of the family-tree. I knew my friend to be 
 sensitive respecting connections given to loose- 
 ness of morals in their philoprogenitiveness ; 
 and I was glad to know I might meet him 
 in places rich with memories even of the 
 stern grandeur of his own ancestry. Would 
 he saunter over the cool, wavy grass sacred 
 to devout David, hero of the miraculous 
 cross ; within the shaded porticos of the 
 palace once familiar with the voices of merry 
 monarchs that would be still at a look from 
 
 E ; within reach of the " strange historic 
 
 aroma" of the old garden, coming now blended 
 with the odours of full-blossomed mignonette 
 
 and ripening oslin, but where an R ^^ was 
 
 never known to stoop to play the gallant 
 fool — Sandy Bedford might have one thought 
 in speaking of impure connections — a proud 
 Tegard of his own unsullied blood. His father, 
 whose only child now living he was, was 
 
62 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OP 
 
 claimant of the great Earldom of K — — , in 
 abeyance for more than a century. The 
 estates of the family had fifteen years ago 
 been the subject of a long and costly litiga- 
 tion, which might yet be renewed. 
 
 On my way down the Canongate — the Ked- 
 fords, father and son, still living oflf it in St 
 James Street — I was reminded, in thinking 
 of the blood of the turbulent Earls slumber- 
 ing in the veins of a scrivener (but a few 
 years ago a managing clerk), that Time was 
 challsDged to lay low the giant edifices of the 
 old nobility. It is the habit to point the 
 moral that by reason of their great strength 
 they have been put to base uses. But I do 
 not know, after all, that these uses are so 
 base, and that we need to grow melancholy 
 over the substitution of corduroy for em- 
 broidered coats, of occasional barefeet and 
 clogs for high-heeled shoes and gold buckles. 
 I know that this afternoon, with the clear 
 beams of old Sol resting on, and giving a 
 
THE R . PEERAGE. 63 
 
 calm content to, the grey stones, as here and 
 there, too, in the small high windows stands a 
 geranium, or sits piping in cage a lark or 
 bullfinch, I will not believe that in the throng, 
 savage sometimes, and illiterate generally, as 
 it looks, there are not some hearts as true, and 
 demonstrations of their warmth and humour as 
 interesting, as in the days of the kings. I am 
 not to be led away simply by the magic of old 
 names, magnificence of costume, and the fame 
 of the world, into forgetfulness of the beauty 
 and the humour of the obscure and the present. 
 Moi que vous parle have not been drenched 
 with my own tears over the story of Queen 
 Mary ; yet as I see now issuing from Macgrow- 
 ther's Close Mary O'Grady or Mary Sullivan, 
 a young Irish widow, tearful over the bier of 
 her husband, who has probably ill-used her 
 often, I confess to thrills of sympathy and 
 admiration. There is a true lovelieness here, 
 which, according to some historians, could not 
 always be credited to its real foundations in 
 
64 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 the case of some princesses who have swept by 
 in these places in other times with their great 
 trains. I like generally to feel with the present. 
 I have no concern with the banquets of Both- 
 well, and his hose " passemented with silver," 
 and doublet of black satin ; and do not 
 believe that the turbulent chiefs, making 
 "bands" not to be kept, enjoyed themselves 
 at all over the venison and sack. Tim Todd 
 is skipping by me, cripple yet strong enough, 
 his complexion clear with good-humoured tem- 
 perance : it is afternoon, but I suspect he carries 
 his breakfast ; two immense " bakes " peep out 
 of a paper swinging in one hand, and a 
 small parcel of red-herring obtrude their rich 
 colours out of a wrapper in the other. I 
 follow the " wretch " in fancy, yet scarcely with 
 pity, as I see his fine hunger, in the appeasing 
 of which there will be a glow of the entire 
 man, heart and intellect. I would rather sit 
 down with simple Tim than have been one of 
 the guests at the wedding-feast "stood" by the 
 
The R PEERAGE, 65 
 
 Earl opposite on the day that the Marquis of 
 Montrose passed the balcony on his way to 
 doom. Persons of rank discredited their 
 humanity there on that day. A crowd of 
 urchins, pained with the difficulties of learn- 
 ing, shout and clatter about this Moray House. 
 Three children are pacing the causeway before 
 it, and are unconsciously performing a pretty 
 scene in their life's drama, while I shudder 
 at recollection of the inhumanity of a Mar- 
 chioness. The boys, anticipating the autumn 
 nights, have commenced their game of hide- 
 and-seek; but the middle one is weak and 
 deformed. With what brave kindness the 
 elder companion seizes the cripple's hand ; with 
 what delicate considerateness the younger of 
 the three, but yesterday a babe, tries to assist his 
 weaker playmate without wounding his sensi- 
 tiveness ! Melancholy need not entirely possess 
 us, as we muse amid these cast-off residences 
 of old nobles. We may, .if it does not, reserve 
 a better admiration for their descendants. I 
 
66 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 wish, however, that Queensberry House were 
 still before me the residence of wit and beauty 
 (though I am not sure that both may not still be 
 found there), though Gay is not warbling the 
 theme at the tavern over the way. It is now the 
 refuge of men and women destitute of bread. 
 Gratitude, resignation, peace, must be accepted 
 for bright eyes and flashes of soul ; and we 
 must seek elsewhere for these latter com- 
 modities, of the refined order at aU events. 
 In the thoroughfare, where passed in olden 
 times the pageantries which alarmed by their 
 magnificence the Frenchman and the Spaniard, 
 I delight to think there was much beauty and 
 wit ; but for the mere show of the princely 
 masqueraders and the noble assemblers at 
 joust, I am content with the substitute of 
 Cook or Hengler. Nay, doubtless, with the 
 local giantess or the fat boy — ^for the present 
 the showy attractions of the place — if one had 
 but on hand the necessary homely spirits and 
 aptitude, an interesting half-hour might be 
 
THE K PEERAGE. 67 
 
 spent. The commodities of merchandise ex- 
 posed to view have mostly seen service, but 
 yet have redeeming features. What though 
 a pair of tongs, which, after having brought a 
 refractory relative to submission, are put to 
 " Uncle's " to raise a shilling, succeeds the 
 Toledo blade of the armourer ? The blade pro- 
 bably did the most injustice. The refections 
 of the quarter, to continue the catalogue of 
 objects which caught my attention, passing 
 over some vulgar merchandise, included im- 
 mense quantities of black geans. How often 
 had my boyish mouth watered at the sight of 
 these innocent fruits of the forest hanging 
 wild on the taU branches ; and now here for 
 a penny I am supplied with more than I ever 
 gathered with the most determined climb ! I 
 am back again to Birnam Wood, a boy once 
 more, with the aid of these little black cherries ; 
 and so, under the spell of this trifle, I am 
 engaged with personal reminiscences — " a 
 poor thing, but mine own " — and am before 
 
68 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 the palace in forgetfulness of the vicissitudes of 
 a place for which I can now summon less senti- 
 ment than for the scenes of modern life I have 
 just witnessed — wishing, indeed, that chivalry 
 and poetry, for which its kings were famed, 
 were still there, agreeable with the security and 
 happiness of the people — my democratic friend. 
 Not disposed to venerate Sandy Redford 
 simply on account of his ancestors, I was the 
 readier to appreciate his own merits. Meet- 
 ing him once in the town hall of his 
 native place, I was shown the portrait of an 
 ancestor, with an account of his skull, ycleped 
 " harne-pan." The Earl seemed a dull rogue ; 
 and I was convinced, as I sat for an hour with 
 his descendant in the Eed Lion — a simple, 
 honest, learned soul, then of no account in 
 any circle whatever — that the descendant, who 
 could besides show an equally large "harne- 
 pan," was the greater of the two. Now for 
 the last two years he had been in a position of 
 importance, and one which gave him fortune, 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 69 
 
 he having succeeded to a business which lay 
 chiefly in the management of the estates and 
 financial concerns of country gentlemen, and 
 was worth a few thousands a year. I could 
 not imagine Sandy buoying himself to self-asser- 
 tion, as greater men have done under similar 
 circumstances. He was not one, I believed, to 
 cry, in the busy haunts of men and fashion, " By 
 my faith, I've plucked up since then, and will 
 let them know my weight." He would rather 
 continually dwell with his Montaigne, or smile 
 over the humours of Tristram Shandy and 
 Jack FalstafF, than strive for a consideration 
 whose worthlessness he knew, and could not 
 value at a pin's fee. 
 
 His father, old Robert Bedford, who was 
 nearly eighty years of age, was a man of an- 
 other stamp. His passion was to compel 
 recognition of his claims to rank, wealth, and 
 distinction. The Court of Session and House 
 of Lords had hitherto refused to give him 
 rank and wealth ; the public withheld the 
 
70 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 grant of distinction. It is hard, when we are 
 truly peers, large owners of the soil, and great 
 men, to be without the substance of the honours 
 which birth and nature have conferred upon 
 us ; and under such circumstances some irasci- 
 bility towards persons of insensibility may be 
 permitted. I had heard of a local man of 
 dough, possessed of some houses in the Canon- 
 gate, which he had acquired by hard thrift, 
 going to the claimant to compassionate and. 
 counsel, and returning with his nasal organ 
 somewhat impaired by his interview with the 
 descendant of the master of princes. It was 
 rumoured that, at a recent banquet at which 
 lords and ladies sat on a raised platform, he 
 and his son being shoved into a corner, that 
 he broke a willow-pattern plate — base, " orra " 
 utensil — over the pate of a waiter. The tales 
 were common of his self-assertion. He fre- 
 quently communicated with Burke and Debrett, 
 and his brother peers, to secure their recogni- 
 tion ; but I never heard that he was designed 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 71 
 
 as Earl of R , except in a twopenny alma- 
 nac in the burgh close by his farm, which it 
 was suspected had been published by himself. 
 Yet there seemed to some lawyers no doubt of 
 his propinquity to the last peer. The injured 
 flyleaf of a family Bible stood between him 
 and greatness, it was said. The world was 
 ready to worship if this leaf were only clear. 
 But it was confoundedly obscure ; and Eobert 
 Bedford was not seen by and known of men, 
 and did not dwell in a castle, was not styled 
 my lord, and had no satellites and hangers-on 
 of his nobility and greatness, because of the 
 instability of ink! 
 
 Was it possible that the time was coming 
 when it might be said of the soft and peaceful 
 Sandy too, as had been said of the self-assertive 
 and vigorous gentleman his father, Perustus 
 inani gloria f As I now approached him in 
 the Park, I saw tliat his dress was particularly 
 gay, while he seemed lost in thought, of more 
 concern than accounts of charge and discharge 
 
72 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 miglit excite. I had observed, on the part of 
 my modest acquaintance, a practice of securing 
 a load blast from his nose when alarmed by the 
 necessity of making a demand upon the atten- 
 tion of others. The sound emitted now in a 
 great bandana, in which he for a minute almost 
 buried his face, was in excess of the usual 
 vigour. I accordingly fancied I had been en- 
 gaging the thought of the worthy gentleman, 
 and expected a communication from him. We 
 proceeded together to St James Street. 
 
 We passed the houses famed of Smollett and 
 Monboddo. Here, with rather faltering step 
 and subdued mein, some syllables of powerful 
 rhyme struggled upon the lips of my com- 
 panion : 
 
 " Fair Burnet strikes the adoring eye, 
 Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine ; 
 I see the sire of love on high. 
 And own his worli indeed divine." 
 
 Was my bachelor friend determined on play- 
 ing the lover's part, and begun to practise 
 before my humble self, and even incurring pain 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 73 
 
 to let me see he could be concerned with the 
 poet's fine amative frenzy ? 
 
 Seated at his table over the Chateau Mar- 
 gaux, I was informed that a long line of ances- 
 tors commanded him to go forward. 
 
 " A plague on your ancestors !" I exclaimed 
 mentally, incredulity escaping from my coun- 
 tenance as I put down my glass with a 
 faint smile. The speech was that of a man 
 whose going forward might bring ruin, cer- 
 tainly sorrow, with it. 
 
 I saw the pangs of the resolve in his dimi- 
 nished cheek and watering eye. 
 
 " But," said he, his face brightening, " 'tis to 
 please my father." Then, with a humour a 
 trifle too faint to mark its possessor as quite 
 robust with it, he went on: " My fate cries 
 out ! Besides, I am ill at my father always 
 acting Schahzaman. I must marry. I must 
 devote myself now for a time to the tender 
 passion" (drinking a glassful of the Chateau 
 Margaux to agitate the placid blood) ; " and 
 
74 THE LAST CLAIMAHTS OP 
 
 then we must prosecute the claims for the 
 peerage, which my father was obliged to aban- 
 don for want of funds." 
 
 It was probably the first time in his life 
 that Sandy Bedford announced his intention of 
 doing anything particularly great for himself. 
 Self-sustained characters with a design upon 
 the world will generally have it a great 
 one. Sandy had not resolved vaguely to 
 " put it right ; " but for a quarter of a 
 century having sought no more from it than 
 the liberty to " wear out his time " " for pro- 
 vender," he one day called out for a peer's 
 daughter to woo her, and a coronet for his own 
 head. It appeared that his father "must 
 have blood ; " and he was in treaty for the 
 hand of a daughter of his client, my Lord 
 Baggerton. I was asked to assist him in the 
 treaty. 
 
 This sudden burst of resolve to be greatly 
 active, and to spring at a leap into rank, caused 
 me particular consternation. Did the Gover- 
 
THE R- PEERAGE. 75 
 
 nor of Queensberry House now design that 
 the beauties of the English Court should be 
 put up in his residence, and that the 
 Laureate should be brought down to ce- 
 lebrate their charms in fitting rhyme, I 
 could not have been more surprised. All 
 about the lawyer indicated that he himself 
 had sought nothing of Time except that he 
 should not be disturbed. Here he was with 
 a handsome income, living in a street un- 
 known to fashion ; its appearance and furni- 
 ture were the same as they had been forty 
 years before ; for Sandy had bought the 
 whole concern off the hands of the genteel 
 keeper of the lodging-house with whom he 
 had boarded for twenty years. Mahogany, 
 maple, and fir were thinned and worn with age. 
 My host had to readjust the legs of a table 
 whicb nearly fell at my feet, and upon which I 
 had incautiously leant as I stroked a large 
 sleeping tom-cat catching above the pile of 
 papers on it the rays of the afternoon sun. 
 
76 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 The cliair on which I sat demanded tender- 
 ness. The kindly touch of the proprietor for 
 all long-familiar created and manufactured 
 things was visible everywhere, uncrossed by 
 hazardous inroad of novelty. The flaws and 
 weaknesses even of these objects of daily 
 interest were dear to him, no doubt. The 
 halt in the tick of the old solemn eight-day 
 clock, the creak from the rusty door-hinges, 
 the cracks in the wall, the scratched window- 
 panes, the dingy " garden-of-roses " wall-paper, 
 all gave him a species of delight. I could 
 not now imagine my host seated among the 
 new, bright, garish wares of the upholsterer of 
 the day. And this was he — that same he who 
 was for leading to the altar a lady of rank and 
 fashion ! to please his father no doubt. I prayed 
 there might be nothing but comedy in this 
 drama of devotion to a parent's cause. 
 
 My host informed me, with a smile that 
 disowned the speech and acknowledged the 
 humblest of God's creatures as his equal. 
 
THE E PEERAGE, 17 
 
 that never in their depression had the Eed- 
 fords been allied with "gutter blood." But 
 no sooner had the last heir of the proud race 
 informed me of this circumstance, than two 
 lads somewhat mud-stained in their lower 
 attire, who happened to be allies of my friend, 
 popped into the room. We both laughed, and 
 Sandy gave them a couple of oslins as they 
 stood grinning at us. It appeared they got 
 once a week a lesson on the fiddle in this 
 apartment, and finding the door open, had 
 rushed in to commence operations with their 
 teacher, who was accustomed to spend an 
 hour after dinner with these hearty boy, sons 
 of poor tradesmen of the Canongate, While 
 I was reflecting upon this custom of an after- 
 noon, in- connection with what might be 
 expected in the drawing-room of my Lord 
 Baggerton's daughter, a cabinetmaker in 
 moleskins, and a poor bookseller who pur- 
 veyed for the meagre demands of the quarter, 
 further invaded the room, and were asked 
 
78 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 to sit down and take a glass of port- wine. 
 The one had a piece of carved-work, in the 
 design of which Eedford had assisted ; while 
 the other wished legal advice for nothing — and 
 washed down with cordials — regarding the 
 purchase of a small library of an Irishman 
 jnst deceased, whose executors were for disre- 
 garding the Inland Eevenue and the Com- 
 missary. Though deeds of kindness are 
 amongst the employments of rank and fashion, 
 the great do not usually seek companions in 
 the humble ; and I saw that Alexander Eed- 
 ford had more than commonly so done. 
 
 It had always seemed to me Sandy would 
 rather fly to the aroma of a garden of flowers 
 in a spring-shower than meet the melting of a 
 woman's eye. In a favoured nearness to that 
 exciting orb, his delicate and apprehensive 
 fancy might discover a train of a thousand 
 succeeding mishaps. He would gaze into the 
 dim religious light of an old cathedral, into 
 the retreating landscape of summer or the 
 
THE E PEERAGE. ■ 79 
 
 mirk of autumn woods, than wait on the hour 
 of her melancholy or chase the gathering 
 gloom of her brow. He would watch the larks 
 seeking the heavens with merry song, the lamb 
 playing in the paddock, or hear the prattle of 
 children in his old street, than think of becoming 
 rich and happy with descendants. Yea, might 
 not unrelenting bachelorhood (in the case of 
 one who loved all change so little) find delight 
 enough in the varying humours of the tough 
 old man, his father — apparently destined to 
 falsify the observation that aU men must die 
 — not hazard his tranquil joys with the frip- 
 peries of the sex 1 Not for want of affection, 
 but in fear of dragging it from its rest, setting 
 it in new and untried places, might he 
 tremble ; in action he would pale with sad 
 misgivings of its insulficiency or the burden 
 of the seeming necessity of its just and con- 
 tinued distributions. 
 
 The great traditional ancestor of the Red- 
 fords was a Culdee ; and I could discern that, 
 
80 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 deep in the character of this nineteenth-cen- 
 tury man of facts and figures, was a love of 
 monastic life. He would have delighted to 
 sing the matins at midnight, to chant the 
 canonical hours ; to haunt the hospices for pil- 
 grims and strangers, and talk with bronzed 
 travellers of Holy Land and perilous adven- 
 ture ; to treat the lonely wanderer of his own 
 land with kindness, and be recompensed with 
 the kindling eye of the beggar ; to work out 
 the delicate tracery of the magnificent pile in 
 which he dwelt; to indulge his healthy 
 stomach and social heart in the hall with his 
 equally - contented fellows, feeding ofi" the 
 "wedders," and "marts," and salmon, oflfer- 
 ings of nobles and the produce of their own 
 lands and fishings — the beloved " braes " and 
 rivers of his country. By heaven, I do the good 
 man's memory no wrong to write of him as he 
 was ; but I might think so, here, when I re- 
 member Bedford as he was at rapt moments. 
 That same evening on which we had a tankard 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 8 1 
 
 o£the modest home-brewed at the Eed Lion, 
 did he not transport me into the world of 
 dreams, and back four centuries, as, sitting at 
 midnight, while the moon was sinking, amid 
 the ruins of the ancient abbey, I heard him 
 sing in deep rich bass, sounding among the 
 stones, some lines of an evening-hymn 1 This 
 was his lost element ; and thinking of it, the 
 jangling substitute of the nineteenth century, 
 concerned with compts, and reckonings, and 
 theories, mighit seem a waste only. 
 
 There were none but the humblest (who 
 came to seek, yet with appreciation beyond the 
 gift) visiting St James Street in former days. 
 Sandy did not attract men of the world now. 
 The insinuations of his gentle humour were t© 
 them tame and feminine. Nor did the out- 
 ward man please them. His head was large, 
 and his simple, kindly face M'as massive ; the 
 nose, its prominent feature, inclining to the 
 Wellington pattern : but his legs and feet 
 were short, thin, and soft — not ungainly — not 
 
82 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 even those unpretending feet, encased in 
 crumpled shoes with upturned points. These 
 lower parts expressed humility ; and humility 
 to the mass being meanness and insignificance, 
 the last heir of the Master of Princes, foUed 
 by poor ink, had been avoided. (Now, it was 
 true, that he had grown rich, he had to avoid 
 company which would have forced itself upon 
 him.) I, who — the power is not uncommon 
 — can sometimes see some beauty in a dis- 
 carded and derided thing, could not disasso- 
 ciate the gentle and unaggressive character of 
 my acquaintance with these humble feet. I 
 had testimonies in them that their owner was 
 without guile ; and I acquired an affection 
 for them, these insignificant feet with the 
 crumpled shoes and upturned points. I did 
 not need to forget them, and look onlj^ on the 
 dark-blue surtout, fitting well the ample and 
 well-proportioned back of my acquaintance, 
 the managing clerk, and on the linen of fine 
 and spotless purity — specially admired of the 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 83 
 
 ladies of the corps de la cuve who congregated 
 near his quarters — when we passed the statue 
 of His Grace the Duke of Wellington, and met 
 the dandies of Princes Street arming to the 
 Academy of the Fine Arts. If it might be 
 said of Sandy that he scarcely " conformed to 
 the march of time," but was " dragged along 
 in the procession," as a pleasing variation he 
 was to me all the more welcome. 
 
 After the tradesmen had been dismissed, I was 
 informed it was now the hour for the father of 
 my host making his appearance after his nap. 
 
 The coming of Robert Bedford was made 
 quite unmistakeable by the noise of his tread, 
 his shoes being double the weight of other 
 men's. He also beat down on the floor at 
 every seeond step the point of a heavy oak 
 cudgel, which, variously named " Bug-exter- 
 minator" and "Censor," was designed to 
 operate as physical and moral medicine to 
 pestiferous creatures and heedless scoundrels. 
 Having no well - meditated command of the 
 
84 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 e^r of the world — indeed, none now of any 
 kind — lie adopted the only means in his 
 power to make it acquainted with his move- 
 ments ; but as nobody lived below his dwell- 
 ing, it may be supposed that the old gentle- 
 man must be satisfied with the semblance of 
 his proclamation. His sense of importance 
 was never pleased without daily inquiries at 
 the servant about callers and letters for him- 
 self, which but seldom came. To-day there 
 had been a visitor ; the daughter of the cab- 
 driver who had long driven him and his 
 cudgel about the Queen's Park and suburbs 
 came to inform "the fare" that her father had 
 died yesterday. While resenting the impu- 
 dence of the supposition that he could attend 
 the funeral — being a determined stickler for 
 all the formal honours due to rank — he re- 
 solved to follow to the tomb the remains of 
 one who had done him the favour to precede 
 him in death, as in life Jehu, on the box of a 
 creaking four-wheeler, had so behaved. 
 
THE K PEERAGE. 85 
 
 When he saw me, he was already looking 
 to see somehow in my presence signs of ful- 
 filment of his hopes. Then, after he had 
 shaken hands with me, and had a hint of 
 the main purpose with which I was brought 
 there, he threw himself down on the sofa, 
 and said, with a strange aflFection, too, in the 
 humorous sally — 
 
 " Sandy's back'ard ! " 
 
 Thus he intimated, with extreme and sud- 
 den candour, the scepticism of the loving but 
 anxious sire. 
 
 I saw it was a languid day with him— a 
 day in which the mind clings softly to the 
 gentle consolations, and avoids the assertion 
 of its native energies. It was not a censorious 
 day with the old campaigner ; he had been 
 ill with a vertigo. Like a child possessed 
 by its one much -fondled fancy, yet con- 
 scious somehow of the absurdity of thrust- 
 ing it forth, he asked doubtingly for a sign 
 
86 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 that liis prayer was granted. " Sandy's 
 back'ard ! " 
 
 The small grey eyes of the old one opened 
 and shut in playfulness as the younger man 
 stood over him. 
 
 .. " He's eccentric, Eobert Eedford," said 
 Sandy. "He worked hard for me — very 
 hard — when young ; and now that he cheers 
 me in his riper years, he wishes to separate 
 from me — he wishes to be gone." 
 
 Father and son were not like each other 
 in appearance. The sharp, decisive, and 
 fine - gentleman look in the countenance of 
 the retired farmer of Leyside was a con- 
 trast to the broad, serious face of his son. 
 It was clear the sire had lived not on placid 
 contemplations, but on the activities of pas- 
 sion — of love and hate ; hate too much, 
 for the application of the tender passion 
 was now confined to love of his son, while 
 he hated not a few of the vile things of earth. 
 Towards Sandy his manners were generally 
 
THE K PEERAGE. 87 
 
 soft and tender. In his society, or thinking 
 of him, the world wore its sunnier aspects — ■ 
 its beauty and calm ; with Sandy beside him, 
 flowers bloomed for his delight, the birds 
 sang their morning carol, and the evening- 
 hymn of praise might be heard in the old- 
 fashioned dwelling even in the cricket's cry. 
 They were simple lovers of nature, and, 
 linked together, there was no tragedy in their 
 loving hearts ; and a midnight cockcrow or 
 an owl's shriek would be noted in their 
 solitary lives not for superstitious alarm, 
 but in pleasantness and with jest and 
 merry allusion, as such trifles cause in simple, 
 leisurely households. Men — strong men — he 
 had struck and stung. Eobert Radford was 
 not a wasp, and had, not being mean, 
 escaped extinction, but he could never 
 succeed. He could see only one thing at 
 a time ; and when he saw a man doing 
 wrong, he had no sense of the difficulties of 
 rishteousness, or of his own errors, but smote 
 
88 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 as if he were a prophet. Opponents readily 
 found a justification of their severe retalia- 
 tions, and he easily fell a prey to the labour 
 of the adroit specialists in the business of 
 the world. He was formidable so far, that — 
 having no light humour for his enemies, and 
 no vanities which common men might prey 
 upon — he never compromised ; nothing con- 
 ciliated him ; and his work of redress would 
 be prolonged to the millennium, were there 
 not nature to cut it short. He had now 
 fought for fifty years and more, and throve in 
 his bodily health on the warfare. As Caesar 
 looked to a dose of campaigns to relieve his 
 sick body, Bedford's vision of new succession- 
 processes with his old enemies brought the 
 colour of middle age back to his wan, aged 
 cheek. 
 
 " ' Fair Burnet strikes the adoring eye,' says 
 Sandy to me," the sire went on when his son 
 had left the room. " ' Which of them,' says I, 
 ' Jane or Artemisia V 'I am wedded to Robert 
 
THE E, — PEERAGE. 89 
 
 Eedford/ says he. Stuff ! when a man's fathers 
 go back to Kenneth Macalpine, he weds them 
 best by doing it through a beautiful and fine- 
 blooded Artemisia. Ah ! Sandy's back'ard ! " 
 
 I suggested there was yet time. A dark 
 shadow passed over the old man's face. 
 
 " Time ! If my weary bones were laid in 
 the old ground there, he'd never do't. As long 
 as I live he cajoles me — he plays with me 
 — when he should be cajoled by Artemisia. 
 Lord bless you ! when I open my eyes i' the 
 mornin', there he is, like an Adonis ; but where's 
 Venus ? I'm his Venus — I, his old, done 
 father. I say, 'God bless you, Sandy, man ;, 
 han't you got a young woman i' the house 
 yet to " gather rosebuds while old Time's 
 a-flying." ' Ah ! the good claim will die. 
 Sandy's back'ard ! The good claim will die ! " 
 
 The son returned in a few minutes with a 
 three-cornered perfumed note in his hand. 
 The old man gave a sniff, 
 
 " Eh ! Lord ha' mercy now. Billet-duxing ! " 
 
90 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 He stood upright from his chair; his eyes 
 flashed, and his attenuated ' form seemed for 
 an instant to recover the vigour and lithe- 
 ness of youth. 
 
 " Fill me the flowing bowl till it runs over," 
 cried the excited humorist ; " we'll water the 
 tree till its young head stands highest of the 
 whole forest." 
 
 He sank with physical weakness back into 
 his chair, waving his great handkerchief over 
 his head as he fell. 
 
 " It's short and sweet," said Sandy, who 
 offered for our inspection the first and last of 
 his love-letters. 
 
 " Who talks of fathers when Orlando is the 
 man," were the words, written in a fine, bold 
 female hand. That was all, except date, "and 
 the initials " L. B." 
 
 The sire was disappointed ; he threw the 
 note down, and took up the " Censor." " Oh, 
 confound you, Sandy," cried he ; " am I to 
 read a new history for the race on a blank 
 
THEE PEERAGE. 91 
 
 sheet of paper— blank but for a reference to 
 Will Shakespeare 1 " 
 
 We were asked to notice the crest. It was 
 that of Lord Baggerton — a well-known and 
 influential peer not far ofi". It was the 
 Honourable Lydia's handwriting, we were 
 informed. 
 
 "Eh, Sandy! " With strange emotion the 
 old man looked long into the face of his son 
 without speaking, the "Censor" being allowed 
 to resume its old quarters of repose. 
 
 I was doubtful, yet more alarmed. My 
 Lord Baggerton had the repute of being a very 
 clever, sensible old peer, but a waggish one. 
 His acceptance for a son-in-law of the eccen- 
 tric heir to the claimant of the R peerage, 
 
 even with his few thousands a year, I would 
 believe when I had proofs. 
 
 The influence of the Baggerton family being 
 secured, more wealth would flow in, it seemed, 
 and the good claim be prosecuted, and not die. 
 Perhaps the noble Lords, seeing the fair and 
 
92 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 honourable Lydia, daughter of one of their own 
 respected number, hanging upon the arm of the 
 heir ; perhaps his then ten thousand a year ; 
 would lighten up their human eyes, as they 
 looked on the family records, to see clearly. I 
 was retained as new solicitor for the claimant. 
 The first step of my client was to get married. 
 
 " Sandy," cried the old man, " it's God Al- 
 mighty's arm puts the humble high ; it's by 
 His might the like of you walks into the 
 kingdom come. Sandy, the old tree's a dying ; 
 but the young one, by His arm, may stand 
 highest in the forest ! " 
 
 His head fell upon his son's breast. The ex- 
 citement had been too much for him. A low 
 deep sob preceded the sigh of physical pros- 
 tration; then all was stillness, and he seemed to 
 sleep away. In a few minutes he rallied ; the 
 animated spirit stirred the weak frame, and 
 he breathed the dear, familiar name, " Sandy," 
 whose face responded with serene tenderness. 
 
