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TALES AND TRADITIONS 
 
 ATRSHIRE AND GALLOWAY. 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW GLASS, 
 
 AT3TH0E OP "Poems and Songe," etc. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 DUNN & WRIGHT, 47 WEST NILE STREET. 
 
 1873. 
 

TO 
 
 JAMES SCOTT HENDERSON, Esq., 
 
 LONDON', 
 
 %Y^^ iolitmt 
 
 IS EESPBCTPULLY DEDICATED, AS A GBATEPUL TEIBUTE FOE MANY 
 ACTS OF KINDNESS EENDEEED TO 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013458637 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 The reader of these tales is not to suppose that, because they 
 bear the title of " Traditions of Ayrshire and Galloway," they 
 possess little interest for the public, apart from that district of 
 Scotland. Intelligent readers are aware that every tale must 
 have a locality, and that if the imagination is allowed too wide 
 a range, the author, no matter how great his literary attain- 
 ments, fails to produce the effect intended. If the subject 
 which the writer selects is skilfully managed, it will find a 
 sympathetic response in the hearts of men at the antipodes. 
 Burns' Mouse and Daisy are common-place subjects, yet they 
 oxcel, in my humble opinion, the greatest lyrics of any of our 
 living poets, who generally delight more in high-sounding 
 phrases than the language of the heart. 
 
 Let not the reader supposa that I wish to impress him 
 with the idea that there is something strikingly original in, 
 this little book. By no means. I know its shortcomings as 
 well as paterfamilias is supposed to know the faults and 
 failings of his children. I may briefly say, however, by way 
 of enhsting the reader's sympathy, that the tales were written 
 imder all the disadvantages incidental to a wandering life, 
 whilst representing the press in the west and south of Scotland. 
 But if the piiblic accord to this book the kind reception 
 which they gave to my " Poems and Songs," I will be not only 
 grateful, but endeavour shortly to bring before them tales of 
 greater length, and deeper interest. 
 
 ANDREW GLASS. 
 Glasgow, Stli May, 1873. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagk 
 Tale T. 
 
 The Lairds of Lugab, .... 9 
 
 Tale II. 
 The Cruives of Cree, - 37 
 
 Tale III. 
 
 KiRKDANDIE FaIB, ... 67 
 
 Tale IV. 
 The Grey Stones of Gablaffin, - lOa 
 
 Tale V. 
 
 Cruggleton Castle, 124 
 
 Tale VI. 
 Grebnan Castle, 14J 
 
TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 THE LAIRDS OF LUGAR. 
 
 AN AYESHIEE TALE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ateshiee is so rich in legendary lore that the great difficulty 
 of a writer is to make a suitable selection from the rich field of 
 antiquity. Every stream has still standing, on its banks, the 
 ruins of feudal fortresses, and the classic Lugar is no exception 
 to the rule. Long anterior to the development of the mineral 
 wealth of the county, when Cronberry was the haunt of the 
 peesweep and plover, and the Lugar sang its moorland song 
 to some lonely bondsman tending his chieftain's herds, there 
 stood two castles on its banks, in sullen grandeur, which time 
 and the ruthless hand of man have destroyed. 
 
 The Castle of Auchinleck, long since in ruins, stood on a 
 projecting rock of red sand-stone, formed by the junction of 
 the Hill-end burn with the classic Lugar. A portion of it 
 .still remains, and is surrounded on the Lugar and opposite 
 side by deep precipices. The other two sides are accessible by 
 steep ascents, the old zig-zag approaches upon which are still 
 traceable. The bridle-road, as it was called, from the Castle 
 of Ochiltree, wound in a similar fashion over the hill which 
 intervenes. On the opposite side of the stream, but a very 
 little higher, stood the Castle of Ochiltree — equally strong and 
 impregnable. Not a vestige of it, however, now remains. 
 But of this more anon. 
 
 Towards the close of a mild April evening, Elspie Grant 
 sat alone, in an isolated cottage, on the outskirts of the village 
 
 B 
 
10 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 of Cumnock, gazing listlessly at the dying embers of a peat 
 fire. On the hob, at her side, sat an over-grown tom-cat, 
 purring and dressing his whiskers, while on a small oaken 
 table at her elbow, lay a silken scarf emblazoned with the 
 twelve signs of the zodiac. The chair on which she sat was 
 formed of black oak, and embelhshed with most strange 
 devices, such as the crescent moon surrounded with a halo of 
 stars ; a death's head and cross-bones, with the inseparable 
 appendage of an hour-glass. Elspie could trace her genealogy 
 to the Druidical priesthood, and had the dangerous reputation 
 of being an adept in all the occult sciences, as well as versed 
 in the art of sorcery. By the villagers she was avoided as 
 much as possible, and by the clergy she was hated on account 
 of her superior education, and her religious mode of life — 
 having never been known to attend mass or confession. This 
 open defiance of ecclesiastical authority would have been a 
 dangerous experiment for Elspie in those days had she not 
 been under the especial protection of the powerful Patrick 
 Dunbar — the patron of the church. How this friendship com- 
 menced and continued between the Laird of Blackcraig and 
 this singular lady none cared to inquire. Once Jamie Gow — 
 who was ostler at the Loudon, and an especial favourite, 
 ventured to pop the question concerning Sir Patrick's intimacy 
 with her, but he was often heard to aver, when half seas 
 over — when sober he never referred to it — that he would 
 never do so again. 
 
 As the shades of evening deepened around her, Elspie 
 arose from her listless, dreamy attitude before the fire, went to 
 the door and looked out, then returned iuside and lighted a 
 small lamp, and again sat down with her face towards the 
 door, as if anxiously expecting a visitor. In the course of a 
 few minutes some one approached the door and rapped 
 timidly at it. 
 
 ' Come in ! ' cried Elspie, in a commanding tone of voice. 
 
 In obedience to the summons the door opened, and a young- 
 lady entered with a hesitating step, and glanced anxiously 
 around her. She might be eighteen years of age, and wore 
 her hair in waving tresses, according to the fashion of the 
 period. The features were regular, and there was a faint 
 glow on the cheek, and an intelligence in her dark eyes which 
 rendered her positively handsome. 
 
THE LAIKDS OP LUGAE. 11 
 
 'What would' st thou with me, Phemie Colvill' asked 
 Elspie, as she rapidly scanned her fair visitor. 
 
 ' Ha ! you know my name,' cried the maiden, with a start, 
 which did not escape the quick eye of Elspie. 
 
 ' Of what use would be my knowledge if it did not enable 
 me to discover such a trifle as this ; but pray be seated, and 
 state your business to me frankly and fearlessly. If I can aid 
 thee in any enterprise I will be most happy to do so.' 
 
 Thus encouraged, Phemie cast her eyes modestly on the 
 floor, and said she was in love, and that she was most anxious 
 to learn if she was beloved in return. 
 
 Elspie arose from her seat, and, approaching the young 
 maiden, fixed on her a keen searching look as if she was in the 
 act of dissecting every lineament and feature. Blushing and 
 borne down by this close examination on the part of one whose 
 expression was so commanding, Phemie bent her eyes on the 
 ground, and did not again raise them till in the act of obeying 
 the command of the sorceress — ' Look up, and be not afraid, 
 but hold forth thy hand.' Elspie inspected her palm, according 
 to the form of the mystic arts which she practised, and then 
 heaved a sigh and said, ' Thou wilt not be successful in this 
 love affair.' 
 
 No patient ever watched the countenance of his medical 
 attendant, when death or life hung on his word, with greater 
 anxiety than Phemie did the face of Elspie during the brief 
 time she inspected her hand ; but when she pronounced the 
 words which blighted the hopes of her heart, she fell to the 
 earth with a wild despairing cry. 
 
 ' Holy Mother ! I might have expected this when she 
 ventured into my accursed den,' muttered Elspie, as she bent 
 anxiously over her, and applied the usual restoratives. 
 
 In a few moments Phemie opened her eyes, and looking 
 fixedly at Elspie, who was endeavouring to raise her up, she 
 murmured in a despairing tone, ' Let me lie where I am, I can- 
 not live without his love.' 
 
 ' But you shall live ! ' exclaimed Elspie firmly, as she assisted 
 her to rise, and again seized her hand, ' See, here the line of 
 life is deeply marked and clear, which indicates a long and 
 prosperous career.' 
 
 ' How can a life be prosperous which is blasted at its com- 
 mencement ? ' asked the maiden bitterlv. 
 
.12 TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 ' Listen to me,' replied Elspie. ' The ways of Heaveii are 
 inscrutable. Could you be bappy with a man who loves an- 
 other 1 True, you have been led to suppose, from early associa- 
 tions, that the young Laird of Auchiuleck regarded you vritb 
 the same partiality and love as you entertained for him ' 
 
 ' Then you also know to whom I have given my heart ? ' 
 cried Phemie, interrupting her in evident astonishment. 
 
 ' I do.' 
 
 ' Tell me this then, thou strange woman ; does he love an- 
 other ? ' asked Phemie, as she looked imploringly at her. 
 
 ' Nay, as for that I could not say — he never consulted me,' 
 answered Elspie, evasively. A faint gleam of hope irradiated, 
 for a moment, the pale face of Phemie at this answer, and 
 mentally she resolved never to despair of winning the prize 
 upon which she had set her heart. 
 
 Elspie seemed to divine what was passing through her mind, 
 for she said encouragingly, ' You are right to persevere, for fate 
 and chance are words, persistive wisdom is the fate of man.' 
 
 ' Thanks for these words of comfort. Believe me, I shall 
 both remember and act upon them. In the meantime accept of 
 this trifle for the trouble and annoyance I have caused you ; ' 
 as Phemie said this she threw her purse on the table, and 
 prepared to depart. 
 
 ' I will have none of thy gold, girl,' said Elspie haughtily, 
 as she lifted the purse off the table and reached it to her. 
 
 ' This is unkind,' remonstrated Phemie, ' but I must bid 
 you good night ; my father is at the Loudon Arms, and I must 
 accompany him home.' 
 
 Elspie bade her good night, closed the door after her, and 
 muttered as she returned to her seat before the fire, ' Lucy 
 Dunbar will be more than a match for thee.' 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Pacing the old churchyard, which occupied the space now 
 known as the Square of Cumnock, stood the Loudon Arms. 
 Sandy M'Phun, the landlord, if the Auchinkch Manuscript is to 
 be relied on, was a super -excellent innkeeper. His urbanity of 
 manner and rubicund smiling face had won for him golden 
 ©pinions from both rich and poor. In his manner there was 
 
THE LAIKDS OP LUGAK. 13 
 
 nothing mean or sycophantic, and lie would have formed an 
 admirable contrast to many publicans, who are all things to all 
 men for the sake of inducing them to tarry long at the wine. 
 It would be certainly wrong to affirm Sandy was indifferent 
 about public patronage, but he had an opinion of his own, 
 which he was ready to maintain against all customers. He 
 had another indispensable ingredient in the composition of a 
 good innkeeper : he not only set your wine before you with a 
 cheerful face, but he helped you to drink it with great gusto. 
 
 Towards the evening of the day on which our tale com- 
 mences, Sandy M'Phun stood at the door of his celebrated 
 hostelry, arrayed in plush breeches, blue tunic, and white vest 
 — the latter garment was rather short, and he was continually 
 twitching it down over his capacious stomach. His rubicund 
 face always wore a mirthful expression, but as he observed the- 
 Lairds o' Lugar — as he was pleased to term Auchinleck and 
 Ochiltree — advancing towards him, there was a merrier twinkle 
 in the eye, and a broader smile on the face. 
 
 ' Glad to see ye, gentlemen, baith looking sae weel. I was 
 juist thinking, as I saw ye coming alang thegither, that ye 
 were rare types o' Jonathan and David,' said M'Phun, as he 
 led the way into his comfortable parlour. 
 
 ' We're bound thegither wi' a rape as it is, and wha kens 
 but the bond may become stronger yet,' observed the Laird of 
 Auchinleck, alluding to their castles being so contiguous to each 
 other, that a rope suspended across the stream communicated 
 with both houses, and with the aid of a pulley, presents were 
 often passed between them. 
 
 ' Wha kens, indeed,' said the Lau'd of Ochiltree, with a 
 broad grin, for the muscles of his face seldom relaxed into a 
 pleasant smile. 
 
 ' But I'm afraid,' continued Auchinleck, ' Ochiltree will be 
 driving ower hard a bargain for his bonny dochter.' 
 
 ' A guid article always commands a guid price,' observed 
 the landlord, laughingly. 
 
 ' That observatioti's worth a bottle o' wine, at the least,' 
 cried Ochiltree, rubbing his hands delightedly. 
 
 ' I suppose, laird, ye'U hae nae objections to buy ane when 
 that's the case,' said the landlord, winking across the table at 
 Auchinleck, for he knew him to be as fond of money as his 
 neighbour was careless and prodigal of it. 
 
14 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' He'll hae nae scruples, at anyrate, about the drinking o't, 
 it I buy it,' said Auchinleck, laughing, and treading on the 
 landlord's foot below the table. 
 
 ' Oh ! as for the matter o' a bottle o' vine amang frien's, it's 
 neither here nor there, sae, landlord, bring in a drap o' the 
 best.' 
 
 ' With much pleasure, gentlemen, for I'm as dry as an 
 Arabian sandbank,' said Sandy, as he hastened to execute 
 the order. 
 
 As soon as the door closed, the Laird of Ochiltree said, in a 
 whisper, ' I dinna want to discuss oor affairs before MThun ; 
 he's a nice enough body, but he wad laugh at Mess John, 
 supposing it wad ruin his trade.' 
 
 ' I like him a' the better for his independence ; but if the 
 subject is not to be discussed before a frien', in Gude's name, 
 let it drap for ever.' 
 
 ' I didna mean that at a',' said Ochiltree, deprecatingly. 
 
 ' And what did you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Simply this, that if ye didna close wi' my terms, the least 
 said sunest mended.' 
 
 'And what is your terms, my dear auld friend?' asked 
 Auchinleck, sneeringly, for the word terms grated harshly ou 
 his ear. 
 
 ' Ye wad hae nae objections, I suppose, to gie me ten 
 hunner merks, if I was giving the ban' o' Phemie to yer son.' 
 
 ' Ten hunner merks to you, an' twa three thousand to them 
 to start hoosekeeping wi', I'd see ye ' 
 
 ' Fou first,' said the landlord, completing the sentence, as 
 he placed the wine on the table. 
 
 'I'm glad ye came in, Sandy, for Ochiltree and I were 
 getting that warm, in this cosy room, that we require some- 
 thing to cool us.' 
 
 ' I ask yer pardon, gentlemen, for detaining you frae what's 
 profitable to me, and agreeable to you, but I had to attend to 
 Lucy Dunbar. Ye talk about Phemie, Ochiltree, but I wish 
 ye saw Lucy to-night. Ye wad see a vision that couldna be 
 surpassed in Mahomet's paradise.' 
 
 ' What can hae broucht her doon frae Blackcraig at this 
 time o' nicht ? ' asked the Laird of Ochiltree, thoughtfully. 
 
 ' It's no late. Daylicht's scarcely awa', an' she's well 
 mounted,' observed the landlord. 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAE. 15 
 
 ' That's no' answering my question, Sandy,' persisted 
 Ochiltree. 
 
 ' I canna answer yer question, laird, for I never speered her 
 business, but yer frien', Auchinleck, micht be able to gratify 
 your curiosity ; she's often a visitor at his hoose.' 
 
 " She'll be likely doon wi' some message or present frae her 
 faither, to that auld witch, Elspie Grant,' said Auchinleck, in a 
 careless tone. 
 
 ' Ye that kens a' the outs and inns o' Cumnock, landlord, can 
 ye tell me oucht aboot this Elspie Grant?' inquired Ochiltree. 
 
 ' No,' answered the landlord, as he assumed a serious look for 
 a moment, which sat with a bad grace on his merry countenance. 
 
 At this moment the door of the room was opened by Jamie 
 Gow, who informed the Laird of Ochiltree that his daughter, 
 Phemie, was waiting for him at the bar. 
 
 'I maun bid ye guid nicht, then, frieu's — I suppose, 
 Auchinleck, ye'U no' accompany me up for a wee yet.' 
 
 This was spoken in a manner which said as plainly as 
 possible — ' I don't want your company.' 
 
 ' I'm ower comfortable where I am, to think of jogging yet,' 
 said Auchinleck, as Ochiltree departed, in company with his 
 winsome daughter. 
 
 For a considerable distance they rode side by side without 
 exchanging a syllable, each buried in their own reflections. 
 Indeed, her father's taciturnity was a source of great pleasure 
 to Phemie, for, after listening to the prediction of Elspie, she 
 felt disinclined to speak at all. If not destined to be the wife 
 of the young, handsome Laird of Auchinleck, the earth con- 
 tained nothing, in her estiriiation, worth living for. From her 
 girlhood up, she had been taught to regard Auchinleck in the 
 light of a lover, but the sybil's emphatic utterance had dissi- 
 pated the happy dream, and rendered her most miserable. 
 
 ' Phemie,' said her father, abruptly addressing her, ' I was 
 speaking to Auchinleck aboot his son and you to-night, but I 
 didna hear his sentiments richt oot, before we were interrupted 
 by that claverin' body M'Phun.' 
 
 ' Did he not receive your proposal favourably ? ' inquired 
 Phemie, in a low voice. 
 
 ' He thinks my terms rather hard, dear Phemie ; but before 
 his son commenced to ride and hunt sae muckle wi' Lucy 
 Dunbar, he wad hae jumped at my offer like a cock at a grosset. 
 
16 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 I understau' there's to be a great gathering o' sportsmen at 
 Blackcraig to-morrow. If ye like, I'll escort ye thither, an' we 
 can see an' judge for oorsels. Let me hearken in your lug, 
 Phemie, before we reach the hoose, if I iind Auchinleck and 
 his gallant son playing you an' me fause, I'll gie them a deevil 
 o' a surprise some o' these dark nichts — but here we are at 
 hame — recollect no' a word o' this to yer mither, or she'll be 
 ower tellin' Leddy Auchinleck, as she ca's her, a' aboot it, when 
 we're a' awa' at the hunt.' 
 
 Phemie promised to obey his instructions, so they separated 
 for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The seat of the noble family of Dunbar, who were supposed to 
 have sprung from the Saxon kings of England, was Blackcraig. 
 It occupied the summit of the knowe on which the village of 
 New Cumnock stands. The stones of the stately edifice were 
 long ago removed for building purposes, and those avails which 
 are said to have frequeutly sheltered the saviour of Scotland — 
 the noble Wallace — have now been replaced by a Free Church. 
 
 At an early hour on the morning following the incidents 
 contained in the last chapter, all was bustle and excitement at 
 Blackcraig. Gradually the court of the castle began to fill with 
 knights and ladies, attended by their squires and pages arraj^ed 
 in gorgeous liveries, from the surrounding district. Conspicuous 
 among the gentry assembled, on this memorable morning, was 
 Willie Crawford of Lochnoreis — now Dumfries House. Rumour 
 whispered that Crawford regarded Phemie Colvil of Ochiltree 
 with marked attention, but Phemie either would or could not 
 observe this, owing to her passion for young Auchinleck. 
 
 After partaking of a hearty breakfast, amidst the merry 
 sound of the huntsmen's horns, and the baying of hounds, the 
 gay cavalcade saDied forth from the castle, and took their way 
 along the Afton. Whether by chance or pre-arrangement, Lucy 
 Dunbar found the young Laird of Auchinleck riding by her 
 side, while, by another strange freak of fortune, Phemie "was 
 accompanied by Willie Crawford. 
 
 The morning was beautiful, and every brake and bush was 
 vocal with music, while a thousand wild flowers shed their 
 fragrance on the air. The surpassing loveliness of the landscape 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAB. 17 
 
 and the mirtli of the company were calculated to dispel the 
 gloom of the greatest misanthropist ; yet, fair as the scene was, 
 it failed to infuse joy into the heart of Phemie Colvil. A hun- 
 dred times she wished Willie Crawford at the antipodes. Right 
 "before her rode Auchinleck and the fair Lucy Dunbar, and 
 every time her rival's silvery laugh reached her ear, it sent a 
 chill to her heart; and although in courtesy she seemed to 
 listen to the Laird of Lochnoreis, yet iu reality she heard him 
 not. Lucy Dunbar was, on her part, as merry as the birds 
 which warbled in the brake, and as lovely as the flowers that 
 shed their fragrance on her path. Beside her rode the man on 
 whom she had bestowed her affections, and her heart partook 
 of the joy and gladness which surrounded her. 
 
 'Methinks the scenery along the Afton would contrast 
 favourably with any in Scotland/ observed Lucy, as they 
 advanced up the vale, and its magnificent grandeur began to 
 develop itself. 
 
 ' I have had little opportunity of contrasting it with, other 
 localities ; but, of this I am satisfied, there is one flower on its 
 banks this morning which would be called the Queen of Afton, 
 had I the light to bestow the title/ said Auchinleck, looking 
 admiringly at his companion. 
 
 ' Flatterer ! ' exclaimed Lucy, smiling. ' What would 
 Phemie Colvil say if she heard you make such a confession ? ' 
 
 'Phemie seems to have made a captive of the Laird of 
 Lochnoreis, yet, poor girl, she is looking anything but happy 
 this morning,' said Auchinleck, looking back at her. 
 
 ' Nevertheless he is not her choice,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' How do you know that. Queen of Afton ? ' 
 
 ' I was down seeing Elspie Grant last night, and Phemie 
 was there also.' 
 
 ' Getting your fortunes spaed, I suppose — they say she's 
 clever — I think I must pay her a visit, and learn if I'm to have 
 the great happiness of wearing the fairest flower on the Afton 
 in my bosom,' said Auchinleck, looking admiringly on Lucy's 
 face, which was suffused with blushes. 
 
 At this moment the shouts of the huntsmen proclaimed that 
 a fox had broken cover, and was careering across the waste 
 moorland, in the direction of Lugar. Conversation was now 
 abandoned for the excitement of the chase, and as Lucy was 
 splendidly mounted, and an expert and fearless rider, she was 
 
18 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 soon in advance of the whole party, closely followed by Auchin- 
 leck. Over deep ravines ; along steep hillsides ; through dense 
 thickets of wood ; past swamps and morasses swept Reynard, 
 closely followed by the hunters. Still Lucy led the chase until 
 they nearly reached the Lugar. 
 
 ' See that cursed minx hoo she skims ower the heath, wi' 
 her hair streaming behint her, like a witch riding on a broom- 
 stick, through the air,' obsei^ved the Laird of Ochiltree, who 
 had now rejoined his daughter ; ' deil than she may break her 
 neck.' 
 
 Scarcely had the wicked wish escaped his lips, when Lucy's 
 horse stumbled and fell, and she was thrown with fearful vio- 
 lence to the earth. 
 
 In a moment Auchinleck was by her side. Springing from 
 his horse he bent anxiously over her, but to every appearance 
 she was dead. He called her by the most endearing names, as 
 he raised her in his arms and pillowed her head on his breast. 
 Her pallid lips were stained with blood, and had it not been for 
 a sHght pulsation of the heart, he would have thought the vital 
 spark had fled. In the meantime aU who had witnessed the 
 accident had ridden up to the spot, and amongst others, Ochil- 
 tree and his daughter. Phemie no sooner beheld Auchinleck 
 bending over Lucy in mute despair than she whispered — 
 ' Father, this is nae place for me, I canna endure this torture.' 
 
 ' True, Phemie,' answered the laird, ' we dinna seem to be 
 wanted here. Let us be jogging.' 
 
 Sir Patrick Dunbar raised his eyes, for a moment, and 
 looked at the laird and his daughter as they rode from the spot 
 where the beloved Lucy was lying, apparently dead ; but iu 
 that look was concentrated all the hatred and contempt the 
 human countenance can express. 
 
 ' Jamie,' said the elder Auchinleck to his son, ' lift Lucy 
 gently and bear her across the Lugar to the Castle, it's a wee 
 bit farther awa' than the Laird o' Ochiltree's, but I'm sure she'll 
 receive every attention and skill we can command.' 
 
 ' Thanks, laird, beUeve me this act of kindness will never be 
 forgotten,' said Dunbar, in a husky voice. 
 
 ' Hoots, Sir Patrick ! it's only what I wad dae for the 
 puirest outcast that ever trod the hills o' Scotland.' 
 
 ' I know it, Auchinleck,' said Sir Patrick, as he grasped his 
 hand warmly. 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAE. 19? 
 
 In the meantime the younger Auchinleck had crossed the 
 Liigar, and was ascending the steep ascent to the castle, bear- 
 ing Lucy in his arms, as safely and as easily as if she had 
 been a child, closely followed by the rest of the hunting 
 party. 
 