 As the night-shadows crept over the city and 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 93 
 
 darkened the narrow streets of the Old Town, 
 I drew aside the curtains over the windows of 
 the room and let in the light of the street- 
 lamps. It fell upon the lineal heirs of the 
 Masters of Princes. As I adjusted the damask 
 so that the shadows should again fall over the 
 face of the now slumbering sire, Hope, with a 
 bright compassion, seemed smiling over him. 
 In the silence I ^azed upon two large paintings 
 hanging on the wall, and which the rays from 
 the lamp partly lighted up with a strange, sad 
 solitariness. • One was the portrait of the late 
 wife of the claimant, and the mother of his 
 son ; the. other was a dark picture, suggestive 
 of the futile ending of all worldly ambition — it 
 was the burial-place of the Eedfords, the only 
 portion of soil which the father of the claimant 
 had been permitted to retain out of certain 
 appropriations. Upon the sweet, grave face of 
 the lady I read the decline of human interests, a 
 turning to the saddest music of prophet and 
 poet, to the pale reflections of the feminine 
 
94 THE LAST CLAIMANTS 01" 
 
 religionist. It seemed to weary over her 
 widower's restless longing for a blessing in the 
 world which it was not the world's to give. I 
 saw a cypress near the honeysuckle clustered 
 at her hand ; the rooks croaked in the tall 
 pines in the background of the great picture, 
 if the eyes seemed now cast down on the linnet's 
 flutter in the unshaven lawn. Yet now, in 
 the dim light, they seemed free of these morbid 
 loves, and to look clear into the face of her son. 
 As I looked keenly at the representation of the 
 burial-place, I thought I read on the stone 
 above the gate the words, " Here lies the race 
 of the house of Bedford." 
 
 The gentle breeze of the summer night blew 
 over the Castle rock, and bore upon my ear the 
 light music of the bells of St Giles, and the 
 deliberate stroke of the clock of the old Tron. 
 The tread of the patrol of the " Eoyal Scots," 
 the hum of human voices, the rattle of noisy 
 trafl&Cj had entirely ceased as my vision met 
 from the Mound the pale tints of the northern 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 95 
 
 sky, giving promise of the morrow, while I was 
 yet disturbed by the last scene of the night. 
 
 The delighted sire, eager that his son should 
 exhibit some pleasing substitute for the lover's 
 frenzy, which Sandy had not, set about in- 
 ducing a gay and sportive aspect in the unac- 
 customed wooer. Proverbs which exhilarated 
 modest manhood at the cost of the repute for 
 wise indifference of young-ladyhood were fre- 
 quently in his mouth. Care had also killed the 
 cat ; and Sandy was further urged to think 
 not too precisely on the event, lest at the cri- 
 tical hour he should be wanting in vigour of 
 action. Thus, during the days which followed 
 my first visit, there was, I fancied, something 
 of a skip and trip in his walk, and other 
 antic movements, in the house. Sometimes to 
 his own music, to please his father, Sandy 
 would go through the travesty of a minuet, 
 and walk the advance-and-retire movement of 
 a quadrille. The gods of mirth and comicality 
 
96 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 were invoked of a night, and all seemed pro- 
 gressing favourably, judging from the good- 
 humour of the wooer and his ally. 
 
 The father of his mistress, my Lord Bagger- 
 ton, was a lively peer, and " L. B." — Lydia Bag- 
 gerton — was said to be full as witty as the 
 wayward niece of Mrs Malaprop ; so that Sandy 
 must brush up, and assume something of the 
 virtues of a gay Absolute, if he had them not. 
 The o-races of the lovers of his decade were light 
 and airy, and he had needs rather amuse with 
 pleasantry than awake with sentiment or strike 
 with learning. I confess that I judged by the 
 sight of this rather "antic disposition" that my 
 friend's mind misgave — that it had no settled 
 resolution, and might only drift. " Well done, 
 old mole ! " is not a cry which will be mixed up 
 in the oaths of an avenging son ; nor is a caper 
 or two of a slow movement of the dance any 
 indication of a link of strength in forging the 
 chains of an intent lover. 
 
 It was arranged that I should accompany Ked- 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 97 
 
 ford to my Lord Baggerton's, as a voucher of 
 his means, and to arrange terms of a Settlement. 
 We set out one fine afternoon, my client dressed 
 in a coat more of sky-blue colour, pepper-and- 
 salt trousers, and a largish lavender tie, which a 
 tailor of his locality had proclaimed to be the 
 fashion of the occasion. The father had surrep- 
 titiously substituted in the pocket of the suitor a 
 fine cambric handkerchief for the bandana, and 
 a rosebud about bursting into the vigour of full- 
 blown life was placed in the lapel of the sky- 
 blue garment. The father stepped with us to 
 the coach-hirer. With a warm embrace of both 
 of us, wishing God-speed, he saw us issue forth 
 in the carriage, drawn by a pair of prancing 
 greys. We saw the " Censor " waving in the 
 mellowing light of the autumn afternoon as we 
 turned our heads and looked back as we neared 
 the Park gate. The eyes of my companion 
 moistened for a moment when the figure of 
 the old man was lost in the distance. 
 
 We neared Baggerton in the course of a two 
 
 a 
 
98 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 hours' ride, but the gay humour of my friend 
 and client did not keep pace with our drive. 
 He was soon too occupied to enjoy the view 
 of the rich expanse of country before us, or to 
 listen to the sounds of evening in the lovely 
 plain. The wild flowers bloomed in the shaven 
 fields, the wheat- ears rustled in the winning 
 air. Would his delicate fancy not envy their 
 freedom ? 
 
 With something of a perplexed, inquiring 
 manner, Sandy looked at me, after a very tall, 
 somewhat raw-boned lady, of mature years, 
 decked in capacious silks, with large jewel 
 ear-pendants, had been with us ten miniites, 
 and bounced out of the room in search of my 
 Lord, her papa. 
 
 I turned my head from him. This was the 
 sprightly young Lydia — this was she who was 
 proposed to transmit the unsullied lineal blood 
 of the Masters of Princes to posterity ! I felt 
 warm and offended, and considered I had been 
 made a fool of. 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 99 
 
 " Has she not charms ! " observed my client 
 a trifle apologetically. 
 
 I did not speak. I looked down at those 
 tender feet, and saw what I might expect in 
 associating myself with their owner. 
 
 " Tall and handsome and " 
 
 The famous Chateau Margaux of my Lord 
 must have coloured his vision at his previous 
 visits. 
 
 "And she has a fine discourse. You 
 didn't hear her," he continued, getting bolder. 
 "Ladies are often very trifling. The descent 
 and development of man are subjects of 
 which I am greatly ignorant. Yet she is mis- 
 tress of them." 
 
 He pled with me. I was deaf to the tale of 
 her recondite mind concerning the development 
 of man. 
 
 " I care not," I cried, "for the lady's mind : 
 be she acquainted with the latest scientific 
 theory — evolved from the moral consciousness 
 of Germany, I dare say — of man's develop- 
 
100 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 ment from a calcareous sponge — be she in love 
 with the monkey or mollusc view " 
 
 " Sir," said he, interrupting me, " she is 
 removed from any morbid scrutiny, and en- 
 joys these subjects as interesting speculations, 
 Ne quid nimis is her motto." 
 
 " Sir," I continued, in a more peremptory 
 manner, " the ' recency ' of man is an interest- 
 ing topic enough. But it is the recency of 
 a lady we are now concerned with ; and, in 
 the name of Minerva, though age is venerable, 
 some portion of youth is desirable in a first 
 wife." 
 
 " So it is — so it is," cried Sandy, his face on 
 fire, and he, vastly disturbed, rising from his 
 seat. 
 
 " The lady must have been a quarter of 
 a century old at the time of the first Eeform 
 Act," I said. 
 
 I had doubted his powers with a coy. maid 
 of twenty ; he had been at his ease with one 
 nearer treble than double that still sweet ao-e ; 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 101 
 
 and I was determined to save him. All the 
 troubles of matrimony in the peerage for nothing 
 was a reward of modesty I could not brook. 
 
 I felt somehow as if I had been employed to 
 watch the case in the interests of the family- 
 tree, and was wroth with the topmost branch. 
 
 We were at this moment of quarrel inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of Lord Baggerton 
 himself, accompanied by his child. My Lord 
 was a very old man, and wore the gravity 
 which became his years and rank; but I fancied 
 I instantly detected the merry devil in his 
 bright blue eye. From his reception of us, 
 I was at first of the belief that the wag 
 was pleased to be rid of the aged bore of 
 the family, who probably dinned daily into 
 their ears the story of mammoth caves, dread 
 of earthquakes and burning comets, instead 
 of making sweet cakes, bouquets, and pretty 
 sonnets, for the refection and diversion of the 
 passing hours. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Bedford — both. 
 
102 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 gentlemen," my Lord repeated. "Lesbia is 
 disengaged — yes ! " 
 
 I thought 'twas Lydia, but must have mis- 
 taken the name. 
 
 " Lesbia, you and Eedford get on well 
 together — yes ! " 
 
 Miss Baggerton clasped her hands gently; 
 looked as if she would have liked to be raptur- 
 ous, but could not. 
 
 I looked at my client. His face was now 
 utterly fallen. He blew away loudly in the 
 cambric, stroked his chin, and tried to wear 
 a pleased look before my Lord. He would not 
 meet my warning half-menacing eyes. 
 
 " Well, well ! leave us, good girl." 
 
 Girl ! I detected the wag in the corner of 
 the speaker's lips. And the girl of more than 
 thirty years' maturity tripped out. 
 
 " Yes," observed the peer, as the door shut 
 upon his child, whom I was to accept as the 
 Princess Badoura, — " yes, Eedford, I must be 
 assured Lesbia will be maintained during life 
 
THE K PEEKAGE. 103 
 
 with the dignity due to her rank and connec- 
 tions. Sir William Parks, who married my 
 second daughter, makes a great show in Bel- 
 grave, and keeps up the credit of the family 
 before the world. Honest Owen Jones of 
 Llandudanudo indulges his fancy for home 
 virtues — the moral grandeur of the race is pre- 
 served there — in the finest mansion in Wales. 
 Lord Macdougall of the Lakes, who married 
 Tetty — pretty Tetty — whom we have named 
 the Eover, keeps his property stationary, as you 
 know, by not living near it. He is the greatest 
 screw in the land, and honours us by the con- 
 nection. We have been rather too lavish, and 
 have lost a little, Bedford ; for the stability of 
 families demands some cupidity in the blood." 
 Sandy seemed to intimate by a look that 
 he would take up the moral grandeur r6le in 
 the family historical drama. But he could 
 not say so. The shrewd and waggish peer 
 bore down his gentle nature. My Lord rather 
 liked him, yet was not disposed to close with 
 
104 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 him rapturously for a son-in-law, though he 
 was not disinclined to be rid of his daughter. 
 Sandy informed Lord Baggerton that his 
 Lordship's daughter would have the entire 
 use of five thousand a year ; his own habits 
 never leading him to spend more than fifty 
 pounds per annum on himself. 
 
 " Yes," observed his Lordship. " Then there 
 is this matter of blood." "He meant birth 
 and connections — for he was" — well, damns 
 had not had their day with this eccentric 
 nobleman — "if he remembered who Bedford's 
 father was." 
 
 Secret of serene and satisfied obscurity ! 
 armour of defence of sensitive soul and body 
 against the attack of the censorious world ! 
 Pride of ancestry ! it was thine as thy fathers. 
 
 I turned to my client as my Lord had con- 
 cluded. Bedford was standing— now walking 
 towards the door. The retreating eye had 
 become large, bold, and even fierce ; the limbs 
 were lithe and straight ; the feet were those of 
 
THE E, PEERAGE. 105 
 
 a cavalier, springy in step, firm of form and 
 hold. The metamorphosis was wonderful. 
 The blood of the old Earls asserted itself in 
 these modest veins. I was delighted with 
 that bright air of defiance. His Lordship was 
 dumfoundered, and dared not smile. 
 
 We were in the passage — Eedford and I 
 together ; pale, scraggy spinsterhood, now all 
 smiles, now in alarm, coming doubtfully along 
 the balcony, facing us as we descended the stair. 
 
 A cry, a wail, a sigh, a tear might have 
 won him back ; for his soft, simple heart had 
 been taken even by the seeming proffered love 
 of one of fifty winters. But none were seen 
 or heard — Lesbia was all hesitation. 
 
 I spied the face of a laughing yet tearful 
 elf of half her sister's age looking out of a 
 door as we descended. It was Lydia. 
 
 I said nothing to him now, nor at any time, 
 of my discovery. It would have been cruel 
 to hint at it. 
 
 "To-morrow," said my companion, breaking 
 
106 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 the silence as we saw the last rays of the day- 
 fading over the northern hills and a star 
 glimmering in the west, — "to-morrow the 
 geraniums in my father's window will not be 
 watered ; he'll neglect to wind up the old 
 clock." 
 
 We came out of the carriage in the Park, 
 and walked to St James Street in the fine 
 twilight. The old man was awake, and heard 
 us arrive thus early, without having caught 
 the sound of our rattling equipage. The 
 cudgel was lying at his hand as he sat in his 
 big arm - chair, and he grasped and played 
 with it, without speaking, as we entered, pre- 
 pared to vindicate his cause with rude symbol 
 at least. 
 
 "Sandy's back'ard." 
 
 An earthenware jug in the way was smashed 
 by the bringing down upon it of the " Exter- 
 minator." 
 
 "The powder isn't dry — that's why God 
 Almighty's arm hasn't put the humble high" 
 
THE E PEEK AGE. 107 
 
 Damped — damped by a tender miss ! " The 
 sire rubbed off the perspiration standing in 
 great drops on his brow. 
 
 " I'm going home," cried the old claimant, 
 sinking into his chair. " I am done — I have 
 performed my labours — my wife is waiting for 
 me — there — there in the old ground." Here 
 he rose suddenly, evidently with the intention 
 of going out, but he stood stock-still, his eye 
 staring in his head, his wrinkled face pale as 
 death. 
 
 Sandy looked with a quiet loving expression 
 upon the perturbed countenance of the one 
 upon earth in whom was centred the long 
 gathered warmth of his pure, unseared heart. 
 The old man sank down. 
 
 "Alexander Bedford." He held out his 
 wan hand, which was grasped, and then looked 
 up through his tears. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " cried the claimant, all alive 
 again, after he had learned the son's censure 
 of the peer's jibe, and looking up suddenly 
 
108 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 after he had opened a volume at his hand. 
 " This fellow is a creation of last century ! " 
 
 The Baggerton peerage was indeed created 
 after the battle of Culloden. 
 
 Then we had to take a turn or two about 
 the palace to see the spot where the "red 
 Earl " clave the skull of the traitor to " the 
 band," Sir William Baggerton. I heard after- 
 wards that the older claimant, more accus- 
 tomed to give his feelings voice, resented in a 
 pithy letter the insolence of the recognised 
 peer. The upstart of a century's standing 
 was baited and gored by the descendant of 
 the Masters of the Scottish kings, who hinted 
 that it would be desirable to meet in the 
 Queen's Park the following Saturday, for that 
 he had a rod in pickle, which would be sea- 
 soned by that day. One thing was certain, that 
 on the Saturday Sandy was no longer factor 
 for my Lord Baggerton. 
 
 One day when the decaying leaves of the 
 
THE R PEERAGE, 109 
 
 elms were falling through the slow-dripping 
 rain, and the chill air awakened in the most 
 self-sustaining bosom some belief in the virtue 
 of social joys, I met the younger Eedford 
 stepping pretty well out on a visit to a Miss 
 JRIary Durward, daughter of the late Captain 
 Durward of Her Majesty's army, latterly in 
 reduced circumstances. There were to be no 
 revived succession-suits until my client had 
 married ; his marriage was a sine qua non in 
 their revival, and I was interested to see that 
 my client got a good wife. 
 
 Miss Durward stayed in the lodging of a 
 relative at Hillside, and had introduced her- 
 self as a Leysider to the notice of Mr Alexan- 
 der Bedford one fine summer night of the year 
 following his expedition to Baggerton. The 
 simple gentleman was pleased with Miss 
 Mary's good nature, affability, and rosy face, 
 and handsome, buxom figure, but his apparent 
 design of marrying the lively lass was imme- 
 diately due, I doubted not, to the fact of her 
 
110 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 descent from the famous Durward of that Ilk, 
 who had acquired great distinction at KUlie- 
 crankie under the famous Claverhouse, and 
 had a son only less renowned in the service of 
 the great Mar. The famous Quentin, of whom 
 most of us have often read, came from the 
 braes of Angus ; and although the great ones 
 conspicuous in the shire seem no longer to bear 
 among them that honoured name, doubtless it 
 is not for want of worth or genius ; and Mary, 
 who had been compelled to try her hand now 
 and again at mantua-making, was as brave 
 and romantic as any of her forefathers, though 
 she was quite unknown to persons at whom I 
 inquired concerning her. Indeed, I feared she 
 was just too brave for the gentle humourist, my 
 client ; and as I saw him enter Prospect Villa, 
 where Widow Durward supplied a few ladies 
 and gentlemen with bed and board at the 
 lowest charges compatible with excellence, I 
 had my doubts of this projected union. 
 
 "Blood," you see; his father "must have 
 
THE K PEERAGE. Ill 
 
 blood." And Sandy had been dismissed by 
 " blood " at its proper level ; and blood leaping 
 in lower localities sought him out apparently 
 as a force by whose aid it might rise to its 
 due place. The good man was too true to 
 himself to take to mean connections to spite 
 the world, whose neglect and unkindness he 
 had never actively resented, as he had never 
 made any demands upon it. He thought 
 he would gratify his own heart with a gene- 
 rous act, now that he had tried to do what 
 his father wanted him to do and failed with a 
 stab in the side of his modest self-love. 
 
 Association with depressed claimants was 
 not to the liking of Eobert Eedford, and 
 marriage with one was not to be endured. 
 He scoffed at mantua-makers. Yet the tradi- 
 tions of the Durward family, and the story of a 
 splendid and unbroken patriotism and loyalty 
 for the sovereigns whom his own ancestors had 
 been accustomed strangely to influence — main- 
 
112 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 tained between Killiecrankie and Culloden — 
 were gaining with him. 
 
 "Blood ! blood !" cried he one night, " what 
 blood is there in hooks and eyes 1 " the iras- 
 cible descendant of earls breaking at the same 
 time a greybeard with a not quite inadver- 
 tent movement of the oaken " Censor." 
 
 Sandy gently took up the broken fragments 
 of the familiar jar, and placed them again on 
 the table. His eyes were kindled, not with 
 rage ; in his heart was struck a cord of fine 
 tender manliness, which rude opposition was 
 only required to raise. I watched him, and 
 carry the kindly humour of the scene with me 
 for ever. 
 
 " I — I," said he, slowly and firmly, seizing 
 his father's ear, but not looking on him then, 
 — " I imagine these little wares all that are 
 left of the swords of the brave old cavaliers 
 ruined with chivalry ; while the bulky appen- 
 dages of modern creations may be due, with 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 113 
 
 their patents, to the sleek prudence of tlie 
 courtier," 
 
 The Earl-claimant rose without speaking a 
 word, and wrung his son's hand. 
 
 " Sandy's back'ard. Brave notions ! they 
 -dinna win, though." Then he left us together. 
 
 I had ventured, when alone with him for 
 a few minutes that evening, to remind him of 
 the age of the Durward family. This was no 
 descendant of a people emerging into the light 
 of history a century ago, but one with the 
 actuality of ancestry beyond the boasts of 
 heraldry ; and I was inclined on this account 
 to resent the inconsistency of the father's un- 
 friendliness to his son's proposed union, much 
 as I deprecated its suddenness, 
 
 I was glad, therefore, when Robert Eedford 
 returned to us in a quarter of an hour in his 
 nightcap and gown, having relented entirely 
 jusfc as he was stepping into bed, 
 
 " Hoighty-toighty ! weel, weel ! " were his 
 words as he drew in a chair, and struck his 
 
114 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 punch-bowl with a spoon, by which he indi- 
 cated his returned good humour and his desire 
 to drink a glass with us. 
 
 Sandy might not look too closely before he 
 leapt to satisfy his sire's long avaricious 
 appetite for posterity ; and his unsuspecting 
 mind could never fancy beneath a bright face 
 uncontrolled passions and imperfectly devel- 
 oped character. He was fashioning himself, 
 meanwhile, for his nice conduct in the part of 
 Benedict ; again proposing to his unaccustomed 
 fancy to dally with blushes, to sue for kisses, 
 and the abnegation of pouts ; to wink at cajo- 
 lery and stolen boons ; to prepare the arms of 
 his mind to woo for peace, having it now with- 
 out so much as the use of a toothpick in the 
 cause ; to abandon himself greatly to bonbons 
 and small-beer; — he who indeed was never great 
 and ponderous, but had tastes and humours he 
 was taught the ladies cared to know nothing of, 
 and when they did know them, disliked them. 
 
 We had our talk on the obligations laid 
 
THE U PEERAGE. 115 
 
 upon a man in the choice of a wife, without 
 special reference to the case of my client ; in 
 the course of which I managed to let him 
 know my decided opinion that some know- 
 ledge of the personal history of the lady was 
 necessary, without that prying curiosity which, 
 resembling the effect of the microscope in 
 the physical world, would make all characters 
 repulsive ; nor would I limit the points of merit 
 generally to beauty, health, wealth, or amia- 
 bility, but the excellence of one feature would 
 condone for faultiness in another. I had, I 
 thought, observed in the other sex a broader 
 judgment in these matters than in men, who 
 are too busy to reflect upon one of their 
 greatest concerns, and are moved either by 
 love or wealth. It is one of the benefits of 
 extended culture to elevate and vary motives 
 in so important an act as the choice of a 
 mate; and in the estimate of the ladies of 
 the future generations, to whom it is proposed 
 to delegate, for the progress of the world, the 
 
116 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 choice of the head of the family, I doubted 
 not that the head would have a place quite 
 as much as its hair or the complexion of the 
 face. Why take a lady upon trust 1 for does 
 not she, already wise in her generation, see 
 that her husband has got brains and hands 
 strong enough to guard her, feed her, and 
 clothe her ; whistling the poor handsome idler 
 down the wind with. his wealth of flashy wit 
 and spirit of self-preservation. 
 
 "Ay," cried the sire, "ay, indeed. We 
 should see how many children the dam has 
 borne ; the ages of her grandparents ; their 
 width round the chest; and whether' the 
 family be choleric or plethoric ; with the 
 father's weight at fifty and his power of 
 carrying ; what training has the young lady 
 had in morals, in the education of the 
 schools, in the schools of life. I was myself 
 taken, I know not how ; but I vow to Heaven 
 I deserved destruction while I had an ano;eI." 
 
 Thus in good humour we discussed the 
 
THE E, PEEEAGE. 117 
 
 theories of contract in marriage, and each of 
 us evinced a steady and powerful sense of 
 what was right and proper to be done. But 
 it often happens that the wisest principles set 
 up in a night's resolve become dispelled with 
 sleep, and next morning, in the hour of action, 
 we bear with us the fitting moral accoutre- 
 ments scarcely more effectively than do the 
 ready instinctive hand-to-mouth children of 
 impulse. Mary Durward had got a husband 
 who would best suit her situation ; Alexander 
 Bedford only a wife. 
 
 It was morning ere we three separated, and 
 before the day was gone, the daughter of the 
 Durwards, with her bright, warm greeting, 
 meeting the easy gentleman, was asked to 
 name their marriage-day. Sandy walked the 
 length of Holyrood with me in the keen frosty 
 air, more solemnly than was his wont, and 
 unbosomed himself beneath the bright beams 
 of a great soothing moon, 
 
 " I am devoid of ambition," he said ; " I 
 
118 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 disliked the eternal strife from my boyish 
 days. The feverish wrangle of youths for 
 pre-eminence over their companions sickened 
 me, and I early withdrew from it. I cannot 
 struggle for a ' great match,' even to please 
 my father. It is enough if I marry a 
 fine girl of birth, to brighten his fading eye 
 and bring back an old and better humour. 
 Do not say I can be mistaken in Mary ; I am 
 buoyant and hopeful, beyond all expectation, 
 of her free, open, and frank nature. I'm 
 unworthy of such excellence, my friend. We 
 should never get, I think, what we have not 
 anxiously laboured for, and the sweetness of 
 the world's greatest flower comes to me even 
 unsought, as fortune itself. Our fates are cut 
 out for us. God grant I may always use His 
 precious gifts worthily. Good-night ! " 
 
 I heard in the still night, as he turned to 
 the Abbey, a strain of the evening-hymn that 
 had startled me amid the ruins of the old pile 
 at Leyside. More than an hour afterwards, 
 
THEE, PEERAGE. 119 
 
 the old man, his father, watching in his wake- 
 fulness, heard his son rise from his knees, where 
 his head had been bent in prayer for strength, 
 over that volume which he, as needier mortals, 
 had found a protector in danger and a con- 
 soler in hours of doubt and sorrow. 
 
 - It seemed to me, after their marriage, that 
 Sandy, in his own way, might naturally, like 
 Shandy, come to have a consuming vexation 
 that his wife did not ask a question concern- 
 ing what she did not understand. Mrs 
 Eedford, nee Durward, was possessed of high 
 animal spirits ; but if she heard that her hus- 
 band's father was seized with his final syncope, 
 she would not inquire what that was. 'Tis 
 true that this temperament saved the solitary 
 man from the necessity of learning daily as 
 to the occupations of Mrs Pointlace and her 
 daughters next door which had by other 
 neighbours to be copied at great cost. But it 
 may be conjectured that Mary cared nothing for 
 
120 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 the mental occupations of her husband. Mary 
 Durward's mind was one of those " clean 
 sheets " which some sanguine and experimental 
 males desire to find, that they may write their 
 stronger character upon the blank paper, but 
 which generally remain blank notwithstanding 
 all the pressure of pen and ink brought to bear 
 on it. The easy Eedford had desired to write 
 nothing, but to find goodness and kindness, 
 and he found these after the fashion of Mrs 
 Bedford's untutored mind. Her husband 
 looked with a strange, sad surprise upon the 
 daughter of old lineage thanking Heaven rather 
 for the liver and bacon which he produced in 
 goodly supplies to her taste, in preference to 
 acknowledging the benefit of the whole story 
 of her race. A ride on horseback she liked, 
 and she intended very soon to purchase a fine 
 animal ; but when her husband read to her 
 the account of the splendid retreat of Major 
 Durward with twenty horsemen before the 
 regiment of King George, she yawned and 
 
THE E PEERAGE, 121 
 
 scarcely heard ; so that the romantic gentle- 
 man and antiquarian had to cease speaking to 
 her. of her ancestors, to whom she said she 
 owed no thanks. "If they had given her 
 blood," the frank girl said, " she wished it had 
 been calmer ; but as it was, she must make the 
 best of it. So ho ! for happiness with thee, 
 Alick," — who supplied her wants bountifully. 
 Mrs Bedford indeed loved pleasure, for the 
 indulgence of which some current coin is ab- 
 solutely essential ; otherwise I doubt not she 
 would have preferred to unite herself, if she 
 united at all, to one of those gay sparks who 
 were pretty frequently, and too soon, to be 
 seen at the fine vUla of the retiring Agent. It 
 was clear now that two elements had met 
 which were antagonistic to each other, though 
 each might run aside and avoid quarrel. 
 
 Spring had come round when I received one 
 morning a letter from old Eedford, who had 
 been staying at the summer villa at Leyside 
 which the son had bought some years before. 
 
122 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 He had, also unknown to me, written at the 
 same time to his son. We were required 6n 
 the instant to set out for Leyside. Sandy and 
 I met at the Ferry, and it was arranged that 
 I should see the old man first. " It is about 
 my wife," said he ; "I love her." 
 
 Robert Bedford raved like a deceived Lear 
 and goaded Othello over the perfidy of woman 
 — Mary Durward, his son's wife — she, great in 
 ancestry, who was chosen to assist in trans- 
 mitting to the ages the great race of Eedford. 
 The old man was upon the brink of madness. 
 Morbid suspicions even of his dear son excited 
 his mind and lighted up his faded eye with a 
 devilish meaning, as if he was now probing 
 the secret of his son's marriage, and finding 
 in it the revenge of his own obstinacy. His 
 passion was alive with dismal and deadly 
 fires, and I might even fear for his own reason 
 and his son's life. In a quarter of an hour, 
 Sandy, who was below, was heard by us — as 
 the storm had lulled in the physical weakness 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 123 
 
 of the raving man — with his soft tread and 
 calm measured step to ascend the stair. Across 
 the bed lay the "Censor;" at the foot still 
 hung a large photograph, in a glass frame, 
 of the bride who was the cause of this storm. 
 Sandy entered, and had no sooner done so, 
 than the old man, with his cudgel, shivered 
 the image of the wife. He then grasped with 
 trembling hands an old clasp-Bible which was 
 opened at Proverbs. Sandy stood still and 
 waited with patience. 
 
 " ' My moisture is turned into the drought 
 of summer,' " said the sire, not offering his 
 wan hand or looking up with a spark of his 
 old delight in the face of the son. 
 
 "I am sorry you are so dry with me," said 
 Sandy, not referring, as he never did, to the 
 destruction of his wife's portrait. 
 
 "Go and do thou likewise to the original," 
 cried the angry father. 
 
 " I am here," said Sandy ; "I am waiting, 
 Eobert Eedford. Am I to be cut down 1 " 
 
124 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 There was a convulsive shake of the bed- 
 curtain. I turned away, for the old man's 
 lean arms were round his son's neck, and I 
 heard only the familiar words, " Sandy's back- 
 'ard." The old lion was subdued. He felt 
 that his child had always done what was right 
 and proper, sacrificing his own tastes of hap- 
 piness to increase the fulness of the father's 
 cup of joy, or what might even seem to the 
 father as such. Sandy was backward only 
 in withstanding his father's unreasonable pre- 
 judices and vain designs. 
 
 We three, in three hours' time, went 
 together arm - in - arm in that picturesque 
 region. I knew that there, between the fresh 
 woods, in the spring day, the claimant would 
 be better restored to himself. The sighs of the 
 light larch and the gloomy pine in the gentle 
 and fitful air corresponded with the subdued 
 emotions of my companions. In the sweet 
 scene they could not but rally a little ; the 
 misery which seemed to threaten them in the 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 125 
 
 dull sick-room flying before the pleasant sense 
 of this tranquil and lovely mood of nature, 
 engendering a fancy of its likeness over all 
 the world. Each giant tree and tiny flower ; 
 the heron flapping heavily along the water- 
 course ; the ousel dipping from the pebble 
 in the stream ; a cottage decayed, and with 
 honeysuckle and ivy protecting and blessing it 
 still ; a steading nestling in a tall planting ; a 
 hillside rich with green shades, recalled old 
 delights and story. We sauntered long, till 
 the thin grey clouds of the season blurred 
 the heavens. In the house, the old cam- 
 paigner, who would have sung his song at 
 noon, so revived was he, worn out with passion 
 and the air, fell into a deep sleep, the son 
 watching over him as I had seen him do at 
 St James Street, but not with the untroubled 
 mind he knew that night, bearing now all 
 the misery of an accusation which asked 
 him to avenge a deceived manhood. The 
 melancholy, to his simple heart, of frus- 
 
126 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 trated sacrifice might be nought, but a scan- 
 dalised life was bitterness. He kept watch 
 till the familiar and delighting river flowins; 
 beneath the window was lighted up in the 
 moon's beams. He looked down on it there, 
 as it flowed on in its broad, dark, and deep 
 volume till it joined the pale stripe which repre- 
 sented the unfathomed ocean. The sire awoke. 
 
 " You won't see her again, Sandy. We will 
 stay in the land of our fathers evermore." 
 
 It fell to me to seek out " Bombay DUl," 
 a Leysider who had ploughed the main often- 
 times to East India, and was in consequence 
 distinguished by the title of " Bombay " from 
 the many Dills of Leyside. It was matter of 
 notoriety, there, that Miss Durward had " run 
 ofi"" with the bold sailor a fortnight before 
 her marriage with my client. 
 
 The evening of next day had come, when 
 my client and I found ourselves in the avenue 
 leading to his villa in the Southern Eoad. 
 The last intermittent and low whistle of the 
 
THE E, PEERAGE. 127 
 
 thrush among the trees broke on our ears 
 sweetly, accompanied by a ruder noise coming 
 through the open window of his drawing-room. 
 Yet no cloud was visible on his brow, no angry 
 word escaped him, as we stood a moment in 
 the well-lighted hall. 
 
 Under my guidance now, he walked into 
 the withdrawing-room partitioned off from the 
 room — where some guests of " the lady of the 
 house " seemed to be assembled. His erect 
 bearing and the firmness of his step reminded 
 me of the incensed heir of the Eedfords at 
 Baggerton. There were chinks in the wood, 
 and the voices of the noisy speakers were 
 audible. I heard the name of "Dill," and 
 between the open wood could, I thought, even 
 see that happy young sailor. 
 
 "1 should know the sound of a kiss now," 
 said my client wildly, " for I have bought my 
 perfect knowledge dear." 
 
 Bombay Dill was hanging over the neck of 
 his wife. 
 
128 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 My companion energetically drew aside the 
 folding-doors ■which separated us from the 
 company, and advanced to Dill. You may 
 be sure all were startled, and that Mary 
 Eedford, nee Durward, was not without sur- 
 prise and dread, having expected her husband 
 to be away for a week with his ailing father. 
 
 " Bombay Dill, I suppose ? " said Sandy, 
 confronting the pirate, whose home should 
 have always been upon the waters. 
 
 " 'Spose I ams 1 " answered Bombay, accus- 
 tomed to surprises of the great ocean, and 
 not impressionable to the rage of a tender- 
 voiced gentleman ; making himself funny by 
 seizing a hat and putting it on the back 
 of his head, and conceiving something of a 
 Yankee humour which would rob of all its 
 gravity the discovery of loving a neighbour's 
 wife, by a droll attitude and bad grammar. 
 " 'Spose I ams ? " He did not know Mary 
 Durward's husband, and did not care to know 
 him if this was him now. 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 129 
 
 " Leave this house, Bombay Dill ; and don't 
 let me see you or hear of you again." 
 
 "I just step in now and again to please her. 
 Sure she'd be dull without me now," said Dill. 
 
 He was placing his thumbs in the armpits 
 of his waistcoat, letting the tails of his coat 
 droop on the floor, like the conventional Irish- 
 man, and winking playfully, having had a good 
 quantity of wine that day, when Mrs Eedford 
 fell at her husband's feet ; fear, remorse, shame 
 — I know not what — choking and blinding her, 
 as she waved with palsied hands the captain 
 and her company to be gone. And her husband 
 at the same instant aimed a stroke at the head 
 of the rascal, who stood chattering. 
 
 " You lie, you villain ! " he cried ; but the 
 clenched hand only struck the hat, which 
 rolled off", Sandy tripping himself and falling 
 with his head on the edge of the fender. He 
 rose immediately smiling, and seizing his wife's 
 hand, drew her up, while the mariner slunk near 
 the door. 
 
130 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OP 
 
 " God, forgive me ! husband, forgive me ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 "You see, ladies and gentlemen," said the 
 gentleman, the husband, — "you see a wife 
 cannot have two husbands. I daresay some 
 day there may be a Sweet Lake where the 
 ladies will have it all their own way. It isn't 
 that yet; and it isn't manly to be kissing 
 other men's wives in the husbands' absence. 
 So good-night, and when you come again, 
 don't come with Bombay Dill." 
 
 The kindly, simple tone of the speaker 
 moved every one there to respect and love 
 him, including Mary Durward, who was, I 
 daresay, from that moment capable of being 
 a faithful and attached wife; but we must 
 keep in view that there are inexorable laws to 
 be applied in such trifles as even sham flights 
 of "larky" maidens with dangerous men of 
 the sea, especially by those who require the 
 maids in the cause of their nobility. 
 
 "And now, Mary," said Sandy: here he 
 
THE R PEERAGE. 131 
 
 stopped short, paled and staggered, leaning 
 upon my arm for support. 
 
 Whether it was that the familiar knob of 
 the censor in advance of its owner looked 
 through the half-open door and chid him for 
 the simplicity he meditated of sheltering his 
 wife ; whether his heart was bleeding with a 
 great sorrow at the blow he had received to 
 an attachment, readily begotten with him 
 even with an imperfect character ; whether 
 internal injuries caused by his fall had just 
 then announced a fatal turn ; I did not then 
 know : He fell. 
 
 In a minute the anxious father — who, doubt- 
 ful of his son's sternness of putting away the 
 " wicked woman," had followed us unknown to 
 us — was at his prostrate son's side. The 
 cudgel rattled and fell heavily as the old man 
 in his hurry and great weakness lay down at 
 length on the floor. The noise stirred Sandy 
 to some consciousness, and a smile gained for 
 
132 THE LAST CLAIMANTS OF 
 
 a moment upon the fallen death-like face. 
 " Kobert Eedford — father— old man." 
 
 Then he wandered back in fancy to the 
 other day when all was well to his easy heart, 
 and he spoke of the familiar figure of the old 
 man on his way to grasp his hand on the first 
 visit to the married pair. 
 
 " See him, Mary, see, ' the censor ' — forward 
 there — through the trees." 
 
 As he lay in his bed, and morning was about 
 breaking, and the enlivening air and the song 
 of birds, awaking in the sycamores, came 
 through the open window, he looked up from 
 his pillow, and son and father were conscious 
 of each other's presence. It was a grave but 
 loving and understanding smile ; a woman, 
 a wife, had stolen in and lay so that her 
 husband might see her. And he saw her as 
 he looked up, and she buried her face in her 
 hands. As he fell back, struggling with his 
 dream, he tried to point his hand and said, 
 low but firmly : " Take care of Mary — Killie- 
 
THE E PEERAGE. 133 
 
 crankie won't fail us — there— I knew it — look 
 on her, with heart true as a Durward's sword 
 — and all clear now — true bride — true wife 
 — Mary — father ! 
 
 As the lips were stUl, we heard the oaken 
 staff to rattle. It fell heavily, unheeded on 
 the floor. For, almost before it, there had 
 sunk — as his link with life and hope had 
 fled — the frail form of the old campaigner 
 — the last of the Eedfords. 
 
 " Sandy's for'ard." 
 
 There was a cry. 
 
 And Kobert Bedford went forward too. 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 Ti^ AELY on Monday morning, Deacon Michael 
 Friars, of the financially-stricken burgh 
 of Slapup, chalked above his warehouse door 
 the words " Euined fro tern." and in company 
 with his chief heckler, Eothiemurchus, set out 
 for the caves in the cliffs of the sea-coast a few 
 miles distant, in another county. That morn- 
 ing there had expired a charge on an extract- 
 registered protest of a bill dishonoured by 
 Friars ; and his flight into the territory of 
 another Sheriff gave him, he thought, a couple 
 of days' further delay for maturing his plans 
 in the freedom which he loved. They were 
 preceded by a small supply of provisions, and 
 the remains of a good stock of liquor, of which 
 both had partaken liberally for some days. 
 
THK FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 135 
 
 The tall, slim, handsome figure of Friars 
 seemed straighter and braver than ever as he 
 bade adieu to Slapup. He had entertained the 
 burghers for half-a-dozen years with humour, 
 song, and supper ; but their faces . were now 
 void of welcome to the fallen trader. Not- 
 withstanding, the deacon was swelling at this 
 hour with the proud resolve of restoring the 
 broken fortunes of Slapup. " Pioneers of great- 
 ness, by gad, Eothie. We'll survey ' No Man's 
 Land/ the quarry, the bay. By gad, it shall 
 be the first port in Europe." 
 
 The trade of Slapup had become suddenly 
 paralysed'. The great London houses of Dukes 
 and Dykes, and others, for whom the town 
 manufactured, were down ; assets representing 
 generally something like a farthing in the pound. 
 
 When the storm lulled, it was found that 
 the traders fallen, or falling, were the institu- 
 tors of " the reign of happiness." They had 
 been headed by Mr Theodore Pyper, who alone 
 had disappeared, and that at the first menace 
 
136 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 of the storm. Men had refused to go to church 
 under his tuition. They, weary of the long and 
 dull dominion of Calvinistic fathers, had met 
 and proclaimed their devotion to the modern 
 gods. Liberty and Reason, and practically re- 
 stored an old habit of sociality, at which the 
 rigid Puritans, still crabbed by " drinking of 
 the beggarly elements of tradition," were wont 
 to scoff as they straggled on Sundays to the 
 sounds of the oppressive bells. But the new 
 religion was perishing with its disciples. Men 
 and women had died in it, and died not un- 
 happily, it would seem. Human pride, based 
 upon pretty strong intellect and ready cash, 
 will make shift for comfort sometimes without 
 the mortification of Scripture. But pretty fair 
 intellects suddenly without ready cash will 
 often stagger, remember that they are dust, 
 and lean upon the Invisible, which has become 
 their portion. The meanest handler of the 
 burgh tow now had his head-shake, and his gibe 
 at the ungodly subjects of Liberty. " Every 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 137 
 
 dog has his day," was a saying repeated more 
 than once by Tom Tosh, who beheved he was 
 quoting Jeremiah as he went through the 
 church portals the first time for ten years. 
 Tom had become sick of Reason. 
 
 As Friars and Eothiemurchus passed along 
 the streets of the early May morning, a death- 
 like stillness pervaded them. It was not thus 
 they appeared, or he would act in them, even 
 at this hour, but recently when happiness was 
 in vogue. There, now behind unweeded garden, 
 stood the house of Matthew Miles, bachelor, 
 who had given on Sundays, to friends and 
 servants, readings from Shakespeare, Voltaire, 
 Eousseau, Condorcet, and Cobbett, with ban- 
 quets of porter and pies of good highland 
 mutton. Miles remained a staunch disciple of 
 Liberty. But dared his boon-friend and fellow- 
 worshipper of Nature, the Beautiful and the 
 Good, now knock him up, as of yore, to watch 
 the rising of the sun out of the ocean, or rejoice 
 over the heather-bell on the common ? Maria 
 
138 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 Adams, who had married, without benefit of 
 clergy, Captain Drumcross, her handsome, 
 brave " soldier laddie," wounded in Spain, and 
 who divided with Friars the honours of the 
 chief nightingales of the burgh, might be tor- 
 tured or not by the reports that the captain 
 had only been a corporal in an Irish Eegi- 
 ment ; probably she was happy enough on 
 that head : an inability to provide Amontil- 
 lado might give the pair more grief. They 
 were involved in the ruin by the failure of 
 Maria's father ; and might even now be pon- 
 dering on — 
 
 " Breathing in distant lands a purer air." 
 
 A line of the " Bush aboon Traquair," which 
 Friars and Maria used to sing as a duet on the 
 " gowden knowes" of a Sunday afternoon, 
 escaped from him as he passed by the dwelling 
 of the pair. But he dared not open now the 
 wooden shutters on the front windows of 
 Maria's cottage, to let in "the early sun upon 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 139 
 
 the soft smiles of the fair creature in the arms 
 of Morpheus and the captain. 
 
 Mick was lively; but liveliness in the pro- 
 spect of paying one's creditors one penny per 
 pound must be indulged in solitude. 
 
 " By Jupiter," said Friars to his companion, 
 leaping, as he passed the Parliamentary boun- 
 dary of the burgh, " I will no longer humour 
 the dogs ; let them perish of jaundice and the 
 muligrubs. Only, Eothie — the bay and har- 
 bour — 'ambition and the pride' of man, just 
 to show the up." 
 
 All was lifeless in the suburban villages of 
 Kamoth, Gilgal, Nob, and Padanarum ; names 
 bestowed, with little reverence for the too fami- 
 liar geography of the Old Testament, by the 
 wags of the reign who had revolted from the 
 dull depressing creed and slow lives of their 
 respectable fathers. Out beyond this cluster 
 of Hebrew-sounding places stood the showy 
 residence of Alick Dowlas. Mick loved it not. 
 It had been " his ruin," and only Rothiemurchus 
 
140 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 saw some signs of stir in it. To Eothie's re- 
 mark on the subject, his companion made no 
 answer. Even now, elated as Mick was with 
 the best " east port " acting upon high natu- 
 ral spirits, shades of gloom and pain were 
 visible upon his merry face. This great spick 
 and span mansion, had, Mick believed, alienated 
 from him his darling Lily Neill, wooed and won 
 by river bank and flowery mead. It was in 
 vain that the friends of Lily urged she could 
 never marry a man who wouldn't " go home tiU 
 morning, till daylight doth appear," and had 
 some Miltonic views about dissolutions of mar- 
 riage with admiration of " L'allegro " and " II 
 Pensoroso." Mick knew well that the mistress 
 of his heart was once a loyal subject of the reign 
 of happiness, in which Mammon had no adora- 
 tion. She had yielded, in a fatal moment, to a 
 false god. He knew that she could not live 
 by stone alone ; and that was aU her Dowlas 
 had to give her. In adversity, he knew she 
 would be left to perish ; and he forgave her — 
 
THE FOUNDEES OF ADULLAM. 141 
 
 would even now have welcomed a repentant 
 sinner back. Separate from Dowlas, in a soli- 
 tary lodging, she had again and again at early- 
 morn been lively, but not on account of the 
 sunrise, not with the attribute of the fowl to 
 which that period is a cause of excitement ; 
 her repose was enforced before sol had reached 
 the meridian. With grief in his heart, the steps 
 of the humourist faltered. Face to face with his 
 own prostration, no tear had stood in his comical 
 eye. Seeing in his mind's eye, his once sweet 
 and delicate Lily seeking consolation every- 
 where with the aid of, alas ! a sham pickle bottle, 
 a sense of their whole sorrow and sin following 
 their young dream overcame him. As he rose 
 from the dykeside, the figure of Alick Dowlas, 
 moving stealthily by the side of the long grass 
 down to the beach, was forced upon his sight. 
 They followed him to the bay. It is an invit- 
 ing spot, i;etreating in pebbles of spotless white- 
 ness from the frowning masonry of nature, 
 to the fresh green turf, studded with wild 
 
142 THE FOUNDERS OP ADULLAM. 
 
 flowers. From the top of the cliffs on each 
 side, the eyes reel as they look down into the 
 dark deep waters that sob in broken - waves in 
 the sea-bound caves, or boil and gurgle over 
 the great masses of severed and jutting rock. 
 Friars turned away with a curse forced upon 
 his generous lips as he saw the decamping hus- 
 band waving wildly to the shipless ocean, ap- 
 parently for some boat to bear him from wife 
 and creditors. He, Friars, only sought deliber- 
 ation in the free air, while he should also be 
 employed for the burgh welfare. Eomulus, 
 yoking bullock and heifer to the ploughshare, 
 and marking out the pomcerium; Dido, with 
 her thongs enclosing the territory of Carthage ; 
 were not prouder than Deacon Michael Friars 
 planning the new Slapup. 
 
 About noon, Friars and his companion were 
 forced to seek the shelter of the cave — Castle- 
 Natural, as the former had already named the 
 long high cavity in the great cliff to the west 
 side of the bay. Dense clouds were crossing 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 143 
 
 the sky from the east; the wind rose, and 
 rain soon fell in torrents. So lively a spirit 
 as the Deacon, excited ,by the long stay in 
 the open air, the planning of his great 
 scheme, and sundry refreshing draughts, could 
 not rest without intimating in glowing lan- 
 guage to his lawyer, the Town Clerk, his de- 
 sign of engaging the unemployed labourers of 
 Slapup in building a town on " No Man's Land," 
 and docks in the bay. Same afternoon, some 
 young limbs of the law proceeded to the ground, 
 and put up a notice board on the solitary poplar, 
 on which the following could be read : — " For 
 disposal, the bay and lands of AduUam, well 
 known respectively for their depth of water and 
 barley crops. Persons discontented, distressed, 
 or in debt, are invited to apply to Michael 
 Friars, Deacon, at the Cave. He has copious 
 samples of the distillation of the barley ; for 
 the whisky-producing quality of which the 
 neighbourhood is famed. Application should 
 be made early." This party proceeded to the 
 
144 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 cave, and in draughts of "east port" toasted suc- 
 cess to the second Adullam. As they left, the 
 waters rolled and hissed about the great rocks 
 in front ; the wind shrieked fiercely in the 
 fissures above, and in rapid rolls came the 
 long wave of the German Ocean, dark as the 
 blackening sky. Humour was about exhausted 
 for that day. Eothiemurchus heard the last of 
 a few stray notes of Childe Harold's adieu song 
 sink away in the Deacon's throat, as his head 
 fell down on a pile of empty bottles and he gave 
 some murmurs against the worship of Plutus, 
 Mammon, and other deities, as to which his 
 greatest enemy must admit he had been with- 
 out reproach. " Eothie, you must admit it's a 
 devilish good set down to a fellow whose 
 creditors are hard to swim in champagne or 
 salt water." And the distressed lover, the in- 
 solvent and the humourist, dosed upon his pile. 
 Eothiemurchus was sober. He was one 
 of thos.e rare mortals who seem never the 
 worse of anything, though it must be con- 
 
THE rOUNDEES OF ADULLAM. 145 
 
 fessed he had been rarely the better. He 
 was made to stand the test of the late 
 reign's destructive influence : pleasure never 
 made him stagger nor his reason totter on 
 its throne. He did not love sobriety, and 
 he was never drunk ; he loved the com- 
 pany of gay spirits as they appeared in 
 succession upon the surface, and forsook 
 them, necessarily, when they sank below. 
 He looked now on the face of his lights 
 hearted companion, now troubled in dreams, 
 as nature gave way in repose to those 
 dark misgivings which the bright day, and 
 continually-fed humours, could set in the 
 background. Eothie laughed, as he held 
 the "dip" over the sleeper, until he started 
 with a sudden fright as a sense of his ghastly 
 humour struck him. He would be blamed 
 for leading Friars into the folly ; but, as 
 with Sterne's nlonk. Nature had done with 
 her resentments in Eothiemurchus. "Be 
 
146 THE FOUNDERS OF ADTJLLAM. 
 
 d d," cried he— taking a bottle from his 
 
 mouth, while the tears came from his eyes, 
 as he still gazed upon the face of the youth 
 who had already made the cave the scene 
 of revel, and intended it to be the resting- 
 place of some pained nights — " never weepeed 
 before." It was a weak moment, never re- 
 peated in that form. The degeneration of 
 his employer's energies into humour, laughter, 
 song, love, and wine, and other provoca- 
 tives of sinking, if to music "sadly- sweet," 
 might not induce the tears of Eothiemurchus, 
 for sights of such sinking were common. 
 But Friars, he thought, was a genius without 
 chances, a brilliant and generous soul lost in 
 the mires of Slapup ; and he found — he had 
 drunk bottled sea-water carefully corked in 
 a wine-bottle, and put aside by the wags who 
 had just left. With a curse upon the squad 
 of young scribes, he lay down; conscious at 
 the same moment that the waters lashed 
 the beach nearer him than he supposed 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADTJLLAM. 147 
 
 possible, and that several persons were stand- 
 ing in tlie mouth of the cave. 
 
 The commanding voice of Drumcross was 
 heard above the noise of wind and waters. 
 He was marshalling a party for cautious 
 advance up the cave. His wife sniggered 
 and whimpered behind him, clutching his 
 left arm, while in the other he held before 
 him a recruiting cane. Behind were Matthew 
 Miles, several weavers of picker, packer, warper, 
 and other order, and three women. Eothie- 
 murchus had lighted his lantern, and gone 
 down the cave ; and both parties had time 
 to catch a glimpse of each other before a 
 violent gust swept lantern and tinder out 
 of his hands, in the midst of which Friars 
 was wakened from his sleep. Miles embraced 
 his quondam crony. They had not met for 
 two weeks. What was the Deacon doing 
 there? "By gad, he was resting after sur- 
 veying sea and land for the good of man- 
 kind, and. specially a doosed thankless lot 
 
148 THE rOTJNDEES OF ADULLAM. 
 
 known as Slapuppers, Produce the nectar, 
 Eothie." 
 
 They were out of ambrosia — the Deacon in- 
 timated — at the moment only ; for cormorant 
 and petrel would be obtained by Eothie- 
 murchus in a " jifiy." The storm was send- 
 ing in provent. Did they not hear the 
 birds pleading to be taken in and done for 1 
 The waters were not unkind ; the air was 
 not ungrateful. " Eothie," concluded the 
 child of sportive humour, " is Israel in the 
 wilderness, and calls for flesh. I'm Elijah 
 in the cave of Horeb, and call for cakes and 
 water only, for I am planning the regenera- 
 tion of a people." 
 
 None of them, however, were so tempted 
 with the prospect of the provent referred to as 
 to admit hunger. They wished that Friars 
 would deal rather with the ocean than the 
 birds which made it their home. In taking 
 a near cut by the beach to Bellmont, the 
 spring-tide, driven by the wind, had com- 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 149 
 
 pelled them to take refuge in the cave. The 
 good barque " Arethusa " sa,iled from Bellmont 
 next day for the Far West ; and Miles, the sol- 
 dier, the distressed operatives and their wives, 
 were bound for America and golden joys. 
 
 " Alick Dowlas' love's for Germanie. He 
 despises the Per-ai-ree, after all," said Friars, 
 in imitation of Gambooge the leading trage- 
 dian of the now neglected Temple of Mel- 
 pomene, some months located in Slapup. 
 He threw himself down at his long length 
 and affected particular ease, while he was 
 again writhing with pain. 
 
 " The Eiga schooner ' Eobber of the Ehine ' 
 took him out to sea at noontide. I spied Alick 
 drunk as a Hottentot," continued the late rival 
 of this despised African. 
 
 There was a convulsive sob ; and then a 
 stillness, broken by Maria using her hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 That Dowlas had misled and now deserted 
 his wife, each one of the party knew. 
 
150 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 Fiiars had been tlirusting the rays of the 
 lantern into the crouching lot of weavers, 
 and they fell on the hindmost one of the 
 women behind. The lantern was nervously 
 withdrawn, almost falling in his haste. 
 Could the light have shone upon his own 
 countenance, his companions would have 
 seen that its expression had tmdergone a 
 change — it was intensely solemn — yet scarcely 
 more anxious than for a few minutes were 
 the faces of each of the others of the odd 
 assembly. Their hearts were quick to the 
 conception of strong, strange emotion in 
 two cast-aways, not long rudely parted, 
 now mysteriously thrown together. 
 
 It was a face still expressive of womanly 
 grace and tenderness, with a touch of what 
 may have been once haughtiness faded into 
 chagrin and struggle, the sight of which 
 had paralysed the hand and light mocking 
 humour of Matthew Friars. Her hair, put 
 up in fashionable coils, had loosened as Lily 
 
THE FOUNDEES OF ADULLAM. 151 
 
 trudged in the rain, and fell upon her thin 
 livid cheeks and over her soiled silk dress. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said Friars, with 
 a struggle for perhaps the first time in his life 
 to be sportive, " my companions in temporary 
 exile, be at home and even happy." 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity," said 
 Miles. 
 
 The philosophic Miles in disagreeable situa- 
 tions was always ready to reflect them away. 
 He was a cripple who sujffered from the fact, 
 a frequent gout, and an occasional severe jaun- 
 dice. Yet the presence of these evils troubled 
 him far less than do imaginary pains most 
 men. A belief that he was attending to his 
 gastric juices and had perfect liberty, would 
 excite his spirits into the belief that he 
 was supremely happy. A titter, scarcely sup- 
 pressed, was heard as he now brought for- 
 ward the foundations of his simple philo- 
 sophy of life — juices and liberty. 
 
 "What said the renowned Miguel de Cer- 
 
152 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 vantes Saavedra," continued he, by way of 
 variation to his song, " ' Sorrow was made not 
 for beasts, but for men, but if we give much 
 way to it, we become beasts.' The heart 
 should glow over the misfortunes of others, 
 not mourn over our own. If there were any 
 there," continued this humourist, " who knew 
 nobody who had misfortunes to get warm 
 about, then art had provided the means of 
 vicarious suffering of the gentlest and most 
 elevating kind. Let them apply to Apollo. 
 Music, poetry, and eloquence would charm 
 away darkness and the night in its earlier 
 hours ; and by early morn, when the tem- 
 porary disturbance of the elements would 
 have passed away, they would be rejoicing 
 in Bellmont — all of them, including the 
 sweet singer of Slapup." 
 
 The philosopher, who was the most prac- 
 tical of mortals in contemplation, had always 
 mixed up in his recreations schemes of prac- 
 tical good ; and he had already, in his 
 
THE FOUNDEKS OF ADULLAM. 153 
 
 thoughts of a little colony in the Far West, — 
 to which in his educated state of mind he 
 did not intend, crippled, gouty, and jaundiced 
 as he was, making a contribution himself in 
 the second generation, — a design of uniting 
 the sweet singer and the handsome grass 
 widow. His contribution to the charms of 
 the night by recitations about the quality of 
 mercy not being strained, but falling like the 
 gentle rain from heaven, and a bank whereon 
 the wild thyme grew, were preparatory to his 
 bringing about boldly a reconciliation between 
 the Deacon and Lily. " ' The Flowers of the 
 Forest ' from the Deacon," cried Miles ; " the 
 flowers have gone with us. And we'U have 
 a double for our single Lily." A break- 
 down and nigger melody might have been 
 in keeping with the weavers' general notion 
 of the intellectual pitch desirable in amuse- 
 ments in caves at late hours. Such was 
 their excitement now at the strange juncture 
 in the lives of the pair of old lovers, that 
 
154 THE FOUNDERS OF ADTJLLAM. 
 
 the words and tune of tlie Old Hundred— to 
 them grandest and most solemn of understood 
 poetry and music — rose to the lips of half of the 
 party. Friars sang ; yet as the waves broke 
 upon the beach with a louder noise, which at 
 the head of the cave resembled distant thunder, 
 and the winds and sea birds shrieked past its 
 mouth more wildly, the women's cheeks grew 
 paler, and they huddled closer together. There 
 was the shake of frail, feeling human hearts, 
 tears and sobs prevailing, as Friars, scarcely 
 heard, seemed to breathe into the ears of each 
 one there the familiar words : — 
 
 " Sweet was her blessing, 
 Kind was her caressing ; 
 But now they are fled, 
 They are fled far away." 
 
 He intended no upbraiding ; rather was it 
 his hope to soothe and lay to rest the ter- 
 rible trouble of Lily's situation. But he was 
 smitten with fear as he finished. He rose 
 trembling, the light in his hand. She was 
 gone. 
 
THE FOTJNDEES OP ADXJLLAM. 155 
 
 At the mouth of the cave, to which he 
 leapt, the scene might have awed him, 
 wild and impressive as it was. He only saw 
 it. The waters broke upon the expanse of 
 precipitous cliflf in gigantic masses, with a 
 force which seemed to challenge their adaman- 
 tine strength ; yet a frail woman had braved 
 the storm. He glanced from sea to sky. As a 
 drowning man himself, in a moment the loose 
 fabric of his own life seemed rent and in shreds 
 before him. He felt this as the dense clouds 
 drifted over the stars and poured their floods 
 upon the mocking ocean ; as the waves, lashed 
 by the winds, caused almost to reel in the 
 shock the great rocks before him, lying with- 
 out a vestige of life upon their storm-beaten 
 brows. As the waters rolled and broke down 
 into the deep bottomless-like gulfs, or hissed 
 inwards through the gullies and broke out far 
 into the land, there seemed no end to the fury 
 of the assailing sea. 
 
 In two minutes Friars saw, high upon a 
 
156 THE FOTJNDEES OF ADULLAM. 
 
 ledge, almost overhead, the object of his 
 search drenched with spray. Any further 
 progress on her part was barred. She was 
 kneeling ; her head looking down into the 
 seething water. With difficulty and danger, 
 he was at her side. She was in the power of 
 her deserted lover ; he also in hers ; one false 
 move on the part of either, and both were at 
 peace with life. 
 
 On Michael's part her flight would be treated 
 as the erratic run of the coy girl of old, when 
 in her father's stack-yard at Heatherbracks, 
 amid the banterers of an evening, she would, 
 at nuptial allusion, fly over the stubble followed 
 by honest Mick. 
 
 " Never mind the blaw of Socrates of Slapup, 
 Lily : there's mickle more wind to make us 
 fear this night." 
 
 "I'll not go to America, Michael. I will 
 die here." 
 
 "Die '2 go! I am not going — unless" — he 
 paused, "unless you wish me." 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 157 
 
 " I will sin no more," was her answer. 
 
 He did not think it necessary to say he for- 
 gave her. She knew too well the soft heart, 
 the magnanimous temper of the man. 
 
 "Now, that's what I like to see," was the 
 remark of Miles, as Lily, leaning upon the arm 
 of Friars, while the women were, getting dry 
 clothes for her, was led into the cave. 
 
 "No more tragedy," said the philosopher. 
 "Life should be comedy. Let us sleep now. 
 We'll have soon to join in a dance to Aurora. 
 Mick, you're landlord ; give the ladies the 
 beds ; and come rest with the disciple of 
 Zeno." 
 
 There was silence among the group, but 
 upon their labour-stained countenances it was 
 plainly seen that they felt there was an incon- 
 clusiveness in the speech of Miles. Troddles, 
 one of Friars' weavers, a pale, meek, dull-like 
 man, whose constitution might h<ive disagreed 
 with the society of the cold Calvinists, cast 
 furtive glances at Miles, and fumbled with a 
 
158 THE FOUNDERS OF ABXJLLAM. 
 
 small black tattered -like volume. Miles noticed 
 the unwonted restlessness of his follower. 
 
 " This is the cave of freedom ; out with 
 it, Troddles. ' I'm not ashamed to own my 
 God.' " 
 
 The mild eye of Troddles glistened and 
 looked now to Friars. There was infinite 
 awe, tenderness, and thankfulness in it. 
 
 Troddles read : " ' He inclined unto me, and 
 heard my cry. He brought me also out of an 
 horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my 
 feet upon a rock. And He hath put a new 
 song in my mouth, even praise unto our God.'" 
 
 "Troddles, my man, you are a joy forever." 
 Friars embraced him. The others of the group 
 could almost see the salt tears streaming down 
 the face of the younger man and falling upon 
 the withered cheek of the pinched weaver, be- 
 come "a thing of beauty," as the usually duU 
 eye of Troddles was lighted up with love. 
 
 Lily's heart was breaking. 
 
 " I have a notion," said Eothiemurchus 
 
THE POUNDERS OF ADHLLAM. 159 
 
 solemnly, after a pause, in the growing 
 gloom, "that we may apply next time to 
 Paul ; he has fine lights." 
 
 " Paul ! jiddling body ! we'd be a' i' the 
 dark wi' his best whale oil." 
 
 It was Maria. Ko one laughed. Drumcross 
 touched her with his elbow, and the silence 
 was absolute. 
 