 Sir Patrick waited until he saw her safely laid on a couch, 
 in the Castle of Auchinleck, then bending over the unconscious 
 Lucy, be kissed her gently. For a moment she opened her 
 dark eyes and looked wistfully in his face, and then closed 
 them as if weary of the world. 
 
 ' Order me a fresh horse, Auchinleck,' said Sir Patrick, while 
 tears glistened in his eyes ; ' I must have Elspie Grant here to 
 see my child. If skill and medicine can save Lucy's life, she 
 •will snatch her from the grave.' 
 
 The assembled group cast on each other strange looks, but 
 none dared to dispute his opinion, although all thought that 
 the skill and advice of a priest would have suited better. No 
 sooner, however, was a horse led round to the hall door than 
 Sir Patrick mounted and rode off rapidly in the direction of 
 Cumnock, which, as he neither spared whip nor spur, he soon 
 reached. Elspie was standing at her cottage door as he rode 
 furiously up, and seeing his distracted look, and his horse- 
 covered with foam, she exclaimed — ' You are the bearer of evil 
 tidings.' 
 
 ' I am. Come inside and shut the door.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOWEVEE strange and inexplicable it may be, we all have, at 
 times, presentiments of approaching danger. Some unseen 
 messenger seems to whisper. Beware ; and a vague undefinable 
 fear takes possession of the mind, which we in vain endeavour 
 to shake off. When the crash comes we are ready to exclaim 
 — ' We knew some calamity was about to overtake us.' True, 
 these apprehensions serve no earthly purpose which we are aware 
 of ; but as sickness and old age are said to prepare us for death, 
 so these gloomy forebodings may, in a certain degree, prepare 
 the mind for the misfortune when it comes. Be this as it may, 
 Elspie Grant, from the moment she had parted with Lucy 
 Dunbar, on the previous evening, had felt an unaccountable 
 
20 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 dread of coming evil ; and when Sir Patrick rode up to her 
 door, as described iu the last chapter, her worst fears were 
 realized. 
 
 ' In the name of heaven what has occurred, Patrick ?' ex- 
 claimed Elspie, as she shut the door and stood trembling before 
 him. 
 
 ' Be seated, Elspie, and compose yourself, for you'll require 
 all your courage and self-possession.' 
 
 ' Speak out, man, plainly, and tell me at once what fresh 
 misfortune is ia store for me. This suspense is worse than 
 death. "What of my dear child ? ' 
 
 ' She was living when I left Auchialeck, ' 
 
 ' But she may be dead now,' she cried, interrupting him, ' is 
 not this what you would say ? ' 
 
 Sir Patrick bowed his head on his hands and remained 
 silent. 
 
 ' Our sins have found us out,' she exclaimed, bitterly. ' But 
 why sit moping there ? Up, man, instantly, and bring me a 
 horse from the Loudon Arms ; by the time you return I will 
 be ready to accompany you.' 
 
 While Sir Patrick hastened to obey Elspie's commands, she 
 quickly divested herself of the coarse garments she usually 
 wore, and arrayed herself in a superb riding habit of dark silk 
 velvet ; then quickly opening a chest, she took from it a few 
 vials containing medicines of various kinds, which she carefully 
 secured about her person; put on a hat which suited her 
 dress, locked the door, and waited impatiently Sir Patrick's 
 return. So complete was the change in her appearance, that 
 not one of the gossips of the village recognized in the haughty 
 looking lady the despised and avoided Elspie Grant. 
 
 Sir Patrick immediately returned, and, without speaking a 
 word, he assisted her to mount; when, to the great astonish- 
 ment of the idlers about the doors, they rode off at a furious 
 pace in the direction of Auchinleck Castle. 
 
 ' If Lucy Dunbar's mother was living I wad swear that 
 lady was her,' observed the landlord of the Loudon Arms, who 
 was standing at his door when they passed. 
 
 ' They're as like each ither as twa peas,' answered Gow, the 
 ostler, sagely. 
 
 ' Did Sir Patrick no' tell je wha she was, when ye were 
 getting the beast ready ? ' asked the landlord. 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAE. 21 
 
 ' No. Nor I didna ask him, for he seemed in nae humour 
 to answer questions,' answered the ostler. 
 
 ' I had the same opinion o' him mysel', Jamie. Noo, awa' 
 an' gie Meg a rub up, for I think I'll take a turn up the water 
 and see Auchinleck. I hae been thinking a' morning about 
 him and the Laird o' Ochiltree.' 
 
 It would have been much better for both lairds if Sandj' 
 had been employing his mind upon any other subject, as will 
 shortly appear. 
 
 While Elspie Grant and Sir Patrick Dunbar were pursuing 
 their way to Auchinleck Castle, with Sandy M'Phun, the jolly 
 landlord of the Loudon Arms, following in their wake, let us 
 take a hurried peep into a room in the Castle of Ochiltree. 
 Beside the laird sat his idohzed daughter, Phemie. Evidently 
 she had been weeping, for her eyes were inflamed and 
 swollen, when a servant entered and announced the Laird of 
 Lochnoreis. 
 
 ' Dry your e'e, Phemie, for I think he'll be the bearer o' 
 joyfu' news to us baith,' said the laird in a low voice to his 
 daughter; then turning to the retainer, he said — 'Show the 
 laird in.' Crawford had scarcely entered the room, when 
 Ochiltree said — 
 
 ' I'm truly grateful to ye, Lochnoreis, that ye were sae 
 considerate as come across. Is Lucy living or deid ? ' 
 
 ' She was living when I left ; but if I hae any skill, her 
 tenure o' life is unco short.' 
 
 'Thank God!' mentally ejaculated Ochiltree; but he added 
 aloud, ' I'm truly sorry for the sweet creature. It's a sudden 
 call. I hae been reasoning wi' Phemie here on the impropriety 
 o' taking it sae sair to heart, for she has dune naething but sit 
 and greet since she cam' in.' 
 
 'This is extremely foolish, and serves nae purpose,' said 
 Lochnoreis, looking affectionately at the sad face of Phemie. 
 
 ' Is she conscious, or has she spoken a word since she fell ? ' 
 queried Ochiltree. 
 
 ' Conscious !' reiterated Lochnoreis ; ' when I left the hoose 
 it would be impossible to tell whether she was leevin' or deid.' 
 
 ' Hech sirs ! is she sae near the gates o' death as that. It 
 maun certainly be a great trial for Sir Patrick.' 
 
 'Sir Patrick's not there, but he's expected every minute 
 alang wi' Elspie Grant.' 
 
22 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Ha ! ' exclaimed Phemie, breaking sUence for the first 
 time, ' I wad gie a hundred merks to hear her opinioii when 
 «he arrives.' 
 
 ' An' I wad gie anither, Phemie,' cried the laird, excitedly. 
 
 'Ye're on guid terms wi' Auchinleck, I suppose, laird,' 
 observed Lochnoreis ; ' sae ye'U better step across the Lugar 
 and see and hear for yersel'.' 
 
 ' I wadna dae that for a thousand merks — an' folk say I'm 
 fond o' siller — and I'll tell ye my reason. When I saw her 
 lying insensible, and young Auchinleck sae tenderly bending 
 ower her, I was for asking them to carry her here, it being 
 nearer, and on this side o' the water ; but it instantly flashed 
 on my mind — Sir Patrick's a great man, and if I ask them to 
 bear his bairn here, Auchinleck will be offended ; and, believe 
 me, laird, I wadna quarrel wi' sic an auld tried freen for ony 
 baby-faced leddy on the water. But dae ye no' perceive if I 
 was gaun ower an' speerin' about her noo, some ill-natured 
 body micht misconstrue my motives, which I wadna hae dune 
 for the world.' 
 
 ' Thank ye, laird ! thank ye ! ' cried Lochnoreis, enthusiasti- 
 cally, grasping his hand. 'This manly, straightforward 
 avowal raises ye higher in my estimation than ever ye stood 
 before. I looked at j^er action frae a different point o' view 
 a'thegither ; an', to tell ye the truth, I wasna half pleased at 
 ye, for I thocht yer conduct unneighbourly.' 
 
 ' Ay, Lochnoreis, but there's aye twa ways o' looking at ony- 
 thing. Bless me ! when I was your age, my imagination aye 
 galloped twice as fast as my reason, and I was eternally 
 arriving at wrang conclusions ; but time and experience teaches 
 f ules. I daresay gif ye had been in my place to-day ye wad 
 hae asked them to the house, and made an auld freen a bitter 
 enemy. But I kent better, my lad — I kent better. Phemie, 
 lass, awa' an' bring ben a drap o' my best wine.' 
 
 Phemie hastened to obey his orders, and as soon as she was 
 out of hearing, Ochiltree approached the young Laird of Loch- 
 moreis, and told him, quite in a confidential whisper, that he 
 didna like to ask him before Phemie to return to Auchinleck and 
 bring them the news, but after he had partaken of a refresh- 
 ment he would take it as a great favour if he did so, and by 
 the time he returned dinner would be ready. So adi'oitly had 
 ■Ochiltree managed this aside, that the young laird, after drink- 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAR. 23 
 
 ing a glass or two of wine, returned to Auchiuleck to learn 
 Elspie Grant's opinion of the extent of the injuries Lucy had 
 sustained. As soon as he saw him safely across the Lugar, 
 Ochiltree returned to the house, mentally resolving that if Lucy 
 did not die from the effects of the fall, he would find another 
 method of shortening her days. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 Holding up the skirt of her riding habit with her left hand, 
 Elspie Grant walked into the apartment where Lucy was lying, 
 pale as marble and motionless as death. Casting a rapid glance 
 around the room on the ladies and gentlemen assembled, she 
 approached the couch where Lucy was laid, and bending over 
 her, put her hand gently among the tresses of her dark auburn 
 hair. When she withdrew it her fingers were stained with 
 blood. 
 
 ' Just as I thought, Sir Patrick, from your description of 
 her state,' said Elspie, looking up. ' She has fallen on her head, 
 and concussion of the brain is the consequence.' 
 
 ' Is there no hope, then ? ' asked Sir Patrick in despairing 
 accents. 
 
 ' Life and death are in the hands of God,' replied Elspie, 
 reverently. ' Two things, however, are necessary to her re- 
 covery — she must not be removed from this house, and I must 
 get a bedroom for her where no sound will disturb her rest.' 
 
 ' Both are at your service, lady,' said Auchinleck. 
 
 ' Thanks ! Now all may retire, but her father and our kind 
 host. I wish to administer a little medicine.' 
 
 Willingly would the younger Auchinleck have remained, 
 but he had no alternative but lead his friends into another 
 apartment. As soon as they had retired, Elspie ordered Lucy's 
 father to raise her head a little, then taking a vial from her 
 pocket she poured a few drops into a teaspoon, containing 
 water, and administered the restorative. Instantly a slight 
 tinge of colour returned to Lucy's face, she opened her eyes 
 languidly, and a faint smile of recognition illumined her counte- 
 nance. 
 
 'Thank God there's hope!' exclaimed Elspie. Tears of 
 gratitude streamed down Sir Patrick's face, while his lips 
 
24 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 moved in prayer, heartfelt aud sincere, to the beneficent Euler 
 of the universe. 
 
 ' Now,' said Elspie, addressing Auchinleclc, in a low voice, 
 ' let me see the bedroom you can give ns, for I intend to be 
 the nurse myself.' 
 
 *• The room which I am going to show ye,' said Auchinleck, 
 as he led the way into an adjoining apartment, ' is unknown 
 to every one in the castle wi' the exception of my wife and son, 
 but it's baith quiet and comfortable.' 
 
 ' That's all that is required, I care nothing for its mystery,' 
 said Elspie. Auchinleck went to the farthest .corner of the 
 apartment in which they were standing, and looking attentively 
 at the oak wainscoting, he pressed his finger against what, 
 appeared like a dark knot in the wood, and immediately a door 
 flew open, disclosing an apartment, well lighted and furnished, 
 which overlooked the deep ravine at the base of the castle. 
 
 ' You have only to press this spring here and the door can- 
 not be opened from the outside. The contrivance is simple, 
 and was constructed for safety. Now come with me and I'll 
 let j'ou see another way of egress from the room.' As Auchin- 
 leck said this he led them to the opposite side of the apartment, 
 and opened a door which disclosed a flight of stairs leading to 
 the bottom of the glen. 
 
 ' A most ingenious contrivance,' exclaimed Sir Patrick. 
 
 ' Assist me, gentlemen, to remove Lucy. This room is every- 
 thing I could desire,' observed Elspie. 
 
 Her request was at once obeyed, and as she signified her 
 desire to be left alone with her patient, Auchinleck and Sir 
 Patrick withdrew. 
 
 In the hall they found the greater part of the hunting party, 
 with the addition of Sandy M'Phuu of the Loudon Arms. 
 Lochnoreis waited no longer than he heard there were hopes 
 of Lucy's recovery ; but hastened across the Lugar to impart 
 the joyful news to the Laird of Ochiltree and his winsome 
 daughter. 
 
 ' I'm truly glad to hear it, for she's a sweet bit lassie,' 
 said Ochiltree, trying to smile, but the effect was a complete 
 failure, and to the great astonishment of Lochnoreis, Phemie 
 commenced to weep. 
 
 ' Leave the room instantly, Phemie, and get the dinner 
 served up. She's a tender-hearted thing, Lochnoreis,' said 
 
THE LAIRDS OP LUGAE. 25 
 
 Ochiltree, as soon as Phemie retired. ' Joy or real affection on 
 sensitive natures has much the same effect as grief. She'll be 
 a crown o' glory to some puir man — but whist! here she comes 
 like a queen wi' her maids behint her.' 
 
 Although Ochiltree pressed his guest to eat and drink 
 heartily, yet he scarcely tasted the food himself. Phemie sat 
 silent during the repast ; and although the laird made desperate 
 efforts to be communicative and jocular, Lochnoreis felt happy 
 when the meal was over, and he found himself on the road 
 home. He still retained his penchant for Phemie, but he 
 thought she had some cause of sorrow apart from Lucy Dun- 
 bar's illness. 
 
 If there was lamentation and mourning, mixed with jealousy 
 and revenge, m the Castle of Ochiltree, in the Hall of Auchinleck 
 mirth reigned supreme. Sandy M'Phun told some of his best 
 stories, whilst he quaffed the laird's rarest wines ; and hie 
 suggestion that Auchinleck should send over, in a neat parcel, 
 a clean picked sheep's head, as a marriage present from her 
 intended father-in-law, was received with rapturous applause. 
 The heartless cruel manner in which he had acted in the morn- 
 ing towards Sir Patrick Dunbar and his beloved daughter em- 
 bittered every one present against him, and although Auchinleck 
 said little, he mentally resolved his son should never wed his 
 daughter. 
 
 It has become a proverb ' when drink's in wit's oot,' there- 
 fore the suggestion was no sooner made than the laird acted on 
 it. Ordering his butler to scrape a sheep's head as bare as 
 possible of flesh, he had it made up in a neat parcel, put into 
 the basket attached to the rope, which was suspended across 
 the water, and which joined both castles. On this strange 
 present was simply written ' The first instalment of Phemie's 
 tocher.' Amidst hilarious bursts of laughter the parcel was 
 dispatched. 
 
 Little did the senders dream of the terrible consequences of 
 that joke. 
 
 It was now evening, and the Laird of Ochiltree stood on the 
 battlements of his castle, not admiring the peace and beauty of 
 the scene around him, but planning how he could make Auchin- 
 leck and Ochiltree dne estate. This could only be effected by 
 the marriage of his only daughter with the heir of Auchinleck, 
 and if Lucy Dunbar recovered, which he fervently prayed she 
 
 C 
 
26 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 would not, he saw little prospect of his dearest dream ever 
 being accomplished. Whilst his mind was distracted and torn 
 with the evil spirits — avarice and jealousy — he observed the 
 well-known basket crossing the water. In a moment he 
 descended from his lonely perch, and rushing into the hall he 
 summoned Phemie to come out and see the present from 
 Auchiuleck. By the time they descended the steps leading to 
 the water, the Jaasket had reached its destination, so, bending 
 down, Ochiltree lifted the parcel out and read the fatal words, 
 '■The first instalment of Phemie' s tocher.' 
 
 ' It's a' richt yet, Phemie dear. Ye tlioucht I was drivin' 
 ower hard a bargain, but I should ken better than ye aboot 
 things o' this kind. Lichtly won lichtly worn. Eh, Phemie ? 
 Let's awa' into the hoose and see hoo muckle siller he has sent 
 ower. Likely, yer bonny rival's deid.' 
 
 Phemie's face was wreathed with smiles, for the first time 
 during that weary day, as she followed her father inside. 
 
 ' It's carefully put up, as siller should aye be. Phemie, try 
 if ye can unloose it, for I declare I'm quite nervous.' As the 
 laird said this he handed his daughter the parcel. 
 
 ' If there's siller in this, there's no muckle o't, for it feels 
 unco licht,' observed Phemie, weighing it on her hand. 
 
 ' Loose the string, lassie, loose the string, an' then gabble 
 till ye're weary,' cried her father, impatiently. 
 
 The cord was unloosed, the paper carefully opened, and then, 
 oh ! horror of horrors, a bare sheep's head lay grinning at them. 
 
 With an imprecation, which we dare not repeat, Ochiltree 
 rushed from the room, whilst Phemie, perceiving at a glance 
 the utter annihilation of all her hopes of happiness, gave a long 
 loud piercing scream and fell insensible on the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Apeil had given ] ilace to May, and by many ' Phemie's tocher ' 
 was forgotten. Under the fostering care of Elspie Grant, 
 Lucy had so far recovered that, in a few days, her father 
 purposed removing her to Blackcraig. As there was no pre- 
 text for remaining longer at Auchiuleck, Lucy had to acquiesce ; 
 although she would willingly have remained at it for ever — 
 containing as it did the idol of her vire-in heart. Both her 
 
THE LAIKDS OP LUGAE. 27 
 
 father and Elspie divined the reason of her unwillingness to 
 leave, but as they both approved of her passion for the accom- 
 plished young laird, and as she seemed to be perfectly happy 
 in his company, they were averse to disturb such a piu'e source 
 of pleasure to them both. As soon as she was enabled to leave 
 her bed, he was constantly by her side, and in the seclusion of 
 the apartment, overlooking the picturesque banks of the Lugar, 
 they wove many a happy dream. Whether ever they were 
 destined to be realized or not remains to be seen. While 
 Elspie was busy compounding and preparing her medicines, in 
 the adjoining apartment, words of love were spoken and kisses 
 stolen, far more efficacious in restoring Lucy to health than any 
 elixir ever distilled. 
 
 ' Who can he be, Jamie, that I see every evening strolling 
 around the castle, muffled up in a cloak '? See, yonder he is 
 now walking on the opposite side of the glen and looking in 
 this ditection,' said Lucy, to the young laird, pointing at the 
 same time in the direction of the stranger. 
 
 ' I couldn't for the life of me guess, dear Lucy, but likely 
 he's some poor invalid from Cumnock or Auchinleck.' 
 
 ' I doubt it. There's something in the man's inquisitive 
 look that fills me with alarm,' said Lucy, shivering. 
 
 ' Lucy dear, if he's a source of uneasiness to you I'll go now 
 and order him off the grouuds.' 
 
 ' I wish you would; for I have observed him repeatedly of 
 late, always wandering about in the gloaming and scanning the 
 castle.' 
 
 ' You should have told me of this before ; but you need not 
 be alarmed about a solitary stranger, he cannot harm you in 
 this eyry.' 
 
 ' It's not myself I'm thinking about, but you. How do you 
 know but a vindictive bad man, like Lau'd Ochiltree, might 
 meditate revenge.' 
 
 ' Sick fancies, dear Lucy, but I'll see who he is.' 
 Elspie now entered the apartment and told her fair charge 
 she woiild have to retire for the night, as the evening was 
 getting chilly. Auchinleck bade them good night, and then 
 sallied forth in quest of the mysterious stranger, whose wander- 
 ings around the castle were so offensive to Lucy ; but although 
 he looked for him, until night shut out the landscape from his 
 view, he never crossed his path. Concluding that he was right 
 
28 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 in his conjectuie, and that the stranger had left for Cumnock, 
 he retired for the night, and was lulled to sleep by the song of 
 the stream beyond his window. 
 
 Deep silence reigned throughout the castle, but as the night 
 advanced the wind arose and moaned with a weird-like voice 
 around its turrets. How long Elspie had slept she had no 
 means of knowing, when she was awoke by Lucy shaking her, 
 and asking if she did not hear a strange noise in the lower part 
 of the castle. 
 
 Suddenly there came a lull in the storm and they distinctly 
 heard the fierce imprecations of men and the loud clashing of 
 swords. 
 
 ' Merciful Heaven ! ' exclaimed Lucy, springing out of bed. 
 ' The castle is attacked.' 
 
 ' Lucy, listen to me and be calm,' said Elspie, approaching 
 her, and taking her gently by the hand. ' Remember, om- only 
 chance of safety depends, not on our strength, but on our 
 courage. The first cry you give will guide the ruffians to our 
 retreat. Be brave — be firm — and thank God your father is at 
 Blackcraig, along with the Earl of Douglas, else he would have 
 shared the fate of all who are known to be in the castle ' 
 
 Elspie was interrupted by a crash of swords, accompanied 
 by the yells of men engaged in a life and death struggle in the 
 corridor leading to the adjoining apartment ; this completed 
 Lucy's terror, and she fell fainting into her nurse's arms. It was 
 well for her she did so, for it sealed her senses to one of the 
 most fearful crimes of that terrible night. 
 
 Auchinleck seeing his followers cut down, as they rushed 
 half naked from their beds, by Ochiltree's fierce retainers, en- 
 deavoured to reach the secret apartment containing Elspie and 
 Lucy, but he was so hard pressed that he found it impossible to 
 do so. Determined to sell his life as dearly as possible, he 
 turned to bay in the corridor, and several of his assailants fell 
 beneath his sword, )iut alone, faint and wounded, he was 
 forced into the room adjoining Elspie's. 
 
 ' Ha I brave Auchinleck,' cried Ochiltree, triumphantly, ' I'll 
 reward ye noo for the marriage portion ye sae kindly sent my 
 dochter ! ' 
 
 ' Cowardly assassin ! ' exclaimed Auchinleck, defiantly. 
 ' Cause your bandit cut throats to stand aside, an' I'll soon 
 square accounts wi' you.' 
 
THE LAIKDS OF LUGAE. 29 
 
 ' On him, my brave men ; cut him doon whaur he stands. 
 Weal dune, M'Turk, gie him anither like that in the ribs ; ha ! 
 he's doon. Stand aside, lads, an I'll hae the honour of dealing 
 the death blow.' 
 
 But the honour rested with INI'Turk, for before the 
 cowardly rufSan sheathed his dagger in his heart, the spirit of 
 Auchinleck had fled for ever from the scenes of earth. 
 
 ' Thanks, lads ! ye hae revenged yer maister's wrangs nobly, 
 but my vengeance is only half satisfied. Sir Patrick Dunbar's 
 bonny dochter is in the castle, unless she has managed to mak' 
 her escape since the fecht commenced. Noo the man wha 
 brings the Queen o' the Afton to me, deid or alive, wull be 
 rewarded wi' a huliner merks and my lasting friendship into the 
 bargain,' cried Ochiltree. 
 
 Elspie listened, pale and horror struck, until the last footstep 
 ceased to reverberate in the corridor, and then she turned her 
 attention to Lucy. 
 
 ' My dear child,' she murmured, bending over her, ' the worst 
 of this fearful night is over, unless they set fire to the castle, but 
 even should that be resorted to we have the means of effecting 
 our escape by retreating down the stair leading to the glen.' 
 
 ' And be captured at the bottom,' sobbed Lucy. 
 
 ' I didn't mean to go to the bottom, dear ; could we not sit 
 on the stair supposing the castle was burning"?' 
 
 ' I care not, Elspie, where I sit or where I die. Likely we 
 are the only survivors belonging to the castle. Oh, what is to 
 become of me if Jamie is among the slain.' 
 
 ' He may have effected his escape,' said Elspie, endeavour- 
 ing to instil a confidence into Lucy she did not feel herself. 
 
 ' He may, but oh ! my hopes are faint of such a happy 
 possibility,' cried Lucy, wringing her hands. 
 
 ' Then, if he has not, if all have perished, and the castle 
 continues to be occupied by these fiends, your father will fall 
 into the trap,' cried Elspie, wringing her hands despairingly. 
 
 Never had Lucy beheld Elspie lose command of herself to 
 this moment, although she had known her from her infancy ; 
 but, seeing despair pictured in her face, ^he threw her arms 
 lovingly around her neck, 'and said, ' If such is the will of God, 
 I will have no friend on earth but my dear brother.' 
 
 ' And your poor, unfortunate mother, now sobbing on your 
 bosom,' said Elspie, in a paroxysm of grief. 
 
TALES AKD TRADITIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Lucy regarded Elspie with astonishment. Was it really- 
 possible, she thought, that this strong-minded woman hud 
 been driven mad by the wild carnage of the night ? She looked 
 quite sane, yet her words proclaimed her to be mad. She had 
 heard that this malady assumed many phases : that some who 
 were beggars imagined themselves to be kings. ' Poor Elspie !' 
 she murmured, in . her most winning, soothing tones, ' you 
 cannot be my mother in one sense ; in another, you have been 
 more than one to me. But this fearful night has disordered 
 your mind.' 
 
 ' My dear daughter, whom I brought forth in secrecy and 
 shame, listen to me. The crisis of my destiny has arrived, and 
 to-night I must unfold the tale of my life, for to-morrow it may 
 be too late.' 
 
 Lucy regarded her compassionately, for she was now 
 convinced that her kind friend and benefactress was really 
 labouring under some strange delusion, induced by the mur- 
 der and rapine which reigned around her; but to humour 
 her she took a seat by the smouldering fire, and told her to 
 proceed. 
 
 ' When .James I. led his armed bands against the Lord of 
 the Isles, I was a child. My unfortunate father's family were 
 all cut off in the ruthless war which was waged against 
 Macdonald of the Isles, but through the humanity and inter- 
 cession of a holy man who accompanied the king's army, I 
 was spared and sent to a convent to be educated. Under the 
 abbess, Helen Leslie, I made rapid progress in all the branches 
 of education taught ; and, being of a studious cast of mind, I 
 read every book relating to art and science which the nunnery 
 contained. When I arrived at the years of maturity, I was 
 asked to renounce the world and take the veil, and, knowing of 
 no source of pleasure outside the '\-\'aU8 of the holy establishment, 
 they easily prevailed on me to give my consent. But scarcely 
 had I become a nun, when an incident occurred which was 
 destined to change the whole current of my life, and which 
 made me deeply regret the vows I had taken. Our convent 
 was situated upon a rocky promontory overlooking the sea, and 
 one of our greatest sources of enjoyment was gazing at the 
 
THE LAIRDS OF LUGAE. 31 
 
 goodly ships sweeping round the bold headlands on which it 
 stood. Towards the close of a fearful stormy day in September, 
 the abbess called our attention to a pleasure yacht, which 
 evidently was in momentary danger of being dashed to pieces 
 against the rocks. Inexperienced^ we were, it was evident to 
 us all that she was unable to round the rocky headlands. It was 
 a perfect hurricane, and repeatedly she seemed to be engulphed 
 in the waves, and when she rose again on the crest of a billow 
 she was nearer to the treacherous shore. Seeing she was 
 doomed to destruction, we were permitted to descend the 
 precipitous rocks, to lend any assistance in our power to any 
 one who might reach the shore. Before, however, we had 
 scrambled down, the vessel had struck, and all but one had 
 either been dashed to death against the rocks, or had sunk to 
 rise no more. I was standing on a projecting crag, with the 
 sea fuming in its fury at my feet, when I perceived a young 
 man borne on the crest of a huge wave, past the spot whore I 
 was perched, into a narrow creek. Quicker than I can express 
 myself in words, I saw him borne back with the rebound of 
 the wave, and stooping down, regardless of consequences, I 
 grasped him by his raven locks as he swept past, and dragged 
 him out of the sea. He was quite insensible, and fearfully cut 
 and bruised ; but he was carefully carried to the convent, and 
 as I had rescued him from the waves, I was appointed to wait 
 upon him. For some weeks his life was despaired of, but, thanks 
 to his youth and a robust constitution, he soon recovered. I will 
 not dwell on what followed. I had never seen a really hand- 
 some man before, and long ere he avowed his love for me, I 
 had given him my heart ; and on the night he bade adieu to 
 our island home, I fled from the convent and accompanied him 
 to Edinburgh. That man was Sir Patrick Dunbar, and the 
 woman who so deeply sinned you see before you.' 
 
 ' Oh, merciful heaven, then I am your daughter!' exclaimed 
 Lucy, weeping bitterly. 
 
 ' You are, but you were born in wedlock, although it was a 
 secret marriage. I retain the proofs of it.' 
 
 ' Then why does my father not recognize you as his vnfe ? " 
 
 ' He dare not. The power of the church is omnipotent. I 
 
 had broken my conventual vows and was anathematized. The 
 
 lady whom you supposed to be your mother, and whom he 
 
 married with my full consent, died, as you are aware, in giving 
 
32 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 birth to your brother, John, and since I have resided beside 
 him, assuming the character of an ancient prophetess, or what- 
 ever I thought would deter the vulgar from prying into my 
 affairs.' ^ 
 
 'My dear mother, what a hard lot has been thine,' ex- 
 claimed Lucy, sobbing on her breast. 
 
 ' Hard indeed, dear Lucy ; but if your father is permitted 
 to reach us in safety he will be the bearer of a dispensation 
 from the Archbishop, which will enable me to take my proper 
 position in society.' 
 
 During the time Lucy had been listening to Elspie's strange 
 narrative, the mirth in the hall became fast and furious. 
 Ochiltree, under the potent influence of Auchioleck's wine, 
 insisted that they should finish their fiendish revel in the room 
 where Auchinleck was murdered ; and as the proposal was 
 hailed with uproarious delight, he led the way along the 
 corridor. 
 
 Elspie and Lucy heard them returning with horror and 
 dismay ; but encouraging each other to be firm and brave, they 
 crouched down beside the secret entrance to their chamber, and 
 prepared to listen. 
 
 ' There lies my hated rival,' cried Ochiltree, as he entered ; 
 ' he wasna a bad sodger, but M'Turk was ower mony for him. 
 Drink this toast, friends, standing — May the nettles sune be 
 growin' on ilka hearthstane o' oor enemies.' 
 
 ' Yer ain house is on fire ! ' shouted a retainer, rushing into 
 the apartment. 
 
 ' Ye're a drivelling, idiotic liar. Wha wad dare to fire my 
 castle? or wha's leevin' that has an interest in siccan wark?' 
 
 ' Whaur's young Auchinleck °? ' inquired the retainer, who 
 was so tipsy that he had to steady himself with the aid of 
 the door. 
 
 ' Alang wi' his sainted faither, I hope,' replied Ochiltree. 
 
 ' He's naething o' the kind,' persisted the serf. ' M'Nab, 
 wha admitted ye into the castle for the siller ye gied him, tauld 
 me within this half-oor that he saw young Auchinleck descend- 
 ing frae his bed-room window into the stable-yard, cutting 
 down twa o' yer best men, takin' a horse frae the stable, and 
 makin' his escape. It's no my business, laird, but if ye like to 
 look aboot, yell see the glare o' yer castle reflected on 
 the sky.' 
 
THE LAIKDS OF LUGAE. 33 
 
 Ochiltree did look about, and beheld an illumination on a 
 great scale. Every shrub and tree was as plainly discernible 
 as if the sun was shining, while the myriads of burning embers, 
 ascending from the blazing castle, seemed like a shower of 
 luminous hail. For a moment he could scarcely believe the 
 evidence of his senses, but, as his mind began to grasp the 
 terrible reality, he drew his sword, and rushing from the room 
 cried on his men to follow him, but the revel had been so long 
 and deep, few of them heeded his command. 
 
 ' Merciful God,' exclaimed Elspie, ' Thou hast heard my 
 pray^er. Lucy, dearest, there is hope.' 
 
 But Lucy's heart was too full to express her gratitude 
 in words. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Befoee the younger Auchinleck fled from the castle, he per- 
 ceived, at a glance, it was in the hands of the Laird of 
 Ochiltree. 'Now for revenge,' he muttered, as he dropped 
 from a window into the stable-yard. Striking the two serfs to 
 the earth who barred his passage to the stable, he seized on 
 his favourite hunter, and started at a furious gallop for the 
 seat of Sir Patrick Dunbar. When he reached Blackcraig 
 the castle was silent and the lights out, but he thundered at 
 the gate until he gained admittance. Being shown to the 
 chamber of Sir Patrick, he briefly related Ochiltree's attack 
 and capture of the castle, and that all had fallen beneath 
 their swords. 
 
 'Heaven is dealing hard with me for the sins of my youth, 
 but this is no time to fold the hands, and like a monk, sing 
 peace and rest ; stay here until I acquaint the Earl of Douglas, 
 who is my guest, with what has occurred.' 
 
 In a few minutes he returned, in company with the noble 
 Douglas, who insisted upon sharing the perils of the night. 
 
 Douglas and Dunbar to the rescue ! now rang out in clear 
 bold tones throughout the castle, and as the former nobleman 
 never travelled without goodly escort, the chiefs were soon 
 marching at the head of five hundred men. 
 
 On the way thither, the young Laird of Auchinleck 
 
34 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 expressed a hope that Sir Patrick's daughter and her nurse 
 had escaped, as the entrance to their charober was unknown to 
 their retainers, and that in all probabiUty Ochiltree would be 
 celebrating his victory in his father's hall. 
 
 ' I know a method of drawing the fox from his lair,' ob- 
 served Douglas, grimly. ' Our young friend here would be for 
 marching into the den ; but when he has crossed swords with 
 enemies as often as I have) he will depend more on stratagem 
 than valour — although baith's best — I mean courage and 
 cunning.' 
 
 ' What is your plan, Douglas ? for, like Auchinleck, I would 
 be for attacking them where they are,' said Sir Patrick. 
 
 ' That's quite natural, seeing you have a daughter there, 
 but being no ways biassed by the ties of kindred, I can look 
 at the situation with the eye of a general. But us I perceive 
 you are both impatient, we will proceed to Ochiltree first, 
 make his wife and daughter prisoners — for Heaven forbid we 
 should follow his example — set fire to the assassin's den, 
 and that will light him across the water.' 
 
 This was considered to be a capital idea, so ordering the 
 footmen to march at their leisure, they rode rapidly forward 
 with a hundred horse ; and upon aiTiving at the castle, Doug- 
 las' plan was instantly carried into practice without any oppo- 
 sition. 
 
 In the meantime, Ochiltree, seeing his castle in flames, 
 encouraged his followers to come on, never dreaming of the 
 reception which awaited him on the margin of the Lugar. As 
 they came over the water pell mell, stupid with drink, they fell 
 easily into the hands of the party stationed to receive them. 
 Ochiltree, perceiving his retainers cut down as they reached the 
 bank, endeavoured to flj', but Auchinleck, seeing his intention, 
 dragged him to the feet of Sir Patrick Dunbar and the Earl of 
 Douglas. 
 
 ' What is to be the fate of this hoaiy miscreant ? ' asked 
 Auchinleck, shaking with passion. 
 
 ' Stain not your sword with the murderer's blood,' cried 
 Douglas. Then ordering one of his troopers to his side, he 
 said, ' Armstrong, I want this knave to dance in the light of 
 his own fire.' 
 
 Armstrong needed no further instructions, for putting his 
 hand into his pocket he drew forth a strong cord, threw it 
 
THE LAIEDS OP LUGAE. 35 
 
 expertly over the brancli of a tree, run a noose on the end of 
 the rope, and then invited Ochiltree to advance. 
 
 ' Spare my life, if but for an hour,' pleaded the wretch, fall- 
 ing on the earth and endeavouring to grasp the Earl of Doug- 
 las round the legs, but he spurned him with his foot, and told 
 Archie Armstrong to proceed. 
 
 ' Wad ye prefer to be hung wi' yer face towards yer ain 
 hoose, or juist as ye stan ? ' Speak the word noo, for the next 
 minute yell no' hae a breath to spare,' said Armstrong, as he 
 adjusted the rope about his neck. 
 
 Leaving the lifeless body of Ochiltree swinging over the 
 Lugar, the Laird of Auchinleck led the party across the stream 
 into the castle of his ancestors. But we will not attempt to 
 describe the feelings of the young laird as he gazed on the 
 familiar forms lying lifeless, which he encountered at every 
 step on his way to the secret chamber, closely followed by Sir 
 Patrick and Douglas. But, upon entering the apartment 
 where his beloved father was murdered, he was rooted to the 
 spot with horror. Sir Patrick Dunbar, however, broke the 
 spell by advancing to where the gallant old laird lay, and taking 
 his cloak off, he threw it over the corpse, observing as he did 
 so — ' They must have been demons and not men who have been 
 here to-night — I tremble for the fate of my beloved wife and 
 child.' 
 
 Auchinleck, thus recalled to himself, pressed the secret 
 spring, which had been the means of saving the Hves of Elspie 
 and Lucy, and entering, they found them huddled together in 
 a corner of the room. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the scene which followed, 
 but leave it to the imagination of the reader. Some events in 
 one's experience, are indescribable, and the meeting of husband, 
 wife, daughter, and lover, after such a night of horrors, is one 
 of them. After the first joyful emotions of theu- hearts had 
 subsided, Auchinleck went in quest of the body of his mother, 
 and to his unspeakable joy he found her alive, but nearly un- 
 conscious, below her bed — whither she had crept when the 
 castle was attacked. 
 
 By this time the sun had risen, and Norma Grant, which 
 was the real name of Elspie, returned to Blackcraig as the 
 acknowledged wife of Sir Patrick Dunbar. They only remained, 
 however, at their castle, until Lucy was wed to the gallant 
 
36 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 young Laird of Auchinleck, and then he resigned the estate to 
 his son, John, and retired into obscurity. 
 
 Phemie Colvil, the Laird of Ochiltree's daughter, and her 
 mother, left the locality, and went to reside in Galloway. Some 
 said Phemie was true to her first love ; but as the Auchinleck 
 Manuscript is silent on this subject, we cannot give it as a fact. 
 
 In conclusion, the Laird of Lochnoreis looked for a more 
 eligible match than Phemie Colvil. Had her father fallen in 
 honourable fight, instead of being hung like a common male- 
 factor, he might have persisted in his suit ; but he could not 
 think of an alliance with a lady whose father had come through 
 the hands of the hangman. 
 
 Sandy M'Phun deeply regretted having suggested the joke 
 which terminated so fatally. He was often heard lamenting, 
 when tight, to those who frequented the Loudon Arms, that 
 the bare sheep's head lost him two of his best customers 
 on the water of Lugar. 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CEEB. 37 
 
 THE CRUIVES OF CREE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Theee is something soothing and melodious in the voice of a 
 mountain stream. All that is beautiful in nature loves to be 
 near it. The birds sing sweeter, and the flowers bloom fairer 
 on its banks than anywhere else — at least, so thought the Laird 
 of Creeside, John M'Lurg, who inhabited a goodly mansion 
 which stood on the south bank of the Cree many years ago. 
 Whether he was a direct descendant of the loyal old lady who 
 induced her two sons to swear fidelity to the great Robert 
 Bruce, when an outcast, history sayeth not ; but of the anti- 
 quity of his pedigree he could show as good proofs as the Laird 
 of Buttonhole, who maintained, although a tailor, that he was 
 descended from one of the three sons of Noah, but he was un- 
 certain which of them it was. 
 
 Creeside, as Mr M'Lurg was familiarly called by his un- 
 sophisticated neighbours, was the only surviving son of a large 
 family. His father had died some years previous to the opening 
 of this tale, and left his mother and him in peaceful possession 
 of the quaint old house and the acres attached to it. As mother 
 and son had enough and to spare of worldly gear, John gave 
 himself up to hunting and fishing, and many a pleasant hour 
 Was spent pursuing the latter pastime, of which he was ex- 
 tremely fond. It was while following this harmless occupation, 
 along the Cree, that he first met Jessie Mackay, the young and 
 beautiful heiress of Craigsmoor, and was smitten at once with 
 her faultless beauty and fairy form. Whether by chance or 
 premeditation, after the first meeting, Jessie found her way, 
 almqgt daily, to the Cruives of Cree. The reason assigned by 
 Jessie for this was, that she always found a world of enjoyment 
 in the sough of falling waters, and that she thought the flowers 
 on Mr M'Lurg's estate fairer than any she ever saw. 
 
38 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 John felt flattered by this simple preference, and gradually 
 there sprung up between them a close intimacy, which ended in 
 John making a declaration of his love to Jessie, which she shyly 
 admitted she reciprocated. 
 
 Great was the astonishment, therefore, of the inhabitants of 
 Minnigaff when the banns were proclaimed. Indeed, it took 
 the busybodies of the village completely by storm. Miss 
 Tattler, the draper's daughter, declared, in a scornful manner, 
 that it was a most unseemly match ; that Creeside could be her 
 father ; that it was undutiful and heathenish to desert his old 
 mother, now in her dotage, for any silly, sentimental, baby- 
 faced creature : while Miss Gloomie shook her head ominously 
 and said, ' naething but a judgment could follow such conduct.' 
 Of course this undercurrent of clatter never reached the ears of 
 John or Jessie ; but there was one sitting in the ancient church, 
 that peaceful Sabbath morning, that heard the proclamation 
 with rage and disappointment. But he was a man of action, 
 not words. 
 
 Peter M'Dowall, of Garfar, was a full cousin of Creeside, 
 and had been led to believe, from his infancy, by his doating 
 mother, that his rich relative would never marry, and that, as 
 he was the only surviving relation, he was certain to become 
 his heu". As year after year sped on, and Mr M'Lurg showed 
 no decided preference for any of the belles of the parish, the 
 expectations at Garfar became stronger and stronger as time 
 wore on. Therefore, the announcement that Creeside was about 
 to lead to the altar Jessie Mackay raised a mist before his eyes 
 that obscured all the dreams of golden pieces and broad acres 
 ever he had entertained. 
 
 He felt his senses reel where he was sitting, beside his wife, 
 but being a consummate hypocrite, as worldly men generally 
 are, he bowed his head, and held his throbbing brow with his 
 hands, as if invoking a blessing on their union. What the text 
 was, or what the minister said, Garfar heard not. But one 
 intelligible sentence fell on his ear, during a sermon that he 
 dreaded was never to end, and that was ' in conclusion, dear 
 brethren.' Wiping the perspiration from his brow he hurried 
 forth, and waited for Creeside among the memorials oi the 
 dead ; but although he gazed on these grassy mounds, contain- 
 ing the ashes of old and young, with whom he had conversed 
 while living, those sad remembrancers failed to touch a chord 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CEEE. 39 
 
 in his hard worldly heart. At last he saw Creeside issuing 
 forth, and telling Peggy — the name by which he invariably 
 called his wife — ^to smooth her wrinkled face, he advanced and 
 shook his cousin warmly by the hand, exclaiming as he did so, 
 ' I'm sure. Laird, this was a joyful surprise to me this morning.' 
 
 ' I was telling my mother so before I left for the kirk that 
 you were the only relative I had, and that I was sure you would 
 rejoice ower my good fortune.' 
 
 ' Rejoice^ Laird, I'm delighted ! but really I think ye micht 
 hae taken me into yer confidence,' said Garfar, deprecatingly, 
 retaining the smile on his bland face. 
 
 ' I wanted, man, to keep the affair as quiet as possible, for 
 as Jessie wisely observed, folks' faults were sure a' to be raked 
 up when they were going to get married.' 
 
 ' Very sensibly spoken, indeed. I'm sure when Peggy an' 
 me were proclaimed the Cree wad hae scarcely stopped the 
 mouths of the crones that spaed oor future misfortunes, and 
 I'm sure, although we haena been blest wi' any bairns yet, 
 there's no a happier pair on the Water o' Cree.' Garfar looked 
 at his amiable spouse for a confirmation of this assertion, but 
 Peggy, to avoid the scrutiny of his cunning grey eyes, pre- 
 tended she was reading the inscription on a newly-raised tomb- 
 stone, and the only response that reached the ear of Creeside 
 from Peggy was a sigh. The fact is, if it was possible, she 
 was more selfish and worldly than Garfar, but she was not such 
 an adept at disguising her feelings. So bitterly did she feel 
 the anticipated loss of Creeside that she could not have smiled, 
 at that moment, for the wealth of the county of Wigtown. 
 
 As Creeside contrasted the long, lank figure of Peggy, 
 arrayed in a grey gown, so narrow around the skirt, that he 
 mentally wondered how she managed to walk in such a sack, 
 with that of Jessie, who was standing at a little distance con- 
 versing with a friend, a scarcely perceptible smile flitted over 
 his handsome face. As he took this momentary glance at 
 Peggy's skinny neck and shrunken breasts, Garfar was watch- 
 ing him narrowly. Guessing what was passing through Cree- 
 side's mind, he felt a strong desire to strangle him where he 
 stood, but with a violent effort he suppressed his passion, and 
 with-a blessing on his lips and a curse in his heart he bade his 
 rich relation good-bye, and walked rapidly away, followed by 
 his happy wife. 
 
40 TALES AKD TRADITIONS. 
 
 Creeside looked after them, with a smUe on his face, until 
 the trees hid them from his view, and then said, half aloud — 
 ' Well, if Garfar and Peggy are the representatives of wedded 
 bliss, I would be better with my respected mother than Jessie 
 
 yet.' 
 
 Peggy, notwithstanding the want of cloth in the skirt of 
 her gown, was not long in overtaking her loving spouse, and 
 exclaimed, on coming up with him, ' Weel, of a' the hypocrites 
 that ever crossed a kirk door, I'll swear ye're the warst.' 
 
 ' If ye rouse me the day,' cried Garfar, turning savagely 
 round on his better half, 'ye lang-legged limmer, after what I 
 hae seen and heard, I'll douk ye in the Cree.' 
 
 ' Try it, my bonny man, try it, Garfar,' cried Peggy, shaking 
 her skinny hand in his face, ' and ye'll find it's no' the puir half- 
 starved hind and his silly wife j'e hae to deal wi'.' 
 
 Had not a turn in the pathway brought them suddenly in 
 close proximity to a gipsy's encampment, it is uncertain how 
 the dispute might have ended, but at this moment Garfar 
 observed Gibb Armstrong, one of the most notorious reivers of 
 the Borders, standing at the door of his tent ; and admonishing 
 Peggy to ' rin awa' hame an' get the kail ready, like a guid 
 lass,' he bent his steps in the direction of the gipsy's camp, 
 with anything but friendship in his heart towards Creeside. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In the days of which we write, county police were undreamed 
 of ; and as for public conveyances, there were none. The roads 
 were always crowded with tramps of every description, but of 
 pedlars, tinklers, and gipsies, there was an innumerable com- 
 pany. The first named class were made welcome in every 
 house in the country, for in many villages there was no such a 
 thing as a drapery establishment, selling goods at 15 or 20 per 
 cent, below prime cost, to the great astonishment of Jock and 
 the delight of Jenny when they now pay a visit to the town. 
 The second were also in demand by many a frugal rustic, who 
 could ill afford to buy a new pat or umbrella when they were 
 cracked or injured; but the gipsies were more feared than 
 loved or required. People wondered how they lived, for they 
 followed no kind of useful occupation, yet they were merry and 
 
THE CRUIVES OP CBEE. 41 
 
 meatlike. Neither could they be charged by any around their 
 encampment with theft ; therefore, the lairds who bad them 
 located on their land felt quite at ease. Garfar was in the 
 habit of taking some of his stock yearly to Carlisle, and had 
 became acquainted with Armstrong under peculiar circum- 
 stances. One of the gipsy's gang was indicted to stand his 
 trial at Carlisle for sheep stealing, and as Garfar was the only 
 witness who could really hang him, as Gibb Armstrong 
 observed when he called on him at the ' Angel Inn ' the night 
 previous to the trial, it was with infinite delight the gipsy chief 
 learned, before he was long in conversation with Garfar, that 
 he was an avaricious, unprincipled man, and that for a small 
 sum of money he was willing to stand in the witness-box and 
 prove the innocence of Johnstone ; which he did, to the intense 
 satisfaction of the whole gang, on the following day. 
 
 Ever afterwards there existed a seeming friendship between 
 Garfar and Armstrong, and when the latter visited "Wigtown- 
 shire he generally located himself on the laird's land. 
 
 ' Here comes the greedy churl who saved ye f rae the 
 hempen cravat at Carlisle,' observed Armstrong, as he stood 
 lounging at the tent door, to Johnstone inside. 
 
 ' Jle's a precious scamp ; but I'm far mistaken if his greed 
 disna get him into a waur scrape than mine yet.' 
 
 ' Hush, Johnstone, here he is.' 
 