 The women, except Lily, soon fell into a 
 sleep, worn out chiefly with excitement. 
 Miles' active brain, and Eothiemurchus' still 
 bright eye, after an hour, rested from their 
 labours, by which time the weavers, with nerves 
 subdued in manual toil, slumbered ; and the 
 soldier laddie, hardened to danger in the im- 
 minent deadly field, snored in the ears of his 
 "dearie." 
 
 Michael and Lily could not find the death 
 of that day's life, and, in the tranquil minutes 
 of its approach, a calm hope of the morrow. 
 He listened, he thought, to the delirious mur- 
 murs of the sick woman in a fevered sleep. 
 
160 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 It was prayer — that she might be delivered 
 from temptation. 
 
 It appeared not to avail her ; weak, flaccid 
 Lily, who had fled from herself to the artificial 
 refuge of vinous joys, and could not yet be 
 quite gathered together, though for days she 
 had been gathering. 
 
 Yet call we it weakness that her heart, 
 vacant then of its false proprietor at law, 
 yearned towards the lover of her young years, 
 miraculously her preserver just now ; the 
 lover not immaculate, but truly merciful and 
 generous as Heaven's order 1 Purifying, both 
 of them, face to face with nature in its great 
 wrath, with death ; for their own bruised 
 hearts, knowing the savour of right love, was 
 there habitation clear and bright before them 
 in this world, where there are not a few 
 uniting props to permit even of an unstable 
 reign of peace ! 
 
 Signs of coming morning were already 
 visible over the grey expanse of ocean, still 
 
THE FOUNDEKS OF ADTJLLAM. 161 
 
 heaving wildly, as Lily got up nervously and 
 staggered to the beach. 
 
 The keen eyes of Rothiemurchus, as in a 
 vision through the dusky cave, seemed to scan 
 the form of Michael Friars haggard before him. 
 
 The warper awoke later ; the grey light of 
 the morning stealing up the cave. In his eyes 
 lay the vision ; in his ears rang a wild and 
 weird cry of his young master. 
 
 Friars and Lily were gone. 
 
 Miles was at once aroused and informed. 
 
 " Something too much of this ! " He rubbed 
 his eyes, thinking rather of cheering his spirits 
 with some beautiful image from the poets than 
 apprehensive of new difficulties with ill-fated 
 and refractory lovers. 
 
 " We all play many parts, I know," said he ; 
 " but why play dead men ? " He was annoyed 
 at the evil forebodings of Eothiemurchus. 
 
 "March," cried the soldier; again in his 
 element, reconnoitering the scene of the war of 
 waters. 
 
162 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 The storm of wind and rain had gone. The 
 black waters of the deep basins lapped the 
 rocks of the shore, and the tide was out. It 
 blew freshly overland from the west, and the 
 sun with great glow was rising out of the sea. 
 The strong pulse of life, that will assert itself 
 even in insolvents hiding among the stones, 
 may surely be due as much to love of the sun 
 as to draughts of the juices which ripen in its 
 summer rays. All found new vigour in their 
 veins at the sight. Miles extolled its many 
 excellencies, so that one of the weavers, with 
 humour not to be repressed in "the smiling 
 morn," whisoered that it " was no mistake a 
 whackin ^[,ie8^R;}i -f J for bread and cheese and 
 a glass of it 
 
 But the eyes of the party were mostly en- 
 gaged in a bewildered search for Friars and 
 Lily. It was hopeless to think of their doing 
 much themselves, and they sent a message to 
 the burgh. 
 
 Ruthiemurchus had run along the ridges of 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 163 
 
 the Skerries, and kept a look-out beyond the 
 waters of the creeks. Far out, where the sea- 
 birds were screeching and trimming their 
 wings for flight, where the black expanse of 
 flat rocks and the deep tide met, the loose 
 garments of the warper's great form were 
 seen fluttering in the breeze. He stood now 
 gazing upon the appeased sea, where neither 
 ship sped nor boat appeared, then towards the 
 land and overhanging clifl's where the party he 
 left stood together looking mostly after him 
 with alarm. 
 
 He came back, but would not leave that 
 shore. His bright eye was sunk and still ; his 
 strong step listless beside the vast expanse of 
 rock and ocean where the man he loved might 
 lie as anemone or asterias. Heard muttering in 
 self-upbraiding torments, he lay on the ledge 
 where Lily had been found in the early night, 
 watching the water slowly flowing from the 
 basin below. When the others returned from 
 the land above, Rothiemurchus cried, " They 
 
164 THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 
 
 are there," pointing to the shallowed water 
 below. 
 
 They were there — drowned. 
 
 In death their weaknesses were forgotten, 
 and their sorrows and their love only re- 
 membered. In death the barriers which sepa- 
 rated them were cast down. Side by side they 
 lay with a smile upon their livid cheeks, re- 
 sembling that Avhich Maria said they had 
 worn at Heatherbracks when together; side 
 by side they were borne on the shoulders of 
 the weavers into the burgh, to be afterwards 
 laid side by side in the ground above the cliif, 
 which the weavers again named. Beyond the 
 grave we think of them by the early promise 
 of their open, free, kind, and susceptible 
 hearts, and not estranged. 
 
 The weavers, attached to persons and place, 
 headed by Eothiemurchus, recognised the * 
 genius of Friars, and resolved to try their for- 
 tunes-on " No Man's Land." The form of the 
 determined philosopher alone was seen to 
 
THE FOUNDERS OF ADULLAM. 165 
 
 stand erect on the poop of the " Arethusa " as 
 she sped next day with the breeze, oflf the 
 Bay, .bound for the Far West. The weavers 
 waved to Miles, oiF the cliff, with a piece of 
 their linen fabric, and when the ship was lost 
 to view over the sea they returned through 
 Adullam. 
 
 Taking up the unpretending writings which 
 form the title deeds of the humble cottages 
 at Adullam, there is no trace of the events 
 which begat them. We are careful enough 
 to have all set down on parchment about our 
 little worldly stores. What of the joys, the 
 sorrows, the errors, the transgressions, the re- 
 pentances, the hopes and faiths which have 
 preceded the acquisitions 1 Unknown ; to all 
 but ourselves often properly unknown ; yet 
 how often unjustly forgotten or cast out ! 
 The dramas that are entwined with these cords 
 which bind that musty bundle lying in the 
 lawyers' chambers might less seldom be told, 
 and with sympathy and kindness. 
 
(166) 
 
 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 TT was the afternoon of an October day, 
 following the decision, in the Summer 
 Session, in the well-known entail case — 
 Macaulay and others v. Kilratray, that a 
 metropolitan lawyer might have been seen 
 wending his way near the lands of Auchter- 
 lony towards the Villa Tanfield, residence 
 of that keen Disruptionist, Miss Christian 
 Auchterlony, one of the successful pursuers 
 in the above-named suit. 
 
 The case was under appeal to the House 
 of Lords at the instance of the defender, my 
 client, Mr George Kilratray. He was the 
 grandchild of the maker of the entail. Major 
 Auchterlony, whose second wife had died, 
 leaving only a daughter, George's mother 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 167 
 
 (also now dead). His wife had left all her 
 wealth to the Major, and that gallant gentle- 
 man purchased with it an estate, which he 
 had entaUed (first taking the title in his own 
 name) by a questionable deed upon himself 
 and George Kilratray. 
 
 Takesnifi", Q.C., who was accustomed to 
 revise the judgments of the Court below, 
 by the light of his study of the legal minds 
 of the august lords of the highest tribunal 
 at Westminster, gave hope of a reversal. 
 Danbury held peculiar views, it would seem 
 by TakesnifF's account in consultation, in 
 favour of maintaining Scotch deeds attacked 
 upon the faith of some rigid old Acts and 
 decisions of stiffer judges; and Danburj' led 
 Sudbury ; Leadbury being generally absent 
 in cases of the kind. 
 
 Meanwhile, two rumours had reached me 
 which seemed to give some hope that the 
 aid of my lord Danbury would not need to 
 be invoked. The pursuers of the suit to 
 
168 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 set aside the deed of entail were the as- 
 signees of Ralph Auchterlony, a "ne'er-do- 
 weel," the oldest son of the Major by his 
 first marriage — viz., Miss Christian Auchter- 
 lony, aforesaid, Anthony Macaulay, and his 
 second wife. Amy Auchterlony or Macaulay. 
 These ladies were the other children of the 
 Major, and sisters of the dissipated and now 
 deceased Ralph. It was now said that Miss 
 Christian had " Christian bowels." The estate 
 was by every law of nature and morality 
 George's ; and Ralph was only entitled to 
 claim it by law as the only son of the Major. 
 Rumour, moreover, said that the Major had left 
 a conveyance to his grandson, George, of all his 
 estates in fee simple, but that this document 
 had been put out of the way. Careless, if 
 social and gallant gentleman, to employ old 
 Saunders M'Sawney — because Saunders was 
 at hand and could drink six tumblers of 
 punch with the retired warrior — to write ofi"- 
 hand, on a wet day, entails and settlements ! 
 
THE HEIR OP TAILZIE. 169 
 
 I heard on my way that Miss Christian 
 had resolved upon devoting her share of the 
 plunder to the Free Church, and all hope 
 of the " bowels " vanished. I had my doubts 
 of the beauty of this sacrifice : I knew that 
 her Church was then poor enough, and I 
 remembered the story of noble Eobin, who 
 plundered the rich that he might give to 
 the poor ; but maturer judgment brought the 
 conviction that Hood's practice was nefarious, 
 and that all his followers would be — con- 
 demned. Besides, George, landless, was a 
 poor man. ' 
 
 Beside the noble river Candlish, running 
 its course between the great woods of Alvin 
 and the high banks of Luth, I was whirled 
 with a solitary companion towards Tanfield. 
 There, in the distance, over the sweet pas- 
 toral meadow; where the odours of the forest 
 and the violet beds, the rose, the sweet 
 brier, and the wild thyme came famously 
 with the south wind ; where the notes of 
 
170 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 the blackbird, the lark, and mavis were 
 heard long in the woods and among the 
 clover, dwelt Miss Christian. We expect 
 human nature to partake of the tranquillity 
 which surrounds it. But the heart of Chris- 
 tian Auchterlony had been ruffled. The fair 
 scenes, delicate odours, and sweet sounds 
 had no power to soothe to any accord with 
 their passivity the strings of an instrument, 
 not formed to make great music, which 
 had been already stirred with the fierce 
 blasts of Churches. The pale and solemn 
 visage, and the soft persuasive eloquence, 
 of the Eeverend Malcolm Canmore, pastor 
 of her church, pleading for mercy to the 
 vanquished, and putting aside his own needs, 
 had not any more effect to change her will 
 than had the hleti amiable hyacinth, or the 
 en candeur double tulip in her flower-pots. 
 A gentle passion was the original cause of 
 her thirst for new possession ; to make age 
 more attractive to this most sincere preacher 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. l7l 
 
 of the gospel, the Eev. M. Canmore, it 
 might even, she would think, be gilded with 
 that fair soil — the pro indiviso half of Auch- 
 terlony. And now that he did not seek her, 
 she would throw the, to her, Avorthless wealth 
 into the coffers of his Church; believing it 
 would be acceptable in a region beyond man's. 
 My companion of the coach attracted my 
 attention off the dreary aspects of the decay- 
 ing summer ; autumn sighing without the 
 approach of the sharp bracing air of accepted 
 winter ; a season in unison with the transi- 
 tion state of my client's fortunes. He was 
 an old son of toil, gaunt and grim, with 
 cheeks stiflfened by sadness, and eyes full 
 of ever-standing tears. Yet the expression 
 of grief was mingled with patience and a 
 strange joy. A saint's countenance would 
 have been less attractive to a mortal, for 
 this was human. A Greuze would, in the 
 strength and delicacy of his brush, so height- 
 ened the sadness and the softness of the 
 
172 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 sorrow, that stoics would have wept over 
 the picture. I did not disturb the old fellow, 
 for I internally wept with him, in the 
 strangely-blended depth and humility of his 
 woe. His lips moved, and more than once I 
 heard him breathe the word " will." WUl ? I 
 thought of no will but the Major's ; and what 
 concern would this saint have with the put- 
 ting away of the Major's will ! 
 
 George wished me to put the question to his 
 aunt, if she knew anything of this alleged will. 
 My errand now was partly to see her; and 
 when my companion went out before me, and 
 took the way through the burgh to the almost 
 solitary Villa Tanfield, I kept up with him. 
 
 " My good friend," I said, " I must 
 now break silence. We are surely bound for 
 the same destination. May I ask " 
 
 But the man hurried forward. Grief, no 
 doubt, drove him from the companionship 
 of men. 
 
 " I am going to Tanfield," I cried. 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 173 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and surveyed me in 
 the "gloamin'." I returned his gaze with 
 .severity, and cried out — 
 
 "You are one of the persons in the know- 
 ledge of Major Auchterlony's will. .Speak 
 out and save yourself." 
 
 The feeble knees trembled between the 
 exertion he had made to get aWay from me 
 and agitation. 
 
 " Waur ye to ask Meenie," but he turned 
 and scampered on. 
 
 " Stay," I cried, " who is Meenie ? Is she 
 your wife, daughter, sister 1 Be she elf or fairy, 
 spaewife or witch, I must see Meenie." 
 
 Who was Meenie 1 This lithe, little lady, 
 who, in fair flowing hair and bright blue 
 dress, leapt from, a carriage at the door of 
 Miss Auchterlony, and as soon as she saw 
 my companion, took him round the neck and 
 kissed him ? I stood back, and the pair went 
 in together before me. Surely this was the 
 keeper of the old saint's conscience, she who 
 
174 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 dispelled the darkness on his brow with kisses, 
 and wrung sorrow from his breast with her 
 soft arms round his neck. If he were the 
 possessor of the secret, and the lady my ally, 
 I did not doubt success. 
 
 I was received by Miss Auchterlony hospi- 
 tably, and even familiarly, since she continued, 
 as I stood, vociferating for "Mina," whim- 
 sically descending from the full baptismal 
 name through the endearing abbreviation of 
 simple childhood to the abrupt syllable of less 
 tractable girlhood. "Mina," "Ina," were cries 
 peremptorily repeated along the low passage- 
 way ; and I now concluded that " Meenie " or 
 Mina and my late companion were already 
 closeted together in a parlour, holding con- 
 ference. There was somehow pleasant asso- 
 ciation with the name, and mentally I repeated 
 it, as I stood behind the owner of the Villa 
 Tanfield, waiting for the warm affectionate 
 owner of the Christian name to come forth. 
 Would she come forth and seal with these 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 175 
 
 tranquillising kisses contracts of amity on 
 behalf of George and his aunt. 
 
 For a minute Mina ,did not see us as we 
 stood at the open door of the parlour, through 
 which we saw her engaged with dainty 
 handkerchief wiping away the tears from the 
 eyes of the grieving son of the soil. This 
 was Mina, daughter of Anthony Macaulay 
 by a first marriage — the piece of nature, the 
 vigorous, the glowing, the hearty Mina, of 
 whom I remembered now to have heard two 
 years before — Mina, with the laughing eye 
 and ruddy cheek, who had been discovered, 
 before she had reached her teens, after having 
 been given up as lost, reading "Eobinson 
 Crusoe " beneath the branches of a pine tree ; 
 who had crossed the river by the dangerous 
 rocks at the great falls, and sought an adventure, 
 like Virginia, looking beyond the spray of the 
 cascades for her amiable Paul ; this was Mina,.in 
 whose tender, humorous counteuance now the 
 clear purpose of an active, not the dream 
 
176 THE HEIE OV TAILZIE. 
 
 of a merely contemplative spirit, was ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 Laughing through, her commiseration, she 
 seized her aunt by one hand and myself by 
 the other, and took us into the room. 
 
 "It's Davie, Aunty. Davie is under my 
 wing. He sha'n't be shoved out, walk, nor fly 
 from Auchterlony — the old gardener. Who 
 will separate Davie from his pansies 1 Davie 
 is Nannie's husband; Nannie just dead — good, 
 kind Nannie." 
 
 The long light brown hair of the fairy, 
 which might represent her wing, fell over the 
 bent shoulders of the old gardener. He did 
 not disapprove, while — his restless guardian' 
 withdrawing the symbols of her protecting 
 power — he cast his eyes upon the piles of 
 well-buttered toast, which sat on the table 
 near the fire where a pot of tea stood infusing. 
 
 " You see, sir," said Mina to me, holding 
 down her head, trying fiercely to repress a 
 spirit of playfulness, and scarcely succeeding 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 177 
 
 in calling solemnity to the front, or in making 
 herself a rigid defender of one faith, " I'm come 
 here for good, and I intend to be as good as I can. 
 Dodd, our miller, has been making a slave of 
 his man Archie these ten years. I've pled with 
 Dodd — Mr Dodd — gently, an' it's done good. 
 I've been educated, you see, now. There's Davie 
 there, and good simple George Kilratray, they 
 are both in trouble. I'm counsel for the 
 defence — I, Mina — that's why I'm here." 
 
 She drew the palms of her hands over her 
 fair cheeks, and then, with her hands folded 
 over her bright dress, waited, with a per- 
 ceptible twinkle in her eyes, which were chiefly 
 directed to Miss Christian Auchterlony. She 
 wished to know if we had any opposition to 
 offer to her enrolment among the members of 
 the advocates of justice. 
 
 The defendant in re reduction, naturally, did 
 not relish so much frankness on the part of her 
 young relative. I, on the other hand, was 
 delighted. My first exultation was at my 
 
 M 
 
178 THE HEIE, OF TAILZIE. 
 
 client's good fortune. Secondly, I saw a 
 young lady wisely — if with eccentricity, 
 eccentricity was needed — seeking to promote 
 the ends of justice — an agreeable sight to pro- 
 fessional eyes accustomed to contact with the 
 malignant cohesion of perverse broods given 
 up to selfishness and unreasonableness. Mina 
 was as capable as the Moderator of the General 
 Assembly of determining the moral justice or 
 injustice of the conduct of Dodd, her father's 
 miller, of the dismissal or transference of the 
 old gardener, and the attack upon George Kil- 
 ratray's possession of his grandmother's fortune. 
 Desirous of propitiating Davie, and perhaps 
 of instituting a comparison of her own prac- 
 tical kindness with her niece's moral treat- 
 ments, the elder dame profusely pressed Davie 
 to partake of the well-buttered slices and the 
 contents of the teapot. Davie's mouth was 
 forthwith closed. Yet I perceived in the old 
 gentleman's countenance an archness which 
 betrayed courtesy, not conviction, to accompany 
 
THE HEIR OF. TAILZIE. 179 
 
 the silence induced by the lavish gifts of bread 
 and bohea, 
 
 " Come, Mina — come with us upstairs," cried 
 Miss Christian. 
 
 " No ; I'm precognosknowing, aunty ; I can- 
 not come; Davie has something for me." 
 
 Warmed with the earnest of many refresh- 
 ments, to an instalment of which he had been 
 led by Mina, and feeling clung to by this 
 brave affectionate defender, simple as he had 
 thought her to be, Davie lost the caution of 
 his race, accustomed to wait on power-. 
 
 " It waur Nannie's ; it waur her leegacy to 
 ye, Miss Meenie," said the old fellow, drawing 
 the back of one hand over his eyes, and with 
 the other placing in the lap of Mina a small 
 gold brooch. His tears were electrical. Im- 
 mediately the legatee, as she took the trinket 
 and tried to pin it over her heart, sank upon a 
 stool at the feet of Davie. Suddenly seized with 
 the full tide of memory of a just deceased old 
 woman who had dealt kindly many a day with 
 
180 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 her romps, she was borne away at once beyond 
 her sweet but not imprudent irruption into the 
 hard field of jurisprudence, and was a prey to 
 grief herself. 
 
 Davie was committed from that moment to 
 the side of innocent nineteen, and to dare the 
 power of numbers, age, and influence. With 
 Davie, as often with his betters, even with 
 the clearest principles of moral duty, requir- 
 ing not a single thought but instinct only, 
 it is persons who direct the course, and one 
 who to him was a child directed the canny 
 " saint " now. 
 
 "We heard the sob of the girl as we left 
 her and walked quietly up stairs. " Oh, 
 Nann ie — Nannie — Nannie — dead , Davie — 
 dead." 
 
 So advocate and witness had their weep 
 together. I had confidence already in Mina 
 that the business she had in hand would not 
 be neglected. I was with her in imagination 
 as I reflected that the strange joy visible on 
 
THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 181 
 
 the stricken countenance which hid the frail 
 morality of the old servant was not unconnected 
 with the depth of feeling evinced for him in 
 the breast of the joyous, the tender Mina. >, 
 
 The burghers of the old-fashioned town as 
 I passed through it were already moving with 
 important and joyous stride to whist and 
 toddy; matron and elderly maid, accoutred 
 for tea and gossip, also tripping their familiar 
 rounds in their quiet social world. It was 
 an important social gathering that was ex- 
 pected just immediately at the Villa Tanfield, I 
 was informed. Counsel was to be taken among 
 the lady's " cronies " regarding the manner of 
 her bestowal among her Church's Schemes of 
 her share of the price of Auchterlony, It may 
 be believed that I was anxious to be off. But 
 upstairs Macaulay was already seated, and the 
 opportunity was given to me to interrogate 
 both pursuers of the suit. 
 
 Anthony Macaulay, or " Tony " simply, as 
 he was called by the " cold-blooded Moderates " 
 
182 THE HETE OF TAILZIE. 
 
 of the Churcli, was possessed of the greatest 
 wealth and influence, as a lay supporter of 
 the Free Church, among the parishioners. 
 These he owed to an indomitable energy and 
 a keen interested humour, aided by a practical 
 generosity, which did not need to be exercised 
 towards individuals beyond the presentation 
 of a pinch of snufi". So commonplace a query, 
 delivered by Tony on a market day, to a 
 single person always, aside from all other men, 
 as " Ye'll be a' thrashed noo, Saunders," or, 
 " Whaur got ye that pretty lot, Jeemie 1 " (refer- 
 ring to some hummlies), he proffering his box, 
 with a pinch at his own nose, went to the 
 very marrow of the son of toil addressed. 
 The small weary farmer, the decrepit earth- 
 stained pendicler, felt themselves thought 
 about, singled out, and applauded (always 
 with knowledge), by the pawky gentleman. 
 His attention conferred upon the poor country- 
 men a taste of the gratification of the bay- 
 crowned poet, of the rapt joy of the trumpeted 
 
THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 183 
 
 hero of the field, of the thrill of the accepted 
 star of the Thespian Temple. It was well 
 known that that sniLff-muU had gained over 
 twenty members from the Establishment in 
 his quarter for one that the celebrated 
 pamphlet of the minister of the parish 
 against schism and voluntaryism had retained. 
 Eumour in former days had accused him of 
 making money in smuggling ; and his fine 
 mansion was known then as " Smuggler's 
 Cave." Its present name, given by his 
 opponents, was "Cumnor Hall." Anthony 
 Macaulay had married Amy Auchterlony ; and 
 had burned at his gate the reports of the 
 decision of the judges in the well - known 
 Church cases of Auchterarder and Strathbogie. 
 Hence " Tony-fire-the-fagot," and the bestowal 
 of the name of the place of retreat of the 
 beautiful and childish Amy. 
 
 It was an odd sight to see the Falstaffian- 
 looking gentleman — for he was round of body 
 and most rosy of countenance, like honest 
 
184 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 Jack — one little likely to get hoarse singing 
 of anthems — fired with puritanical zeal, send- 
 ing the "records of sin" to destruction. It 
 was said he had made a sacrifice, in his fit 
 of holy zeal, of some good usquebaugh, to 
 make the flames blue; for the crowd of 
 enthusiasts was delighted with braver fires 
 than could be emitted by mild print sheets, 
 while fretting, doubtless, at the waste of 
 " good stuff"." "Odd, chaps, they burn pretty," 
 cried Tony ; " see hoo they tak to the het 
 wark." The laughter was great. The said 
 cold-blooded individuals always maintained 
 that the energetic and humorous Nonintru- 
 sionist did not weigh with prayer and de- 
 liberation the sides of the controversy, but 
 took, necessarily, from early associations, the 
 side of revolt against authority ; and took it 
 also as he knew his father-in-law, Major 
 Auchterlony, of whom he had nothing more 
 to expect (the Major having divided the 
 greater share of his own wealth among his 
 
THE HEIR OP TAILZIE, 185 
 
 family so soon as his second wife died) — 
 and of whose new dignity he was not a 
 little jealous — to be a staunch supporter of the 
 Establishment. 
 
 T could easily imagine that Macaulay would 
 think twice before counselling his elderly sister- 
 in-law to give so large a bounty to the 
 Church ; and I was not surprised when I got 
 upstairs to find that he had a letter — from my 
 client, George Kilratray — to read to her con- 
 cerning her intentions. He knew her temper 
 best ; and doubtless a course which might 
 have made others persevere in " pious " stub- 
 bornness he thought might have another 
 effect with her ; whUe it might be certain at 
 all events to save " the spoils " from returning 
 to the letter-writer who might offer gratuitous 
 advice. It surprised and annoyed me to find 
 the otherwise judicious feUow committing 
 his feelings to paper to be set before his 
 opponents. 
 
 The owner of Cumnor Hall was not in an un- 
 
186 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 happy, though anxious, mood with this letter 
 on his knee ; his keen merry eye twinkled, 
 and ever and anon he struck his mull, taking 
 only once a pinch, as we walked slowly to 
 chairs and sat, without speaking for a 
 minute or two, looking upon his comfortable- 
 like person. 
 
 " Ay, Geordie ! Geordie says, ' Christian 
 Auchterlony's mind is not concerned with 
 questions of spiritual independence, headship, 
 and so forth, any more than it is with doubts 
 of the use of vestments, wafers, incense, and 
 eastern postures. She is of a mind with Sir 
 Lucius about disputes. If she fights, it is to 
 warm her blood, caring no more where the 
 right lies than did " Achilles or my little 
 Alexander ; " but leaving the . lazy sons of 
 peace to settle the justice of it. Let her 
 retain the spoil.' " 
 
 I watched the naturally good-humoured 
 countenance of the lady during the reading 
 of the letter, the true meaning of which 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 187 
 
 her rousing temper did not permit her to 
 seize. 
 
 Miss Auchterlony burst into tears, buried 
 her face in her hands, and cried that the 
 money was to be given to the Church of 
 Christ, through her faith in whom she hoped 
 for mercy in heaven. 
 
 I saw that the lady had had her good 
 nature impaired. I saw that she had, per- 
 meated by strong enough earthy particles, a 
 heart naturally capable of some sacrifice, one to 
 bleed at nnjust imputations, and if succumbing 
 to a great temptation, possessing still a pure 
 chord of love. But her instincts had been 
 muddled with attempts to master the subtleties 
 uf "divines. It was in truth apparent that the 
 owner of the Villa Tanfield would have been 
 the better of daily roams over the pastoral 
 meadows, free of the " controversies." Of real 
 steady convictions of any kind, to ground her 
 attitude of preferring the cause of her Church's 
 pocket to the cause of her clever and high- 
 
188 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 principled nephew, she had none. To a vague 
 and undiscerning eye only had in her case the 
 conflicts of the Churches presented themselves. 
 Capable of worshipping " Christ not Csesar," 
 doubtless she was ; yet without truly seeing an 
 inch of that immeasurable distance which was 
 represented to her to lie between the creeds of 
 the Churches said to be respectively under the 
 patronage of one of these great names. 
 
 During this scene the ruling elder of the 
 Church sat unmoved, not displeased at the 
 display of devotion of the sister-in-law to the 
 cause she had espoused with him against the 
 wishes of her father. It was now my turn to 
 speak. 
 
 I told them that the purpose of my visit 
 was to interrogate them regarding the missing 
 will. The fire of wild passion rose in the 
 man's eyes. He at once took a pinch, rose 
 and turned his back upon me. 
 
 "If there were a will, I wouldn't trust it to 
 your judges." 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 189 
 
 I suggested that he had trusted the deed of 
 entail to their construction with success. ;^ j 
 
 " They would have upheld it, sir, if they 
 dared. But there was decision on all fours 
 wdth ours against it. They daren't — though 
 Bellfield and Cranberry finished the Major's 
 Leoville twice a year after circuit. A curse 
 on these cringing curs of authority ! " 
 
 I attributed the decision to the law and 
 their conscience ; and recounted the moral 
 claims, the misfortunes, and the situation 
 of my client. It was the duty of all, and 
 especially of those in whose company I was, 
 to reveal even their suspicions of the existence 
 of a will, which the now deceased M'Sawney 
 had apparently so carelessly made for his 
 client. As to George's adhesion to the Church 
 of his fathers, it was as conscientious as 
 might be expected. of one of his years. The 
 lad was fond of banter, and when he em- 
 ployed that light weapon upon an antagonist 
 who seemed coming into possession of Lis 
 
190 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 property, his freedom from real bitterness of 
 heart was assured. 
 
 I was scarcely listened to. The ponderous 
 form of Macaulay shook the floor as he trod it, 
 after he had shoved the mull deep into his 
 tail pocket, as if that instrument of propitiation 
 were never again to see the light of day. He 
 was now identifying himself with his sister-in- 
 law's designs. 
 
 " If Kilratray forsake the Erastians, if he 
 join the true Church, come you back here. 
 We have spent blood and gold in the cause, 
 and can look upon this acquisition as may 
 be directed by a Higher Power. If he adhere 
 to his godless crew — let him starve. It's pride 
 and tyranny they love, and a fall '11 do them 
 good. Ay, may the whole pursy hangers-on 
 of the State sink ; may their supporters 
 crumble, and their lands go — like Auchterlony 
 — from them." 
 
 We did not observe that Mina was a wit- 
 ness, in the background, to this passionate 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 191 
 
 burst of irrelevancy, in which the speaker — a 
 shrewd and sensible man — followed a course of 
 attempted self-imposition. 
 
 All traces of her recent tears gone, and with 
 a face shining in her happy purpose, she made 
 her presence known. She put her arm in 
 that of her father, clinging gently, with her 
 eyes bent on the floor. 
 
 " George will not join our Church, and you 
 would be first to despise him, father, if he did, 
 for the sake of lucre." 
 
 The words were spoken with quiet ease. 
 Mina was even playful ; and far from com- 
 manding, did not now seem to plead. 
 
 There was an evident struggle in the breast 
 of Macaulay. But he shook his daughter off, 
 sitting down, and commanding her silence. 
 
 The child stood for a few moments looking 
 on his anger. A wild flash of indignation 
 followed over her fair face. Then sternly 
 repressing a rising emotion, which, if she gave 
 ^Ya,y to it, could only have brought her advo- 
 
192 THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 
 
 cacy at once to dumbness and bitter tears, 
 she sat down on a stool at her parent's feet. 
 
 " Go," cried the father, " go to your tea- 
 making. I hear two of the elders below." 
 
 " Let them come," said Mina, with firmness, 
 but in gentle tones ; " they shall never handle 
 any share of the lands of Auchterlony." 
 
 Looking up she met the demon in Anthony 
 Macaulay's eyes. 
 
 " Do not look upon me, father ! I cannot 
 help it. I must see George righted, or die ! 
 No," with a smile upon her reddening cheek, 
 she added, " I will go to America." 
 