 'Guid mornin' to ye, Mr Armstrong,' said Garfar, as he 
 advanced with the usual smile on his face, and the same soft, 
 low voice that he studied to assume upon all occasions, and 
 held out his hand. 
 
 ' Good morning, Garfar ; I hope you and your amiable ladj^ 
 are well.' 
 
 This allusion of Armstrong's to Peggy's amiability made 
 Garfar wince, but suppressing his ire he smilingly answered in 
 the affirmative, and then asked if he could have a word with 
 him privately. 
 
 'Oh! certainly, Laird, certainly. We have a spacious 
 anteroom here,' answered Armstrong, as he glanced upwards 
 at the cloudless sky and then at the limpid stream, — 
 
 ' Ours the truly regal palace. 
 
 Grander than the monarch's home ; 
 Lovely earth its flowery carpet, 
 Starry heaven its glittering dome.' 
 D 
 
42 TALES AXD TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Bless me ! I didna imagine, Armstrong, ye dabbled in 
 poetiy,' exclaimed Garfar, as he slowly led the way to the side 
 of the Cree. 
 
 'Neither I do, Garfar, but when I was yoimger and 
 happier I was foud of it. What's your will wi' me?' As 
 Armstrong asked this he seated himself on the trunk of a 
 fallen tree, pulled out his pipe, struck a light, and commenced 
 to smoke vigorously, keeping, however, his twinkling dark 
 eyes on the face of the laird. 
 
 Garfar commenced his story by stating his relationship to 
 Creeside, talked of his reputed wealth, and went on to state, that 
 until to-day he had always calculated on becoming its inheritor. 
 
 ' Ay,' interrupted Armstrong ; ' and what has occurred 
 to-day to blight your expectations ? ' 
 
 'He's gaun to marry a young bit lassie, the heiress o' 
 Craigsmoor, like as he hadna enough already.' 
 
 ' There's some folk never content,' observed the gipsy, 
 philosophically, as he dreamily watched the smoke curling 
 from his lips. ' But come to the point at once, man, I hate 
 this beating about the bush ; if I can safely serve you, I will, 
 for auld langsyne.' 
 
 ' Weel, in a word, Armstrong, wad ye take in hand to rid 
 the country of Jessie Mackay for a guid filled purse o' gowd?' 
 
 ' I suppose if I was to substitute world for country I would 
 be reading your thoughts aright,' answered Armstrong, keep- 
 ing his ej'es bent on the ground, and drawing his hat further 
 down on his brow. 
 
 ' I'm no a man gien to murder, Armstrong, although if ye 
 choose to dispose o' her that way, I'll no be speering ye ony 
 impertinent questions.' 
 
 The gipsy shook the ashes from his pipe, rose slowly up, 
 and turning his back to the laird, looked long and earnestly at 
 the sunlit stream. Turning again to the laird he said, ' I have 
 been thinking about j^our proposal, but you'll better go home 
 and mature your plans. In my opinion yom' far ower hasty. 
 This girl may never have a child. I suppose Peggy was a 
 likely enough lady to bear a family when you married her, and 
 it's more than probable she may never have a bairn to heir your 
 wealth.' 
 
 ' Oh, Armstrong,' cried the laird, excitedly, ' dinna speak o' 
 my wealth ; I'm poor, wretchedly poor.' 
 
THE CKUIVES OF CEEE. 43 
 
 ' Well, well, man, I want none of your gear. Believe me, 
 it's time enough to move in this affair when your cousin has an 
 heir born.' 
 
 ' I daresay ye're right, Armstrong ; but I was so exasperated 
 this morning that I'm clean beside mysel'.' 
 
 ' When ye think it ower ye'll find I'm right. Goodbye- 
 dinner was ready when I left.' As the gipsy said this he 
 turned and retraced his way to the tent, muttering as he went, 
 ' The hell-hound wants me to commit murder to enrich him, 
 but, thank God, I'm not that length yet.' 
 
 When he entered the tent he asked a young girl where 
 Johnstone was, and was told that he slipped out immediately 
 after him. Armstrong knit his brows, and sat down in silence 
 to his dinner. 
 
 While vexation and envy raged in the hearts of Garfar and 
 his wife, Creeside and Jessie were sunning themselves in each 
 other's smiles. At last the happy day arrived which saw them 
 united in the bonds of matrimony, and Garfar and his wife were 
 both present on the joyous occasion. No one looking at the smil- 
 ing face of the laird could imagine there was a seed of bitterness 
 in his heart, which was destined to produce fruit to poison the 
 atmosphere of that happy home. But we must not anticipate. 
 
 Month followed month of unalloyed happiness at Creeside, 
 and at last it became apparent, to the most superficial observer, 
 that Mrs M'Lurg was in the happy state in which ladies like 
 to be who love their lords. 
 
 Peggy was the first to obser%'e her altered appearance, and 
 with tears of vexation pointed it out to her more obtuse hus- 
 band, who now resolved on a definite line of policy. 
 
 It was autumn, and Armstrong and his gang were again 
 encamped on his land. Without speaking about his terrible 
 project to Peggj', he took the foot-path leading to the ' gipsies' 
 home ; ' and giving an urchin, who was gamboling along the 
 Cree, a penny, he dispatched him for Johnstone, whom he saved 
 from being hung at Carlisle. After his imsatisfactory confer- 
 ence with Armstrong, he had been waited on by Johnstone, 
 who had Im'ked among the bushes, and heard every word of 
 the conversation that passed between them. At that time he 
 offered to carry out Garfar's murderous design ; but the laird 
 had taken Armstrong's advice, and resolved to wait patiently 
 until he saw what would occur, promising, however, that if he 
 
44 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 needed assistance he would give him the first chance of earning- 
 an honest penny. Johnstone, who was a hardened wretch, was 
 constrained at the time to be content with this promise ; but 
 when the boy told him what the gentleman was like who wished 
 to speak to him, he conjectured that Garfar had now a job for 
 him, and hurried rapidly to the bank of the Cree, where he was 
 sitting. They held a long, whispered conversation, looking 
 fearfully around them every moment. At last they struck their 
 fearful bargain, and separated. But we must reserve, for an- 
 other chapter, the effects of their diabolical compact. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 If the darkest hour is before day, ofttimes a joyous, bright 
 morning is the precursor of a storm. In this world of change, 
 we know not what an hour may bring forth. Our cup of happi- 
 ness may be running over, but before we can raise it to our 
 lips some unseen hand may dash it to the earth, and substitute 
 for our joy — despair, agony, and death. 
 
 Creeside, when he arose the morning after the meeting be- 
 tween Garfar and Johnstone, was a happy man ; happy in the 
 love of his young beautiful wife ; blest with the friendship and 
 esteem of nearly aU who knew him in the villages of Newton- 
 Stewart and Minnigaff — we say nearly, for good men have 
 sometimes great enemies. Having enough and to spare of gear, 
 and being conscious of having wronged no man, he had in and 
 around him all the elements of happiness. 
 
 After partaking of a hearty breakfast, he began to make 
 his usual preparations for going to fish. ' This should be a 
 guid morning for catching a few trout in the Cree,' he observed, 
 as he continued busy arranging his fishing tackle ; ' 1 see there 
 has been a guid shower through the nicht.' 
 
 ' Take my advice, John,' said old Mrs M'Lurg, as she 
 hobbled into the kitchen, leaning on her staff, ' an' stay at 
 hanie to-day.' 
 
 ' Hoots, mother, this is the best day for fishing we have had 
 this last month ; an' ye ken Jessie's found of a trout.' 
 
 ' I'm no' that fond o' them, however, dear John, that I wad 
 like ye to disobey grannie to procure them,' observed Jessie, 
 with a winning smile. 
 
THE CRUIVES OF CKEE. 45 
 
 'What reason hae ye for interdicting me this morning-, 
 mother?' asked John, rather pettishly. 
 
 A word from either Jessie or his mother would at any time 
 have deterred him from going to the Galloway Arms, even sup- 
 posing it would have deprived him of the company of Willie 
 Blair, the saddler, who was reputed to be the best angler 
 in Wigtownshire, but this was his favourite occupation, and 
 lie was nettled a little at his aged mother's interference. 
 
 ' I'll tell ye my reason, but I ken ye'll laugh at me before I 
 hae dune,' said his mother, as she seated herself on the settle- 
 bed. ' Last nicht I dreamed ' 
 
 ' I kent it wad be something o' that kind,' cried Creeside, 
 interrupting her, good-naturedly. 
 
 ' For shame, John ! hear what your mother has got to say,' 
 •exclaimed Jessie, reprovingly. 
 
 ' Weel, weel, bairns, maybe it's a' nonsense, but ye can 
 'listen to it for a' that,' observed the old lady, quietly. 
 
 ' Oh ! we'll manage to do that,' said John, laughingly, and 
 continuing his preparations. 
 
 ' I saw ye in my dream,' resumed his mother, ' standing on 
 a tummock o' grass fishing abune the Cruives o' Cree. Every- 
 thing around ye was smiling and beautiful, but suddenly there 
 arose oot o' the lang, rank grass on the bank a huge snake. 
 Bearing itsel' up on its tail, it watched ye eagerly ; aye when 
 ye turned aboot it hid itsel', and the moment ye began to fish 
 it peered up again. Greatly to my astonishment and horror 
 its face began to assume the lineaments o' Garfar's, and, watch- 
 ing its opportunity, it sprang suddenly forward and struck ye 
 wi' its stang, just there.' As the old lady said this, she laid 
 her withered hand on the back of her son's head. ' I saw ye 
 stagger and fa' — not into the Cree, but into an abyss, sae deep 
 an' misty that I couldna see the bottom. I tried my best to 
 scream, but my tongue clove to the roof o' my mouth, syne I 
 awoke trembling with fear.' 
 
 ' The nichtmare, mother ; naething else. What did ye take 
 to supper last nicht ? ' 
 
 ' I hope sae, John ; but somehow I hae a strange presenti- 
 ment that some great misfortune is aboot to happen.' 
 
 ' Mother, ye shouldna talk in this gloomy manner, seeing 
 the state Jessie's in,' urged John, as soon as he obtained an 
 opportunity of doing so privately. ' Cheer up ; I'll be hame by 
 
46 TALES AKD TEADITIOIS'S. 
 
 noon for my dinner.' As Creesicle said this he swung his basket 
 on his back, and, taking his rod in his hand, sallied forth. 
 
 As he passed the Cruives of Cree, a strange feeling came 
 over him, but this he attributed to hearing his mother's dream 
 before he left ; therefore he tried to dismiss the thought with 
 busying himself unwinding his line, and beginning to fish up 
 the stream. The water was, as he surmised, in capital order, 
 and as he consigned trout after trout to the basket, everything 
 was forgotten in the excitement of the sport. At last he 
 reached a pool about two hundred yards above the Cruives, 
 and as the bank was thickly wooded, he had to approach its 
 verj' edge and stand on a grassy knoll or tummock — these are 
 common almost to every stream ia Scotland. Stepping care- 
 fully lest it might give way beneath his weight, and precipi- 
 tate him head foremost into the ' weil,' not that he was afraid 
 of being drowned, as he was a capital swimmer, but the idea 
 of being wet was disagreeable. Having got himself fixed to 
 his mind, he commenced to whip the surface of the stream 
 very earnestly. 'Ha! a salmon, by George!' he exclaimed; 
 ' but I hae missed it. Try again is no' forbidden.' Muttering 
 to himself in this manner, he applied himself with greater 
 assiduity to his task, and as he endeavoured to induce the fish 
 to rise again he was unconscious of everything around him. 
 
 As a tiger or beast of prey crawls through a jungle after its 
 victim, so did Johnstone, the gipsy, watch every movement of 
 Creeside. Whenever he changed his position, down went the 
 head of the wretch who was employed to murder him among 
 the brushwood and rank grass, which formed an impervious 
 screen between him and his victim. It may be thought strange 
 that (Jarfar selected his cousin and spared his wife, seeing that 
 she was about to become a mother ; but he could reach Cree- 
 side with less danger, and his calculation was that the shock 
 occasioned by her husband's death would induce premature 
 parturition, and the whole family would be stricken down with 
 the one blow. 
 
 Crouchinglj', Johnstone approached Creeside, and seeing 
 him standing in such a favourable position for his diabolical 
 purpose, and so intently bent on the sport, he drew from 
 beneath his coat a heavy bludgeon and advanced to within a 
 yard of his back. Creeside would in all probability have heard 
 the reptile breathing behind him, for his breath came thick and 
 
THE CEUIVES OP CEEE. 47 
 
 pantingly, but at that very moment the salmon rose again, and 
 he exclaimed joyfully — ' Hooked at last.' 
 
 That moment the gipsy raised his club and struck Creeside 
 a savage blow on the back of the head, and with a groau 
 he fell forward and disappeared in the pool ; but, to the horror 
 of the murderer, he carried the fishing rod with him, firmly 
 clutched in his hand, and as the top of it protruded out of the 
 water several feet, he imagined that it pointed towards him 
 menacingly. Here was an unforeseen dilemma, a contingency 
 for which neither the gipsy nor Garfar had made any calcula- 
 tion, and as he could not swim, he fled from the spot, leaving 
 this tell-tale trace of the murder behind him. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Whilst the murderer was flying in the direction of Garfar, to 
 tell him the result of his morning's work, and demand his pay, 
 Willie Blair, a saddler from Newton-Stewart, arrived at the 
 ' Cruives of Gree,' and being, as has been before remarked, a keen 
 angler, he imwound his line, and began his morning's favour- 
 ite amusement. He was soon rewarded for his trouble by 
 hooking a large salmon, which dashed swiftly up the stream in 
 the direction of the pool where the lifeless body of Creeside 
 was lying. Willie expertly paid out the last yard of the line 
 off the reel, and then began to kill the fish, but this seemed a 
 very difficult task to accomplish. At last its efforts to escape 
 became languid, and Willie began the most exciting part of the 
 sport, endeavouring to land ' the monster,' as he called him. 
 
 Slowly he wore him towards the spot where he was stand- 
 ing, but in a moment he stopped hauhng in his line, and stood 
 staring at the top of a fishing rod which protruded some feet 
 out of the water. ' Somebody has lost their wand this morn- 
 ing,' he soliloquised ; ' an' feth it seems a guid ane, but it's 
 drifting this way.' Having arrived at this satisfactory con- 
 clusion, he landed his fish, but to his great astonishment 
 another line was entwined with his own. In a moment it was 
 suggested to his mind that the line belonged to the rod which 
 he saw above the water. The first thing he brought to the 
 bank was the large salmon which Creeside had hooked before he 
 received his death-blow from the gipsy. Carefully he laid it 
 
48 TALES AND TKADITIONH. 
 
 beside the one he had caught, and then began to haul in 
 the line. 
 
 ' Surely there's somethinf^ handing it,' he muttered, as the 
 top of the rod disappeared when he laid a gentle strain on the 
 line. ' It's impossible, hooever, there can be anither salmon on 
 it.' With great patience and care he at last succeeded in catching 
 the top of the rod, and drew it towards him, thinking from the 
 great weight attached to it that it had got foul of the root of 
 some tree which had lain long in the pool. The fiist thing 
 which struck a chill to his heart was the hand of a man firmly 
 grasping the rod, the next moment the ghastly features of 
 Creeside rose to the surface, and with a cry of horror he fell 
 backwards on the bank quite insensible. 
 
 In the meantime, Johnstone and Garfar were closeted to- 
 gether, haggling about the money the former was demanding 
 for committiug the murder. 
 
 ' It's far ower muckle, Johnstone, for half an hour's wark. 
 A hundred gold pieces ! I doot ve maun be doing wi' the half 
 o' it.' 
 
 ' Hand ower the cash at ance, an' dinna stan' there shakin' 
 a' morniu' wi't in yer han', for not a farthing less will I tak'.' 
 
 ' If ye're sure he's deid, there's the siller ; but it's far ower 
 muckle.' Saying this, Garfar handed the wretch his blood money. 
 
 Placing the bag containing the gold ia his bosom, John- 
 stone said, with a liideous grin, 'I doot the murder will sune be 
 discovered.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ' exclaimed Garfar savagely, as he clutched the gipsy 
 by the breast, where he had deposited the money, ' If ye hae 
 deceived me I'll hae yer life on the spot whanr ye stand.' 
 
 ' Let go yer grip, ye anld savage, or I'll slit your weasand.' 
 
 As Garfar saw the blade of a knife glittering before his eyes, 
 he relinquished his grip, and cried pantiugly, ' Tell me what 
 ye mean.' 
 
 ' Creeside's in the IMiller's ATeir, but when I struck him he 
 held a firm grip o' his fishing rod, and took it alang wi' him 
 into the hole, whaur it may be .seen bobbing abune the water.' 
 
 ' Compose yersel', Johnstone, an' come alang wi' me, I maun 
 see what it is like. Maybe ye can get a grip o' it when I'm 
 alang wi' ye.' 
 
 'I'll no try.' 
 
 ' Weel, weei, come wi' me, and I'll trj'.' 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CEEE. 49 
 
 Leaving the room where this conference was held, the two 
 -villains sauntered leisurely along the Cree until they came in 
 sight of Willie Blair, who was in the act of dragging the iish- 
 ing rod towards him. Crouching down behind a tree they 
 •observed the head of Creeside raised above the water, and 
 heard Blair's cry as he fell insensible on the bank. 
 
 ' Come on, quick, Johnstone,' cried Garfar, in a suppressed 
 voice, ' we'll charge Blair wi' the murder. We can easily 
 swear we saw them quarrelling aboot the fish — come on.' 
 
 The gipsy, as he hurried after him, had an indistinct notion 
 that Garfar was about to charge Blair with the murder of his 
 friend, and the very thought lifted an immense weight off his 
 heart.' 
 
 ' Villain! what's this ye hae been aboot this mornia' ? ' cried 
 ■Garfar, as he collared the scarcely conscious Mr Blair. 
 
 ' What dae ye mean, Garfar?' asked Blair, first looking at 
 the one and then at the other as they stood over him. 
 
 ' Hearken to his brazen-faced effrontery,' exclaimed Gar- 
 far, in a mocking voice. ' Did the gipsy and me no see you 
 strike Creeside on the held and hurl him into the pool, no ten 
 minutes since.' 
 
 ' It's a lie! a damnable falsehood!' cried Blair, springing to 
 his feet, and casting Garfar from him with such a force that he 
 fell heavily to the earth. 
 
 ' I take you to witness, Johnstone, that the villain wants to 
 murder me as he did my friend.' 
 
 ' I'm no gaun to bandy words wi' ye and yer thievish looking 
 comrade, but if ye hae a spark o' humanity remaining in ye, help 
 me to carry hame the body o' my dear cronie." 
 
 ' Hearken the hypocritical loon,' exclaimed Garfar, sneeringly. 
 ' On him, Johnstone, lest he escapes.' Garfar was in the act 
 -of rushing again on Blair, when a powerful hand was laid on 
 his shoulder, and Armstrong, the gipsy chief, demanded in a 
 stern tone, as he pointed to the lifeless form of Creeside, ' Who 
 ■did this?' 
 
 ' There stands the murderer,' answered Garfar, as he pointed 
 malignantly at Blair. 
 
 ' It's as base a lie as ever was uttered by the mouth of man, 
 ■believe me, sir. I know no more of this foul deed than the 
 babe at its mother's breast.' 
 
 ' I do believe you.' said Armstrong, emphatically. 
 
50 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 ' Johnstone, do you know anything of this foul deed?' asked 
 his comrade, turning suddenly round on him. 
 
 ' How should I know about it?' asked Johnstone in a voice 
 that might be tremulous with passion or guilt. 
 
 ' That's not answering my question, but asking one,' ob- 
 served Armstrong. 
 
 ' Garfar, I need not ask you anything about the murder, 
 you're too respectable a man to know anything of a deed of this 
 kind.' The gipsy said this in a voice of scorn that sounded 
 strangely in the ears of Blair. 
 
 ' Curse ye for a wanderin' thief, hoo daur ye insinuate 
 that I ken anything aboot a crime o' this kind.' 
 
 ' I could point to a man that's worse than a thief ; but bear 
 a hand and help me, Mr Blair, home with the corpse of Mr 
 M'Lurg to Creeside. A sad sight it will be for his young- 
 bonny wife.' As the gipsy said this he bent over the murdered 
 man, and raised him up in his powerful arms. 
 
 ' Johnstone, what are j'e afraid of ? ' shouted Armstrong; ' are 
 ye no gaun to gie us a hand ?' 
 
 ' I'll no pit a han' to him to-day,' cried Johnstone, as he 
 turned away with a shudder from the face of Creeside, whose 
 eyes he imagined to be fixed menacinglj' upon him. Garfar also 
 refused to assist, but said he would hurry on and break the sad 
 news to his auld mother, and poor wife, as gently as possible. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 So unfeelingly had Garfar announced the death of Creeside to his 
 young wife and aged mother that, by the time the gipsy Arm- 
 strong and AVillie Blair had reached the house, with the Laird's 
 body, Mrs M'Lurg's life was despaired of. She was passion- 
 ately fond of her husband, and the rude manner in which 
 Garfar declared he had been murdered by his friend and cronie, 
 Willie Blair, had stricken her down at once. One fainting fit 
 had succeeded another, in rapid succession, since she had heard 
 the news, so that by the time Creeside's body was laid in the 
 hall, she was quite unconscious. But his mother, to every 
 appearance, was calm and collected. Seventy summers had 
 passed over her head, and during their flight she had en- 
 countered many a gust of adverse fortune. True, she had 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CEEE. 51 
 
 never met anything like this, but ia the ever-changing scenes of 
 human life she had learned patience and Christian resignation. 
 Having despatched a servant for Dr Grey, she ordered Garfar 
 from the room, and used all the means in her power to restore 
 Jessie to consciousness. 
 
 No sooner had the servant alighted from his horse, at the 
 Doctor's door, than he vs^as surrounded by a crowd of people 
 inquiring what was the matter at Creeside. 
 
 ' Willie Blair has murdered my master,' was all he had time 
 to communicate, when the door was opened, and he hurried 
 inside to tell Dr Grey his errand. 
 
 ' Blair has murdered Creeside ! ' flew from door to door with 
 the rapidity of lightning, through Minnigaff and Newtou- 
 Stewart. 
 
 At last the sad news was communicated to Mary Dill, Willie 
 Blair's sweetheart, by Nellie Glen. ' I canna believe it, nor I 
 wunna believe it ! ' cried Mary, as, springing to her feet, and 
 casting her sewing aside, she wrapped her plaid around her and 
 started for the scene of the murder, notwithstanding the expostu- 
 lations of her mother to the contrary. 
 
 The way to Creeside was now crowded with old and young, 
 for never since the murder of the Laird of Crosbie, some fifty 
 years ago, had anything like this occurred in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 By the time Miss Dill reached Creeside Mrs M'Lurg had 
 been delivered of a son ; and as Garfar maintained that he saw 
 Willie Blair commit the murder, Dr Grey, who was a Justice of 
 the Peace, ordered him to be conveyed to Wigtown immediately. 
 
 ' Tell me, Willie ! in mercy tell me, if ye are innocent o' this 
 foul crime! ' exclaimed Mary Dill, as she forced her way through 
 the crowd by which she was surrounded, with tears streaming 
 down her youthful face. 
 
 ' Be calm, dearest Mary,' said Blair, in as cheerful a voice 
 as he could command. ' Although circumstances are against 
 me, I'm as innocent o' the death o' Creeside as ye are.' 
 
 ' Oh, thank God for this assurance,' cried Mary, drying her 
 tears. ' I feel confident this is the truth.' 
 
 ' Ye feel confident,' sneered Garfar imfeelingly. 'An' muckle 
 yer faith in his innocence wuU dae tae save him. Tak' my 
 advice and awa' hame like a bonny lassie, and mind yer aiu 
 affairs. Did I not see him murder my dear cousin ? ' 
 
52 TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 ' An' is it on yer evidence they're gaun to commit Mr Blair 
 to jaill' cried Mary, turning on him fiercely. 'Ye miserly 
 auld hunks, I wudna be the least surprised if it wad turn oot ye 
 Lad a hand in his death yersel.' 
 
 ' Nor I either,' whispered Armstrong, the gipsy, in her ear. 
 
 Mary started, and looked wildly in the stranger's face, but 
 placing his finger on his lip, he shook his head, enjoining silence. 
 
 The crowd hovered about until they saw Willie Blair bound 
 hand and foot and thrown into a cart in charge of two con- 
 stables, and then dispersed in various directions, discussing as 
 they went along the guilt or innocence of the saddler. 
 