 From Mina's heart rose no gushing senti- 
 ment. This hearty little maid, who could see 
 " the future in the instant," would not die 
 because a man was despoiled of his estate, or 
 her people seemed to her to be unjust ; she 
 could steel her soft desires. 
 
 All three of us rose to our feet. The lips 
 of Anthony Macaulay trembled, and his florid 
 cheeks paled ; while his sister-in-law wrung 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 193 
 
 her hands, and cast violent reproaches, mixed 
 with incredulous stares, upon Mina, who was 
 kneeling with her face upon the couch from 
 which her father had risen. 
 
 The girl braved the wrath of her nearest 
 and dearest in the cause of justice. Yet in a 
 moment, not repenting, she was ready to clasp 
 the knees of her erring people in sympathy ; 
 her gentle nature alive now to their pain. 
 
 As she rose and followed her father, I was 
 struck with the beauty of a face which might 
 be plain in repose, but now reflected the calm 
 glow of a heart moved to its depths with a 
 clear, pure, and holy love — the love of giving 
 every created thing its due — the love, at any 
 cost, of all mercy. 
 
 The bright countenance of the young en- 
 thusiast — upon which, as we stood, some play 
 of humour, qualifying the strain upon her 
 sensibility, was rising — kindled within the 
 duller natures of the victim of self-imposture, 
 and the man of the world, sparks of sympathy, 
 
 N 
 
194 THE HEIK OF TAILZIE. 
 
 at all events for her ; remembering her early 
 loving devotion to the cause of the Church 
 which they professed to reverence. They were 
 silent. As I left the room, pressing on her 
 father's lap, she was pleading with warm 
 eloquence the cause of George. 
 
 I was nearly half a mile off from the Villa 
 Tanfield when I heard behind me the rustle of 
 the dress of a woman running. It was Mina, 
 who, out of breath, as she had sped like the 
 wind, informed me that she had forgot to 
 request that my client and I should be present 
 at Auchterlony to-morrow at the funeral of 
 Nannie, the gardener's wife. 
 
 "You wonder," she said, adjusting her hair; 
 "so win George." 
 
 I knew they were not lovers, or had never 
 known themselves to be such. George, it was 
 well known, had an "affair" with another. 
 Of Mina I had only heard him speak once, 
 and that was with smiles ; kindly laughter 
 for a creature who could not possibly be a 
 
THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 195 
 
 flame for one whose passion was inspired by 
 the grand and lofty. 
 
 " You see," she said, as I turned with her, 
 "'George always treated me as a wild, untract- 
 able thing. Though he pulled me out of the 
 Lynn Pool often, I suppose he saved me to 
 gratify his tyrannical nature. He would make 
 me gather brambles for him, and then eat the 
 most himself, and paint my cheeks with the 
 rest. I hadn't seen him for two years till last 
 week. I've been south finishing — I've been 
 educated ; but what must you think of me ! 
 Only, you know, my education was accom- 
 plished through feeling ! " 
 
 Here she broke into laughter, and I was 
 compelled to laugh too, to vary my humour 
 with one who, at one moment, seemed a reli- 
 gious enthusiast who might be worthy of cano- 
 nisation, and at another a frolicsome lass. 
 
 " That's what our German Master held forth. 
 I know George suspects me of possessing 
 a weak and ill- directed sentiment; I know 
 
196 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 he doesn't trust to development in my case. 
 When he came across me for the first time last 
 week at the Falcon Crag, he said, 'Fine day.' 
 'Quite well?' ' Thank ye.' 'How's your 
 mother? ' That didn't give me any chance of 
 showing how much feeling I had for his mis- 
 fortune. I was in a rage. But when the stars 
 were out, and George's candle was lighted, 
 and I, returning from the town on horseback, 
 was thrown at his door, I was made sensible. 
 It isn't the first time I've got sense from 
 knocks. Why, there isn't one for rising like 
 me when knocked down. I am more in 
 his cause than ever — the simple George's. I 
 am hard at work on precognosknowings, and 
 affidavies. I know it don't become a young 
 woman quite, but think of my education. 
 Laugh as you please. You won't know what 
 a taste for justice I have. Portia hadn't 
 any particular taste for it. Did she do more 
 than save her lover's friend ? " 
 
 As she sped before me, evidently wishing 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 197 
 
 again to take flight, some philosophy which I 
 had caught from Mill, some axiom I had 
 gathered of Spencer, were on their trial ; 
 for who would not that a bright intelli- 
 gence and a fine sense of justice should 
 cajole? Was there not beneath all this 
 playfulness the spirited love of justice — in 
 the abstract ? 
 
 Ere I bade her a second time good-night, and 
 as I had counselled her of the pains and dan- 
 gers of opposing the proceedings of her own 
 people, she assured me — the ring of her merry 
 voice quelling the sough of the autumn wind 
 among the bushes by the river, and rising 
 above the cry of the meeting waters near 
 which we stood — that she was "quite alive." 
 In a whisper, too, I thought she added she had 
 been taught love by another Father. Upon 
 the principle, I suppose, of the last half of the 
 adage which is concerned with keeping your 
 powder dry, she further assured me that she 
 was making certain of Davie : " Only mind his 
 
198 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 pansies, and there isn't a man for goodness like 
 Davie." She had taken a whole bed. 
 
 So there ran away over the grey landscape 
 this lithe and blythe maid, who was making 
 herself a guardian about her own land ; a 
 guardian such as was found in the old ages, " 
 and in the fancy, to be ethereal ; but may be 
 at this time no less while yet present in the 
 flesh. 
 
 I found George Kilratray, the hero of the 
 drama, seated in his Csesarean villa, to which 
 he had removed from Auchterlony after the 
 decision of the Court of Session. The reverse 
 of fortune seemed to have increased the happi- 
 ness of George, a great stalwart manly fellow 
 of some six feet three, whom I now found 
 lying on two chairs (after a heavy day's work 
 of study at Erskine and exercise on the roads) 
 amusing himself with some comic doggerel 
 lines upon his loss of Auchterlony. He would 
 not hear of any news I had to tell until he 
 had read to me his composition. It ran — 
 
THE HEIK OF TAILZIE. 199 
 
 " I'm but an heir of Tailzie 
 Got cast adrift with Spuilzie. 
 Declarator and nullity, 
 Fee-simple invalidity, 
 Lord Ordinary and President, 
 Authority and precedent. 
 Have ta'en my lands awa', man, 
 And left me with a plea then." 
 
 And SO he sang and recited through two or 
 three more verses, in which he lamented his 
 want of autumn and winter sports ; how little 
 the capercailzie (which rhymed with Tailzie) 
 would now dread his step ; pointing out how he 
 must sup at " kail sae " (also rhyming with the 
 Scotch word for entail) ; and winding up with 
 the refrain that all that was left to him was 
 the plea. In former days, George, probably 
 to some extent under the tuition of his grand- 
 father, with whom he had always lived, had 
 been a grand and dignified gentleman, whose 
 types of manhood and womanliness were the 
 M'lvors of " Waverley " and the Ivanhoes and 
 Eowenas. Now that he was free of the con- 
 straints of apparent heirship of a good estate, 
 and misfortune had brought him into sympathy 
 
200 THE HEIE, OF TAILZIE. 
 
 with the obscure crowd, and beyond mere pity 
 for abject suffering, he was opener and freer. 
 For a youth, he had already great experience 
 of life. The liveliness of his temper appropri- 
 ated it to elevating uses. He intended to sit 
 one day at the head of the Supreme Court. 
 
 That day George left Auchterlony house, and 
 the word went that it was already sold to a 
 soap boiler of Yorkshire, he mourned — as he 
 bade adieu to the familiar rooms — over the 
 wounded memory of his grandfather. "How 
 the old man," said he, " delighted to read that 
 deed of entaU with its jargon of fetters and 
 prohibitions, clauses irritant and resolutive ; all 
 hollow and deceptive, wanting two little syl- 
 lables, the vital sparks. This story was added 
 for the convenience of a century of descendants. 
 Ay, yon tower was erected on the hill to afford 
 a survey of the lands inalienably his, by the 
 combination of pen and ink, for hundreds of 
 years to come. He is but a year dead, and the 
 whole fabric is down like a house of cards. My 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 201 
 
 mother slept in this blue chamber her last sleep ; 
 he believed that in it, ay, may be in the course 
 of two hundred years, the placid smile of her 
 fair cheek would be seen through generations 
 repeated in ruddy health, on the downy pillow, 
 in the early morning sun ; which he regularly 
 came to let in, in her latter days. No descendant 
 of his will play upon these wide stairs, or pluck 
 the roses of the old garden ; none shall bless him 
 around the old sundial bearing his initials. That 
 irritant clause — that testing clause — "Sic transit 
 gloria mundi I" So with tears in his eyes and a 
 brave laugh rising in his heart, he went forth. 
 
 Before he did so he had tasted of the bitter 
 draughts which form the drink of unfortunate 
 youth in the banquet of life. George had fits 
 of melancholy, you may be sure ; the world is 
 often out of joint even for an heir-apparent, and 
 George for a summer or two might have been 
 heard crying in the woods of Auchterlony, 
 after the manner of a well-known poet who 
 addresses the west wind ; that the wind should 
 
202 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 make him its lyre even as the forest, but 
 questioning whether his leaves were not falling 
 like those of the planes and beeches. George 
 looked forward to the meeting with, and posses- 
 sion of, the common panacea for disorders of 
 the youthful male mind — a heroine — some splen- 
 did Flora, poised, with her fine foot upon a 
 rock, her eye kindled with feeling, and speak- 
 ing of the Celtic muse : " in the mist of the 
 sweet and solitar}' hill, with voice in the mur- 
 mur of the stream ; that he who loved ber 
 must love the barren rock more than the fertile 
 valley, and the solitude of the desert better than 
 the festivity of the hall." George was ready, 
 nay, eager, to go to the rocks and solitude, that 
 he might worship the beautiful, and woo the 
 lofty maiden linked to the lovely and sublime. 
 When George was " spouting Homer " in the 
 streets at midnight, with two or three choice 
 spirits, who frequented the " Rainbow " of an 
 evening, or went to Mrs Colonel Hayston's 
 dances, he scarcely realised his ideal. He might 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 203 
 
 rescue from tlie liarsh clutches of officious 
 policemen virtuous maids, not yet near the 
 fell jaws of dissipation ; and the young ladies 
 in Grosvenor Terrace were pretty. But the 
 impassioned Flora he did not meet with ; keep- 
 ing his fancy of that noble maid for the recesses 
 of his own heart, and his papers at the class of 
 Belles Lettres. Kilratray, there, evinced a high 
 opinion of the sex's charms and powers ; and 
 he gained the chief prize in composition for his 
 essay on " Woman's influence in the cause of 
 peace." "War, strife, rapine," wrote the lad, "all 
 the petty larcenies of common life, would be 
 rendered nigh impossible by the influence of 
 her serene and unselfish bosom, if man allowed 
 her her due place in the world. She would 
 direct the assuagement of the irritations which 
 often generate war ; she would bestow where 
 want has excited rage. Pure, generous, charit- 
 able, she never gives way to cruel ambition and 
 insane cupidity. She has enough when she is 
 loved !" " What !" asked the delighted but cynical 
 
204 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 Major, who remembered of many ladies, royal 
 and patrician, who did not bear out the argu- 
 ment, " What," he asked, " if they are not 
 loved 1 " 
 
 And George was wise enough to laugh ; 
 while he showed how, by reading on in his 
 MS., some stories in history could be made to 
 plead his cause. That same night on which 
 George brought his prize essay to his kind 
 grandfather, the latter brought to him the 
 handsome Georgina Harley. The Major knew 
 very well this was his grandson's " style ; " 
 she came there with a sister of his late wife, 
 and stayed at Auchterlony for a fortnight. 
 Before a day was over, George was in love, 
 and before she took her departure for the south, 
 there was an understanding that they were 
 to be man and wife at no distant day. 
 Georgina had listened, as they roamed to- 
 gether in the woods and by the river bank, 
 with apparent delight to the words of fine 
 frenzy of the apparent heir ; and, while she 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 205 
 
 looked the part of Flora, and breathed con- 
 currence — as she was bright of eye — though 
 this was music without words, it was yet 
 music ; and George was in rapture. 
 
 When the enthusiast returned to Auchter- 
 lony two months after the Major's death, he 
 found two important documents awaiting him, 
 the burden of whose song issued from the 
 minds of persons of that sex he had set him- 
 self to champion. One was a service copy 
 summons of reduction at the instance of his 
 grandfather's daughters ; the other, about 
 which I and others were now made aware of 
 for the first time, was a short letter from Miss 
 Harley. Miss Harley's solicitors had satisfied 
 that young lady and her friends that the 
 entail was, without doubt, worthless. The 
 strain of the letter may be imagined. George 
 had now only a couple of thousands of capital 
 instead of six thousand a year ; and Miss 
 Harley knew that if she were to marry a man 
 with two thousand pounds she would be a 
 
206 THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 
 
 burden to him, and so she gave him up ; 
 having a great deal more prudence than 
 warm impulsive Kil, who would have raved 
 about his strong arm and stout heart, and 
 t-aken her to a flat in King Street, insuffi- 
 cient to promote the delicious sense of still 
 life — which gives the peach bloom to the 
 cheek and retains it unimpaired, to per- 
 mit of a perfectly healthy survey of the 
 world. 
 
 The good fellow was indeed stunned ; 
 stunned physically at the depravity of woman- 
 kind ; and when he got up from his library 
 floor with the aid of Horrocks the butler, who 
 found him there as the pale light of morning 
 was already streaming in, it ^ was to remain 
 in almost a dumb condition for a week. But 
 at the close of that short period, nature as- 
 serted herself. He took out his prize essay 
 on the best method of bringing about the 
 millennium, and read it over until he came to 
 that part about the pure and generous soul 
 
THE HEIE OF TAILZIE. 207 
 
 which knew nothing of cupidity; then he 
 gave a great laugh and threw down his MS. 
 He did not burn it, for he had drawn that 
 part of it at all events from life ; in the blue 
 chamber he had known such a spirit, and he 
 believed there were others who could put 
 aside the flesh pots and enjoy better things ' 
 even with a little paleness which the world 
 might not admire. 
 
 " What ! " cried Kil — strong and comely, 
 pulling his fair beard and moustache, and 
 putting out his sinewy and long arm — but 
 solitary, alone now without relative to 
 advise with ; without bride to console and 
 cheer— all by the blunder of a "donnard auld 
 deevil " taken to be a lawyer — " what ! I am 
 not dependent on this property ! I will push 
 my way in Afghanistan, among my father's 
 friends. I may yet recover it ! I would 
 have fought more bravely had she stuck by 
 my side ; I would have had spirit for patience 
 and struggle in a profession had she been 
 
208- THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 true; but to cast me away at the sight of 
 poverty ! " 
 
 The first thing he had to do was to try 
 to uphold the Major's deed; to give reality 
 to the long day-dreams of the old warrior, 
 to enter upon the centuries of a posterity's 
 peace and glory in the grand old hall. 
 George was vigilant and judicious in his con- 
 duct as a litigant ; firm and fair as well as 
 ingenious. The honourable soldier, whose 
 "toy and bauble" he was fighting to main- 
 tain, wished his grandchild above all to be 
 "a good man;" and George, I could ima- 
 gine, praying not for success, but only that 
 misfortune would never make him a base 
 one. 
 
 Prudently, I gradually now revealed to 
 Kilratray Mina's share in the endeavour to 
 discover the will. I unfolded to him the 
 traits of her riper character, and insisted upon 
 his presence with me next day at the funeral 
 of Nannie. George shook his head, but pro- 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 209 
 
 mised to go. I left the honest fellow, as I 
 went to bed, yet sitting, gazing dreamily into 
 the -fire, My bare narrative of what Mina 
 had said and done, had evidently made a deep 
 impression on him. Was it in the rompish, 
 wilful, yet to him hitherto insignificant Mina, 
 that he must look for that practical, lofty zeal, 
 which he must see in his realisation of the 
 ideal of woman 1 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the body 
 of Nannie was delivered into the hands of the 
 mourners who were to bear it to the kirkyard. 
 The funeral party assembled had to wait be- 
 yond the appointed time. Macaulay was not 
 present in the room which had been set apart 
 for us who were to assist at the obsequies 
 paid to the remains of the old housekeeper at 
 Auchterlony, nor was the chief mourner him- 
 self present. I associated their absence with 
 some proceedings of Mina. There was much 
 in the unspoken sympathy of the few tenants 
 present for the position of George Kilratray ; 
 
 
 
210 THE HEIE OF TAILZIE, 
 
 and the whispers that had gone abroad for the 
 last few days, to the effect that the house- 
 keeper, the foster-mother of Ealph Auchter- 
 lony, had, in devotion to that scamp, put away 
 the wUl of the dying Major, found their way 
 also among the farmers, and created now some 
 indistinct buzz of anticipation. I was anxious, 
 but I left it entirely to the intrepidity, wis- 
 dom, and cajolery of Mina to unravel the 
 mystery, which, without her, would always 
 have remained so. The saintly countenance 
 of Davie had not concealed his frail human 
 nature. Had Nannie stolen the wiU, I could 
 easily believe she would not destroy it ; yet 
 leave it to her husband to be even buried with 
 her ; and Davie vacillate with perfect com- 
 placency, yielding at last to the blandishments 
 of an affectionate girl, while he would have 
 been obstinately ignorant at the command of 
 a lawyer. 
 
 We looked nervously towards the door 
 which opened with a bound. In it, draped 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 211 
 
 in black, solemn of countenance, bearing signs 
 of recent agitation, stood Mina. 
 
 "Gentlemen," she said, in clear intrepid 
 voice, a glimpse of sunshine breaking for a 
 moment through the melancholy induced by 
 her struggle with inferior natures, "Davie 
 is sorry to have kept you so long waiting. I 
 am the cause. I wouldn't permit him to 
 follow his dead wife to the tomb until he had 
 purged her memory of some scandal. He has 
 delivered up to me the recipe for killing it. 
 He is ready now." Here the tears flooded her 
 eyes, and her little speech was stopped. She 
 drew herself up, and continued, " You may go 
 now, gentlemen." 
 
 Mina was gone, and we followed the 
 mourners. 
 
 In an hour, ere the last red beams of the 
 autumn sun had vanished before coming night, 
 we were again seated in the library at Auch- 
 terlony, waiting upon the movements of the 
 chief actor in the strange drama. We had not 
 
212 THE HEIR or TAILZIE, 
 
 long to wait. The dinner, of beef and greens 
 and a glass of warm punch which was rapidly 
 brewed, was not finished before a message ar- 
 rived from Mina, asking if she would be per- 
 mitted to come in. In a minute she followed. 
 " Brighter than the morning " were the forcible 
 words of our friend Fauldhouse as she entered ; 
 her eyes sparkling, and with the grace of a 
 Muse. She shook hands with us all, and 
 delivered a paper into the hands of Kilratray. 
 " Mr George Kilratray," she then said, " I 
 am able, by the grace of God, to restore to you 
 this will of Major Auchterlony, of which you 
 have been deprived. I do not know its mean- 
 ing or effect. I pray what is yours may be 
 yours by it and the law. I beseech you for 
 forgiveness and mercy " — here she knelt on the 
 ground — -" I plead for mercy for the ignorant, 
 the erring and weak. As you hope to be 
 delivered from temptation — as you hope for 
 salvation — oh, forget and be merciful. And — 
 farewell." 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 213 
 
 He was struggling to raise her, the, to him 
 till yesterday, wayward, unremembered Miaa ; 
 pleading for forgiveness, while he thought only 
 of the injustice for which he himself should 
 plead forgiveness from her. But she eluded 
 his grasp, and was out. We saw her nimbly 
 running over the lawn before he had time to 
 recover the effects of the surprise, and her 
 impassioned and odd address. 
 
 Throwing to me the paper — which was a 
 short disposition of the Major leaving all to 
 George — he followed his benefactress, scarcely 
 knowing what he did. 
 
 As we saw the great fellow bound down the 
 slopes in front of the hall, in doubt and con- 
 fusion, and stumbling at every other step, not 
 knowing where to turn for the object of his 
 search ; as the farmers danced in their excite- 
 ment, needing some point to their rather 
 awkward gestures, I drew them back to the 
 table ; and, as I told them the effect of the 
 
214 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 will, asked tliem to charge their glasses mean- 
 while. 
 
 "You know, gentlemen," I said, "in this 
 house of rejoicing — but two hours ago one of 
 mourning — you know to whom the first 
 bumper is to be dedicated 1 " 
 
 They did. 
 
 " To Miss Macaulay ! Here's to Mina ! God 
 has blessed her; may she have an additional 
 reward than her own pure heart, here.'" I 
 could not stifle that word. 
 
 When Kilratray returned two hours after- 
 wards, he had only a quotation for me, now 
 alone, from George Sand. " I looked over the 
 garden wall," said he ; " only the evening 
 wind playing among the shrubs." 
 
 Mina had freed herself greatly from an 
 impulsive habit sooner than had her old play- 
 mate. I suspected from George's demeanour 
 that he had overtaken Mina before he had 
 looked over the garden wall, but I was silent 
 on that head. 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 215 
 
 I imagined that he felt rebuflfed. He had 
 discovered there was a secret in these delicate 
 natures — which, in the general, he had played 
 with and patronised on paper— ^yet to be 
 unfolded to him. The most vigorous of her 
 sex, arch and humorous as she pressed forward 
 with the claims of her zeal, was not to be won 
 by bursts of awakened affection. But she 
 knew George well. I believed that that great 
 historical spectacle of 1843 — the Protest of 
 the Divines ; and the procession ; the flights 
 from Church and benefice into the fields ; 
 which had stirred her young impressionable 
 heart — had severed all thought even of 
 associating with George Kilratray, though in 
 her forgetfulness of schisms Nature asserted 
 herself. George was " moderate ; " George 
 upheld unjust " authority," and even was seen 
 to give a laugh over such sights as her father 
 holding in the meadow during service an 
 umbrella over the head of a martyr, or her 
 carrying eggs and fowls to that patient one, 
 
216 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 a father of the Church, driven to the cottage 
 on the hill. 
 
 " 'Tis true, and pity 'tis 'tis true," that indivi- 
 duals who suffer martyrdom on their own 
 account have a very different time of it from 
 those who are borne along on the tide of 
 enthusiasm of a great community which is 
 also voyaging with rich independent freight. 
 Mina, though she did not lecture people or 
 ask them if they were Christians, was not 
 likely to have happiness dealt out to her by 
 those to whose moral sores she had applied 
 even her sweet herbs. In the case of her 
 father and his sister-in-law, who were carried 
 away for the time by her spirit, there was 
 the reaction of the sense of losing a fortune 
 by her interference ; and Dodd the miller, and 
 the rest of them, who gave way to her en- 
 treaties to use Archie gently, or give Joseph 
 a better cot, on being appealed to a second 
 time, exhibited the spectacle of nature tired 
 out by the unwonted experience of a soft 
 
THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 217 
 
 emotion ; and decidedly snappish. In the 
 course of two years Mina might have wept 
 thg,t she had no more worlds to conquer. 
 She was still the same, but the world was not 
 that world which had welcomed her. 
 
 George, who found her eminently lovable 
 with all these enthusiasms and humours, and 
 who had endeavoured to consult her opinion 
 on some matters concerning the management 
 of his own estate, was one December day, 
 accompanied by myself, driving towards the 
 hills, when, with the aid of a glass, he spied 
 Mina coming down from her father's house 
 dressed for a journey. Behind her was a 
 conveyance containing what appeared to be 
 her little luggage. " She is for fifteen miles 
 up the hills. This is leaving home now," cried 
 my companion, deserting my side. 
 
 In spite of his concern he laughed to see 
 the little woman so eager to play the devotee. 
 She was going up to " the father," an old half- 
 blind clergyman, to act as his amanuensis and 
 
218 THE HEIR OF TAILZIE. 
 
 to cheer him in his loneliness when he could 
 see less society during the winter season in 
 that cold region. 
 
 "Now," cried George, "I will join her 
 Church." Dismissing the carriage, he ran to 
 meet her ; I walking aside. 
 
 The romantic girl could not fail to be touched 
 deeply with: the attachment of her old play- 
 mate. 
 
 Mina looked up in wonder, yet not with 
 absolute delight as he spoke his resolve. 
 
 He noticed her disappointment, and turned 
 away. 
 
 Her pride of Church was gone from that 
 moment. 
 
 " George, will you walk home with me when 
 I've served my time with the father 1 If 
 you do, Geordie, I'll go to your church next 
 Sunday with you. Oh, he won't change my 
 mind ; may be he helped to make it. I'm 
 getting educated — still — you know." 
 
( 219 ) 
 
 LATE SENIORS OF THE PARLIAMENT 
 HOUSE. 
 
 rpHOSE, generally old, sons of Themis of 
 nay earliest recollection of the House 
 pass before the eye of memory still with the 
 enchantment of imposing forms, erudite speech, 
 and great manner. I viewed them at a dis- 
 tance with the reverence born too of a humble 
 apprenticeship in the craft, and a fancy that 
 their massive and bright forms defied decay. 
 They bore to me an air of immortality which 
 does not seenl to be breathed about the persons 
 of modern lawyers. Though they were old 
 in years, old age seemed not for them. A 
 Frenchwoman has said that it was the Eevolu- 
 tion that brought old age into the world ; but 
 I imagine now that these old warriors with 
 the last, as other mundane, trouble, remained 
 green and lofty by imbibing the vigour of an 
 
220 LATE SENIOES OF 
 
 awakened world. They were not yet dwarfed 
 by the pressure of the raised crowd which 
 surrounds the modern who may be worthy 
 of fame and is yet reduced to insignificance. 
 With these great men I had no contact. They 
 soon dropt off the scene, and I ceased to marvel 
 at their mortality. 
 
 Meantime I had relished mostly the old 
 world talk of the less lofty promenaders of the 
 Scottish Westminster Hall, and desired to hear 
 of the adventures, humours, and foibles of the 
 giants. It was delightful in the Sheephead 
 Tavern on the borders of the Lake Dudding- 
 lapis to listen to aged, well-seasoned gentle- 
 men of the courts telling tales of personal 
 adventure now almost impossible. I drew 
 them on, however, to tell me of their superiors 
 and seniors to little valuable purpose. 
 
 The expired lights of the bar of more than 
 local importance (yet not always shining to the 
 world), whose personal traits might still agree- 
 ably entertain us in narrative, are or were re- 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE, 221 
 
 cently very well known to individuals who had 
 been connected with them in business — their 
 clerks and agents moving about the courts. But 
 such of these known to me as lingered lately 
 on the scene I found had ceased, with the 
 doted indifference of old age, to remember 
 whether the great men paid devotions to the 
 Muses, ever had love intrigues, or had, in their 
 walk and daily converse, characteristics trea- 
 sured by intimates. I ceased to interrogate 
 these worthies further after receiving answers to 
 a few inquiries. One seemed to remember most 
 that an attempt had been made by his employer 
 in a fit of greed to cozen him of a new thorn 
 walking-stick ; while another had the most 
 distinct impression of the learned counsel 
 always over-working him on days the learned 
 counsel was unshaven and did not wear a 
 clean shirt. It requires no stretch of memory 
 to remember the tall, straight, grey-headed 
 ficure of a very old man, with a Highland 
 physiognomy, who, in the Parliament House, 
 
222 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 edged not feebly on his straight limbs, and 
 stuttered in his prattle with some relish of life, 
 and who connected the time with the days of the 
 "Edinburgh Eeview" and "Waverley." One 
 of the leaders of that era he assisted at the 
 desk. This old person, very accessible to youth, 
 albeit fiery a little in temper, used to be assailed 
 by the curious for some account of Scott, J effrey, 
 and Brougham, and the other bright lights of 
 his early years. But would-be historians, my- 
 self among the number, were quickly dissuaded 
 of the fancy that to live is always to acquire 
 and retain impressions of the luminaries around. 
 This associate of the great, it appeared, had 
 no interest in the recollection of them. The 
 past was, in truth, nothing to him. A further 
 acquaintance with the chatty gentleman re- 
 vealed a character who regarded the days that 
 had gone as decidedly of no further service to 
 him. They had served their turn, and there 
 was an end of them. It was the present alone 
 that possessed any importance to this lingei'er 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 223 
 
 in the land of the living. Stilly at eighty, he 
 culled the flowers as they grew. Not altogether 
 saddening is this condition of mind — though 
 sometimes provoking to later-born acquaint- 
 ances—if the flowers be appropriate to the 
 tenderness of age. And I found that the old 
 gentleman's fancy was for the society of the 
 gentler sex ; though not by way of reminiscence 
 either. In the course of his long life many 
 beauties had shown their churms in ancient 
 Eeekie, or across the bridge in the clearer air 
 of Princes Street ; he had doffed his bonnet, 
 with the rest of the pit, sixty years back in 
 the Theatre Eoyal at the entrance of Miss 
 M'Lean the reigning belle of Caledonia. But 
 this philosopher was not to be set down to 
 fondle the ghosts of extinguished charmers. 
 His epicurean lips never smacked with the 
 resuscitation upon the palate of old feasts. 
 
 " Kitty, beautiful and young, 
 And wild aa colt untamed," 
 
 must come before his eyes in the body to 
 
224 LATE SENIOES OF 
 
 induce a remark about her. No more cared 
 lie to describe the points of beauty about 
 Miss M'Lean than to recount the charms in the 
 mien and manners of those men the world is 
 not yet tired hearing of, who for years he met 
 almost daily. I was therefore forced to be 
 interested concerning this old fellow as pre- 
 senting a contrast to most octogenarians, who 
 are generally accustomed to babble of events 
 which have affected themselves occurring sixty 
 years back. He might have furnished material 
 for a chapter about " a walk doAvn the Mound 
 yesterday," or "a saunter across the North 
 Bridge this forenoon," after having prattled 
 away to accessible maids who were' young and 
 pretty, and indicated their possession of a fair 
 measure of simplicity and ingenuousness by 
 their protection of little children. But he 
 had no moments to spare for relating the 
 venial weaknesses of other men dead years 
 ago, being taken up entirely with the present 
 enjoyment of his own. 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 225 
 
 That period in life — the close of the second 
 decade — when wonder fails, was the time at 
 which I first touched closely the gowns of a 
 few Seniors in the Parliament House. The 
 fancy will remain that they possessed humours, 
 and " brave notions " seldom to be found in new 
 generations. Does, too, any old lawyer now 
 solely read for his amusement the law reports as 
 they come out from the publisher's hands, watch- 
 ing their incoming with the delight of the young 
 lady of the boarding-school at the pages of a 
 second " Cometh up as a flower ? " Does the 
 lawyer, old or young, now carry " Virgil " in 
 his pocket for reading at stray half-hours 1 Is 
 he content, for two or three guineas, to talk 
 away the main hours and burden of the day 
 with the story of the freedom of teinds nu?i- 
 quam antea separatis, if his speech be seasoned, 
 with Sha'ndean humour or Attic salt 1 Do 
 mid-impediments in holdings still possess a 
 charm for his intellect ? 
 
 There was tranquillity in those days; and the 
 
 p 
 
226 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 stalwart forms of the followers of Erskine were 
 partly nourished to their full height and breadth 
 thereby. With them there were no hurryings 
 to and fro, no flying to the illusive delights of 
 distant pleasures. Such lusty people had no 
 concern with afiectation; and they took to life 
 with all their genius and learning as it suited 
 themselves to do, not conforming to any pat- 
 tern prescribed by society merely for its appre- 
 ciation and their pocket. 
 
 The temple of the old humourists, the place 
 where most did congregate the wits and wags 
 of Caledonia, .has for some time felt, with the 
 rest of the world (that as matter of course), 
 the depressing effects of "progress," and the 
 attenuating results of a condition of "high 
 pressure." Nothing seems to be said or done 
 now in the Parliament House unless in further- 
 ance of the suits and the ends of justice. Even 
 the client himself who doa-s the heels of his 
 advocate, can no longer throw his hat in the 
 air with great huzzas, after a hazardous avizan- 
 
THE PAELIAMEISTT HOUSE. 2' 
 
 dum, compensated by the sight of the comb 
 in which learning and wit have flashed all f 
 him. The most gifted son of Comus or Momi 
 will scarcely be roused into a pleasantry, th 
 clients may be satisfied they have the 
 money's-worth. Such "bargains" of justi* 
 must now be prepared for the public's ma^ 
 that throughout the whole stages of the be 
 " gangin plea," pleaders and judges mu 
 refer only to the case, the whole case, and n 
 thing but the case. The auditors are on tl 
 watch for any backsliding into a playful spii 
 over the dark record. A laugh causes tl 
 advocate to be suspected of insincerity, a je 
 of absolute indiflference. Does he attempt I 
 the way to raise a smile in the solemn roon 
 of the Inner House, that is so much valuab 
 time and caloric wasted, which might ha^ 
 been properly employed in warming the min( 
 of the j udges to the cause of reduction — in 
 probation, or declarator of irritancy. 
 
 Pleaders are nothing if not convincing tl 
 
228 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 judges ; solicitors are nothing if they are not 
 convincing the counsel ; — " Ancient fun, and 
 wit, and ease," are now supposed to be pro- 
 vided exclusively at other Temples upon pay- 
 ment for a well-padded /awiewL 
 
 Let all men who have suits bring them 
 where brevity and despatch are recognised as 
 excellent substitutes for idle oratory and idler 
 fancy. My Lord Alderburgh grapples with 
 the mazes of many records in a single hour ; 
 and the astonished pleaders are shown the way 
 out, and the end, before their breath is well put 
 to use. Never since the days of the bull of 
 Pope Clement VIL, authorising 10,000 golden 
 ducats to be raised from the revenues of the 
 Church for payment of the salaries of the 
 judges of the newly-instituted court, have 
 the chief labourers in the supreme civil tri- 
 bunal of Scotland been more worthy of their 
 hire. Strict attention to business has now 
 secured the almost perfect efficiency of the 
 Court. 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 22 
 
 I fear we cannot serve both Comas an( 
 Minerva. Who could tolerate the habits an( 
 manners of many jovial counsellors of the las 
 century 1 What must have been the danger 
 associated with visits to the Supreme Court 
 when a historian of Edinburgh just dead couL 
 write gravely, in reference to a passage nea 
 the Old Tolbooth of unsavoury name, that i 
 was " famous for assassinations and persona 
 encounters between persons connected with thi 
 Court of Session 1" A farmer from the vallej 
 of Liddel would scarcely now submit in consul 
 tation to be stock for his counsel's bludgeon 
 and to be cursed, loggerheaded, and loobied al 
 every query ; nor would a colonel of tht 
 Queen's Army think his fee likely to product 
 much wisdom sent to a counsellor who amused 
 himself of nights at High Jinks, singing fescen- 
 nine verses, seated on a table crowned with e 
 bottle slider, and nearing oblivion by the aic 
 of Gascony wine. Through several stages oi 
 improvement — from the era of assassinations 
 
230 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 and the later age of belabouring humourists — 
 we have now arrived at the age of business, per- 
 fect courtesy, and universal attention. Yet as 
 the past in this House of business has made 
 contributions to human happiness in a way not 
 now possible, the reform is not all gain. I fancy 
 there are men suffering from the force of the 
 pressure to make them mere law-grinders. 
 
 A counsellor there was only yesterday the 
 last to laugh loudly and have running fires of 
 talk, but a sense of solitude seemed to oppress 
 even his massive frame, and he was borne 
 away. He joined the Faculty when some of 
 the less riotous but quaint spirits of the first 
 half of the century were still busy, and had 
 their full-blooded vigour. I saw him on the 
 first day he appeared in wig and gown. 
 
 It was pleasant then of a forenoon when the 
 House had rich noises of contention— though 
 very wide of the mark, much of it coming 
 from fussy prattlers concerning "points" cer- 
 tainly not to be understood or settled by them, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 231 
 
 from clerks out of breath impressing escaping 
 counsel, and from idle babblers and gossip 
 mongers — it was pleasant to see moving ii 
 slow, well-measured paces across the oak flooi 
 the familiar and often antiquated figures o 
 the Seniors of the Faculty ; not then out o 
 place there, where were congenial younge: 
 brethren. While these old advocates dippec 
 into " Horace," they might also gather in knoti 
 with delighted eyes over the busking of a march 
 brown, or as they hearkened to the last story, o: 
 the report of the merits of a flock of Cheviots 
 likely evolved from the mouth of old, parch 
 ment-visaged George Dalrymple of Balma 
 thrapple. Dalrymple — his shirt frills hangins 
 down over his waistcoat ; his gown, a ra^ 
 like a standard of the Black Watch, trailing 
 over the floor — had a little crowd of leisureb 
 habitants of the House waiting upon th 
 flowing of his stores of anecdote, and th 
 coming of his dry sayings. Some of then 
 bore him company, too, in the wear of a kin( 
 
232 LATE SENIOES OF 
 
 of old garment which may have felt the suns 
 of twenty summers, and the rains of nearly as 
 many winters. Dairy — he was a favourite 
 with all ranks, from the judges to the last 
 accession of an apprentice -limb, and had the 
 honour of an abbreviation — was long great 
 in conveyancing and agricultural questions. 
 He was ready to discuss, without book, all 
 matters of a me holdings, back and forehand 
 rents, and rights of salmon fishing upon title 
 cum piscationihus. He mingled Stephens with 
 Erskine, Angus-doddies with quips, and five 
 shifts with articulate answers to pursuer's 
 statements. Correspondingly dressed, and 
 with switch-badge of drover, Dalrymple and 
 his clerk, who had also bovine fancies, might 
 have been seen in vacation seated together in 
 third class carriage, " gathering humours of 
 the market." The Hebrew tribe must have 
 long ceased to have an eye to the conversion 
 of Dalrymple's outer man. He must have been, 
 an undiscerning Christian who could think, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 232 
 
 on looking at that calm, saint-like face, thai 
 there was any need to call for a change in th( 
 inner. 
 
 At nine of a morning passing by St Giles's 
 the tomb of the Reformer, and through the 
 modest door — as beseems the avenue to th( 
 justice-seat of men — opening into the olc 
 Scottish Parliament House, probably the first 
 figure which caught the eye — it was early, anc 
 "buirdly" pleaders lagged — was that of the 
 tall,thin, pale, benign-faced James Playfair. 1\ 
 gave litigants courage and confidence to ob- 
 serve the combination of intellect, simple- 
 mindedness, and kindness which his physiog- 
 nomy expressed. Either victim of some rapa- 
 cious damages-seeker ; or a glad adventure] 
 after " golden joys " (a great succession loom- 
 ing), for whom the atmosphere of the courl 
 was sweet as the almond groves of Valencia in 
 a spring day, the voices of the judges musical as 
 Apollo's lute, — the suitor, albeit poor, was oJ 
 the belief, looking at Playfair, that he would 
 
234 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 have justice. The vulgar straiiger might have 
 set him down as of less account when he wore 
 an air of passiveness sometimes seen about him 
 out of action. He was fully, for his own 
 Avants, employed by the solicitors, and did not 
 need to adopt that venial form of affectation 
 of some brethren with whom he consorted, of 
 pleading, in a pompous gait, the holding of the 
 higher honours of the bar by a brow to which 
 the gods had set their seal than by the tokens of 
 an attorney's regard. It was not disappoint- 
 ment in professional practice, nor was it ill- 
 health, which caused him to look at times 
 supine. He was solitary in his great house, 
 where he had dwelt nearly half-a-century alone, 
 receiving persons at consultations. Not a cat 
 pawed it. I imagined that his passions were 
 weak. In early days when he had little em- 
 ployment, yet reckoned his person and acute 
 mind as valuables, he was seen often to ac- 
 company, on horseback, the beautiful E 
 
 M , who married subsequently a London 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. • 2 
 
 merchant. This disappointment weaned hi 
 from side of the sex, and, without bitterne 
 he lowered his estimate of the "angels." I 
 collection of the mishap, I fancied, preyed 
 little on him now and again, and dimm 
 the smokeless fire of his eloquence before t 
 
 jury- 
 That sort of goodwill which may do nothi 
 but live — yet lives out of your presence, for 
 time, as in it — and which takes men of unde 
 standing before the quick warmth of generc 
 fellows, Playfair possessed largely. He \\ 
 true ; and would do a kindness for you, v 
 known to you, and you months gone " ■ 
 away on the billow," or years in " furtb 
 Ind." An unambitious temper kept his fi 
 intellect in obscurity so far as politics, 
 advancement to office, were concerned, 
 also made him the prey of solicitors, who { 
 predate good-nature in counsel, and are sc 
 citous about getting good and cheap work : 
 their experiments with claimants who ha 
 
236 LATE SENIOKS OF 
 
 much to gain without a possibility of corre- 
 sponding loss. The litigious Duncanson sent 
 him a memorial of eighty pages of matter, 
 and fourteen queries to be answered, enclosing 
 a fee of one guinea, " with respectful compli- 
 ments." This was too much even for Playfair. 
 He answered the first query, and bracketing 
 the other thirteen together, replied that these 
 " required further consideration." Yet it was 
 known that the day following the return of 
 this brief, Playfair bore, himself, to the judge, 
 the guilt and shame of some wild interpola- 
 tions in a defence which Dune, had added, 
 unknown to him, after the draft had left his 
 hands. I liked to have words with Playfair. 
 All men did. The last time I spoke to him 
 was in the sea at Portobello, where I met 
 him pretty frequently refreshing the drooping 
 spirits. He died a few months afterwards. 
 Who could imagine the impalpable feelings of 
 a bathing-coach keeper melting over the re- 
 membrance of a customer long gone from the 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 23! 
 
 possibility of ducking under the wave befor 
 his rickety chamber. John Orrocks was h 
 tears to me last summer when I mentione( 
 to him the name of James Playfair. 
 
 Barristers, like players, may I suppose b 
 &ne/" chronicles of the time. Malcolm Mony 
 penny Buchan in his day represented a phas 
 of social life of the period well. He was ai 
 inveterate joker, and began to be famed fo 
 wit when toast, sentiment, and song, and fre 
 boisterous merriment, were still looked fo] 
 Buchan was an able lawyer ; but his obese 
 square person, the catching expression of hi 
 broad open mouth, and the raised outlookin, 
 mirthful eyes, did not correspond with the re 
 fined notions gaining as to the "correct " person 
 and bearing of the sons of Themis. He seemei 
 always looking for subjects for his mirth, to hav 
 a pun rising and a jest struggling for the ai 
 often at the same time. Buchan was a sort c 
 bird of prey ; but only to play, in passing, wit 
 the object. It may be supposed that his quarr 
 
238 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 did not take his jests well. But as there was 
 nothing malicious, aud little sarcastic, in his 
 merry temper, he was commonly a favourite, 
 and was the chief delight of that large portion 
 of the town which appreciates wit. He has 
 no successor. One is never now accosted by 
 Jack Tickler or Tom WagstafF with the query, 
 which he could scarce get out for laughing, 
 " Have you heard about Buchan ? " Buchau 
 supplied the town with jokes. He was rather 
 of Sydney Smith's kidney than Talleyrand's. 
 Had Charles Lamb seen him with his own 
 countrymen, that delightful and paradoxical 
 Londoner would have changed his opinion of 
 Scotchmen. It was necessary " to speak on the 
 square " with Buchan only in this way that it 
 was a relief to the overflow of nonsense. At 
 the party of North Britons where Lamb on 
 being told that a son of Burns was expected 
 expressed a wish it had been the father, Buchan 
 would not have annoyed the gentle Elia by 
 starting to his feet and saying, that was im- 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 2 
 
 possible, for Burns was dead. He would ha 
 said something to the effect, being irrepressib 
 that lambs have more need of the sun than 
 burns. 
 
 A still, " silent " wit may bear keeping ; a 
 William Galloway Angus said many thin 
 which would stand the test of print better th 
 Buchan's. He was refined and gentleman 
 albeit the son of a poor country shoemak 
 whose hope and pride he was, particularly 
 days when the bar was supplied by "the sc 
 of gentlemen." He probably owed the co: 
 parative neglect of his undoubted talent 
 humble birth combined with a steady air 
 defiance, which most people find disagreeat 
 even although, as with Angus, it be a gent 
 manly defiance. It did not peep out like m( 
 men's weaknesses, but shot out bright as t 
 Aurora, the flashes of which it resembled rati 
 than the lightning, as it was never in its 
 dangerous. In Angus's good-looking face sto 
 an open acknowledgment of his non-recogi 
 
240 LATE SENIOES OF 
 
 tion by the great world, and a studied indif- 
 ference to it. Angus, it must be said, was a 
 humourist of a kind now very uncommon ; he 
 was ready to indulge a humour of independence 
 entirely at his own cost. He would not sink 
 his opinion at the bidding of a more influential 
 Senior; and had latterly to be fee'd where a 
 single counsel on each side could be employed. 
 Had he been able to repress in consultation 
 his love of cranks, he had had more employ- 
 ment. Solicitors are not humorists always in 
 the mood, and, in stern intent, they had to 
 avoid Angus ; who had eloquence at command 
 for the bar. His eloquence was a little apt 
 doubtless to fail sometimes when exerted 
 upon trivial occasions or accompanied by a 
 pressure of the grand manner, which did not 
 always come well from a figure not imposing. 
 Curiously enough, when he was pleading he 
 was very grave. One or two of the judges 
 would sometimes be seized with a fancy of 
 parring with the wit ; but he would raise his 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 2 
 
 arm and intimate that he refused a jest wh 
 
 soliciting justice in the Sacred Courts. ] 
 
 could be goaded, however, into spinous ai 
 
 scathing rejoinder at the rude jests of Ardn 
 
 mnrchan, for whom he seemed to have soi 
 
 antipathy. Ardnamurchan was famous enouj 
 
 when at the bar for lapses into the fictitio 
 
 both in statement and law,- and would try 
 
 trip counsel when not well justified. "1 
 
 Angus," said my lord, " is this the fact 1 is 
 
 the law? All seems strange to me." "Trut 
 
 me lord," said Angus mildly, "must be Strang 
 
 than fiction to your lordship." At anoth 
 
 time, Ardnamurchan threw a wipe at Ang 
 
 for his inability to cope with a pressure 
 
 work, the excuse for which (it was in t] 
 
 depth of winter frost) was something goii 
 
 wrong with the light. " Mr Angus," said n 
 
 lord, "when I was a counsel I would rehear 
 
 in a room dark as a well, and away at tl 
 
 very top," here he stopped short, noticii 
 
 by the heightened expression of Angus's ke< 
 
 Q 
 
242 LATE SENIOES OP 
 
 eye that he was already caught, and mutter- 
 ing "of my house" under his breath. Angus 
 waited, and turning round — as was his custom 
 when he had a good thing — with emphasis 
 nowhere, said, "I woiild have preferred the 
 bottom of the well, me lord." Could Angus 
 have been only plain he might have reached 
 the highest dignities. He was the son of a 
 poor country shoemaker. " He must be a 
 strong man," said Bacon, "who is always 
 natural;" and the most dangerous form of 
 naturalness is when people find excuse for 
 mistaking nature for affectation. 
 
 In these days the thick-set figure of 
 Melville, whose "receptivity" was known to 
 have suddenly given A^'ay, received attention 
 from the conspicuous supports of the other 
 members of the " triumvirate," who clung 
 with tenacity to the battleship that had lone 
 served them, and was now little more than a 
 war-stained hulk. One was the eagle-eyed 
 Edmund Halliday, a country solicitor, whose 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 24 
 
 orbs and beak seen for tbe first time arreste 
 you in the press at the tolling of the Divisic 
 bells, and haunted you during the troubles < 
 a miscarriage of an enrolment in the Singl 
 bills. Halliday seemed too fond of the woi 
 of the litigant to profit by it; neither coul 
 I imagine a client to be the richer for h 
 championship. War, not justice, was h 
 passion — fighting inch by inch, unconscioi 
 generally of the substance of contentio: 
 The subject-matter was nothing to him. 
 fnight be the riddance of a claim for te 
 thousand pounds ; or the fervid utterances i 
 Melville concerned only the first shot in a we 
 for the restoration of a washerwoman's fend( 
 and fire-irons. He would play the great rdl 
 of Hercules and Ajax, by destroying "the o] 
 pressor," or engaging in combat a harmle 
 crowd. He would spend a day in contentio 
 for the wages of a domestic, and at night S( 
 himself alone to petition the Legislature f( 
 imperial justice. He was regarded as a dai 
 
244 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 gerous opponent in more ways than one. In 
 presence of the Sheriff he would knock his 
 opponent's head with the papers of the pro- 
 cess if he failed to convince with the argu- 
 ments in his share of it. But Halliday would 
 heal the contusion of avenging justice by a 
 handsome entertainment to the whole of his 
 professional brethren. The degage attitudes 
 of Parker, another solicitor, who took the left 
 of Melville, did not inspire the public of the 
 metropolis with confidence. Suitors pressed 
 in the chambers of Halliday for a quarter of 
 a century ; but Parker's door-hinges were 
 freed of rust by no troubled citizen. " No- 
 thing pleases the people more than seeing a 
 straw balanced on a man's nose," said Lien 
 Chi to the Man in Black. There was some- 
 thing suited to every apprehension in the 
 sight. Parker could not balance a straw on 
 his nose. Halliday could put his hands vio- 
 lently through his hair, and exhibit a counte- 
 nance contorted as that of a third-rate Mar- 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE, 245 
 
 cellus at the visits to the glimpses of the 
 moon of the buried majesty of Denmark, 
 all at a client's exhibiting nothing more 
 serious than a summons for fifty pounds to 
 answer for the bite of his cur. Yet Parker 
 increased his little store, while Halliday accu- 
 mulated no wealth, Parker was probably the 
 best manager of a lawsuit in the Parliament 
 House. Three firms in extensive business in 
 the provinces employed him, and saw that his 
 processes would succeed beyond their deserts. 
 He was an oddity, only that he concealed the 
 show of his capacity, 
 
 " Happy the people whose annals are tire- 
 some." Peter Collie's biography might prove 
 what truth there is in the aphorism of Montes- 
 quieu. He had an extensive practice, and 
 was an able counsel ; but one guilty of 
 getting maudlin would not excuse himself 
 that recollections of Peter Collie came over 
 him. His weaknesses, as I knew them, were 
 of the practical- worldly and other- world] y 
 
246 LATE SEKIOES OF 
 
 kind. It was said that he let it be known 
 that the fire of his oratory glowed according to 
 the amount of gold put into the crucible by 
 clients. Yet as no one can preserve an un- 
 interrupted coarse of devotion, and lovers of 
 Mammon can be at times more sick of their 
 god than are the lovers of Minerva, so Collie 
 was known to have abjured once or twice. Old 
 Dives, who had married a young wife with a 
 complexion whose roses other men had, he sus- 
 pected, too wantonly admired, and of whom he 
 was still fond, — presented to Collie a memorial 
 of the evidence he had gathered. Collie threw 
 away a rich client with the following advice : 
 "I am of opinion (firstly), that the memori- 
 alist should, after the manner of the learned 
 Gaubius, gradually, unknown to her, reduce 
 his wife, to a model of decorum by phle- 
 botomy ; and (secondly), that the memoria- 
 list, in the treatment of himself should act 
 according to the advice of Walter Shandy, 
 vol. 8, chap. 34." Dives, in the absence of 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 247 
 
 his solicitor, had got the opinion from an 
 office boy. 
 
 That opinion was not copied out by Collie's 
 clerk, Thomas Glen — a character. With the 
 amiable trifling of posterity in the mass, who 
 will treasure the memory of a man for a single 
 foible, and sink it with twenty virtues, Glen 
 is now referred to, I suspect, only for having 
 been a most excellent judge of the quality of 
 the edible inhabitants of the ocean. Glen was 
 a fond disciple of "Walton, too ; loving fish and 
 to hear of fish of all kinds, I have seen him 
 in his later years sit at table for half-an-hour 
 without saying a word, and then surprise the 
 company by his eager tone of asking his next 
 neighbour, from Crieff or Brechin likely, if he 
 had a 'fish-shop in his town. An answer in 
 the affirmative would make Thomas brisk as 
 a bee for the rest of the night. In one of these 
 little towns — his native place — to which he 
 was in the habit of retiring for the summer 
 months, he managed to introduce two fish- 
 
248 LATE SENIOES OF 
 
 mongers, and invited company to test the 
 values of the piscine commodities of the rival 
 dealers. After much particular testing on his 
 own part, a John Dory seemed to decide the 
 favourite. With infinite " pomp, pride, and 
 circumstance," seasoned with drollery, his dry, 
 well-sustained throat pronounced the award, 
 " Eobbie has it !" Glen was a good clerk, and 
 there were those who said that his love of fish 
 was an evidence of his temperate and well- 
 balanced mind. In this respect, of coolness of 
 judgment, he was of great value to Collie, who 
 had a proclivity to recklessness if he thought 
 he had a thick-headed judge or stupid jury. 
 Collie consulted his clerk, and judged of Glen's 
 opinion much by the extent of the gravity 
 marked on his face as the employer spoke, and 
 by the attitude and movements of his head. 
 A shake of Thomas Glen's head had caused 
 the pleader to stop short several times during 
 their connection. The amanuensis would 
 hang about the court-room doors, and learn 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. 24i 
 
 from others what was going on within, wher 
 the Senior was understood to be speaking parti; 
 according to preconcerted mode of treatmeni 
 You would be treated to an account of th 
 state of the Tweed yesterday only if the speed 
 was known to be thorough to the manner, 
 imagined Glen saw that his employer some 
 times rose to resentment of his penetratioi 
 and would then have been better pleased wit! 
 a mere pen-holder and paper-coverer ; and h 
 was wary. Glen was never married ; and hav 
 ing no near relatives, did one of the most sensibl 
 things with a fair slice of his fortune I eve 
 knew. About sixty-five his rotund figure fe] 
 away and drooped, yet still he liked to sow hi 
 little corn upon rich patches, and delighted t 
 see "good fellows" enjoying themselves at hi 
 cost. " He did not intend," he said, " to leav 
 his money for the stuflQng of striplings wit] 
 learning which they did not enjoy." On 
 James Dugald, a comic fellow, very worthy 
 having taste and some power of writing verse 
 
250 LATE SENIORS OF 
 
 which he sang finely, had long amused the 
 plainly-fashioned Glen. James had suffered a 
 little badinage from his friend, certainly on 
 this side rudeness. Two months before his 
 death, Dugald was seated alone with Glen — 
 when the latter had been at his banker's — " I 
 owe, Jeemie," said the man of few words with 
 an effort, "I owe a great dea,l to these songs 
 of yours, man. I hold myself your debtor, for 
 I 've given you no return but this bundle of 
 notes," shoving a thousand pounds into his 
 pocket. I recommend this mode of reward- 
 ing the sacrificing sons of the Muse who have 
 contributed to the good humour of mankind, 
 whether they have written verses or not. 
 
 Neither Robbie nor the rival throve after 
 the death of Thomas Glen, and a cadger's horn 
 is, alas ! now the substitute for the fountains 
 which used to play in the windows of the 
 competing caterers at the coming of fresh 
 boxes from the sea. When the horn is sound- 
 ing in the summer air, the burghers will yet 
 
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE. S 
 
 turn round, and seem to wait on some expec 
 judge of the silvery contents of the cart, 1 
 who never comes. It is Thomas Glen. 
 
 My " incondite reminiscences," " first a 
 readiest means" in the memory of a scene 
 other days, not yet given up to traditior 
 such as might be related over a walnut — m 
 be accompanied with shadow. 
 
 Some of the "twilight of dubiety" ought 
 hang over each brief sketch of men reme 
 bered because of some oddity rather than 
 gifted with perfect qualities. They were i 
 men reckoned the favourites of fortune. Foil: 
 — venial foibles — which must be humour 
 sully to the world of the time the parts of ger 
 men of talent, and prevent the receipt of 
 highest rewards and applause. But its favo 
 ites, whose time is devoted to the pursuit 
 fortune, dare not hope equally to live in th 
 pleasant places of futurity, the nooks a 
 crannies of men's minds. These are reser\ 
 for the children of their genius ; for our aff 
 
252 LATE SENIORS, ETC. 
 
 tions are bound by the touches of common 
 humanity. With all material progress, reform 
 of creeds, and march of intellect, men will still 
 be found to take some delight in themselves, 
 and in traits which to great moods are ''un- 
 considered trifles." 
 
( 253 ) 
 
 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACH ANN 
 
 rriHEEE was wratli in Cairngolloch Lod 
 Eonald Macwhanald Fitzrobins, laird 
 Glentonald, who had seen twenty-three sprin 
 chiefly in the metropolis of England, had b( 
 enraged for some time with the crofters 
 Glenscufi'el. He had inherited the obstini 
 of his maternal race ; and had, some mon 
 prior to the shooting season, directed, contri 
 to his lawyer's advice, that the remainder of 
 clan Macra — children of the dew — should 
 evicted from their homesteads. The child 
 had also inherited the obstinacy of their rai 
 not acknowledging fealty to the Macwhans 
 whose possessions (except the Macra's sn 
 country) lay forty miles down on the Ic 
 lands. They had shown a decided prefere 
 
254 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 for remaining in their picturesque glen and 
 fresh native mountain air to removing to the 
 back slums. 
 
 Most of them had been got away by the 1st 
 of September. One Alester particularly — an 
 interloper who dwelt with his dog Roskeen on 
 the slopes of the high, and rocky Ben Eachann 
 — ^was not gone, and did not apparently intend 
 to go. The blood of the Macwhanald boiled 
 over this gainsayer. 
 
 The last of the Macras were not to go down 
 the glen tiU the new moon. It was forty-one 
 days, the morning they began to leave, since 
 Alester had been taken in his usual trance ; and 
 on the forty-first day he had been accustomed to 
 come out of the dumps and be lively once more 
 with his adopted people. They failed to arouse 
 him before the hour of their enforced depar- 
 ture. Yet as men, women, and children fol- 
 lowed in mournful procession their homely 
 chattels down the long glen, one and all looked 
 up towards the grey Eachann and felt their 
 
THE TENANTS OJF BEN EACHANN. 2 
 
 blood thrill as they imagined the resistance 
 oppression which might be made by the pro 
 aged Highlander. He had come among th( 
 unknown, with Eoskeen, many years at 
 bearing over his side a large wallet, whi 
 contained the crumbs of some cheese and ba 
 nock, and, as was afterwards discovered, thi 
 books — the Bible, Shakespeare, and Ossian, ai 
 curiously, a few articles of household plenii 
 ing such as are known only in " genteel far 
 lies." Alester sung of the desolate walls 
 Balclutha, Three hospitable Celts, who led 1 
 supposed bard up to the abandoned cottage 
 Ben Eachann, looked to his frenzied eyes turr 
 towards the stars, and whispered to each otl 
 that he was mad. But as next morning tl 
 patched the walls of his residence with bouL 
 and divot, warmed its cold inside with re 
 of peat, and knocked up with deal a bed-pla 
 the kindly sons of Macra believed that i 
 new comer was a refugee from the toils o: 
 wicked world ; discovering an intellige] 
 
256 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACH ANN. 
 
 which went beyond their comprehension, and 
 an ability to labour which exceeded their own. 
 Diiring his long stay, Alester had been sub- 
 j ect to these trances, or fits of abstraction and 
 dumb melancholy, usually before the approach 
 of the shooting season. About the 12th of 
 August he appeared to awake, and go into 
 another district. For five or six days he would 
 be absent ; and then, at the close of that period, 
 travel-stained, but fresh-coloured if thin, he 
 was seen in the afternoon waiting at the turn 
 of the glen which led to the crofts of the 
 Macras. There, with Eoskeen seated on its 
 haunches, he would stand waiting for the 
 coming of the young men and maids ; there 
 as they came through the heather he shook his 
 frame free of the last remnants of pain with 
 hearty laughter ; laughter so loud and pro- 
 longed — yet very human — that rocks re-echoed 
 the sound, and the birds took wing into the 
 air. The bard whom they loved was again 
 convalescent ; and the young Macras laughed 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACH ANN. 2i 
 
 first lightly in wonder, then heartily in she 
 necessity and complete sympathy. 
 
 Such laughter as was the old man's was ni 
 to be sustained on cheese crumbs, bannoc' 
 water, and Ossianic poetry. Sundry pieces 
 deers' flesh, braces of grouse, and hares, whic 
 mysteriously found their way next mornir 
 early in some of the cottages of the Celt 
 pointed to certain agreeable physical applic 
 tions as promoting the health of the tenant 
 Ben Eachann, and giving volume to the e; 
 pression evidently of some sense of victoi 
 working in the old hero's mind as he stood c 
 the confine of the northern possession of tl 
 son of the Macwhanald. 
 
 A pastor who visited the Macras once a si 
 weeks, but who knew nothing of Eochefoi 
 cauld, had from Alester, by way of rejoinder 1 
 a moral discourse, this, " He who lives withot 
 folly is not so wise as he imagines." 
 
 " Belsher might do for Alester," said one < 
 a party of six men assembled at the board ( 
 
 E 
 
258 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 the host of CairngoUoch. "He could liquid- 
 ate the Celt." 
 
 The youth adclressed was understood to be 
 enriched from the profits of a Scottish dis- 
 tillery, which was said to send barley-bree- 
 Cognac to France. The burning liquid ap- 
 peared to have returned even " to plague the 
 inventor ; " for it was said that under the irri- 
 tation caused by a drink of it, Belsher had 
 acquired that seemingly purblind eye which 
 injured his handsome face. A slower poison, 
 however, was deemed necessary. Combustion 
 was speedy and effective, but entailed police 
 inspection. 
 
 An owner of ships, Cocker, was asked to 
 provide a boat of his firm's maintenance which 
 might be placed on the Loch, and the tenant 
 lured into it. He would then, it was believed, 
 go out of sight. 
 
 Fitz himself, who knew his rights, sat 
 mourning that he had no longer power of 
 doom and death like the old Macwhanalds. 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 259 
 
 With the statute of honest Malcolm, which 
 destroyed the power of the lord over vassal- 
 brides, had begun the inroad of democracy. 
 