 Garfar pled hard with the doctor to see dear Jessie and the 
 bairn before he left, but Dr Grey said it was impossible in the 
 present state of Mrs M'Lurg, and he was forced to depart 
 without his evil eye resting on the fragile widow, whose joyous 
 life his villany had so ruthlessly crushed. Praying that he 
 might never see her again in life, he left Creeside, and reached 
 home in the afternoon, but the news of Creeside's murder had 
 preceded him. 
 
 ' This is a fearfu' job,' began Peggy, as soon as he entered; 
 ' an' hoo strange ye should be the one that saw the crime com- 
 mitted ? ' 
 
 Peggy was hard, worldly, and unkind, but much as she 
 coveted the fair domain of Creeside, she never dreamed of 
 perpetrating such a deed to obtain possession of it. 
 
 ' Ay, it's a fearfu' affair,' answered the laird moodily, ' but 
 there's never a great lose but there's some sma' profit ; Mrs 
 M'Lurg is safely delivered of a son and heir.' 
 
 ' Then that's an end to our prospects of ever getting Cree- 
 side,' observed Peggy despondingly. 
 
 'I dinna ken; the bairn micht dee, an' as Creeside has 
 made nae wnll, the property wad be oors in spite o' the deil.' 
 
 ' Ye forget his mother.' 
 
 'I forget naethi?ig aboot her; but she's seventy j'ears o' 
 age, an' she canna live much langer.' 
 
 ' That's very true ! " said Peggy, brightening up a little. 
 ' Are ye for nae dinner to-day 1 ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Puir man ! ye have been sadly put aboot this morning,' 
 said Peggy, in such an affectionate tone, that the laird 
 rewarded her, not with a kiss, but by springing to his feet and 
 
THE CKUIVES OP CKEE. oS 
 
 exclaiming' — ' What cursed nonsense is this !' The next 
 moment he was gone. 
 
 Peggy, however, consoled herself by stroking the cat 
 affectionately ; plainly proving that we must have som& 
 creature on which to lavish our love; but if some of the 
 aspirants for heaven, who go along the streets caressing 
 poodle dogs, cleanly washed and adorned with ribbons, were to 
 adopt some of the dirty, naked, houseless children that swarm 
 on our streets, they would be nearer the mark. 
 
 Armstrong, before leaving Creeside, watched his oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to Miss Dill privately, and told her to keep 
 up her heart, as he was sure of Blair's innocence. 
 
 'Then what was the reason you did not tell them sae 
 before he was sent to Wigtown ? ' cried Mary, again bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 ' You told them so, but it had little effect.' 
 
 ' That's true,' said Mary, heaving a deep sigh. 
 
 ' Your a brave lass, and I liked the spirit ye showed Garfar ; 
 sae to extricate yer lover oot o' this scrape, I'll dae what I can ; 
 but if I'm to assist him, you must mention to no one that ye 
 were speaking to Armstrong, the gipsy.' 
 
 ' Armstrong, the gipsy,' reiterated Mary. ' Oh ! in mercy 
 tell me if ye ken anything aboot it.' 
 
 ' Nothing, properly speaking, nothing ; but I may tell you 
 in confidence that I discovered this morning a clue which, with 
 my experience, may guide me to put the saddle on the richt 
 horse.' 
 
 ' When wull I hear frae ye or see ye again?' asked Mary, 
 looking up at his face imploringly. 
 
 ' If ye're not afraid o' ghaists, meet me this evening about 
 six o'clock in the kirkyard o' Minnigaff.' 
 
 ' I'll be sure to be there, and noo, gndebye till then. Heaven 
 grant ye may be successful in unravelling this foul mystery.' 
 
 ' Goodbye, and cheer up, I'll dae all I can.' As he said 
 this he walked rapidly away along the Cree.' 
 
 On he went until he reached an oak tree which grew beside 
 the pathway, when he stooped down and lifted something from 
 among the rank grass, which he instantly consigned to a 
 capacious inside pocket of his coat. Smiling grimly, he 
 hurriedly pursued his way until he reached the encampment. 
 Entering his tent, he sent for Johnstone. 
 
54- TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 ' Wei], Johnstone, I have sent for yon to ask you a question 
 or two privately, so you'll better squat yoursel' dooa and hear 
 what I have got to say. In the first place, whaur were ye 
 this morning'?' asked Armstrong, fixing his ej'es keenly on the 
 face of his comrade. 
 
 ' I'm not in a humour to gratify your curiosity,' answered 
 the villain, sulkily. 
 
 ' Ah ! ha, my brave comrade ; but I want an answer, and 
 I'm determined to have it.' 
 
 ' It seemed to me this morning ye were anxious to place me 
 and Garfar in a fix doon at Creeside.' 
 
 ' I doot ye hae haith placed yersels in a fix which ye will 
 hae some difficulty o' extricating yersels cot o', notwithstand- 
 ing the cunning o' yer employer ; but, in a word, Johnstone, hoo 
 muckle did Garfar gie ye for knocking Creeside into the pool?' 
 
 Johnstone started to his feet as if he had been stung 
 by an adder. His face became of an ashy hue ; the blood 
 forsook his lips, and he trembled in every joint ; he essayed 
 to speak, but the words died in a hollow murmur on 
 his parched lips ; involuntarily he clutched the handle of his 
 knife, but at this moment Armstrong drew from his inside 
 pocket the article which he had lifted from the root of the oak 
 tree, and held it up before him — it was a bludgeon covered 
 with hair and blood. 
 
 ' Spare me ! ah, spare me ! and I will tell you all,' cried the 
 wretch, sinking at Armstrong's feet. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DuKiNi; the afternoon work was all but suspended in the 
 villages of Xewton-Stewart and Minnigaff. Groups of eager 
 disputants were assembled here and there, discussing the all- 
 absorbing theme — Creeside's murder. Those who knew Willie 
 Blair best, aflu'med that he was incapable of committing such a 
 crime, no matter what amount of provocation he might receive. 
 Then he was well known to be a man of the most kindly 
 nature, and often known to neglect his business to promote the 
 welfare and happiness of others. It was true he liked a song 
 and a dram occasionally; and ^Misses Tattler and Gloomie 
 maintained he had mair lasses than Mary Dill ; but the latter 
 
THE OEUIVES OP CEEE. 55 
 
 failing — if true — was graciously forgivea by the majority of 
 
 the ladies in the parishes around. 
 
 Those and similar arguments were brought forward by hia 
 
 friends — and they were numerous — but there was another 
 
 ■class who argued that all the circumstances were against him. 
 
 Creeside had left home after breakfast-time; so had Blair. 
 
 Both their fishing rods were found lying together on the bank ; 
 
 and when Garfar and the gipsy first saw Blair, he was in the 
 
 act of dragging his friend — as some folk were pleased to call 
 
 him— out of the water. 
 
 ' An' a friendly act it was,' observed Eoss, the banker. ' Dae 
 
 ye think that if Blair had killed him, and thrown him in the 
 Cree, he wad hae waited to drag him oot again? Garfar and 
 
 the gipsy may swear what they like, but if I was on the jury, 
 I wadna credit their evidence.' 
 
 ' The thing's unco improbable looking,' observed John 
 Blair, the shoemaker ; ' but if Garfar and Johnstone swear that 
 they saw him strike the fatal blow, and throw him into the 
 water, he'll swing for it. Although I could perceive frae look 
 and manner o' Armstrong the gipsy, that he held the same 
 opinion as Mr Ross ; an', if I was to hazard an opinion, Gar- 
 far's the only interested person, that I ken o' in this neighbour- 
 hood, in the death o' Creeside.' 
 
 ' An' we a' ken,' chimed in William Strachan, the publican, 
 * that he's a real Nabal. I'm sure, although he pits up his beast 
 wi' me, he hisna bocht a gill this twelve months and mair.' 
 
 'Oh! I hae nae fault to find wi' Garfar for that,' observed 
 Mr Blair, dryly, who, although living long anterior to the reigu 
 of teetotalers and Good Templars, had invariably observed 
 that the people who frequented the public-house were the worst 
 patrons of the shoeshop. 
 
 As the publican and shoemaker here went off at a tangent 
 from the subject interesting to the reader, we will leave them 
 to discuss the knotty problem, and follow Miss Dill to the old 
 kirkyard of Minnigaff. 
 
 It was a bright September evening, and as Mary seated 
 herself on a fallen tombstone, in the shadow of the church, her 
 eyes wandered up the valley of the Cree, until its silvery wind- 
 ings were lost amidst the silence and solitude of the distant 
 mountains. But although her eyes wandered over the enchant- 
 ing panorama of hill and dale spread out before her, it yielded 
 
56 TALES ASD TKADITIOKS. 
 
 her no pleasure. If anything, it added to the poignancy of her 
 grief, by reminding her of the happj' hours she had spent, on the 
 bauks of the Cree, with her first and only lover. So sad were 
 tlie recollections conjured up by the scenes around her, that 
 she wrung her hands in mental agony, and burst into tears. 
 
 ' Dry yer een, my bonnie bird,' said Armstrong, tapping her 
 gently on the shoulder, 'ye hae no occasion to be weeping.' 
 
 ' What a start ye gien me ! ' exclaimed Mary, springing to- 
 iler feet, and smiling through her tears. ' I declare, I never 
 heard ye approaching.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I can believe that. Ye were ower busy tormenting 
 yersel' — but sit doon, an' compose yer mind, I have news for 
 
 ye.' 
 
 ' fruid or bad?' asked Mary, looking wistfully in his face, as 
 she drew her plaid closely around her, and reseated herself. 
 
 ' If I was to say the news were good, na doot, the first 
 thing ye ^vad dae, when ye v/ent into the toon, wad be to pro- 
 claim it far an' near, an' very likely the name o' the man wha 
 told ye. Xoo I maun hae yer solemn promise before I say 
 muckle mair, that let the news which I bring be good or bad, 
 ye will keep them to yersel'. Eecollect Blair's safety' depends 
 on your discretion.' 
 
 ' Oh ! sir,' exclaimed Mary, eagerly, ' I'll swear a solemn 
 aith if ye require it, that, even to my dear mother, -wha is nearly 
 ;is much put aboot as mj-sel', I will never mention it.' 
 
 ' I diuna require an oath, your word is quite sufficient, 
 when ye know yer lover's life depends on you an' me.' 
 
 ' Is he guilty or innocent ? tell me that, for, oh, I'm in an 
 awfu' state of suspense.' 
 
 ' He's as innocent as ye are.' 
 
 ' Thank God for this assurance !' exclaimed Marj-, devotedly 
 clasping her hands together, and raising her eyes to heaven. 
 
 ' Oh ! sir, if ye keut the weight o' sorrow an' uncertainty ye 
 hae lifted off my heart, it should mak' ye happy.' 
 
 ' Diuna greet ony mair, like a guid lass,' said Armstrong, 
 soothingly. 
 
 ' I'm that overjoyed,' cried Marj-, sobbing and drying her 
 tears, ' that I canua help it.' 
 
 ' Ay, but tears will no' get yer lad oot o' Wigtown jail' 
 
 ' I thought ye said jist noo he was innocent,' said Mary, 
 staring at the gips}' strangely. 
 
THE CRUIVES OP CEEE. 57 
 
 ' So I did. But many a time an innocent man has been 
 hung, when the guilty escaped ; an' had it no' been for a triffling 
 discovery I made this morning, such wad hae been the fate o' 
 Willie Blair, for Garfar an' — I'm ashamed to say it — yin o' my 
 gang is willing, and will swear that they saw him commit the 
 murder.' 
 
 ' They maun be horrid wretches,' cried Mary, holding up 
 her hands in astonishment ; ' but it's maybe impertinent in me 
 speerin' — dae ye ken the murderer ? ' 
 
 ' Brawly noo, but I wasna richt sure when I saw ye last, 
 although I strongly suspected wha it was.' 
 
 ' An' are ye no gaun to denounce the wretch, and get 
 Willie oot o' jail ? ' 
 
 ' My evidence as yet is unsupported, an' one o' the men con- 
 nected wi' the murder is rich an' influential, whereas, ye maun 
 liear in mind that I'm only a gipsy. However, gang hame an' 
 sleep soun, for I think I'll manage to clear Mr Blair. This is a' 
 that I can tell ye at present.' 
 
 ' I hope, sir, God will reward you for your kindness to me.' 
 
 ' I hope sae,' observed the gipsy with a sigh. ' In the 
 meantime, I maun bid ye guid nicht, for I hae anither party to 
 see before I sleep.' 
 
 ' When will I hear from you again ? ' asked Mary, holding 
 out her hand. 
 
 ' To-morrow, unless something extraordinary occurs, at the 
 same hour. Remember yer promise. Good evening.' As the 
 gipsy said this, he walked rapidly away in the direction of Gar- 
 far; Mary left the kirkyard with a lighter heart than she 
 entered it. 
 
 While the foregoing interview was taking place between 
 Miss Dill and the gipsy, Garfar and his amiable spouse were 
 holding a tete-a-tete anent the young widow — Mrs M'Lurg, and 
 her son. 
 
 ' Is there nae appearance o' her deein, Peggy ? ' said Garfar, 
 in a bitter tone. 
 
 ' Nane that I could perceive,' answered Peggy, shaking her 
 head ; ' an' Dr Grey tauld me that the baby and her were pro- 
 gressmg as favourable as could be expected, under the circum- 
 stances.' 
 
 ' Did ye see the auld wife ? ' 
 
 ' Ou ay ; but she scarcely spoke to me.' 
 E 
 
58 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Curse the hale pack o' them, but I'll hae Creeside yet, or it 
 "will be strange.' 
 
 ' If the bairn lives that's impossible.' 
 
 ' But it will die, an' that before lang,' cried Garfar, fiercely. 
 ' Ever sin' I was a boy, I was taught to look upon mysel' as the 
 heir o' Creeside, an' I'll be possessed o' it yet, in spite o' a' the- 
 brats that ever was born.' 
 
 A loud rap at the door interrupted the conversation, and 
 when it was opened, to the great astonishment of Garfar, Arm- 
 strong stepped inside. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Although xVrmstrong's ideas of meum et tuum were very lax, 
 yet he had a natural aversion to anything that savoured of 
 cruelty. He had been a participator in many an unlawful act, 
 but the very mention of murder made him quiver, therefore he 
 looked upon the deed committed by Johnstone and Garfar with 
 horror and loathing. From the former he had learned ample 
 details of the crime, and been offered a share of the money 
 received from Garfar for committing it, but he refused even 
 to take • the bag in his hand containing it. Towards the 
 evening Johnstone had disappeared, and as Armstrong sus- 
 pected him of being lurking somewhere in the neighbom'hood 
 for the purpose of either killing or carrying off the newly born 
 heir to Creeside, he thought he would pay a visit to Garfar,. 
 and, by assuming a complete knowledge of the whole affair, 
 endeavour to ascertain whether his fears were real or 
 groundless. 
 
 Armstrong was no scholar, but he had learned a vast 
 amount of knowledge during his wandering, predatory life. 
 As chief of a band of gipsies, he well knew that if the murder 
 of Creeside was traced to one of his gang, it would be hard to 
 convince the Sheriff of Wigtownshire or the public that he was 
 ignorant of the crime. Garfar he knew by former experience 
 to be mean, selfish, and cruel, and, above all he ever knew, 
 cunning. Therefore, it behoved him, if he wished to save his 
 neck, not only to take energetic measures to frustrate the 
 villains, but to feel his way with the utmost circumspection 
 and prudence. 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CKEE. 59 
 
 ' Come awa', Armstrong,' said Garfar, as the gipsy entered, 
 ' I was jist thinking aboot ye a minute ago.' 
 
 Armstrong knew this to be a falsehood to start with, but 
 having a particular line of policy chalked out for himself, he 
 thanked him and took the seat indicated. 
 
 Seeing that Peggy had left them, to look after the 
 beasts, Armstrong abruptly asked—' Whaur's Johnstone the 
 uichtr 
 
 ' Hoo should I ken ?' asked Garfar, moving uneasily in his 
 chair. 
 
 ' Oh ! I thocht as he had been working for you lately, ye 
 ■wad maybe ken.' 
 
 ' Working for me ? ' reiterated Garfar, as he arose from his 
 seat in evident alarm. 
 
 ' Sit doon, and compose yersel',' said Armstrong, in a low- 
 voice, ' for although I ken a' aboot it, I'm no gaun to inform 
 on ye.' 
 
 ' Hush ! for Gude's sake, speak low. What dae ye ken ? ' 
 
 ' That ye gien Johnstone a hunner golden pieces to pit 
 Creeside into the Miller's Weil, and that he's awa noo to pit 
 the heir oot o' the road. I think ye micht hae gien an auld, 
 tried frien' like me a share o' the spoil.' All this was said by 
 Armstrong in a low whisper, while Garfar sat trembling like 
 an aspen leaf until he heard the concluding sentence, and thea 
 he breathed easier. 
 
 'If I had thocht, Mr Armstrong, that ye wad hae taea 
 the job in haun, I wad hae employed nae ither body ; but I'll 
 tell you what you can dae for me, if Johnstone manages to 
 win in safely to Creeside the nicht, ye can swear, that's if I'm 
 suspected, that ye saw me sitting at my ain fire-end, and I can. 
 also prove that I was at hame when Creeside was murdered 
 this morning — whisht, here's Peggy coming, I'll pay ye 
 again.' 
 
 As Peggy entered, he rose to his feet, and said in a loud 
 voice, ' I'll no gang oot the nicht, Armstrong — Gude nicht.' 
 
 Without deigning to reply, Armstrong hurried forth, men- 
 tally cm'sing Garfar. ' He'll no gang oot the nicht. He made 
 sure o' Peggy an' his red-legged maid o' the byre hearing that,' 
 cried Armstrong, foaming with passion, as he flew rather than 
 walked to Creeside. ' I can swear that I saw him sitting at 
 his ain fire- end if Johnstone is apprehended — as he will be as 
 
~"G0 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 sure as my name's Armstrong. I kent the auld fox wad secure 
 himsel'. Noo, if I had laid an information against him, wad I 
 not hae cut a fine figure. Armstrong's word, in a coort o' law, 
 against the evidence o' the Laird o' Garfar ! And what will 
 his bonnie wife an' servant think but I was wanting him oot 
 before they cam' in, and if my comrade got into trouble, it wad 
 be quite a simple thing to swing Armstrong and him thegither. 
 Ha ! ha ! Garfar, I learned my trade better on the borders 
 than that comes to.' 
 
 It was wearing late when he arrived at Creeside, and a 
 death-like stillness reigned in and around the house. In one 
 apartment lay the lifeless body of Creeside, while in an adjoin- 
 ing room lay the young mother, hovering on the confines of 
 eternity, for Dr Grey was very doubtful of her recovery. Of 
 course, the baby was entrusted to the care of a skilful nurse, 
 called Mary Cameron, whom the doctor had brought from 
 Newton- Stewart. Mary and the infant had retired to a bed- 
 room overlooking the Cree, and as it vpas now ten o'clock they 
 had gone to rest. Perceiving from the light in the kitchen 
 that the servants had not retired for the night, he approached it 
 cautiously and listened to the conversation a moment before 
 rapping. The theme of their talk was the murder, and as Rob 
 Carson, the servant who went for the doctor, described the 
 appearance minutely of his master when he was lying on the 
 bank of the Cree, the rest of the servants, male and female, 
 huddled closer together, and spoke in hollow whispers, as if 
 afraid of their own voices. 
 
 ' Dae ye think Dr Grey will stay a' nicht ? ' asked Jenny 
 Forsyth at the hero of the party, Rob Carson. 
 
 ' Nae doot o' that,' answered Rob ; ' he'll be weel paid for't, 
 let wha like live or die.' 
 
 Jenny declared she was glad o' that. 
 
 ' What are j-e glad o' that for ? I'm sure, as far as I'm con- 
 cerned, I could sleep in the same room wi' Creeside a' 
 
 Lord, wha's that at the door ! ' exclaimed Rob, speaking as if he 
 had the ague. 
 
 ' Jenny, rin' like a giiid lass, and see wha's dunnerin' at 
 the door at this time o' nicht,' said Rob, in a supphcating 
 tone. 
 
 ' Na, I'm blest if I dae onything o' the kind ; gang yersel' 
 sin' ye're sic a brave man.' 
 
THE CKUIVES OF CEEE. 61 
 
 Armstrong- began to think that it was useless rapping 
 again, so he lifted the latch and walked in. 
 
 ' Oh, it's onl}'- Mr Armstrong ! ' exclaimed Rob, regaining 
 his courage. ' Lord, if I had kent it was you, I wadna hae 
 hesitated a minute.' 
 
 ' Wha did ye think it was?' asked the gipsy, looking round 
 him ; but not seeing the man he wanted, he asked if 
 Carmichael was about. 
 
 ' He's in the stable.' 
 
 ' I wish to speak wi' him ; gude nicht.' 
 
 ' They're awfu' queer folk thae gipsies,' observed Eob, 
 gravely, as soon as the door was shut. ' I wadna gang 
 wanderin' aboot at nicht as they dae for ony amount o' siller. 
 I wunner what he'll be wanting wi' Carmichael.' 
 
 About ten minutes after the gipsy had left the kitchen, 
 Carmichael entered it, and told them to draw down the blind 
 of the window, and keep as quiet as mice until he came back 
 again, supposing that to be an hour or two. 
 
 ' What's in the wun noo.?' asked Eob, who, if not extra 
 brave, was very curious. 
 
 ' I'll tell ye a' aboot it before ye sleep ;' as Carmichael said 
 this he rejoined Armstrong, who was waiting for him outside. 
 
 ' We're gaun to hae a storm,' observed the gipsy. ' Is there 
 any place we can shelter in aboot the garden ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, there's a kind o' a simmer hoose convenient to the 
 sleeping apartment o' the nurse ; we can shelter there.' 
 
 ' Come on fast, then, for it's raining in earnest.' 
 
 Scarcely had they ensconsed themselves in the arbour 
 referred to when a brilliant flash of lightning illumined every 
 object in the garden, which ran from the back of the hf)use to 
 the side of the Cree. The vivid flash of lightning was 
 followed by a terrific peal of thunder, and down came the rain 
 in torrents. Gradually the storm increased in violence, 
 and before a quarter of au hour Carmichael and the gipsy 
 were drenched to the skin. 
 
 ' He'll hardly attempt it to-nigbt,' whispered Carmichael. 
 
 ' The very nicht for sic a job ; whist, he's at the window ! ' 
 exclaimed Armstrong, as a vivid flash of lightning revealed 
 every object around them for a moment, and then all was dark 
 as midnight — the hour it was. 
 
62 TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 While the gipsy and Carnuchael were watching for the 
 murderer in the garden, Dr Grey was attending to Mrs 
 M'Lurg. Having administered to her a soothing opiate, she 
 gradually fell into a calm sleep, and the Doctor, leaving a 
 trusty servant at her bedside, retired to partake of some 
 refreshment, of which he stood greatly in need. His supper 
 being over, he threw himself back on the easy chair, and fell 
 into a reverie concerning Ci'eeside's murder, and its probable 
 cause ; but the more he thought about it, the greater became 
 his perplexity. Johnstone and Garfar being the men who saw 
 the murder committed he thought strange, because the latter 
 was the only man who was likely to derive any benefit from 
 his death. As Grey had been many years in the district, 
 the character which Garfar bore for meanness, greed, and 
 cunning was no secret to him ; but hard and worldly as he 
 knew him to be, it was difficult to believe him capable of com- 
 mitting such a horrid crime. With these thoughts floating 
 through his mind, he dropped over asleep. 
 
 Wondering and wearying the servants sat huddled together, 
 listening to the roar of the thunder and the heavy plashing of 
 the rain. When they spoke at all it was ia whispers, and 
 it was only to express their astonishment at Carmichael's 
 absence that ever the silence of the apartment was broken. 
 Suddenly the loud report of a pistol broke the silence of mid- 
 night, making the females scream, and Rob Forsyth shake iu 
 his shoes, as he falteringly exclaimed, ' Lord save us a', what 
 can that be ? ' 
 
 The shot which had alarmed the servants had also aroused 
 the Doctor from his nap, and rushing into the kitchen he 
 ordered Forsyth to accompany him to the back of the house, 
 as he feared there was strange work going on there. As Rob 
 appeared to hesitate, the Doctor Avas in the act of going alone, 
 when the door was thrown open, and Armstrong and Carmichael 
 entered, dragging the apparently lifeless form of Johnstone 
 along with them. 
 
 ' In God's name, men, what is the meaning of this horrid 
 work ? AVho is this 1 or what has he been doing ? ' asked the 
 Doctor, in great agitation. 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CEEE. 63 
 
 ' There lies the murderer of Creeside,' said Armstrong, 
 pointing to the bleeding form lying on the floor. 
 
 ' And he was within an ace of killing the wean that was 
 born this morning,' added Carmichael, ' but oor frien' here cut 
 -short his career.' 
 
 Johnstone gave a convulsive quiver, and a faint groan, and 
 the Doctor having caused his coat and vest to be taken off, 
 •examined the nature of the wound, which he pronoimced at 
 once to be fatal. Causmg Johnstone's head to be raised a 
 little, the Doctor forced a stimulant into his mouth, which had 
 the effect of making the wretch open his eyes, and stare 
 vacantly around him. 
 
 ' Water, give me water,' murmured the dying man. 
 
 Complying with his request, the Doctor knelt down beside 
 him and asked him who had employed him to murder 
 Creeside. 
 
 ' It was Garfar ! Curse him ! Where's the gold he gave 
 me ? ' As he muttered these words, he clutched at his breast, 
 from which the blood was profusely flowing, and fell back 
 •dead. 
 
 ' This is awful !' exclaimed the Doctor, rising up and looking 
 to Armstrong for an explanation of the tragic occurrences of 
 the day and night. 
 
 Armstrong began and briefly narrated what the reader 
 already knows — how that G-arfar waited upon him on the day 
 on which the banns were proclaimed between Mr M'Lurg and 
 Jessie, offering him a sum of money if he agreed to destroy 
 the life of the youthful bride, an offer which he scornfully 
 refused; that when he heard of Creeside's murder in the 
 morning he naturally suspected Garfar, but had no idea that 
 one of his gang was mixed up in it until he found a club, 
 belonging to the man lying there, covered with blood ; but as 
 our readers already know all that he rehearsed to the Doctor, 
 we need not weary them with the repetition. 
 
 'Armstrong,' said the Doctor, ' I depend on you having the 
 corpse of this miscreant removed as soon as possible. You 
 must be aware that the existence of the dear young lady upstairs 
 trembles between life and death ; and,' he continued, turning 
 to the servants, who stood trembling around, ' if any of you 
 are so imprudent as to alarm your mistress by telling her of 
 this terrible affair, you will be the cause of her death ; so. 
 
('I TALES AND TEADITIOXS. 
 
 "beware. I will now go up and see how Mrs M'Lurg is doinp:, 
 and then I will accompanj' you to the Garfar, for M'Dowall 
 must not escape.' 
 
 As soon as the Doctor retired, Armstrong" and Carmichael 
 removed the body of Johnstone to the stable. 
 
 'The Doctor needna threaten me,' said Itob Forsj'th, as soou 
 as he found himself alone with the girls, ' for I wadna stop 
 here after what has occurred if thej' would mak a prince o' me.' 
 
 'Which they are very unlikely to do,' dryly observed 
 Jenny. 
 
 ' Ye needna taunt me, my leddy, for if ye wad speak tiie 
 truth, }-e're jist as scared o' deid folk as I am.' 
 
 ' I'm no' the least afeerd o' deid folk ; my certes, it's tlie 
 livin' anes that frichtens me. 15ut ye may gang whuiu- ye 
 like and when j'e like, Eob, for tae speak plainly I wadua be 
 named wi' a lad that was flied o' a bogle.' 
 
 How much more Jenny might have told of her mind is un- 
 certain, for the Doctor's entrance cut short the altercation. 
 
 Day was breaking as the Doctor, Armstrong, and Carmichael 
 sallied forth for the Garfar. The storm had subsided, but the 
 Cree was running from bank to brae as they hurried along, 
 determined to capture Garfnr at all hazards. Leaving them on 
 their way, let us hasten on before them aud see what the Laird 
 is doing-. 
 
 Hour after hour Garfar had sat in his room waiting John- 
 stone's return, but when day began to break and there was no 
 appearance of him, he experienced that mental agony known 
 onlj' to the guiltj', and which it is impossible to describe. 
 Throughout the silent watches of the night he had applied often 
 to the bottle, so that at last he was neither waking nor sleeping, 
 but in a kind of mental stniior, from which he was rudelj- 
 startled bj' a loud knocking at the door. 
 
 ' It canna be Johnstone,' he muttered, ' for he kens o' the 
 back door being left open for him;' as he said this he arose, went 
 to the window, and gazed out into the court. It was yet 
 scarcely clear, but through the grey mist of the calm Septem- 
 ber morning he distinguished the forms of Messrs Grey, Arm- 
 strong, and Carmichael. ' It's a' up wi' me !' he cried, as lie 
 fled from the window and made for the back door as fast as his 
 unsteady legs -would carry him. But the gipsy had seen him 
 at the window, and judguig from his suddeu disappearance he 
 
THE CEUIVES OF CKEE. (55- 
 
 meant to effect his escape, he cried to the Doctor and Carmichael 
 to guard the front door, while be hurried round, as quickly as 
 he could, to the rear of the house. 
 
 This, however, was a matter of some difficulty, and before 
 Armstrong had opened gates and waded through filth, fully five 
 minutes had elapsed before he reached the rear of the house, 
 giving, therefore, Garfar a fair start. Armstrong, however, saw 
 him flying in the direction of the Cree, and being swifter, by far, 
 of foot, he soon got within hailing distance. 
 
 ' Stop, ye murdering loon ! stop,' shouted Armstrong at the top 
 of bis voice, but this made Garfar redouble his speed. On fled the 
 Laird, regardless of bush and brake, until he reached the ford, 
 which he had often crossed when there was as strong a spate, and 
 as he could now hear the gipsy's footsteps rapidly approaching, 
 without a moment's reflection he dashed into the stream. But 
 the mental anxiety through which he had passed during the 
 night, and his frequent demands on the bottle, unfitted him for 
 encountering successfully the force of the stream, and before he 
 had proceeded many yards he was swept off his feet and borne 
 like a bubble on the surface of the rapid current. With one 
 wild shriek he sank beneath the impetuous water, and the next 
 moment all was still. 
 
 Armstrong turned away from the bank of the Cree with a 
 shudder, and as he did so he vowed to amend his life, a resolu- 
 tion which he kept. He found the Doctor and Carmichael 
 anxiously awaiting his return, to whom he briefly related Gar- 
 far's lamentable end. 
 
 Before the conclusion of the daj', A\'illie Blair, the saddler, 
 was restored to his friends ; and if the parting between him and 
 Mary was a sad one, the reader can imagine with what joy she 
 welcomed him home, with an untarnished name. A short time 
 afterwards they were united in marriage, and Mary never saw 
 him go to the Cree to fish but she remembered the fearful crime 
 with which he was charged. 
 
 The bonnie widow of Creeside, as she was invariably called 
 in the neighbourhood, gradually recovered her health, but never 
 her youthful buoyancy of spirits. She lived to see her son's 
 children romping around her on the banks of the Cree. 
 
 Old Mrs M'Lurg did not long survive her son's death, but 
 was quietly laid beside her forefathers in the ancient kirkyard 
 of Minnigaff. 
 
■66 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 Peggy, owing to her husband dying without making a will, 
 was forced to leave the Garfar, and as the son born to Creeside 
 became its owner, Armstrong was put in possession as overseer, 
 the duties of which he faithfully discharged until his death, 
 which did not occur for many years after the death of Garfar. 
 
 Our tale is now told, and the moral of it may be found in the 
 words of the great Apostle Paul — ' The love of money is the root 
 of all evil.' This is the greatest sin of the nineteenth century. 
 Men toil, cheat, and murder to obtain it, and after all, it 
 yields no happiness. We have seen lumpers on the quays 
 stagger beneath loads of silver and gold ; and as they carried 
 or rolled the glittering dross ashore in their rags, with the per- 
 spiration falling from their brows like rain, we could not help 
 <3xclaiming, ' Is it for this we trample on everything divine and 
 human ? ' 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIE. ' G7 
 
 KIRKDANDIE FAIR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S REVENGE! 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 We never saw Kirkdandie Pair in its palmy days, but we had 
 -the happiness of seeing it ere its glory had entirely departed. 
 We say happiness, for it was impossible for the most phlegmatic 
 mortal to stand on the hill which commands it, and look down 
 on the merry groups of lads and lasses assembled on the green 
 beneath, without experiencing pleasureable sensations. In the 
 foreground stood the solitary ruined chapel, about which history 
 says little but that it was dedicated to the Holy Trinity, 
 -and emanated from the Church of Girvan, to which parish it 
 formerly belonged. Strange as it may read, around that solitary 
 old chapel, in the midst of a wild moorland district, from time 
 immemorial was held a fair, which annually took place on the 
 last Saturday of May. Being the only market in the year for 
 the parishes of Girvan, Barr, Ballantrae, Colmonell, Straiten, 
 and Dailly, it was numerously attended. Booths and stands 
 were erected for the entertainment of the gathered throng and 
 the disposal of merchandise, which, as there were no roads, 
 was chiefly brought on horseback. Here those travelling mer- 
 chants, whose avocation, like Othello's, is now gone, but who, 
 before communication with the towns came to be so freely 
 opened up, formed nearly the sole medium of sale or barter 
 among the rural population, assembled in great numbers, bring- 
 ing with them the tempting wares of England and the Continent. 
 If, with the magician's power, we could recall a vision of Kirk- 
 dandie centuries ago, how grand and interesting would be the 
 spectacle ! The bivouac of the pedlars with their pack horses, 
 who generally arrived the night before the fair ; the bustle of 
 active preparation by earliest dawn ; and the gradual gathering 
 
CH TALES AXI) TRADITIONS. 
 
 of the plaided and bonneted population, from the various path- 
 way's across the hills or down the straths, as the day advanced, 
 would be a picture of deep interest. Until recently, changed 
 as are the times, the gathering was a truly picturesque sight, 
 and one which, when once seen, could never be forgotten. 
 
 But besides the fame acquired bj' Kirkdandie as a market,, 
 it was still more celebrated as the Donnyhrooh of Scotland. 
 The feuds of the j'ear, whether new or old, were here reckoned 
 over, and generally' settled by an appeal to phj'sical force. It 
 Avas no uncommon thing, towards the close of the fair, to see 
 fifty or a hundred a-side engaged with fists or sticks, as chance 
 might favour. Smuggling, after the Union, became very pre- 
 valent throughout Scotland, and no^vhere more so than in Ayr- 
 shire and Gallowaj'. A great many small lairdships were then 
 in existence, the proprietors of which, almost to a man, were 
 associated for the purpose of carr3'iug on a contraband trade, 
 l^rom locality as well as union, they lived bej'ond the reach or 
 fear of the law. At Kirkdandie future operations were planned, 
 and old scores adjusted, though not ahvaj-s in an amicable 
 manner. 
 
 The fair day, on which our tale opens, was all that pleasure- 
 seekers could desire ; and at an early hour lads and lasses 
 might have been seen in hundreds wending their way over the 
 hills to Kirkdandie. 
 
 Willie Brown, and Xannie, his sister, from the Ship Inn,. 
 Girvan, had arrived the day before, bringing with them their 
 tent, and a youth about eighteen summers, Avho assisted them 
 to erect it in the most advantageous position. The landlord of 
 the Ship Inn was also captain and owner of the ' Maid of Car- 
 rick,' and famed far and near as a fearless smuggler. Nannie, 
 in common with the rest of the publicans to\vards the close of 
 the last century and beginning of this one, had always ' rowth 
 o' customers,' for, in addition to the goodness of the whisky, 
 she invariably brought in ^\•ith the second half pint a large 
 supply of cakes, cheese, and haggis. Whether it was owing' 
 to the ease with which Willie made his monej', or the large- 
 ness and goodness of Nannie's heart, we cannot say, but the 
 Ship Inn was noted for a most liberal supply of eatables to- 
 men on the spree. As the various groups began to arrive. 
 Brown stood at the door of his teot, in company with the youth 
 previously' alluded to, describing the peculiarities of this and 
 
KUJKDANDIE FAIR. CO 
 
 that one, to tlie evident delight of his companion, whose dark 
 ■ «yes, although twinkling with merriment, seemed to read you 
 at a glance. 
 
 ' Here comes a lot o' my customers frae Girvan,' observed 
 Brown. ' They're a' weavers, and real clever chiels some o' 
 them are, although maistly Erish. That yin in front is a bit 
 o' a poet like yersel', Robin.' 
 
 'Is he!' exclaimed the young man eagerly, 'I wish you 
 could introduce me to him.' 
 
 ' He'll likely be in here before the fair's over, but he's looked 
 ■upon as a regular fule by his craft. Hearken hoo they're 
 laughing at something he's been saying.' 
 
 ' What's his name!' asked the young man. 
 
 ' Billy Bannister.' 
 
 ' What a curious name.' 
 
 ' Oh, he's frae the north o' Ireland. Here's the beginniug o' 
 aue o' his sangs — for I hae him sometimes in wi' me — 
 
 ' As I went down by Bloody Bridge, 
 Where there they sell strong beer and whisky o', etc. ' ' 
 
 ' Oh ! curse ye, Brown!' exclaimed the young man, laugh- 
 ing immoderately, ' you're making that for my amusement.' 
 
 ' I'm daein' naething o' the kind ; Billy thinks it's first-class, 
 and the weavers strengthen him in his opinion.' 
 
 ' But is there not a celebrated bard belonging to the Barr ? ' 
 inquired Robin. ' I think I've heard a poem of his ia which 
 he describes the Laird of Changue encountering the devil in a 
 fair stand-up fight and vanquishing him.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the story goes that Changue sold himsel' to the deil 
 for siller ; but the truth is, Robin, M'Harg makes his money like 
 mysel', by paying as little duty to the Government as possible. 
 However, this has naething to do wi' the veracious laureate o' 
 the hills. When the deil cam' to claim his bargain, Changue 
 drew a circle wi' his sword, and, without invoking saint or 
 scripture, invited his Satanic Majesty into the ring, and the 
 battle began. 
 
 "The devU wi' his cloven foot 
 Thought Changue out o'er the ring to kick, 
 But his sharp sword it made the slit 
 
 A wee bit langer, 
 Auld clootie bit his nether lip 
 
 Wi' spite an' anger.'' 
 
70 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' The poet then goes on to describe how the deil got his 
 sting, horns, and wings cut off, and then winds up in this 
 manner — 
 
 "Then clootie gaed a horrid hooh, 
 And Changne, nae doot, was feared enough, 
 But hit him hard across the mou' 
 
 Wi' his sharp steel ; 
 He tumbl't back oot ower the cleugh, 
 
 Changue nail'd the deil! " 
 
 ' But as I'm an honest publican, here comes Changue.' 
 
 Scarcely had these words' passed Brown's lips when the 
 surly Laird o' Changue, accompanied by his winsome 
 daughter Nannie, stepped forward and shook the publican's 
 companion warmly by the hand, exclaiming, as he did so, ' Is 
 it really possible, Burns, ye hae cam' a' the gate frae Kirk- 
 oswald to see oor muirlan' lasses ? ' 
 
 ' If the stock's anything like the sample j'e hae brought 
 along with you. Laird, I'll not regret my journey,' said 
 Bums, as he bent his dark luminous eyes on the blushing 
 maiden. 
 
 ' If ye're pleased wi' the lassie, tak' her, in Gude's name, 
 alang wi' ye, and let her see the fair, for I hae a little business 
 to transact wi' the landlord o' the Ship.' Leaving the 
 two celebrated smugglers to adjust their scores, and arrange 
 their plans. Burns took the arm of the lovely girl, and, 
 avoiding the throngest part of the fair, walked along in the 
 direction of the ruined chapel, until they reached the holy well, 
 in the rear of the hoary ediiice. Inviting Nannie to sit down 
 beside him, on a grassy mound, which commanded an admir- 
 able view of the fair. Burns, young as he then was, soon broke 
 the barrier which existed between them as strangers, by the 
 brilliancy of his wit, the keenness of his satire, and his inherent 
 perception of the awkward and ridiculous in either man or 
 woman. Burns, at this period of his life, was scarcely heard of 
 beyond the circle in which he moved, and amongst the rustics 
 with whom he associated he was known to be clever in conversa- 
 tion, and good at making a verse of a song, but that was all. In 
 this manner they generally spoke of the heir of immortal fame. 
 Ilis social status was so low that he had to mix and mingle 
 with men who, from want of education, could neither appreciate 
 jior understand his genius. 
 
IvIEKDANDIE FAIE. 71 
 
 As Nannie sat beside the man who was designed to sing her 
 praises in deathless song, she felt fascinated by the easy flow 
 of his conversation, and both the flight of time and her sweet- 
 heart were forgotten. 
 
 The noise and uproar of the fair was at its height. Pipers, 
 fiddlers, and singers were surrounded by noisy groups of lads 
 and lasses, dancing and yelling like bedlamites, when suddenly 
 a fight commenced before the tent of Willie Brown, which in a 
 moment threatened to put an end to the fair. Nannie sat until 
 she saw her father engaged with the Laird of Chapeldonnan, 
 and then rushed, with a scream, into the thickest of the melee. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Ship Inn, occupied by Willie Brown and his sister Nannie, 
 stands yet at the entrance of the old kirkyard of Girvan, but, 
 like Kirkdandie, its glory and greatness has departed. At the 
 present time, it resembles a man who has been on the " spree " 
 for years, with threadbare coat and napless hat. In its present 
 state of dilapidation, it would do credit to the worst rookery or 
 slum in Britain, Indeed, it looks as if, at no distant date, it 
 would tumble into the kirkyard it overlooks, and lie down 
 qnietly beside a number of its victims, who slumber peacefully 
 in its shade. 
 
 The last time we saw the ' Old Ship,' as it is famiKarly called 
 by the residents, its windows were stnffed with straw and old 
 hats, and it looked as if it had sent its last shred of respecta- 
 bility to it's uncle's, as many a good fellow did who frequented 
 it. But, we would far rather record the virtues than the follies 
 of our companions. of earlier years. 
 
 Some to Australia strayed afar ; 
 
 Some tried their fortune on the main ; 
 Some followed Colin Campbell's star ; 
 
 Some found a grave on India's plain ; 
 The wandering wind the requiem raves 
 Of some who sleep beneath the waves. 
 
 But to resume : until recently, the ' Ship ' did a good business 
 in spirits and with them, or there were many story-tellers in the 
 parish. 
 
 Convenient to the ' Ship,' and in one of the low thatched 
 
i^ TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 liouses which formed the eastern boundary of the ]virkyard, 
 lesided Mrs Sauuders, who had an only son named Jock. 
 The old lady kept a twopenny lodging-house for the accommo- 
 dation of both man and beast — the tramps generally bearing 
 the latter animals on their backs. Jock being, as has been 
 already remarked, her only son, was apprenticed to the weaving, 
 but, not liking the business, he took to drinking whisky, at 
 which he earned a considerable amount of celebrity. In con- 
 sequence of Jock's predilection for alcohol, he was seldom absent 
 from the ' Ship,' and, as a tumbler full was neither here nor 
 there to the jolly captain of the Olaid of Carrick,' Jock became 
 -a sort of appendage to the Inn, and as such, learned and knew 
 many of its secrets. 
 
 .Jock was admired generally by the patrons of the ' Ship ' 
 for his goodness of temper, obliging manners, and strange 
 eccentricities. Under the influence of drink, he had one song 
 that he invariably sung and acted, called ' The Crow.' lu the 
 execution of this strange composition he generally stood on a 
 chair, and when it came to the part where the 'Crow' was 
 supposed to fly, he effected this difficult feat by flapping with 
 his long bony arms, and falling from whatever pedestal he was 
 l)erched on upon the floor, from which he had generally to 
 be carried to his mother's padding Icane. 
 
 Now to every customer who frequented the ' Ship,' except 
 the Laird of Chapeldonnan, Jock would perform for a glass. He 
 had taken an aversion to the Laird, and neither threats nor 
 whisky would induce him to sing to M'Crindle. For this obsti- 
 nacy the Laird hated him, and Jock sincerely reciprocated the 
 feeling. 
 
 ' Are j'e gaun to sing me the "Crow " to-day V shouted the 
 Laird, as Jock entered Brown's tent at Kirkdandie. 
 
 ' No, I'm blest if I do,' answered Jock, who spoke with a 
 liard Irish accent. 
 
 ' Then I'll make ye, ye ugly looking scarecrow,' cried the 
 Laird, griping the half-starved wretch by the neck, and nearly 
 shaking him out of his old black coat. 
 
 ■ Come, come, Chapeldonnan, hands off,' cried Changue. 
 
 ' ]\Iind yer ain affairs, M'Harg ; I'll make hun perform to 
 me, or I'll pitch him into the Stinchar.' 
 
 ' That was the way you served Glentig from Ballantrae, ye 
 murdering scoundrel, because he wouldn't let you have his 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIK. 73 
 
 brandy for nothing,' shouted Jock, who had now safely retreated 
 behiad Changue. 
 
 This allusion to Glentig was an unpardonable offence, be- 
 cause it was true, and brandishing his heavy cudgel he aimed 
 a savage blow at Jock, which missing him, fell with a thud on 
 the right shoulder of Changue. 
 
 ' I had it in for ye at ony rate, ye false loon,' cried 
 Changue, as he brought his oaken staff, with fearful effect, 
 over the head of the Laird of Chapeldonnan. 
 
 In a moment all was confusion and uproar, and, as each had 
 their partizans in the fair, the fight soon became general. 
 
 Burns, who had rushed after Nannie, soon found himself in 
 the midst of the drunken mob, but hke many others in the 
 world, he found it easier getting into troubled waters than 
 •escaping out of them. Hither and thither he was borne along 
 with the infuriated mob. Tents were overthrown, stands 
 of valuable goods trampled on ; and men fell fast, amidst 
 the cries of ' Girvan for ever ! ' ' Weel done, Ballantrae ! ' 
 ' Hand to the loons, Changue, for the credit o' the Barr ! ' and 
 .similar war cries. How the fight would have terminated is 
 hard to conjecture, had not the cry of ' The Coastguard is com- 
 ing ! ' been heard above the din of battle. 
 
 In a moment hostilities ceased, and all ranged themselves 
 under the dauntless Laird of Changue. No matter what the 
 feud might be, the Revenue Officers were regarded as the com- 
 mon enemy of all, and as such they unitedly prepared to resist 
 them. 
 
 ' I'll tell ye what it is, freens,' cried Changue, as he took off 
 his Kilmarnock bonnet and wiped the perspiration from his 
 brow, 'it's weel enough kent that they're here after Jamie 
 Gordon, the mate o' the "Maid o' Carrick," wha's noo alang wi' 
 the skipper in the tent ower there, an' if ye allow him to be 
 captured by the landsharks wha hae made a descent on the fair, 
 never say ye belang to the land o' Bruce again.' 
 
 A vociferous cheer greeted this harangue, and every man 
 flourished his stick in defiance of the coastguardsmen, who, num- 
 bering about a dozen, stood at a short distance with drawn 
 cutlasses, and pistols in their belts. 
 
 ' Let us rally round Captain Brown's tent,' again shouted 
 Changue, ' and let the lubbers dare to touch him.' 
 
 But Changue's advice came too late, for Captain Thomson, 
 
74 TALES AND TBADITIONS. 
 
 "who commanded the coastguards, had been secretly informed, 
 by a paid spy, that Gordon was in Brown's tent, and had, Uke 
 an experienced ofiScer, divided his men into two divisions, leaving 
 one party among the brushwood which grew along the banks 
 of the Stinchar, with strict orders not to move until the annual 
 fight took place when the tents vrould be sure to be emptied,, 
 and then to capture Gordon, whUe he and his division lay down 
 on the hillside that overlooked the fair. 
 
 As Changue and his followers were preparing to defend 
 Brown's tent a shrill whistle was heard from the hill above 
 them, and to the great astonishment of the smugglers they 
 beheld Thomson withdraw his men and leave them in undis- 
 turbed possession of the ground. 
 
 ' Curse ye for a set of cowardly loons,' cried Nannie Brown, 
 rushing frantically in among Changue's bodyguard. ' Is it no a 
 nice thing to see ane o' the best smugglers on the Carrick coast 
 borne awa' a prisoner, Avhile the men o' Kirkoswald, Girvau, 
 and Ballantrae are staunin' staring at ane anither like silly 
 nowts?' 
 
 ' Miss Brown, ye're clean demented. What dae ye mean ? '' 
 demanded Changue. 
 
 ' What dae I mean'?' reiterated Nannie, scornfully ; ' dae ye 
 see Thomson and his men gaun ower the hill yonder ? Weel, 
 he has got Jamie Gordon along with him a prisoner ! ' 
 
 A j'ell of rage and disappointment greeted this announce- 
 ment. To complete the dismay of the smugglers, Nannie 
 burst into tears. 
 