 " CuTse the people, 
 Blast the people, 
 Damn the lower orders " — 
 
 was the refrain of his song this night in the 
 Lodge of his maternal fathers. He proposed 
 that Alester should be brought to trial before 
 himself — the chief of the Macwhanalds and 
 lord of the country of the Macras. 
 
 It was certain that no one present possessed 
 pride of intellectual worth. It was not thought 
 that the aggregate mind of the batch would 
 make up the sum of learning in economy 
 required to convince the Highlander that he 
 was a bar to progress. So, though they all 
 went to Ben Eachann, it was understood to 
 be to enforce, not to persuade. 
 
 Their general physical aspect was, as they 
 sat over "Balmoral mixture," or smoked 
 Coke's best, not unattractive, though they dis- 
 
260 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 sipated. Justice had not deprived tliem of 
 any members of the body, nor combativeness 
 (save in Belsher's case) given pause to the 
 growth of a nose-cartilage, closed an eye, or 
 scarred a brow. But inwardly they affected to 
 be weary, uneasy, and condemnatory of the 
 world and its inhabitants, and even of them- 
 selves. The oldest man was but twenty-three ; 
 there was one nineteen : the one held no con- 
 victions ; the other affected no purpose. The 
 most intellectual maintained he had no rever- 
 ence for Moses and the prophets ; the least 
 pronounced all poets, from Homer to Tupper, 
 to be drivellers. 
 
 The cottage of Alester stood, or reclined, on 
 the other side of the hill which faced the 
 Lodge to the west. The moon rested now 
 solemn and bright over the hill's blue top, 
 sending beams down into the purple valleys. 
 
 The prostrate Celt could not now see these 
 poet-messengers of peace and promise ; and 
 what peace and promise might sustain the bare 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 261 
 
 living of his once jocund heart must be the 
 lights of other days. 
 
 The levity of the party did not leave them, 
 even when in a moment, in the twinkling of 
 an eye, as they descended the hill, one and all 
 pronounced the word — "Mist." Steep crags 
 and deep lochs were about and around them : 
 they still held downwards. In half-an-hour, 
 strange to say without hurt or pause, they 
 reached the cot. Some love-tokens had ap- 
 parently just been set down in the door- 
 way by the last of the Celts to leave their old 
 home — such as a can of -goat's milk, a basin, 
 fire-irons, and bellows. The group, at the 
 halt, did not look, but listen. 
 
 Above the sough of the wind over the 
 heather and long grass, and as it moaned in 
 the pines below, came the sad music of the 
 Gael ; then the cry, the solitary cry, of a 
 human voice pierced their ears, as they stood. 
 It came from the cot. Again the pibroch 
 sounded. The voice was silent. 
 
262 THE TENANTS OP BEN EACH ANN. 
 
 No one spoke. And in little time they 
 listened only to the wind. "Within that 
 quarter of an hour had passed away for ever 
 from their . glen and from Alester, the last 
 of the clan. They had gone from freshness 
 and innocence to the world ; exposed now, in 
 poverty — to he hoped not unduly to sin and 
 shame. 
 
 The party hesitated. The smallest man 
 leant upon the rude wall in such a way as to 
 indicate that the pressure would make the 
 tenement topple over with its inmates into 
 the loch below. But the wit, Avhere observed, 
 gave offence. Probably no one confessed even 
 to himself that he was much moved. Still, 
 the feeling towards the tenants was humane. 
 The social impulses of each one were always 
 keen and strong. Fitz said it would be un- 
 gracious of him to rob them of the only 
 change of society he could offer them within 
 forty miles — especially by setting it adrift at 
 1 A.M. As he finished his remark, Neil, a 
 
THE TENANTS OP BEN EACH ANN. 263 
 
 shepherd, the last lingerer on the hill, engaged 
 attention. He was understood to say that, 
 the period of crisis with Alester had passed, 
 and that he had not " leughed." Fitz reflected 
 over the information at first with a puzzled 
 stare, and, followed by others, approached 
 the hovel ; Neil being further interrogated. 
 
 In a low wooden bunk, partially covered 
 by a thin Scotch woollen blanket, lay Alester, 
 and Roskeen at its master's knees. The 
 Highlander was on his back, in supine heed- 
 lessness of all intrusion : disease was aggra- 
 vaited by the departure of his people, the para- 
 lysed condition of the dumb companion of 
 his old age, and his own solitary situation. 
 His great bony hand touched lightly Eoskeen's 
 withered neck. His thick white locks and 
 beard lay dishevelled over his face and throat ; 
 the large, open^, still, dreamy eyes almost hid- 
 den, as if they might close to view even the 
 little world of his rude cabin save the last 
 poor half-living creature remaining — not now 
 
264 THE TENAIfTS OF BEN EACHANK. 
 
 to joy in his movements any more, if any glad- 
 ness should ever visit him again. Life had been 
 "full of seriousness " to Eoskeen. Almost yes- 
 terday a mouse stirring would yet have set eyes 
 and nose into an ecstacy. It was a curious, 
 very curious dog. In wagging of a straw it 
 would see cause for deep suspicion. Its tail 
 wagged from trifling movements of the master, 
 and " wrestled against impatience " in its 
 sleep before the twelfth. Now a pack of its 
 species at the door, a " covey " within the cot 
 itself, would- not have disturbed Eoskeen. 
 Concerned with its master alone — it coUed 
 before him as the last enemy was near. 
 
 Placing his dripping bonnet upon a shelf, and 
 stirring the embers of a fire of peat and brush- 
 wood, Fitz sat upon a log which served as a stool 
 at the bedside of the tenant. He spoke — I 
 should say with kindness — but received no an- 
 swer. It was bewildering when a laugh might 
 be waited for that a whisper would not come ; 
 but lie would be patient. Meanwhile the others 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACH ANN. 265 
 
 of the party, who were not men to stand and 
 gape, and possessed that order of activity 
 which is pleasant at a funeral as a marriage, 
 bethought them of an inventory of the 
 plenishing, which they went quietly about. 
 Alester was " a mysterious party," " a vitious 
 intromitter," and a " violent profitter," Elchies 
 (supposed student of law) said ; and that 
 work was necessary. Besides, speech of some 
 sort from the victim of melancholia being 
 necessary to his convalescence, the uplifting of 
 his plenishing might induce him to utter a word 
 of two — perhaps even to laugh, since humour- 
 ists had a sense of their own ridiculousness. 
 The eflfects were indeed odd as those of the 
 tenant of Ben Eachann. Among them were a 
 fowling-piece of Bond Street ; a powder-flask 
 of Mortimer ; a deer's foot, silver mounted ; 
 a wood-cock's wing (for busking trout flies, it 
 may be conjectured) ; a once white hat, con- 
 taining moss with defunct worms which in 
 their animate condition were known to be 
 
266 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 well-pleasing to the fishes of the lochs ; a game 
 licence dated twenty years back ; a salnaon 
 rod ; ^ trout rod ; a fowl-carving knife ; a fish- 
 slice (silver) ; a tooth brush. Cocker, who 
 with others handled the efi"ects as Elchies 
 named them, held up the three last-mentioned 
 efiects with irrepressible comicalness, which 
 was subdued instantly as he looked on the 
 strange disciple of Epicurus. 
 
 Singularly enough, the books were not con- 
 spicuously catalogued. Balder, of nineteen 
 summers, had "taken a note," and written 
 " Ocean," " Chesepeare," " Sorto-re-Sarkus," in 
 the dim light. These proceedings were brought 
 to a close by the discovery by Belsher of a 
 bundle of printed records of law papers, which 
 exhibited the pugnacity of the tenant by 
 the circumstance that for one action at law 
 raised by Fitzrobins (father), there were three 
 counter-actions at the instance of Alester. This 
 was a touch of nature which carried the pros- 
 trate Gael immediately to the bosom of Belsher. 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 267 
 
 He approached the bed with the records high 
 in his hand. Something in the old man's 
 look made him start. But he instantly re- 
 covered, and said, " He'll fight — me — the game 
 old cock," and went outside. There he pulled 
 off his coat and up his shirt sleeves, afiecting an 
 attitude of serious alarm and suspense. "He's 
 coming out — Alester — to fight." Gregory, 
 who felt other pulses as well as his own (late 
 of an afternoon), gave it as his opinion that 
 there was blood in the old man. So Belsher 
 cried, "Alester! he'll fight — the game old cock." 
 It seemed a relief to the party of devastation 
 that the adversary should show blood. 
 
 It was late in the morning, and the sun was 
 rising over the highest peak of the mountain 
 range, as the six men sat smoking on the 
 heather in front of the cot of Ben Eachann. 
 Belsher heard the door open quietly but quickly 
 on its rusty hinge, and looked round. Fitz's 
 face looked out, bearing such a woe as might 
 be a mother's at the destruction of a favourite 
 
268 THE TENANTS OP BEN EACHANN. 
 
 member of her brood. Belsher ran forward — 
 " Has he spoken V '• No ! " was the reply. 
 " Lauo-hed, then 1 " " No." There seemed a 
 reluctance to divulge the secret of a pain which 
 Fitz was a little conscious of exhibiting. 
 "What?" asked Belsher. "Eosky's dead!" 
 Belsher smiled — a smUe of relief it proved 
 to be ; yet a sad one. He was sure Alester 
 would fight — the game old cock. 
 
 The duty of efi'ecting the interment of Eos- 
 keen naturally fell, in the condition of its 
 master, upon the next neighbours — the dwel- 
 lers in CairngoUoch Lodge. At four o'clock 
 in the afternoon they proceeded to Ben 
 Eachann, Fitz and Belsher alone entering the 
 cottage. The remains still lay where they had 
 been left at the side of the master, whose hand 
 rested heavily upon the body, his face buried 
 on the low-set rags which served for pillow. 
 The others outside had considerately dug a 
 hole on a mound accessible to view from the 
 bed-stead through the " bole," which was in 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 269 
 
 summer an open window. The work of removal 
 was effected gently ; and the burial was com- 
 pleted without a jest, scarcely with a smile. 
 Eoskeen was consigned to the tomb in the pre- 
 sence of mourners who in its life might often 
 have interrupted its ease, if not, under irrita- 
 tion, brought it to a premature end, and might 
 now find this last misfortune of their friend 
 not altogether displeasing. The mourners felt 
 this ; knowing too that humanity also had in 
 its time been so served, and Eosky's honours 
 were perhaps no more equivocal. " De mortuis 
 nil nisi bonum" was all the oration at the grave ; 
 with many bones of certain valued beasts of 
 the field and birds of the air lying conspicuous 
 and suggestive in the loose earth. 
 
 There was no discussion as to what was to 
 be done with the surviving and more important 
 tenant of Ben Eachann. A suite of two rooms 
 was at once set apart for him at CairngoUoch, 
 to permit of which Fitz and Belsher slept to- 
 gether. Each one of the party was as inte- 
 
270 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 rested to hear his voice in speech or laughter 
 as they had been interested to hear the last 
 prima donna in Covent Garden in " II Trova- 
 tore " or " La Somnambula." It was impossible 
 that the party could go dully about the work 
 of removal and introduction to the Lodge ; and 
 some playfulness, of which the Celt was appa- 
 rently quite unconscious, was only to be ex- 
 pected. After some clever scrubbing of cloth, 
 and putting to rights in the cottage, the tenant 
 was dressed and carried to a litter which had 
 been specially constructed to bear him down 
 hill. 
 
 The white hat, and an old jacket and kilt, 
 duly furbished, looked pretty tidy. He wore 
 these articles of attire. Behind in the proces- 
 sion came the bearers of the chattels. One 
 had constituted himself librarian to the Lord 
 of Ben Eachann ; another, who carried the gun 
 and powder-flask, was known as master of 
 the sports ; while a third, having the fowl- 
 carver and fish-slice, was dubbed the lord 
 
THE TENANTS OP BEN EACHANN. 271 
 
 steward. Beyond these slight evidences of 
 levity, gyrations in recent grooves of humour, 
 perfect order and seriousness prevailed. 
 
 Whatever could be done in the process of 
 renewing the vitality of the old gentleman 
 must be done quickly. Gregory had under- 
 taken to treat the patient scientifically; but of 
 science, and especially of diagnosis, Gregory 
 knew but little. How to make a man laugh 
 when he appeared to insist upon dying slowly 
 of silence and starvation, would have puzzled a 
 wiser head. What laughter was, and why this 
 patient required particularly to laugh, were 
 recondite questions. He had made men laugh 
 (had they not laughed at him ?) he had made 
 children laugh, by throwing shadows on the 
 wall. But now he was called on to provide 
 laughter as he might provide mercurial cathar- 
 tics. Hydrargyrum cum creta, pilula hydra- 
 gyri, and the anti-phlogistic regimen, proposed 
 to be administered by Gregory, were scouted 
 by the rest of the party, who, in their own 
 
272 THE TENANTS OF BEN EAOHANN. 
 
 practice, reversed the famous 'Frisco rule 
 whicli forbade the consumption of spirits on 
 the premises except when suffering from a sense 
 of discouragement. At CairngoUoch they drank 
 whisky because they suffered from having no 
 sense of defeat. Younger counsel prevailed. 
 An effigy of Fitz carried on a pole, and then 
 burned (as the original sinner) before the new- 
 comer's eyes gave more satisfaction, as likely 
 to excite the risible faculties. This was fol- 
 lowed by a flight of pigeons out of a box set 
 down at the patient's feet ; a terrier fight ; a 
 rat worry ; a wrestling match between the fat- 
 test and leanest man of the company ; a draw- 
 ing of corks marked " Eoederer's carte blanche." 
 These efforts were' understood to be in keep- 
 ing with the general conception of cause and 
 effect in the production of human laughter, 
 but they failed to excite a smile. It was pro- 
 voking, as one man after another came round 
 the Lodge to the shade where the patient was 
 set, and put the query, "Has he shown tongue?" 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 273 
 
 "Has he laughed ?" to be replied to with an 
 everlasting " No ! " 
 
 That same evening Fitz was little seen. 
 Late, in the moonlight, on the borders of the 
 peaceful loch, he was alone, drawing upon 
 memory. This, then, was the same Alester, 
 supposed by his father, Fitzrobins, to have 
 committed suicide after ruin from inability to 
 proceed with thirteen actions at law to defeat 
 the strong purse of the merchant of Fenchurch 
 Street, and whose imagined death had sat upon 
 the conscience of the stickler for rights of 
 shooting and fishing over Alester's small pos- 
 session — all the stake at issue. So Alester these 
 many years, in defiance of the fates, had drawn 
 his sport and his game from the old preserves ! 
 As Fitz sat, Neil, with knapsack on back, 
 passed on his way down the glen : his voice 
 shaking, and he not stopping as he addressed 
 Fitz, the Highlander said, " She'll not leugh ; 
 no ; not at all, now. We return no more." 
 
274 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 The last four words were in Gaelic ; Fitz 
 knew them not, but rose in sorrow. 
 
 A doctor of medicine pronounced Alester to 
 be insane. Yet the old man seemed to thrive 
 after a fashion with the youths. He was 
 tractable as a chUd ; and they watched and 
 waited, with a strange odd tenderness, upon 
 his senile passiveness. His food consisted of 
 liquids ; doses of soup, got after some days from 
 specimens of the genus lepus in the low coun- 
 try (with whose flavour the patient was presum- 
 ably acquainted), seemed to fatten and darken a 
 little his thin and pallid cheek. His hosts would 
 never cease the belief that they would com- 
 municate to the once vigorous Celt some spirit 
 of life, which, in their own wealth of it, they 
 could scarcely imagine about gone in him. 
 
 Belsher could see no inamediate prospect of 
 " a spar." Some memories of past contention 
 might be awakened in their patient by the re- 
 presentation of a fight in the Law Courts. 
 Judge, jury, and witnesses were chosen. 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 2/ 
 
 Belsher saw that there was to be a mim 
 justiciary trial in which the panel to 1 
 arraigned at the bar would likely be Alest 
 himself; and Belsher became grave and sai 
 "You see he isn't there — Alester isn't thei 
 If he were he'd fight — may be with arms, i 
 he isn't here, nor there, I'll fight for him, fair 
 
 The jury, however, intimated that, withoi 
 a hearing of the case, they had already agre« 
 upon their verdict : they found Alester " n^ 
 guilty " by the law of nature. The chancelL 
 of the jury, bright -with the recollection of 
 school scrap from Gibbon, to the effect that tl 
 savage could not with justice be deprived i 
 the game slain by his personal dexterity, wi 
 determined to apply this knowledge in defiam 
 of all possible direction from the judg 
 Belsher laughed with great gusto, and e; 
 pressed his approval of the verdict ; the la 
 of nature having his entire admiration. 
 
 Some hopes had naturally been entertains 
 of literature. Of an evening, for an hour befo 
 
276 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 being taken to bed, Alester -would be seated 
 with his back to the party looking out to the 
 shades. Belsher was a little unfortunate in his 
 first attempt to bear the spoils of genius in 
 the Ben Eachann library to the ears of the sick 
 man. He read "The Everlasting No." But 
 Belsher 's approval of what he understood to 
 be good and practical, as well as sacred, wis- 
 dom was very real and hearty, if curious to 
 the ordinary Christian. Happening next to 
 read aloud the New Testament injunctions as 
 to the conduct to be observed towards a tres- 
 passing brother (18th chapter of Matthew), 
 he smote the table, " Now, that's good, that's 
 good ; prevents bad fighting." 
 
 Addressing Fitz, he wondered if they might 
 be Christians. Perhaps such simplicity was 
 not altogether lost upon the older and sick 
 child of humour. 
 
 Generally it was laughter — laughter un- 
 tutored and given to abandon — that sounded 
 in the old man's careless ear. Sometimes he 
 
THE TENANTS OP BEN EACHANN. 5 
 
 might have heard a comic song had he ,wished 
 been able to listen ; but in his presence " 1 
 poacher's lament," " The waggin' o' our do 
 tail" (the composition of an eminent Divi 
 notwithstanding), and even plaintive melod 
 bearing such suggestive titles as " He's owxe i 
 hills," or " Owre the heather," were voted to 
 offensive. The comical element in the mate] 
 prepared at CairngoUoch Lodge for the repu 
 of melancholia in its oldest guest had likewise 
 be finally abandoned. Strange that the nat 
 voice and music of the place were forgotten. 
 They set Alester down often where 
 might see the full sweep of the glen, wh 
 many a time delighted the most indiffen 
 eyes to the beauties of nature. The warn 
 of the balmy southern air which pla] 
 kindly about his white locks seemed 
 revive him for the time. But when the yon 
 sportsmen exhibited to him as he sat, on tl 
 early return from the hills (thinking often 
 him there) the plumage and plumpness 
 
2^8 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 wonderful birds, or brought rare bits of heather 
 and wild flowers for his bonnet, though they 
 spoke always with the deference and kindness 
 due to age, the words came somehow more to 
 be adapted to childish ears. The speakers 
 acted so, unconsciously, in presence of the 
 infantile complacency of his deep blue eyes; 
 eyes too that like a child's seemed looking 
 and waiting. No impatience was manifested 
 of this stare into the beyond when it increased 
 its duration. The garden flowers of that late 
 region were daily set before him in all their 
 profuse splendours ; birds were brought to sing 
 at his window ; muirfowl were near to break 
 the silence when he was without. 
 
 Nature had ceased to move him. To him 
 the rays that made purple and gold on the 
 vast hills for all men— there — were as unseen ; 
 him the pathos of the setting sun, and of the 
 rising of the great autumn moon, touched no 
 more. It was now discovered that his vision 
 rested mostly over the hill beneath the cot- 
 
THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 27! 
 
 tage where he had dwelt. There lay th^ 
 graves. Around the "yard," the leaves o 
 the pine wood were thinning, the moss on thi 
 low crumbling dyke was yellow, the broom ant 
 wild raspberry clasped each other in fallei 
 tangles ; for its summer too had fled. Bu 
 there lay the old Macras. 
 
 The autumn in which these events tool 
 place was particularly fine in the Highlands o 
 Scotland. Long excursions were made b; 
 parties into the glens, and hitherto place 
 inaccessible to numbers were made the seen 
 of camps. One afternoon when Fitzrobin 
 had just returned after the absence of som 
 days, and the old man was sitting out o: 
 the knoll which commanded a view of the gler 
 a sound came faintly for a time with the fitfr 
 south wind which resembled the Celtic musi( 
 It seemed to strike some still living chord c 
 memory in the Highlander. Fitzrobin eager! 
 watched the moved countenance. Nearer an( 
 nearer the music came ; then a band of mei 
 
280 THE TENANTS OF BEN EACHANN. 
 
 women, and children appeared still far off. 
 The pibroch was sounding. As the cry of the 
 storm in the forest, the scream of the wind 
 over the mountains, the roar of the billow on 
 the rocky shore moved the heart of the Gael 
 in his strongest days — that music gave him 
 life now. And gave him death. 
 
 At the sight of the Celts, Alester rose, threw 
 out his hands and cried : his breast heaved, 
 and his once stalwart limbs were for a minute 
 restored to life. He spoke (in Gaelic) and 
 laughed — laughed a strange, weird laugh, which 
 suddenly ceased. 
 
 A faint voice was heard by Belsher to mur- 
 mur at the feet of the old man as he lay 
 prostrate, " My mother's spirit will haunt me 
 in the shadow on the hill." " You . have 
 brought back the Macras ; and you've been 
 reading Ossian, my man," Belsher said, as he 
 grasped Fitz's hand ; turning to what remained 
 of the once strong Celt who, in the moment of 
 joy, had passed away into the untroubled land. 
 
( 281 ) 
 
 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 a AUNTERING in Quash Lane on a Mi 
 ^ day, you are almost reminded of t 
 opening of the beautiful description of'l 
 home, given by the pretended Prince of Cor 
 to the Lady of Lyons ; midst sweetest folia] 
 musical with birds, the inhabitants of t 
 spacious villas of the Lane are privileged 
 dwell. It seems eternal summer there ; wht 
 great beds of sweet violets absolutely iuv: 
 repose upon their soft odorous profusion, to 1 
 the dreamer into forgetfulness of the necessi 
 of thought and action, and of consequent du 
 and difficulties. Nevertheless, in this delicic 
 region of retirement are several ladies a 
 gentlemen who are in frequent conditions 
 rage against the order of things. 
 
282 AEBITKATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 Mr Kichard Dolphington, a bachelor, who 
 had never been in business — a genial fussy 
 little man who troubled himself to make his 
 friends happy, and to bring about reforms for 
 the general weal — came to have a belief in 
 arbitration ; the consequence of which was 
 that he became noisy for arbitration : he 
 stormed, with the indignation of an amateur 
 in rage, about the stupidity of legislators for 
 neglecting to bring about the salvation of the 
 world by arbitration ; universal peace and 
 good-will among men were to be ensured by 
 arbitration. It was in vain to urge that as 
 respects civil justice, the system of Courts of 
 Law established by the State was in truth 
 arbitration in the best form. 
 
 While in the heat of the possession and 
 promulgation of his views, Mr Dolphington 
 had an opportunity of testing their value 
 put in force in the ordinary affairs of life. A 
 birdseller had made a great overcharge against 
 him in the price of a silent parrot, and for 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 283 
 
 time occupied in setting up Polly's cage ; and 
 Mr Dolphington, with great trouble, had got 
 Messrs Muggins & Co. to agree to settle their 
 dispute by arbitration. 
 
 On the day of trial he made preparations 
 for a pretty lengthened engagement. The 
 carpet had been lifted off his great dining- 
 room, at the further end of which was placed a 
 long table with a huge desk covered with paper. 
 Behind this desk was the arbiter's seat, and in 
 front of it were chairs for the parties to the 
 suit and the witnesses, who were to repose in 
 ease and not be bullied by lawyers. The 
 latter portion of the hour before the " hour of 
 cause," had been occupied by Dolphington and 
 his witnesses in strengthening the inner man 
 with roast-beef and ale, winding up, himself, 
 with a stiff tumbler of whisky toddy. He 
 remembered the importance which the great 
 Duke assigned to good feeding in warfare, and 
 was eager that the conduct of .all the parties — 
 on his side at least — should be marked by 
 
284 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 physical comfort and self-possession, as well 
 as the strong moral attitude induced by a sense 
 of being in the right. 
 
 Dolphington had evidently grown somewhat 
 nervous at the outset, as the hour of trial of his 
 scheme was arriving. He was more nervous 
 still, that twenty minutes after the hour of 
 cause had passed, neither arbiter, nor plaintiff, 
 nor witnesses had given signs of coming. 
 Mr Dolphington remembered with envy the 
 punctuality and authority which characterised 
 the proceedings in Court when his causes were 
 on. 
 
 "Ovens is late; I'm afraid we shall need 
 another man," cried the disturbed defend- 
 ant concerning the arbiter ; nervously taking 
 out and putting back his watch, and ad- 
 dressing Patrick O'Hara, his .Irish butler and 
 messenger^ and chief witness. 
 
 "Yes, sur ; sure too, afther ye've been . 
 throating him so well too all the week long, 
 sur," said Patrick, jauntily. 
 
ARBITRATION tN QUASH LANE. 285 
 
 Dolphington looked dismally upon his chief 
 witness. He found his digestion going wrong 
 before a single outsider had appeared on the 
 chosen scene of contest. 
 
 " It's very bad — grievous misconduct," cried 
 Dolphington. 
 
 "Therrible!" added Mr Patrick O'Hara ; 
 who was dressed for the occasion in cast-off 
 clothes of his employer, and had his hair 
 well pomaded and his face shining with 
 soap and water applications. 
 
 "Please, sir," said Jack Marrable, a small 
 boy in a blue jacket, who had become sickly- 
 contemplative after an over-stuffing of roast- 
 beef — " A dinna mind the hours Muggins' 
 man waus here." This was provoking, con- 
 sidering the drill the boy had received. Mr 
 Dolphington put his head out at the window 
 to look along the lane in a rather more chop- 
 fallen state, and cried, "Ten, you little fool." 
 He drew his head back hastily, with conster- 
 
286 AEBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 nation depicted in every feature of his usually 
 happy face. 
 
 "Here's Muggins & Co.," observed the 
 disappointed gentleman, " They've got six 
 witnesses ! " He himself had only three ; 
 other two having politely declined to come, 
 while one said he would, and had absented 
 himself. "It's distressing," cried Mr Dol- 
 phington — "and Ovens, too, not come." 
 
 " Sure it's very moighty bad indade," said 
 Patrick, whose reflections were complacent, 
 and were mostly about the remaining bottles 
 to be consumed at the close of the trial. 
 
 " Come in," cried Dolphington to a loud — 
 a very loud — rap at the half-open door of the 
 justice-room. 
 
 The permission was accompanied by the 
 presence of the plaintiff Muggins — sole partner 
 of Muggins & Co. — and his chief witness. 
 Muggins the plaintiff was long - legged and 
 cadaverous, and strode after the manner of 
 Robert Macaire. He carried off insolence 
 
AKBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 287 
 
 in a brave way. The other fellow, his man, 
 had the most irritating look of any living 
 creature ; he was lanky, sore-eyed, squint 
 and malicious - like, wearing overalls and a 
 jacket of the same material, dirty and tattered. 
 Dolphington had particular cause to dread 
 his malice, for Dolphington had been seen 
 by the fellow passing from the quarter of 
 his domestics at a pretty early hour one 
 morning. Meteorology had led Dolphington 
 below stairs ; but the man who worked in 
 cages had winked with his squint evil eye. 
 
 " Here, Mr Dolphington, you pay me thai 
 little account ; and take five per cent, oflf," 
 said Mr Muggins. The account was £12, 12s.. 
 and ought to have been 15s., Mr Dolphington 
 said, not at this moment. 
 
 The defendant, with that bonhomie whicli 
 distinguished him, and having consciousness 
 of requiring to show token of that perfed 
 amity which should reign in the bosom oi 
 every believer in the settlement of disputes 
 
288 AEBITEATION IN QTJASH LANE. 
 
 by the peaceful system of arbitration, had 
 grasped the hand of the plaintiff Muggins. 
 
 " Mr Muggins," said Mr Dolphington, " my 
 good sir ! we are to refer to Mr Ovens." 
 
 " Oh, if that's it," replied Muggins—" that's 
 it," — he did not finish the sentence, but looked 
 to the man in overalls, who had an irrelevant 
 but pungent satirical commentary about Mr 
 Dolphington's " up in the morning." The 
 circumstance had just been previously made 
 known to the employer. 
 
 The man in overalls gave his head a strange 
 ugly shake, and told his employer to " stand 
 to it." He had made a charge for sixty-eight 
 hours' time, while Mr Dolphington said he had 
 only been occupied ten. 
 
 "You dar, sn-— dar — accuse a respect- 
 able mechanic of fraud before his master. 
 You — you, sir — Mr Dolphington!" cried 
 the fellow. 
 
 Mr Dolphington really did, but he did not 
 answer ; and the fellow gave his head many 
 
ARBITEATION IN QUASH LANE. 25 
 
 threatening shakes, and with his tongue utter* 
 many Ahas. 
 
 "If this here is the way of going on, I' 
 off," cried Muggins, who surveyed the prepar 
 tions with a contempt which was real ai 
 unconcealed. " If I am not paid, less discour 
 I'll circulate my little bill in every house 
 the kingdom — with a history of the who 
 domestic animals, their habits, and the 
 Master's into the bargain." 
 
 " My good sir," said Mr Dolphington, " whi 
 I want is justice — justice between man ar 
 man. Mr Ovens the arbiter " 
 
 "Justice! justice!" ejaculated both masti 
 and man. 
 
 "Justice should begin at hom.e" said Muj 
 gins ; after both had ceased making wel 
 known noises with their tongues, which ind 
 cate scepticism of an opponent's assertior 
 and general character, which words are ofte 
 inadequate to express. "Justice as is jui 
 tice should live in the kitchen as the hal 
 
290 AEBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 for the peasant as the peer, and the Btitish 
 tradesman." (Here the tradesman held out 
 his account in plain figures.) "I pause 
 for a reply." He did not draw breath, how- 
 ever, and went on : " Is there no thought 
 of aspersion, by these horrid ongoings, of 
 the character of a man as has carried on 
 for a quarter of a century a respectable 
 business among the nobility and gentry of 
 the land — who never disputed a twopence, 
 but left it to them that maybe don't know 
 their own grandfathers to make wappits about 
 half-hours' time. Is there nothing to be said 
 for a man as has made ornithology the study 
 of his youth, the diversion of his riper years — 
 that he must- be slandered, 'cause a bird isn't 
 free of all the ills that flesh is heir to ; 
 is" 
 
 " Pray be calm, my dear sir," the defendant 
 succeeded in saying; "you know you agreed 
 to refer the matter." 
 
 " What has that to do, sir, with my insulted 
 
ARBITEATION IN QUASH LANE. 2 
 
 dignity 1 " asked Muggins with one leg 
 advance, and an arm in the air. 
 
 " Ovens is a fair — very fair gentleni£ 
 and will put it all right," urged the defer 
 ant. 
 
 " I don't care for Ovens, I'm as good as hi 
 any day," cried Muggins, turning his back 
 O'Hara, whom he evidently took for the arbiti 
 He curled his lip and turned his back on t 
 Irishman with a fine disdain. 
 
 " My dear sir, if you will only keep yo 
 promise " — remonstrated the defendant. 
 