 ' It canua be helped,' said Changue, in a desponding tone, 
 ' for before we could reach the tap o' the hill, the coastguards- 
 men wad be nearly at the " Seven Sisters." But, cheer up, 
 Miss Brown! I hae helped a frien' oot o' a waur scrape 
 than this.' 
 
 With this assurance, Nannie was obliged to be satisfied,. 
 and retired, wringing her hands and sobbing bitterly, to the 
 tent, followed by all the leading smugglers of the district. 
 
 While these stirring incidents were transpu'ing, Burns 
 remained passively looking on. The fame of the fah had 
 induced him to visit it, but if the deeper emotions of his 
 highly sensitive nature were stirred, it was with contempt and 
 abhorrence. Beauty, wit, and sentiment had for him irresis- 
 tible charms ; but anything savouring, in the least degree, of 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIR. 75 
 
 savage brutality made him shudder. Seeing, therefore, that 
 the storm had subsided, he approached Nannie with the inten- 
 tion of bidding her good-bye. 
 
 'Ye micht come hame wi' me,' said Nannie, with her 
 sweetest smile, 'for it's mair than probable my faither will 
 gang to Girvan to-night and see what can be done to extricate 
 Gordon oot o' his difficulties.' 
 
 Burns' heart was made of too tender material to resist such 
 an invitation, so, after bidding Brown and his sister good 
 evening, he started for the Changue. 
 
 CHAPTER III. . 
 
 ' Stumpy,' the ancient prison of Girvan, stood on the spot now 
 occupied by the Town's Buildings. It was anything but a 
 pretentious, awe-inspiring edifice, but it was equal to the 
 requirements of the age; for, notwithstanding our boasted 
 civilization, crime has increased. Then, Jamie Ross, an old, 
 respectable man, who acted in the double capacity of bellman 
 and officer, was quite sufficient to keep the town and country 
 around it in order ; now it requires three or four policemen to 
 discharge the onerous duties of the parish. The population 
 was nearly as great, and men drank as much, if not more than 
 they do now ; but as a celebrated toper, named M. Govannie, 
 once remarked to us — The whisky was better. 
 
 But to return to our tale. The fair of Kirkdandie was 
 ended, but not the spirit of animosity and revenge engendered 
 at it. Jamie Gordon, the mate of the 'Maid of Carrick,' 
 was safely consigned to ' Stumpy ;' and in the parlour of the 
 Ship Inn were assembled Willie Brown, the landlord ; Jamie 
 M'Harg, of Changue ; Adams, of Glentig, and Nannie, the 
 hostess and the affianced bride of Gordon. 
 
 ' Something maun be dune the nicht, lads,' observed Brown, 
 meditatively, ' for ye see he will be hoisted off to Ayr in the 
 morning.' 
 
 ' That's what I hae been thinking about since we left the 
 fair, an' I'll be hanged if I can see my road at a',' said 
 Changue. 
 
 ' Nannie here micht help us a wee, but I'm amaist ashamed 
 to suggest what I was thinking about,' said Glentig. 
 
7G TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' If it's onything that I can dae to assist puir Jamie, ye may 
 depend on me doing my best, Laird,' cried Nannie, eagerly. 
 
 'It's weel eneucli kent he's yer lad,' obseiFed Glentig, 
 ' through the hale toon.' 
 
 ' I suppose sae,' answered Nannie, demurely ; ' but I dinna 
 see hoo that's to help him, puir fallow !' 
 
 ' But I dae. Ross will allow ye in to see him, when he 
 wouldna thraw the key in the lock for me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I daresay I could get in to see him in the morning.' 
 
 ' But ye maun see him to-night. It's scarcely ten o'clock. 
 Tak' ower a bottle o' brandy wi' ye, and gie it to Eoss. Tell 
 him ye want to speak twa or three words to Jamie, and be sure 
 to be greetin' at the time.' 
 
 'She'll manage that pau't o' the business nicely,' inter- 
 rupted her brother, drily. 
 
 ' Silence, Willie, tae we hear the plot,' interposed Changue. 
 
 ' He'll hardly refuse ye admittance, and as sune as ever ye 
 win in, cast aff yer cap and gown, mak' Jamie don them as 
 quickly as he can, and march oot. Of course, ye'll hae to 
 remain in " Stumpy" till the morning.' 
 
 ' Bravo ! Glentig,' shouted Changue. 
 
 ' That's a capital scheme.' 
 
 ' Dinna halloo till ye're oot o' the wud,' said the landlord o' 
 the ' Ship,' quietly. ' The plan's guid enough, but it's the 
 winning in is the great difficulty.' 
 
 ' But it's worth a trial at ony rate,' persisted Glentig. 
 
 As it was the only feasible plan the smugglers could think 
 of, and as Nannie was impatient to be gone, they agreed to 
 make the trial. 
 
 Suggesting to Nannie the propriety of putting on two gowns, 
 so as she would have one to spare for her sweetheart, in the 
 course of a few minutes she was tripping across the ' Plushes ' 
 to the residence of the town officer, and as he lived convenient 
 to ' Stumpy,' she reached it by eleven o'clock. 
 
 As soon as Nannie knocked at the door, Mr Ross demanded 
 who wanted to see him at such an untimely hour of the night. 
 
 ' A frien frae the " Ship." Open the door, Mr Eoss, I'll no' 
 detain ye a minute.' 
 
 ' Oh ! it's you, Nannie,' said the town's officer, as he un- 
 barred the door. ' I was preparing to gang to bed ; but come 
 awa' ben a minute.' 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIE. 77 
 
 ' There's a drap o' brandy Willie sent ower, an' ye may 
 swear it's guid,' said Nannie, reaching him the bottle. 
 
 'The proof o' the puddin's the preeing o't,' observed Mr 
 Ross, as he lifted a tumbler off the dresser and poured out a 
 lucky glass, tasted it, smacked his lips approvingly, and then 
 remarked mentally, ' It's no for naething the glede whistles,' 
 but he added aloud, ' it's real guid.' 
 
 ' I'm glad it pleases ye, for I am gaun to ask a great favour 
 frae ye.' 
 
 ' I was thinkin' sae, Miss Brown,' said the town official, 
 with as stern a look as he could assume ; for he felt confident 
 Nannie's visit had reference to his prisoner. 
 
 ' I wad be for ever yer debtor, Mr Ross, if ye wad let me 
 in to see Jamie for a minute or sae.' 
 
 ' It's as muckle as my coat's worth, Nannie, to do anything 
 o' the kind,' interrupted Mr Ross. ' I'm bound to produce him 
 in the morning ; and ye ken Thomson has been maist anxious 
 to secure him this mony a day.' 
 
 ' I ken a' that,' replied Nannie, bursting into tears. ' But if 
 he's marched off to Ayr in the morning, I may never see him 
 again. Oh ! what am I to dae ? ' 
 
 ' Confound Thomson and the coastguard baith ! ' exclaimed 
 Ross, who might have resisted the soothing effects of the 
 brandy, but not the handsome maiden's tears ; ' I'll let ye in 
 to see him for ten minutes. I suppose the street's quiet ? ' 
 
 ' I never met a livin' body frae I left the " Ship " till I came 
 here.' 
 
 ' Weel, ye wadna meet mony deid anes, I'm thinking ; but 
 as they're yer door neighbours ye should ken mair aboot them 
 than me,' said Ross, laughing, as he lifted the lantern and led 
 the way to ' Stumpy.' 
 
 Looking cautiously around him, he whispered to Nannie 
 not to wait over ten minutes, and then opened the door and 
 admitted her, taking the precaution, however, of locking it 
 after her. 
 
 Nannie had been scarcely five minutes inside, when a low 
 rap announced the interview to be over, and Nannie, as he 
 supposed, emerged with her head muffled in her plaid — a 
 custom yet common in the district. 
 
 ' Ye haena been lang,' observed the good-hearted jailer, as 
 he carefully locked the door. ' Puir thing, she's cryin' that sair 
 
78 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 that she canna speak,' he muttered, as he ■watched her walking 
 rapidly away in the direction of the Ship Inn. 
 
 The room in which the smugglers sat, during Nannie's 
 absence, had a door which opened into the kirkyard; and they 
 knew if Gordon effected his escape, it would be through it he 
 would come in. 
 
 Strange as it may appear to some of our young readers, the 
 door which communicated with the churchyard, like every 
 other back-door attached to public-houses, was the best paying 
 entrance. "When it is borne in mind that until recently the 
 ■^ Holy Fair,' or ' Preachings,' in connection with the dispensa- 
 tion of the Sacrament, was held here yearly, and that everyone 
 was supposed to take a refreshment between the services, it 
 can easily be imagined the necessity there was for a door open- 
 ing into the kirkyard. Those who have never witnessed a 
 scene of the kind may consider Burns' ' Holy Fair ' a piece of 
 exaggerated profanity, but it is literally true. On Preaching 
 Saturday morning, old and young might have been seen hurrying 
 to the churchyard, carrying deals, chairs, and stools, and securing 
 the most advantageous positions for hearing the ministers from 
 the various parishes around. There was no Free Kirk then, 
 and but few dissenters of any denomination, consequently, when 
 the population of four or five parishes congregated together, 
 all more or less dry, the Ship Inn did a roaring trade. 
 
 But if the door, opening into the graveyard, afforded the 
 ' godly thrang ' the easj' means of ingress and egress to the 
 ' Ship,' its facilities for smugglers were invaluable. The only 
 barrier between the shore and the ' Ship ' was the low wall 
 which ran along the west side of the kirkyard. Of course the 
 (iirvan water was to cross, but this was but a trifling affair to 
 a class who might be considered amphibious. 
 
 ' There's some one rapping at the back door,' exclaimed the 
 Laird of Changue, interrupting Glentig in the midst of a most 
 exciting affray with the coastguard at Ballantrae. 
 
 'Nannie has scarcely time to be back j'ct,' observed the 
 landlord, rising and going towards the door. Unbarring the 
 door, he peeped cautiously out, and, to his evident chagrin, he 
 perceived no one but Jock Saunders. 
 
 ' Could ye no hae come in by the front door, ye hungry 
 looking thief ! ' exclaimed Brown, in a tone that was anything 
 but complimentary. 
 
KIEKDANDIE PAIB. 79 
 
 ' No,' answered Jock, mysteriouslj'-, ' I was afraid of being- 
 seen by Chapeldonnan, who is hovering about, in company 
 ■with the captain of the coastguard. Let me in, I have 
 something to tell you that will astonish you and your friends.' 
 
 Jock Saunders, although fond of a dram, vras as great a 
 coward as ever trod the earth, and the fearless landlord of the 
 ' Ship ' knew this vsrell. Gripping Jock, therefore, unceremoni- 
 ously by the collar of his old black coat, he dragged him inside 
 and shut the door. 
 
 'Whaur hae ye been since ye left the fair?' asked the 
 landlord, as soon as he had given him a glass to put the 
 ' shaking ' off him. 
 
 ' At the back veindow of the Star Inn, listening to a conver- 
 sation between Chapeldonnan and Capt. Thomson aboot you,' 
 answered Jock. 
 
 ' Tak' care noo, Jock, what ye're saying, for ye ken ye 
 sometimes shoot wi' a lang bow.' 
 
 ' That I may never drink another glass — ' 
 
 ' Whist ! we want nae swearin' here. Tell us, like a decent 
 'Chiel, what ye heard?' 
 
 'Well, you know whether you and Chapeldonnan have 
 made a bargain about a cargo of whisky or not.' 
 
 'Weel. Whatmair?' asked the landlord. 
 
 ' To be delivered to him at the Howe Port, by you or 
 •Glentig.' 
 
 ' What mair did ye hear at the back window, man ? Got wi't 
 at ance. Ye ken ye're amang friens here,' exclaimed the landlord, 
 while an ominous frown rested on his weather-beaten face. 
 
 ' He's to let Thomson know to an hour when you will be 
 there, and of course he will be waiting to secure you and the 
 ■crew of the " Maid of Carrick." ' 
 
 ' Was there naething said aboot siller, Jock ? Glentig, help 
 him to anither dram,' said the landlord, who kept pacing the 
 room like a caged tiger. 
 
 ' Whatever money Chapeldonnan pays you for the cargo, 
 Thomson has promised to repay him double for the informa- 
 tion, and, to throw you off your guard, he's to call to-morrow 
 and apologise for the row in the fair to-day.' 
 
 ' There's a croon to ye, Jock. Noo, rin awa' hame like a 
 decent lad, an' I'll gie ye and Charlie Johnstone yer mornin' 
 "when ye call.' 
 
80 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 ' God bless you, Captain,' exclaimed Jock, as lie sm-veyed 
 the five shilling piece with delight. 
 
 ' Nae blarney, Jock, rin awa'.' 
 
 ' I would like the smallest sensation in a bottle to keep me 
 company through the night, if your honour would kindly give 
 it to me,' said Jock, offering back the money. 
 
 'There's a bottle, noo be off an' see Wal the cobbler uf? 
 quick as ye like.' 
 
 ' May I never drink another glass — ' 
 
 A rap at the back door cut short his protestation, and 
 Brown, who was in no amiable temper, dragged him to the 
 front door, shoved him out and bolted it, and then hurried to 
 the back and admitted Jamie Gordon. 
 
 After laughing heartily at the row there would be about 
 ' Stumpy ' in the morning, when Thomson ^vould come to con- 
 vey his prisoner to Ayr, they commenced to discuss the best 
 mode of revenging the base conduct of Chapeldonuan. To the 
 smugglers of Carrick his character was well known. That he 
 was greedy, mean, and grasping to the last degree, they were 
 perfectly aware, but none of them thought he would so basely 
 betray the men with whom he associated. There could be no 
 doubt now but Gordon's capture was attributable to him, and 
 when they were calm enough to compare notes, many and 
 bitter were the imprecations invoked on his head. After a 
 long and stormy debate, it was finallj' agreed to adopt Brown's 
 plan of revenge ; but we must not anticipate its denouement. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Havixg settled the above point to their entire satisfaction, 
 Gordon's affairs next occupied their attention. 
 
 ' Ye must leave this immediately, Jamie,' observed Brown,. 
 ' for ye'U no be safe here in the rnorning.' 
 
 ' Is the " Maid " lying at the wharf V asked Glentig. 
 
 Brown nodded bis head affirmatively. 
 
 ' Then the best thing Jamie can dae is to tak' the boat ui> 
 to the Ardwell Bay, and hing aboot there till we see Nannie- 
 out in the morning. AVi' this licht easterly win' he can hug the- 
 Ian' as close as he likes. Munro will gang alang wi' him.' 
 
 Leaving the party to enjoy themselves as they could, the- 
 
KIEK.DANDIE FAIK. 81 
 
 landlord of the ' Ship ' started for the Braehead, to rouse 
 Willie Munro. By the time he returned, day was beginning 
 to break, and the whole party started at once for the Wooden 
 Wharf, where the ' Maid of Carrick ' was lying. Not a house 
 then stood on the spot now known as Newton Kennedy, 
 neither was the Water of Girvan spanned by the wooden 
 bridge which has excited the admiration of every stranger 
 who ever beheld it — not for its architectural beauty ; it makes 
 no pretensions either to originality of design or elaborate 
 workmanship, but as a monument of the liberality of a great 
 Liberal to his poor feuars, it is unsurpassed in Scotland. 
 
 Brown and his party, having reached the Wharf in safety, 
 waited till they saw the ' Maid of Carrick ' safely over the bar, 
 and then returned to the ' Ship ' to snatch an hour's sleep. 
 Throughout the whole town it was well known that Jamie 
 Gordon, the smuggler, was in ' Stumpy ;' and at an early hourj 
 although it was Sunday, a great number had assembled at the 
 Cross, waiting for the opening of the public-houses — for in 
 those days Forbes Mackenzie was unknown — as well as the 
 arrival of the coastguard, who, with the bulk of the inhabi- 
 tants, stood as high ia their estimation as a policeman is 
 supposed to do now in the eyes of the inmates of a bridewell. 
 
 So anxious was Chapeldonnan to see Gordon brought forth, 
 that he had remained at the ' Star Inn ' all night ; but not 
 wishing to appear in any connection with the coastgnardsmen, 
 he had warned the Captain not to recognize him if he saw him 
 among the crowd of onlookers. 
 
 ' There's Thomson awa into Ross's,' observed Jamie Enter- 
 kine, from LeggenwhuUy. ' They'll shune be bringing him out 
 noo.' 
 
 ' And much credit they'll get by the same honourable job,' 
 replied Billy Houston, a weaver from the north of Ireland, 
 whose father rented a good farm at home ; but Billy was a 
 wild boy, and ran over to Scotland, bringing with him a wealthy 
 farmer's daughter, that he invariably called by the euphonious 
 name of ' Jinny.' Poor Jinny had left home in such haste that 
 she neglected to put on a gown, consequently she lived and 
 died in a shortgown and petticoat, the latter article scarcely 
 covering her knees. 
 
 'Yonder comes Chapeldonnan roun' the Auld Kirk,' cried 
 John M'Quaker. 
 
■82 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' And by the powers o' Moll Kelly,' exclaimed BiUy Houston, 
 ' here comes Ohangue and Glentig over the Flushes. Boys, do 
 ye think there's going to be a rescue V 
 
 Rab M'Harg, the hosier, said, ' I dinna think it ; the law is 
 ower strong tae attempt onything o' the kind.' 
 
 Billy Houston exclaimed that he didn't think anything of 
 the kind ; but at this moment Mr Ross appeared in knee 
 breeches and blue coat, trimmed with red, carrying in his right 
 hand a massive key, and followed by four men wearing the 
 <TOvernment Kvery, so in a second a death-like stillness pervaded 
 the noisy group. ' Make room, boys, for the town officer,' 
 shouted Billy Houston, as loud as he could roar, when he saw 
 Mr Ross close upon him. 
 
 ' Shut yer mouth, or I'll put my thumb in yer throat, ye 
 starved abortion,' hissed a gruff voice in his ear, and on turning 
 round Billy found himself in close proximity to the powerful 
 Laird of Changue. 
 
 An ominous silence pervaded the group of hardy fishermen 
 assembled at ' Stumpy ' corner, during the brief time the myrmi- 
 dons of the law were inside the prison ; but when Ross and the 
 Captain of the Coastguard emerged, leading between them the 
 bonnie buxom hostess of the ' Ship,' in place of the fearless 
 smuggler, Jamie Gordon, a derisive cheer burst from the 
 assembled inhabitants, so loud and prolonged that it completely 
 drowned the angry altercation between Ross and Thomson. 
 
 Chapeldonnan found his limbs shaking beneath his weight, 
 but smothering his indignation, he advanced to Captain Brown, 
 and holding out his hand, said — ' I hope there's nae ill will be- 
 tween us on account o' the bit tulzie yesterday ? ' 
 
 ' Nane in the world, Chapeldonnan,' replied Brown, suppres- 
 sing his inclination to throttle him where he stood. ' Come awa' 
 ower to the "Ship," and get a bite o' breakfast.' As Brown 
 said this, he took the arm of his sister, and walked away to the 
 ' Ship Inn,' followed by Chapeldonnan, Changue, and Glentig. 
 
 Men who are bad, and make no pretence of being good, are 
 pitied, but men who pretend to be good, and are really bad, 
 are despised. Chapeldonnan belonged to the latter class. In 
 <'ompany with such men as Brown, his schemes for defrauding 
 the revenue were many, but in the presence of a revenue officer 
 he affirmed that he was only discharging his moral obligations 
 to society by informing on smugglers. He was all things to 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIR. 83 
 
 all men, not for the purpose of doing them good, but to work 
 their ruin if it filled his coffers. A moneyless man was quite 
 safe in his company, but he made it a rule to associate as little 
 as possible with such a class. An astute Government officer 
 like Captain Thomson could estimate his character nicely, and 
 if his life and property had been in danger he would have 
 •entrusted it more readily to the keeping of the most notorious 
 smuggler rather than to him. 
 
 As Chapeldonnan followed Brown and his mate over the 
 * Plushes ' to the ' Ship,' he mentally thought that they never 
 suspected him of treachery, else he would not have been invited 
 to breakfast ; but if he had known what was passing through 
 the mind of some of the men walking by his side, he would 
 have hesitated to enter the house which overlooked the grave- 
 yard. Leaving the smugglers at their breakfast, let uS return 
 for a moment to ' Stumpy ' corner. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the rage and mortification of 
 Thomson and his men as they departed, followed by the jeers 
 and laughter of the fishermen. Thomson, as he entered Mr 
 Eoss's house, consoled himself with the thought that before the 
 ■end of the week he would have the whole gang in custody. 
 
 ' This is a bad job, Ross, I doubt, for you,' observed the 
 revenue officer as he seated himseK on a chair, and gazed 
 moodily at the fire. 
 
 ' It's an awkward affair, and I'm sorry for't,' said the jailer, 
 ■quietly. 
 
 ' Awkward affair,' echoed the Captain, angrily. ' I tell ye 
 to your face, Ross, it's a piece of cursed jobbery. How much 
 ■did you get for letting Gordon out ? ' 
 
 ' Honestly, I know nothing about it; but I hae an observa- 
 tion to mak that'll be perhaps displeasing to a man o' your 
 position and integrity — 111 doers are aye ill dreaders.' 
 
 ' Villain ! what do you mean by this ? ' exclaimed the Cap- 
 tain, starting to his feet and confronting the jailer. 
 
 ' Simply that yer loof has been greased before noo, else ye 
 wadna be sae ready to suspect ithers. Sit doon, Mr Thomson, 
 an' keep a calm sough, for I ken mair things than you think.' 
 
 ' Ye low infernal scamp ! ' cried Thomson, furiously, ' I'll 
 strip that coat off your back before the end of the week.' 
 
 As he said this he stepped towards the door, 
 
 ' Stop a minute, tae I whisper a word in yer lug that I never 
 
84 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 wad hae uttered but for your cursed bullying impudence. 
 Glentig wadna be sitting noo in the " Ship " had ye no been 
 weel paid for't. Noo ye can gang hame and tak' yer breakfast 
 aff that — there's the door.' 
 
 ' Mr Eoss, my dear sir, speak lower. I had no intention,, 
 upon my honour, of doing you the least harm.' 
 
 ' Weel, weel, we'll let byeganes be byeganes,' said Ross, 
 wiping the perspiration from his brow ; ' here's a drop o' brandy 
 that I doot hisna paid the Government dues, but it's real guid 
 for a' that.' 
 
 ' This cursed business is never to be mentioned again,' said 
 Thomson, taking the glass, and drinking it off. 
 
 ' Never by me,' replied Eoss. 
 
 ' I'm satisfied; good morniDg.' 
 
 ' That's the way to satisfy folk,' muttered Eoss, as he went 
 to the door, and looked after him until he turned up Tarry Lane. 
 
 During breakfast, in the ' Ship,' a stranger would never have- 
 suspected anything wrong between the four gentlemen seated 
 at the table. Not a frown was discernible on one of their faces. 
 Glentig told his rattling stories without the least restraint, but he- 
 took the precaution, nevertheless, to tell only tales which might 
 be repeated with safety at the Cross. Brown and Changue 
 were in the best possible spirits, and, as for Nannie, her face wa& 
 radiant with joy. ITer dear Jamie was again out of the clutches 
 of the law, and the thought that he was free constituted her 
 happiness. All these things combined to lull the suspicious 
 nature of Chapeldonnan into a false security. Like every vil- 
 lain he was a consummate hypocrite, and he sat and rubbed his 
 hands with apparent dehght, exclaiming, as he did so, that it 
 was the best managed piece of work ever he saw, and that 
 Nannie was worth a mine of gold to a fearless, clever fellow like- 
 Gordon. 
 
 ' Did ye hear that compliment, Nance ? ' asked Glentig,. 
 laughing. 
 
 ' Ou, ay, I'm listening,' answered Nannie, dryly. 
 
 ' I hope, friens, ye hae nae ill-will aboot the squabble yes- 
 terday?' inquired Chapeldonnan. 
 
 ' Never mention it, Laird, again. Ye ken when drink's in 
 wit's oot,' observed Brown. 
 
 ' Then I suppose ye intend to adhere to yer bargain aboot 
 the liquor ? ' 
 
KIRKDANDIE FAIR. 85 
 
 ' Certainly ! Did ye tliink onything else ? ' inquired Brown, 
 •with a look of surprise. 
 