 This afforded an excellent opportunity i 
 the plaintiff assuming a deeper indignation. 
 
 "Keep my promise!" he cried. "Y 
 to them as keeps theirs — to them 
 don't give fine speeches instead of money, 
 them as is just in the hitchen and the sh 
 as to himself. Is this justice when one of t 
 parties to the soot comes hisself with all ] 
 witnesses into the Court first, stealing like 
 thief in the night ? Bah ! the whole affair's 
 
292 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 get up — a sham — a make-believe, it's a do, 
 sir" (here Mr Muggins took up a quire of 
 writing paper and beat the desk with it), " I 
 repeat it's rotten, rotten, sir — the whole affair 
 — a sell — a delusion and a snare ; an' unless I 
 get my rights, as sure as my name's Paul 
 Muggins, I'll make a contribution to local his- 
 tory ; yes, a contribution in which the domestic 
 animals shall be remembered, Mr Dolphington, 
 and their Master !" Mr Muggins paused for a 
 moment before he returned to the passage, 
 followed by his man, where he upset a chair or 
 two and rolled Mr Dolphington's white and 
 black hats upon the floor, besides causing the 
 timepiece to stand, by the knock which he gave 
 the table with his knob-stick. 
 
 As Muggins opened the street door, a stout, 
 elderly gentleman, with a florid complexion 
 and a very mild countenance, asked if Mr 
 Dolphington was in, and if they were parties 
 connected with the arbitration. 
 
 "Who are you, sir?" asked Mr Muggins, 
 
ARBITEATION IN QUASH LANE. 293 
 
 with -whom the grand manner had not yet had 
 time to fall. 
 
 "I'm Mr Ovens, the arbiter, I believe," 
 answered the mild man, 
 
 " Then, sir, let me tell you " here Mr 
 
 Muggins hesitated, and evidently changed his 
 tactics. He thought he liked this man's look 
 better than that of Sheriff Harding. " Now we 
 shall have justice — now ! Your looks, sir, show 
 a just mind." 
 
 " Bless me ! how late I am," cried the be- 
 nign-visaged gentleman. 
 
 Mr Ovens made his way upstairs, while 
 the plaintiff and his witnesses waited below. 
 
 "How are you, Ovens 1 how are you, my 
 friend ? " cried the good-natured Mr Eichard 
 Dolphington, as the late arbiter emerged into 
 the greatly deserted hall of justice. 
 
 " They're below ; they're not gone. Dear 
 me ! now it was that lobster you gave me last 
 night, Dick ; made me sleep in, you know." 
 He was seated on a cane chair at the door, and 
 
294 ARBITKATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 looked milder still. Evidently he had been 
 chosen for the meekness and pliableness of 
 his temperament. "There's a very nice, tall, 
 dignified gentleman below, Vfaiting. Call 
 him up," said Mr Ovens. 
 
 Dolphington led the arbiter by the arm to 
 the great leather chair of the mediaeval period, 
 which stood behind the table with the desk 
 and paper. Mr Ovens sat uneasily mopping 
 his brow, and looked at the far corner of the 
 hall at the spiders, whose obscurity he probably 
 began to envy. The arbiter, however, had come 
 charged with some facetiousness, which, accord- 
 ing to his reading, judges were wont to throw 
 athwart their dingy courts. The wit, and the 
 manner of its discharge, having been duly pre- 
 pared beforehand, and doubtless feeling sur- 
 charged, he was anxious to fire off. 
 
 "The animal in question," remarked Ovens, 
 with a faint smile, putting down his mop, and 
 nervously taking up half a ream of foolscap, 
 without looking at a small, grey parrot with a 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 295 
 
 crimson tail, which hung dumb and wearily on 
 a spar in a large cage permanently established 
 in one of the windows. 
 
 "He doesn't speak," said the arbiter. 
 " But mightn't he keep silence in seven 
 languages, like Moltke ? " asked the gentle 
 wit at the defendant. 
 
 The only word with which Polly troubled 
 the world was, " Wo-way," " wo-way ! " 
 
 ""Surely," suggested Ovens, "I have heard 
 the name ; is it not that of an ancient. South 
 American prince ? May not this parrot, with 
 this name still on its tongue, be a descendant 
 of that one, mentioned by Humboldt, who 
 was the sole representative of a lost lan- 
 guage ? " 
 
 With which speeches, which had been pre- 
 pared as the arbiter lay restless with the 
 lobster, he relapsed into his common condition 
 of mild dulness. He then began to jot down 
 notes of the arrangement of the day's business, 
 of which he had no more idea than the dumb 
 
296 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 animal in the cage. He thought he recollected 
 what took place on two occasions, when he saw 
 a judge on the bench. " Witness, do you 
 remember — call the next witness," made up 
 the only language of procedure which he re- 
 membered. He wrote down, " Witnesses 
 called," "remember," "decision," and threw 
 himself back with an air of ease which he was 
 far from feeling. He had stayed with an old 
 hypochondriac sister all his days, and was the 
 last man in the world to choose to control a 
 wrangle, or live through a scene with coolness. 
 
 " Call the next witness ; but, dear me, where's 
 the plaintiff? " said the arbiter. 
 
 Here, with folded arms, the plaintiff returned 
 to the justice hall. Mr Dolphington's face 
 brightened, for he had been in great pain, 
 feeling the failure of the scheme of arbitration 
 about which he had vaunted so much. 
 
 " My good sir, Mr Muggins, what is wrong 1 
 — now, tell me," asked Dolphington almost 
 piteously. 
 
ARBITRATIOK IN QUASH LANE. 297 
 
 " Put them slaves out," cried Muggins, with 
 one hand thrust behind towards the grinning 
 witnesses of the defendant. 
 
 " Ah, that is a little irregular, our witnesses 
 being in," Mr Dolphington said with can- 
 dour and apology ; with, something also like a 
 frown at the arbiter as an incapable person, 
 since be had made no order of the kind, or 
 indeed of any kind, that was rational. The 
 witnesses were shoved out. " Now we 
 shall proceed to business — business, Mr 
 Muggins," said the defendant with jauntiness. 
 Here the plaintiff placed on the table a small 
 pot of what appeared to be common butter, 
 and showed an evident intention of leading 
 the procedure entirely after a fashion of his 
 own. The plaintiff took off the lid, touched 
 the unctuous matter with the tip of his fore- 
 finger and looked at the " animal in question," 
 as if with the intention of healing it on the 
 spot into a condition of loquacity which 
 ■should outdo the powers of Babel. This 
 
298 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 operation was observed by Mr Dolphington 
 with the greatest annoyance and anxiety ; 
 but he dared not speak, fearing a renewal 
 of the plaintiffs eloquence, and the end of 
 his hopes. 
 
 With the air of a conjuror and a great 
 medicine-man, Muggins approached the habi- 
 tation of the silent bird, making some cries 
 meant for an incantation, with the intention 
 of rousing its drooping spirits, it may be 
 presumed. He stopped short, turned round 
 and addressed the two gentlemen. 
 
 " All animals need the refection of mother 
 nature. But man — woman — may simulate 
 mother nature with love — love " (here the in- 
 cantation was renewed, with the addition of 
 some ordinary addresses to "Polly," and the 
 application of the ointment to the membrane 
 of the upper mandible). "He speaks— ah — 
 he speaks." 
 
 " Wo-way," cried Polly vociferously. 
 
 " One minute more, gentlemen, and you will 
 
AEBITHATION IN QUASH LANE. 299 
 
 doubtless be asked to take a cup of tea, your 
 maternal parent will be inquired for, and 
 that blessed period which introduces the 
 festive season to Christian communities will 
 be noticed. But pray, gentlemen, take to the 
 other end of the room ; the bird is weakly still, 
 having pined these weeks here, as it were 
 in the solitary places. You frighten it. Even 
 the great Macaw — gentlemen — I assure you, 
 has days of languor, when he will only speak 
 to the doctor. Polyphemus — my favourite 
 Macaw — so called from being deficient of an 
 orb, though he will ordinarily talk like an orator 
 in a frenzy, has fits of languor. An artist 
 must pay for his excitements with weariness. 
 Strange bird ! worth a hundred guineas ! yet 
 might sell him for fifty ; times being hard. 
 Found him in a wax work, an exhibition 
 going on in an old tabernacle ; where the 
 proprietor lived. Odd bird ! wonderful 
 mimic ! One Sunday morning, old lady was 
 passing by her old church late, when she 
 
300 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 heard her favourite psalm tune being sung 
 — 'French' — and went upstairs, not know- 
 ing the new character of the place ; thought 
 the congregation very gay, but didn't see 
 very well without her spectacles, though 
 she heard fairly and joined in the singing, 
 and very good singing too, she thought, 
 though thin with such a congregation. She 
 was seated between Mary Queen of Scots 
 and Dominie Sampson ; but didn't wonder. 
 Yet, when the singing didn't end with the 
 verses, but went right on without stopping, 
 as if they were going through the whole 
 psalms at once with one tune, she began to 
 stir and look up more keenly, and saw no 
 pulpit or precentor, and then she saw — lo, 
 who but Polyphemus : he was watching her 
 as he sang from his perch, on the pole of 
 George the Fourth ! ' Bless us all ! ' cried the 
 old lady ; and sure enough Polly gave the 
 benediction ; as she ran out and down stairs, 
 muttering that the devil had caught her for 
 
ARBITKATION IN QUASH LANE. 301 
 
 lying too long on a Sunday morning. Odd 
 bird ! " 
 
 " Strange bird ! " said Ovens, the arbiter. 
 
 " Wonderful story ! " said the defendant 
 Dolphington. 
 
 Here the plaintiff Muggins bent his head 
 over the cage, and a distinct, audible cry 
 of "Take a cup of a tea," vs^as three or 
 four times repeated. Louder still the query 
 ■was put, "How's your mother." "Merry 
 Christmas" was then wished with a fury and 
 shrillness which almost deafened every ear. 
 
 " Strange ! " observed the arbiter. He began 
 to suspect the defendant of being a bit of a 
 humbug, now that the bird vociferated beyond 
 the heart's content even of that individual 
 himself. 
 
 Dolphington was puzzled, vexed, and silent. 
 Fortunately his fuss always came to his relief. 
 Nothing so much Dick liked as a ring at his 
 door. There were always rings at his door. 
 Looking now out of his window, he saw that 
 
302 ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 the ring which came to divert his mind 
 from showing any symptoms of chagrin was 
 from one Duckworth, an absent and valued 
 witness. 
 
 " Here's Duckworth, my old amanuensis ; 
 Duckworth will settle the matter. Duckworth 
 knows all," cried the defendant. 
 
 " To the with Duckworth," exclaimed 
 
 Mr Muggins, as there looked into the room a 
 heavy-faced, pock-marked man. 
 
 Muggins felt sore that his exertions were 
 not immediately crowned with success. 
 
 " Call the next witness," cried the arbiter, 
 who was at once prejudiced against Duck- 
 worth, but thought he said " first witness." 
 
 "Call the old Nick," said Muggins pretty 
 loud. " The thing's quite irregular. Not one 
 of them witnesses can be examined. Accord- 
 ing to all the rules of the High Court, de- 
 fender should have furnished me with their 
 names — he hasn't." 
 
 Muggins' knowledge of jurisprudence had 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 303 
 
 been gathered during liis connection with the 
 trial of his mother, a kleptomaniac, who had 
 appropriated other people's washing-tubs, and 
 had been fourteen times previously convicted. 
 
 " Ah ! you see, Dolphington," said the 
 arbiter, with a mild upbraiding gravity. 
 
 But the trial was not to proceed without the 
 witnesses making themselves heard on their 
 own account. While the principals were opening 
 the case within, the evidence was proceeding 
 in their absence without. In the passage the 
 two sets of witnesses soon got mixed up, and 
 were warm in their discussion of the first 
 portion of the claim, which related to the time 
 occupied in transferring Polly's cage from the 
 one room to the other, and repairing same. 
 
 The noises of feet and clattering tongues 
 in the passage suddenly grew deafening, and 
 most alarming to the defendant in the justice 
 room. 
 
 " Dear me ! " cried the arbiter, now getting 
 exhilarated in his unaccustomed position as the 
 
304 AEBITEATION IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 central figure in a party who found exciting 
 interest in the proceedings, "our noises are 
 ^oZ^/morphous. " 
 
 " I'm afraid we shall have to postpone the 
 case," said Dolphington heavily. 
 
 " No ; don't," said the arbiter, who had 
 acquired a sense of the greatness of office. 
 
 '' Yes, I must," said his friend ; in whom 
 was sinking for the day all his good opinion of 
 human nature, his hopes of arbitration, and of 
 justice in this particular instance. "I have 
 many valuables in the passage." 
 
 Here a terrible crash as of the falling 
 of the great ancient clock and the mediaeval 
 tables was heard ; upon which immediately 
 followed the crush of the entire body of 
 witnesses into the room, preceded by the 
 squint-eyed man in dirty overalls and linen 
 jacket, who came into colhsion with the light- 
 coloured and clean-kept meltons of Mr Richard 
 Dolphington. 
 
 In the din, Mr Dolphington— forgetful for the 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LAKE. 305 
 
 time of every loss in the prospect of the over- 
 throw of his pet theory — was able to raise his 
 voice and ask in stentorian tones a question of 
 the undoubted Duckworth. 
 
 "Now, Duckworth, how many hours was the 
 man at that cage ? " 
 
 " I couldn't ha' seen him more than nine — 
 of coorse, I left afore he was done." 
 
 " Aha ! " cried Muggins. 
 
 "Aha ! " cried the fellow in overalls. 
 
 " The arbiter sees it," vociferated Muggins. 
 
 "Where's Jack Marrablel" cried the dispi- 
 rited Dolphington. Jack could not be found ; 
 having indeed, during the operations of 
 Muggins, been enjoying some fun behind the 
 judgment-seat, -from which place he was afraid 
 to come forth. 
 
 " Now, O'Hara, when did the man leave ? " 
 asked the defendant in the voice of an ancient 
 hero. 
 
 Patrick looked puzzled. 
 
 "Do you remember the 11th of December, 
 
 u 
 
306 ARBITEATIO^T IN QUASH LANE. 
 
 Pat ? " interrupted the arbiter briskly, with the 
 account claimed in his hands. 
 
 " Sure, sur, I don't," answered the witness, 
 "I remember the 25th." 
 
 " Aha ! " cried Muggins and man. 
 
 " I'll swear the man wasn't here ten hours. 
 I seed him the whole time, and counted them," 
 cried the other witness of the plaintiff, shaking 
 his fist in the face of the fellow in overalls. 
 
 At this point the fellow in overalls put him- 
 self in an offensive attitude, and informed this 
 last witness that he would beat him into a 
 jelly, that he would thrash him like a sack, 
 and would proceed to throw him out of the 
 wnndow. O'Hara rushed forward with the 
 impetuous freedom of his race, and received 
 upon his brow the blow intended for his friend, 
 which he had no sooner done than he levelled 
 the squint man upon the floor. The fight now 
 became general, and was renewed with double 
 energy, the party of the defendant having re- 
 ceived the addition of Duckworth, who owned 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 307 
 
 a stout frame. Jack Marrable now was able 
 to come out of his hiding-place, and hit the 
 limbs of the foe with a couple of rulers which 
 had been set down to aid in the peaceful form 
 of warfare by means of the pen. In the 
 midst of the strife and din the parties to the 
 suit endeavoured to separate the combatants, 
 while the arbiter looked over the window and 
 cried " Police ! " which disturbed the whole 
 neighbourhood without bringing a preserver of 
 the peace. 
 
 " Ugh ! " cried the trembling Ovens, whose 
 exhilarated mood had entirely fallen, as thump 
 after thump played upon the bodies around him. 
 " For heaven's sake, pay — pay the money ! " he 
 cried, " pay it ; or I'll do it." 
 
 "If it is your decision, Mr Ovens," said 
 Dolphington, with a calm dignity, worthy of a 
 greater cause. 
 
 " Yes ; yes, it is." Ovens thought his friend 
 a confounded humbug. 
 
 Mr Dolphington made no protest, though he 
 
308 ARBITRATION m QUASH LANE. 
 
 was burning with fiery indignation against 
 Ovens, whom he regarded as, without excep- 
 tion, the meanest specimen of humanity he 
 had known in the whole course of his life. 
 It would be breath wasted to utter a word of 
 expostulation with him. So he put down the 
 money upon the top of the account ; a pro- 
 ceeding which had, as the plaintiff intimated 
 it to them, the effect of drawing off the com- 
 batants. 
 
 Not much injury appeared to be done to 
 the persons of the combatants. The fellow in 
 overalls was still able to wink and leer, 
 and inform "the gentleman who had disputed 
 the hours of his labour," and had been obliged 
 to "cave in," that he could close "that 
 gentleman's door if he liked, and ruin him in 
 a twinkling." 
 
 With much difficult}', and at no little 
 additional cost- in the shape of injury to his 
 household gods, Mr Dolphington got his 
 adversaries out of his house. The arbiter was 
 
ARBITRATION IN QUASH LANE. 309 
 
 the last to go ; but Dolphington's words of 
 thanks to Ovens were hollow and unreal. He 
 returned to the justice room in a frame of mind 
 bordering on despair. Jack Marrable alone 
 spoke, as he saw his master's eyes rest for a 
 moment on the wretched bird, the cause of all 
 his misery. 
 
 "Please, sir," said Jack, " it waur ventrylo- 
 queesim ; " referring to the specimen of loqua- 
 city supposed to be the bird's. 
 
 Mr Dolphington was heard to use the word 
 " quash," and then seen to rush upstairs to his 
 smoking-room, from which sanctuary he did 
 not come forth till bedtime. Nobody in the 
 city saw him for some months. The first man 
 he called for was Ovens, to whom, after shaking 
 him heartily by tho hand, he confided his im- 
 pression that lobster did not make a good 
 supper before a day's mental toil. 
 
( 310 ) 
 
 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE AT PETER 
 BROCK'S. 
 
 QOME summers ago, when I passed the 
 ^ greater part of a rainy day in an inn 
 in Eoss-shire, the landlord told a story which 
 illustrated the facility — to use a mild word — 
 with which persons in Scotland were said to 
 get married. We were informed by the nar- 
 rator that a man and woman might, in the 
 land of the mountain and the flood, be married, 
 according to law, against their will. I pro- 
 tested — in the name of Scottish lawyers and 
 common sense — and argued that consent was as 
 essential to the contract of marriage as to a con- 
 tract for the sale of sugar ; nay, more, I was able 
 to cite cases where sweet creatures had made 
 written declarations that they were husband 
 
IRREGULAR MARRIAGE AT PETER BROCk's. 311 
 
 and wife, and yet the judges had decided that 
 they meant nothing of the kind ; interpretations 
 which the lawyers might not have troubled 
 themselves to make in the case of merchandise. 
 The landlord, notwithstanding, proceeded with 
 his story very gravely, between the puffs from 
 his long clay pipe. Whether he was mostly 
 laughing at some expounders of the law, or 
 whether he only intended to frighten one, 
 Popples, who sat with us, and was understood 
 to have been pretty free in his language to the 
 ladies of the bar, besides shooting a pet doe 
 of the landlord, I did not exactly know. 
 
 "There was one Waggles, from Liverpool 
 ' Change,' " said mine host, " stayin' here just 
 after the Yelverton trial time, the oddest man to 
 argue an' deny ever was seen. He was a scepti- 
 cal man, an' didn't believe in anything, he said 
 himself, except facts ; facts he could prove in 
 almanacs an' time-tables he liked best, though 
 he was open to be convinced by print books 
 generally — for Waggles had veneration of his 
 
312 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE 
 
 own, you may be sure. He was fond o' posing 
 with his facts. He didn't see the good o' 
 shootin' ; he didn't see the fun o' fishin' ; he 
 wouldn't ride, walk, nor sail, but only argue, 
 an' deny, an' pose. He wouldn't admire the 
 scenery ; he wouldn't hear the music of the 
 spheres, or the lark, or the brass band and 
 bagpipes that played at dinner in the paddock. 
 He wouldn't look at the Highlandmen — the 
 kilt wasn't fact enough. And he wouldn't 
 look at the women — not at all, at all. 
 That was a strong point. There were High- 
 land duchesses an' Lowland countesses, beauti- 
 ful as naytur, education, an' starched calicoes 
 could make them ; an' there were sweet 
 Highland lassies, about a' naytur thegither. 
 Waggles he would see them, only to say they 
 w^eren't fact — there was nothing in them. He 
 just went on arguin' that it was a delusion of 
 men, not a snare for Waggles. ' Ca-atch me,' 
 said John Waggles, in his stammerin' waj^ 
 Of course, you couldn't prove by books, cer- 
 
AT PETER beoch:'s. 313 
 
 tainly, that female human naytur was capti- 
 vatin'. 
 
 " You see he had read the almanacs, railway 
 guides, an' the history books, an' he knew a 
 deal, though his knowledge was generally old 
 like. He knew the changes of the moon well, 
 Waggles did ; and could check off an author 
 pretty, who had beautiful full moons too often 
 in the month, or had the sun setting mighty 
 pretty, for east coast folk, in the German Ocean. 
 Nothing in the almanacs he didn't know ; the 
 certain dog-days, or the day o' the sun entering 
 Virgo, or the day o' the death o' Columbus, or 
 such like, he'd argue out, an' prove to every 
 other man he came across. He read up. Waggles 
 did. About the ages of Parliaments, Mr Ben- 
 jamin Disraeli an' Mr Robert Lowe, he knew 
 well — steerin' clear o' the other sex there too. 
 He'd introduce his subjects sly, an' lead a man 
 on to argue, an' he'd deny, an' then prove he 
 was right, when he got the Almanac, in a jiffy. 
 He told Scotchmen all about their patriots, an' 
 
314 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE 
 
 how they got slain ; an' a professor o' Kirk 
 History was treated to facts about John Knox ; 
 an' a distiller was checked off about barley- 
 corn. He made a particular point of knowin' 
 facts about the place he was in. ' You o-ought 
 to pre-eserve that lime-a-stone, sir,' he said to 
 the new laird, in his stammerin' way, sayin' 
 black when he meant white, an' yes for no 
 often : it was his humour — Waggles'. ' That's 
 a Pictish sto-one.' ' Don't know it is,' said the 
 laird surlily. ' Don't you 1 ' said Waggles ; 
 ' I'm a stranger here, but I'll see-ee to it.* 
 An' in half-an-hour he comes up to the laird 
 wi' old Malagrowther's History, an' proves the 
 stone to be what he said. Once a father, 
 being asked at table as to the number of his 
 children, said, ' Sir, we are seven.' ' We are 
 eight,' said the mocking bird ; ' you forget the 
 baby.' The man counted, and said he sat 
 corrected. John Waggles made sure, and 
 wasn't to be caught. 
 
 " Of course he couldn't know everything. He 
 
AT PETER BROCK S. - 315 
 
 wasn't at the creation ; he wasn't livin' from 
 the days o' Adam, an' here an' everywhere at 
 one time, an' seein' an' hearin' everything. 
 He hadn't read all the prints since Caxton; 
 and he hadn't heard o' all that might be 
 printed but wasn't, though that last wasn't 
 so much matter for him. But there were 
 many things he'd not speak about ; he didn't 
 do anything where he'd think there was a 
 chance he'd go wrong like, an' against the 
 books. He was thought safe — awful safe — 
 was Waggles, an' not to be deluded by the 
 wiliest weed o' fancy that ever sprung in a 
 man's head or bosom, at the most obfuscated 
 moment of his optics. People wondered what'd 
 pot "Waggles. 
 
 "Well, he had to change his lodgings, for 
 some children in the house he was in took the 
 hooping-cough — a disagreeable fact ; an' he put 
 up in the house of one Peter Brock, a pretty 
 'cute chap who had travelled an' seen the world. 
 Brock's wife had died, an' he was bringing down 
 
316 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE 
 
 to help him his nieces, the Cruiskys, frae Altna- 
 huhsh. Waggles saw through the pend, as he 
 went in, Sheila kiltit trampin' clothes i' the 
 washin' tub, an' he cried, ' Wi-ife, wi-ife, desist,' 
 which she didn't understand at all, not knowin' 
 she was doin' anything wrong, an' not knowin' a 
 word o' Scotch or English. It was Waggles' 
 humour to cry * wife ; ' it was the mocking bird's ; 
 he imitated our boys of the village who are 
 accustomed to call maids, as matrons, * wives.' 
 "They were amatory an' nuptial crayturs 
 the Cruiskys ; though they all and each of 
 them made up an uncommon stone weight 
 when they got beyond their teens. They were 
 modest an' quiet. They did nothing o' them- 
 selves to make ye to love them ; they couldn't 
 help it. They'd be lookin' dreamin'-like an' 
 askance at the water bucket or carrotbed or 
 chuckles feedin' ; an' the men at the wheel, or 
 over the wall, or in the stables'd be jumpin' 
 mad like ; they themselves wi' never a chuckle 
 in their bosoms. Naytur had given them some 
 
AT PETER brock's. 3 17 
 
 uncommon winnin' way. In the first o' the Yel- 
 verton times, folks had hard to know whether 
 they were single or double : Sheila was cleekit, 
 it was thought, wi' the driver o' the Mail, an' 
 the guard too, an' the two strapper lads, an' 
 the waiter John, forby a farmer's son or two 
 into the bargain. Of course, proof's every- 
 thing ; an' folks didn't know what were proofs 
 then when Sheila had just come. 
 
 "It was the second day Waggles was 
 at Brock's the second sister came. We 
 called her Shoosie, though she'd- not be that 
 name in Altnahulish. How magnetic that 
 craytur was ! beat the loadstar ; a most par- 
 ticular amatory an' nuptial craytur ! You'd 
 have seen her smile ! it was electricity to man 
 and boy as she went down the village, on the 
 night she came to Brock's, to the mission 
 house. The Eev. John Doorsook, stickit 
 minister, was holding forth. When it was 
 known, that night, that he, John, stopped in 
 his discourse as she came in, an' asked leave to 
 
318 I RREGULAR MA RBI AGE 
 
 say a few words in Gaelic to 'a simple girl 
 just entered into the fold,' folk said tliat as 
 sure as naytur was great when it had a chance, 
 Shoosie'd be united to every man in the parish. 
 But Waggles at the tea-table said to the other 
 lodgers, 'Shoo-oosie ain't captivatin'.' They ■ 
 couldn't prove by book that Shoosie was 
 captivatin'; so they said nothing. Waggles 
 knocked over Brock's best cheena teapot on 
 the she-cat sleeping below, an' scalded her. 
 
 "They went an' told Brock what Waggles 
 had said, an' brought the fragments of the 
 broken cheena an' the scalded she-cat to him. 
 Peter didn't like this : he thought a bit, and 
 went up quiet-like to W^aggles, an' said, ' Don't ! 
 cause ye'U maybe be married to Shoosie yet ; 
 an' ye'll need the cheena pot an' the she-cat.' 
 Waggles wondered ; I should say he got red 
 in the face. He cried, ' That'll be uncommon 
 queer, Peter Brock,' 
 
 " ' Take care an' not call an' cry to her i' the 
 washin' tub as ye did to Sheila,' Brock an- 
 
AT PETER brock's. 319 
 
 swered, teethy like, though he was a most 
 good-nay tured man. 
 
 " Waggles got savage a bit, an' repeated, 
 ' Shoo-oosie ain't captivatin'/ an' said that 
 he would stop in a twinkling that barbarity 
 o' the Cruiskys standin' kiltit trampin' clothes 
 i' the washin' tub. 
 
 " ' Anyways,' said Brock, ' she's down at 
 Lizzie Maclure's, kiltit trampin' clothes i' the 
 washin' tub just now ; an' the man had best 
 be fly as budges Shoosie.' 
 
 "Brock, seein' Waggles make oiF, left the 
 cheena an' the scalded cat, which he had begun 
 to mend an' heal, an' got round to Lizzie's by 
 the low road before Waggles, an' told the 
 amatory an' nuptial craytur, who knew neither 
 English nor Scotch, what she'd say and do if 
 Waggles intruded upon her kiltit i' the washin' 
 tub. 
 
 " When Waggles got to Lizzie's, he saw 
 Shoosie i' the shed kiltit i' the washin' tub, an' 
 went in to her and cried, ' Wi-ife, wi-ife, de-e-' 
 
320 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE 
 
 Now when the nuptial craytur saw him, she 
 — not knowing of course what his or her own 
 words were any more than a kitten — cried 
 out, ' Husiband, husiband ! ' Waggles was 
 struck a bit — thought there was something 
 up — called back on his memory o' the al- 
 manacs, an' railway guides, an' history books, 
 but couldn't come on anything. He didn't know 
 what he might be in for ; though he was 
 sickly afraid 'twas something. An' he was 
 wheelin' about an' fallin' like with fright. 
 An' Shoosie stretched out her arms, leapt out 
 o' the tub, an' she caught Waggles in them. 
 
 " Lizzie an' her daughter Meg an' Brock 
 saw and heard all. They were witnesses, 
 an' proof's everything. 
 
 " An' Lizzie an' the daughter an' Peter knew 
 that ; an' they congratulated the newly-married 
 pair. 
 
 " ' What's this here ?' asked the husband, still 
 queer ; he hadn't book for it. So they brought 
 him book ; Wilkie Collins, it was, on the Mar- 
 
AT PETER brock's. 321 
 
 riage Law of Scotland; an' they turned up an' 
 read ; an' Waggles saw he was married ; it 
 was plain as the print ; it was fact, they were 
 man an' wife, an' a fact he didn't know could 
 be at all till he was the husband o' Shoosie. 
 When they had finished, he looked up, an' 
 says he, with a candour not looked for, ' Shoo- 
 oosie's captivatin'.' 
 
 " An' when he heard the din o' the hundred 
 pipers, an' the fifty blind fiddlers, an' the 
 twenty cripple trumpeters that came out 
 always at marriages, an' heard the trees fellin' 
 for the bonfire on Altnahulish ; an' when they 
 brought Shoosie and him presents ; he wrastled. 
 ' Wha-a-t the dickens,' cried he, ' what have I 
 done that I should come here for to be married ? ' 
 An' Brock he brought a present o' the broken 
 cheena, an' the scalded she-cat ; an' Waggles 
 took up the broken cheena an' looked steadily 
 at the scalded she-cat, an' then sickly like in 
 Brock's face ; an' he said — ' Dash my pro- 
 clivities, if that broken cheena an' that 
 
322 IRREGULAR MARRIAGE AT PETER BROGK'S. 
 
 scal(ied she-cat hain't married me against 
 my will ! ' 
 
 " An' he ran out in the dark " — Here several 
 of the listeners who had broken in now and 
 again with a laugh during our host's circum- 
 stantial narrative, unfortunately interrupted 
 with their cachinnations the conclusion of the 
 history of the wedding of Mr and Mrs 
 Waggles. 
 
 The mail guard called away our landlord 
 with his horn ; and it was noticed by us for 
 the first time that Popples was gone ; he 
 must have slipped out in the middle of the 
 narrative, for he was already seated on the 
 coach. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 fRIXTED BV BALLANT\-N'E, HANSON' AND CU 
 EUINQURGH AND LONDON".