 ' Oh ! I didna ken but ye micht hae changed yer mind, see- 
 ing we hae been sae unfortunate of late. But since ye're gaua 
 to rin the risk, ye'll better make it twa hunner and fifty pounds 
 worth, instead o' what we were speaking aboot. Ye see, f riens, 
 I like to encourage trade,' said Chapeldonnan, looking rouad 
 ■complacently on the smugglers. 
 
 ' Mony thanks for yer patronage,' said Brown ; ' but seeing 
 yer order is sae large, recollect whenever the boat touches the 
 shore, I'll be looking for the cash, so ye see ye maun be pre- 
 pared to run a little risk as weel as the lave.' 
 
 ' As sune as ye rin into the Howe Port, I'll pay doon the 
 •cash. Noo, f riens, Lf bowls row richt, I may expect ye on Friday 
 nicht?' 
 
 ' Wind and weather permitting,' said Glentig, with a laugh. 
 
 ' Weel, I maun bid ye guid morning, for, as I'm in the toon 
 •onyway, I wadna like to miss the kirk.' Starting to his feet, he 
 shook them all warmly by the hand, and wished them a safe 
 I'un. 
 
 ' Weel^ of a' the cursed villains ever crossed my bows, 
 that's the greatest,' observed Changue, staring after him. 
 * Brown, if ye had taken my advice, he wad hae lift the back 
 door o' the " Ship" in a sheet the nicht aboot twal o'clock.' 
 
 ' I wadna ware a sheet on him,' observed Glentig. 
 
 ' And be hung for a carrion Uke him. Na, my lads ! My 
 plan's a safe ane, and he will remember my revenge while he 
 lives, for I believe he's fonder o' siller than life ; but, whist ! 
 here comes Nannie, and we'll sune hae to be jogging up the 
 shore,' said Brown. 
 
 ' Bless me, Nannie, whaur are ye gaun 1 I hope ye're no for 
 the khk along wi' Chapeldonnan,' exclaimed Glentig, as he 
 surveyed Nannie, arrayed in her best silk gown. 
 
 ' I'm gaun alang wi' ye to see Jamie.' 
 
 ' And wha'll mind the house ?' inquired her brother. 
 
 ' The house can mind itsel' for an hour or twa ; there's nae- 
 thing a daein' at onyrate.' 
 
 ' Weel, I maun awa hame, friens,' said Changue, rising; 'but 
 depend upon me being at the Howe Port on Friday nicht, and if 
 I can induce Eabbie Burns to bide till then I'll bring him down 
 wi' me to see the sport. Gude-bye, and success, my hearties." 
 
86 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 While the smugglers were discussing their plans of profit and 
 revenge in the Ship Inn, Burns sat on a green hillside in the 
 vicinity of the Changue, in company with the heroine of one of 
 his best love songs. It was the first day of rosy June and of 
 the week. Nothing broke the solemn stillness which pervaded 
 valley and mountain save the cry of the plover and the bleating 
 of sheep. Around them were springing a thousand beauteous 
 flowers in all the glorious freshness of early summer, while the 
 low humming of the bees, as they flitted from flower to flower,, 
 mingled with the running of a tiny burn at their side, carried 
 the enthusiastic youthful bard unconsciously into the regions of 
 dreamland. Everything around him touched a chord which 
 vibrated to the innermost recesses of his heart. The mighty 
 hills seemed to spurn the earth and ascend to the ethereal regions 
 of light and love, while the sunbeams as they danced and 
 glistened on the pellucid waters of the Stinchar, appeared like 
 the silvery fragments of a shattered world. So different, so 
 grand, so great, was the scenery of this wild moorland district 
 to that which surrounded bleak Lochlea, a farm rented by his 
 sire in the parish of Tarbolton, that he heaved a deep sigh of 
 ecstatic delight. Nor is this to be wondered at, when it is borne 
 in mind that he was only eighteen years of age, and had only 
 been permitted to go to Kirkoswald dm'ing the summer months 
 to learn mensuration, until autumn would summon him to re- 
 sume the sickle. 
 
 ' What are ye sighing aboot, Eobin ? I haena the least doot, 
 for a' yer fine speeches to me, but ye're thinking lang aboot somo 
 o' the Kirkoswald lasses,' said Nannie, looking archly in his 
 face. 
 
 Nannie unconsciously had hit the mark, for at that moment 
 a vision of the peerless Peggy Thomson flitted before him, 
 and mentally he was wishing she was present to share his joy. 
 
 ' There's bonnie lasses aboot Kirkoswald, Nannie, but believe 
 me, they couldna compete with the maidens of the Barr if beauty 
 was the prize they were contending for,' answered Burns, gal- 
 lantly. 
 
 ' When ye think sae much o' them,' said Nannie, blushing, 
 ' ye micht be coaxed to immortalize some o' them in verse.' ^ 
 
KIKKDANDIB FAIK. 87 
 
 ' It's maybe not to do, and I can tell ye her name — but I 
 daresay ye'U be nae way curious,' said Burns, smiling, as he 
 bent upon her blushing face his dark, lovelit eyes. 
 
 ' What a man ! Did anybody ever hear the like o' that ? 
 I'm nae hypocrite, Eobin, an I'm deein' wi' curiosity to hear 
 her name.' 
 
 ' Could ye no' guess ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 Burns put his arms around her waist aud whispered in her 
 ear — ' Nannie. Noo, I think that deserves a kiss.' 
 
 ' Let me hear a verse, an' I'll tell ye whether or no.' 
 
 ' Her face is fair, her heart is true. 
 
 She's spotless as she's bonny, ; 
 The opening gowan wet wi' dew, 
 Nae purer is than Nannie, 0. ' 
 
 As Burns repeated this verse, and gazed admiringly on 
 her fair face, the young Laird of Munoncion was in danger of 
 losing his sweetheart. 
 
 ' If the rest o' the Bang's like that, it's worth a' ye bargained 
 for, an' mair,' observed Nannie, laughing. 
 
 ' If I begin, I may, Mke Adam in Paradise, gang on till I 
 ruin a'.' 
 
 ' Halloo ! Robin, lad, ye're makin' unca free wi' ither folk's 
 property,' cried the Laird of Changue, as he cantered up to 
 where Burns and his daughter were sitting. ' But I commend 
 Nannie's taste — hae ye seen her lad?' 
 
 ' For gudesake, faither, haud yer tongue,' said Nannie, 
 blushing like a peony. 
 
 ' He's no' an Hi-looking fallow, Munoncion,' continued her 
 father, aggravatingly, ' was it no' for his feet an' hands ; the 
 former's like coal scuttles, and the latter's no' unlike frying- 
 pans — but he's rich, Eobin, as a Jew.' 
 
 Nannie did not linger to hear her lad described by her 
 father, but hurried away, with tears standing in her eyes and 
 a wish in her heart that Munoncion was at the Antipodes. 
 
 'Money covers a multitude o' faults,' observed Burns, 
 sighing. 
 
 ' An' sins tae, Eobin. But if ye hae a fancy for the lassie, 
 ye'll get her, an' welcome for me — ^but I'm havering — come 
 awa' hame an' get some dinner.' 
 
 Leading the pony by the bridle, the laird walked leisurely 
 
88 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 along towards the Changue. Oa the way thither, he briefly 
 informed Burns of the premeditated treachery of Chapeldonnan, 
 and of the low, mean part he had acted in the capture of 
 Gordon. 
 
 ' He must be an unprincipled scamp,' exclaimed Burns, 
 warmly, ' to worm himself into the confidence of any party 
 merely for the sake of betraying them.' 
 
 ' It's no a'thegither for that, but he's heart greedy. The 
 coifs aboot the Barr hae a story afloat aboot me sellin' mysel' 
 to the deil for siller, but if I had been that fond o't, I micht hae 
 been as rich as Munoncion.' 
 
 'But how do you intend to act respecting Chapeldonnan?' 
 inquired Burns. 
 
 ' I ken hoo I wad hae acted, but the skipper of the " Maid o' 
 Carrick " 's a queer chiel, an' canna think o' resortin' tae cruelty 
 at a'.' 
 
 ' Perhaps Brown's right. The best method with such char- 
 acters is to have naethiug to do wi' them,' observed Burns. 
 
 ' Maybe, Eobin ; but the Laird o' Chapeldonnan's no' gaun 
 to get oot o' oor clutches sae easy as that.' 
 
 As they were now in sight of the Changue, the laird began 
 and briefly narrated Brown's plan of revenge, which he had 
 scarcely finished when Burns burst into an immoderate fit of 
 laughing, declaring at the same time it was the best ever he 
 had heard. ' Brown's quite right,' he cried ; ' to a man such 
 as Chapeldonnan it will be a fearful punishment.' 
 
 ' When the scheme pleases ye sae weel, Robin, ye should 
 wait to Friday nicht an' see it carried oot.' 
 
 ' I canna weel do that ; but I'll tell ye what I'll do ; I'll 
 tell Graham and Thomson, an' we'll rin doqn to the Howe Port 
 frae the Maidenheads on Friday evening to see the sport.' 
 
 ' I wad rather ye wad wait, and I'm sure sae wad Kannie. 
 Indeed I promised to Brown to bring ye doon wi' me on Fj'iday 
 nicht.' 
 
 Burns would willingly have remained at the Changue, but 
 he had an appointment with Peggj' Thomson on Monday night, 
 which at this passionate period of his life he would not have 
 broken for the reputed wealth of Munoncion. Nor was his 
 love for Peggy evanescent. For some years he steadily enter- 
 tained the idea of wedding her ; therefore all Changue's friendly 
 importunity could not induce him to stay longer than the 
 
KIRKDANDIE FAIB. 89 
 
 following morning. Firmly as Burns had refused Changue to 
 sojourn at his house until Friday, he found his resolution 
 evaporating when subjected to the witching glances of Kannie ; 
 and, on the next day, when she accompanied him a part of the 
 way over the hills to Kirkoswald, had she renewed her 
 solicitations, she would have stormed his vulnerable heart. 
 Like all true poets he was deeply susceptible of the beautiful, 
 and when he held out his hand to the artless, lovely girl who 
 had inspired his muse, and gazed into her deep blue eyes, 
 suffused with tears, Peggy Thomson was for a moment for- 
 gotten; but no sooner had Nannie's fair form disappeared 
 among the hills than his heart returned to its allegiance to 
 Peggy, and as he journeyed along, he busied iimself compos- 
 ing the beautiful song beginning — 
 
 ' Now westliu winds and slaught'ring guns 
 Bring Autumn's pleasant weather.' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Although Jamie Gordon had effected his escape he felt any- 
 thing but happy. The thought that he would have to remain 
 in Arran, perhaps, for a considerable time, was very unpleasant ; 
 notwithstanding the hearty welcome he anticipated from Duncan 
 Currie. Had Miss Brown been residing in Glencloy it would 
 have reconciled him to his exile for any length of time ; but 
 with thirty miles of sea rolling betwixt him and her, the thought 
 was intolerable. 
 
 With the light puff of easterly wind, which prevailed in the 
 morning, he kept cruizing closely along the shore, from Ardwell 
 Bay to Aidmillan Point, until noon. During the whole of this 
 time the glass was scarcely five minutes from his eye ; not that 
 he was afraid of Brown and Glentig keeping their appointment, 
 but he was doubtful if Nannie would shut up the ' Ship ' and 
 accompany them. Every inch of the road from Shalloch to 
 Ardwell was scanned a hundred times over, before he observed 
 them coming briskly along the road. ' Yonder they're coming 
 at last, Munro!' he exclaimed joyfully, 'an' I'm blest if 
 Nannie's no alang wi' them.' 
 
 ' I'm glad to hear 't, Jamie, for it's my opinion if they hadna 
 hove in sicht sune ye were in the fair way o' gaun mad.' 
 
 G 
 
50 TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 'Think on what she has done for me, Wilhe,' pleaded 
 Gordon in extenuation of his anxiety. ' If it hadna been for 
 her I wadna be cruizing here, I'm thinking.' 
 
 ' She's a noble lass, nae doot, but ' 
 
 ' Nae buts aboot it,' cried Gordon, impatiently ; ' I tell thee, 
 Munro, she's worth gold.' 
 
 ' I had the same opinion o' Sally before we got spliced ; but 
 I can assure ye, mate, that she seemed anything but an angel 
 lying in bed this morning, wi' her snuffy nose, and a cap on 
 her heid that appeared to be washed in the tatie pouriu's an' 
 bleached up the lum.' 
 
 ' Starboard your helm a wee, Willie ; steady at that^she's 
 tripping alang nicely noo. I wad like to see the cutter could 
 overhaul the " Maid " in calm or storm.' 
 
 ' She's a fine boat, but I think we're near enough the land.' 
 
 ' I daresay we are,' said Gordon, as he ran forward and 
 hauled in the jib and foresail. 
 
 They were now within hailing distance of the party on the 
 shore, so, jumping into the "punt," Gordon bent to the oars, 
 and in a few minutes he was standing beside Nannie on the 
 thyme-wreathed rocks. 
 
 'We'll awa' on board, Glentig,' observed Brown aside, 'an' 
 allow them half an hour for palaver.' 
 
 Without a word of warning they both sprang into the boat 
 and shoved off, and left the lovers standing together. 
 
 ' When ye're weary o' the rocks, Jamie, ye can hoist a flag 
 o' distress, and we'll tak' ye on board,' cried Glentig, laughing. 
 
 The rapture of Haidee and Don Juan was not more ecstatic, 
 when they wandered hand in hand along the shore of their 
 island home, than that experienced by Nannie and Jamie, ' for 
 to their young eyes each seemed an angel, and earth paradise.' 
 
 What a blessed period of life is youth ! We may be 
 surrounded by dangei's and difficulties that appal the man of 
 age and experience ; but, far away beyond the ominous cloud of 
 adversity youth descries the effulgent star of Hope, and rushes 
 onward like the boy ' bearing the banner with the strange 
 device — Excelsior.' So it was with Gordon and Miss Brown. 
 Seated on the rocks covered with sea-pinks and thyme, the 
 machinations and plots of Chapledonnan seemed like the airy 
 web of the gossamer. Away in the future they saw — not a 
 large account at the bank — but a cosie cottage, a trig boat, and. 
 
KIKKDAN^DIE FAIE. 91 
 
 rosy children, blest -with healtli and plenty to eat ; and the 
 vision was so enchanting that the tears stood in Nannie's eyes 
 contemplating it. How long they would have sat in this 
 entranced state we have no means of determining, but the 
 hoarse matter of fact voice of Gleutig summoned them from 
 dreams to realities. 
 
 ' Hallo, Jamie, lad, it's time we were shaping for Arran. 
 This licht easterly wuu will tak' us there in a jiffey.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay, sir. I'll be there in a minute.' As he said this he 
 pressed Nannie fondly to his heart, bade her farewell, and 
 joined Captain Brown on board the "Maid of Carrick." Nannie 
 sat down and watched the boat until it became a speck on the 
 horizon, and then retraced her way sadly to Girvan. 
 
 The sun was setting in golden glory behind the heath- 
 covered mountains of Arran, when the smugglers cast anchor 
 iu Brodick's bonny bay. The light breeze of easterly wind 
 which had wafted them from Carrick, died away as the sua 
 set, and the waters of the bay seemed liked a polished mirror, 
 in which the evening star silently contemplates her silvery 
 radiance. 
 
 Leaving Munro in the charge of the smack, Glentig, Brown, 
 and Gordon lowered the boat and rowed ashore, to apprize 
 Duncan Currie of their arrival. Duncan's house stood beneath 
 the shelter of a huge oak, at the entrance of Glen Rosa. The 
 Highlander never engaged in the illicit distillation of whisky 
 personally, but for years he had acted as the accredited agent 
 for the Carrick smugglers and the Highland distillers, to the 
 entire satisfaction of both parties. 
 
 ' Come awa', Captain Brown,' exclaimed Duncan courteously, 
 as he opened the door and admitted him and his companions ; ' I 
 wad hae been in bed langsyne, but I fully expected ye the 
 nicht. I hope ye hae a great order for me. Donald M'Gregor 
 was tellin' me, to-day, he has a rare drap o' speerits on hand.' 
 
 Captain Brown briefly related the incidents of the last few 
 days, and the despicable, mean, traitorous part Chapeldonnaa 
 had acted, and then informed him of the part he wished him to 
 play, in working out his J'evenge. 
 
 ' Here are a few bottles, Duncan, o' medicine I boucht frae 
 Mr Crawford, at the heid o' the Kirkbrae, an' recollect, put a 
 gill o' this into every keg ye fill, an' I'll see ye decently paid 
 for yer trouble.' 
 
92 TALES AND TRAMTIOKS. 
 
 'Ha, ha, ha!' roared Duncan, rubbing his hands, and 
 dancing through the room, ' I'll no' tak' a single farthing for 
 this job. If I dae, may the coin blister my fingers. This will 
 be the best spree ever happened since I was appointed ganger 
 for Arran. If ye manage yer job richt, Captain, I'll piit yer 
 next cargo on board free." 
 
 How long Duncan would have run on in this style, it is 
 hard to say, had not Mrs Currie opened the door and asked if 
 he was gaun gyte. 
 
 Supper being now served up, the smugglers set to with a 
 will, and did ample justice to the fresh fish, eggs, and butter 
 set before them, which was duly washed down ^^■ith a steaming 
 tumbler of toddy, and then they returned to their boat, and slept 
 soundly until the sun was dancing on the water of the bay. 
 
 Leaving the smugglers to get their cargo on board, let us 
 return to Chapeldonnan. After leaving the ' Ship,' in place of 
 repairing to church, he proceeded homewards. Willingly 
 would he have paid Captain Thomson a visit, but he was 
 fearful of being seen in communication with the coastguard. 
 On Monday morning, however, he was early astir and back in 
 Girvan. After learning that Brown, Glentig, and jMunro had 
 put to sea, he proceeded to the Star Inn, and sent a boy of 
 Mrs Clauchers over to the coastguard station to inform the 
 Captain that he wished to speak with him on business of 
 importance. In a short time the messenger returned, accom- 
 panied by the Captain, who was immediately shown into the 
 room, where Chapeldonnan was anxiously waiting for him. 
 Ordering in a dram, the door was carefully shut, and the laird 
 of Chapeldonnan and the Captain began to make their arrange- 
 ments for the capture of Brown and his confederates. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 KlRKOSWALD, where Burns spent the eighteenth summer of 
 his brief career, lies north of Girvan scarcely eight miles ; and 
 the distance between the Howe Port, where Brown was to 
 land his cargo, from either of the former places, is only a few 
 miles. Supposing, therefore. Burns and his companions had to 
 walk to the place of rendezvous, it would, in those days, have 
 been regarded only as an evening's recreation. Now, a per- 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIE. 93 
 
 fumed exquisite will wait au hour or two on a traia before lie 
 fatigues himself walking four miles ; and, of course, the lower 
 class must ape the upper, and it is nothing astonishing to see a 
 great hulking fellow, of twenty years of age, sleeping on a seat 
 for two hours before he would run the risk of hurting his health 
 by walking six miles. 
 
 Burns and his youthful companions, who were all more or 
 less interested in smuggling, had no occasion to walk far, for it 
 was only a step — as they called it^to the Maidenheads, then 
 and now the abode of a hardy race of fishermen, where they 
 easily procured a boat, and ran down along the coast to G-irvan 
 in little more than an hour. 
 
 Scarcely had they arrived at the Ship Inn, where they re- 
 ceived an enthusiastic welcome from Nannie, when the Laird of 
 Changue made his appearance, and the whole party sat down 
 to an excellent supper, served in Miss Brown's best style — as 
 the newspaper paragraphs say about all jollifications, good, 
 bad, and indifferent. 
 
 When the cloth was removed, Tam Graham of the Shanter 
 rehearsed some of his strange adventures over the bottle ; and 
 amongst others, the story which formed the basis of the im- 
 mortal tale of ' Tam o' Shanter.' 
 
 In this convivial manner the evening was spent, until it was 
 considered time to start for the Howe Port, the place appointed 
 to meet Brown. 
 
 Leaving the " Ship " by the back door, they crossed Girvau 
 Water, skirted along the shore by Knockavalley and the Ladies' 
 Loch, and reached the vicinity of the Howe Port by eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 In the meantime about a dozen of the coastguards, well 
 armed with pistols and cutlasses, had arrived at Ohapeldonnan, 
 where the Laird was duly instructing them in the tactics to be 
 pursued. 
 
 ' Neither you nor yer men. Captain, maun show yer face till 
 the last keg is brought ashore,' observed the Laird, as he issued 
 his final instructions, ' for they're as cunning as foxes, and if 
 they observed the least appearance o' danger they wad up sails 
 and aff to sea, and deil kens when we wad see them again. 
 Lie doon quietly aback o' a bent knowe until ye see me strik- 
 ing a licht for my pipe wi' my steel and flint, and then swoop 
 doon on them like eagles.' 
 
94 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 Promising to observe the Laird's instructions to the letter, 
 Thomson led his men by a circuitous route to the sea-side, and 
 selecting a spot favourable for observation, scanned the sea for 
 the approach of the doomed smugglers. 
 
 It was the month of June, as we formerly observed, and 
 although it was eleven o'clock at night, the roseate tints of the 
 departed sun yet lingered in the north-west, and objects were 
 discernible at a considerable distance. 
 
 ' Yonder she comes at last,' said Thomson, speaking in a 
 low voice to his men. ' Now, lads, be steady and clever, and I 
 have not the least doubt but this night's work will lead to the 
 promotion of ye, every man. llecollect every revenue oificer 
 from Stranraer to Greenock have their eyes on us, for it's well- 
 known Brown and his crew are the most successful smugglers 
 on the West Coast of Scotland. See, they're lowering their 
 sails ; be firm, do your duty like men, and wait for Chapel- 
 donnan's signal.' 
 
 While Captain Thomson was addressing his men, the smug- 
 glers had cast anchor in the Howe Port, aud were busy prepar- 
 ing to land their cargo. 
 
 'Monro, sprinkle the kegs again wi' the whiskj%' cried Cap- 
 tain Brown, as he lowered himself into the small boat, ' Noo 
 hand me doon a keg, an' I'll awa' ashore and see oor frien' 
 Chapeldonnan.' 
 
 As the Laird saw Brown leave the smack, and row ashore, 
 he rubbed his hands joyfully, and kept muttering to himself, 
 ' Twa huner an' fifty pound, what a nicht's wark ! An' revenge 
 for the insults I received at Kirkdandie into the bargain. Weel 
 dune. Captain Brown/ he exclaimed, rushing forward and 
 extending his hand, which, however, the Captain seemed 
 not to notice, as he busied himself securing the boat. 'I 
 needna speir if ye hae secured a guid cargo,' continued 
 Chapeldonnan, ' for the aroma coming frae the keg in the boat's 
 delightfu.' 
 
 ' It's as guid as ever was distilled in Glen Rosa,' observed 
 the skipper of the ' Maid of Carrick ' quietly. ' Hae j'e the cash 
 wi' ye ? ' 
 
 'Ay, here it's, lad, every penny,' said Chapeldonnan, pulling' 
 out his pocket book, and placing the notes in Brown's hand. 
 ' Ye may count them if ye like.' 
 
 ' Nae occasion to be sae particular wi' a friend,' observed 
 
KIKKDANDIE FAIR. 95 
 
 Crown, as he quietly deposited the money in an inside breast 
 pocket, from which he took a brace of pistols and stuck them 
 -in his belt. ' Ye see, Laird, we maun mak' room for the siller,'" 
 observed Brown, smiling grimly. 
 
 Chapeldonnau neither relished the smile nor the action, and 
 ior the first time it struck him forcibly that if Brown suspected 
 his treachery it might cost him his life, however, he observed 
 after a pause, 'Oh, certainly. Captain! certainly — but ye'll better 
 hurry the cargo ashore, seeing ye're paid for't." 
 
 ' Oh it will be landed time enough. I dinna see ony carts 
 here yet,' observed Brown, looking around him. 
 
 ' Never fash yer thum aboot carts, Captain. Land it on the 
 beach an I'll see it taen hame.' 
 
 ' A' richt, Laird ; yer wull's my pleasure,' cried Brown, as 
 he jumped into the boat and shoved her off. 
 
 In the greatest of mental anxiety the Laird of Chapeldonnan 
 paced to and fro along the beach, until the last keg was landed, 
 then advancing to where Brown, Glentig, and Munro, were 
 .standing, he rubbed his hands gleefully, and said he thought 
 they micht hae a blaw o' the pipe, and a dram, seeing their 
 jiicht's wark was safely ower. 
 
 ' Wi' a' my heart, Laird,' said Brown, pulling a flask from 
 his pocket and handing it round. 
 
 Chapeldonnan drank success to the smugglers of Carrick, 
 then pulled out his steel and flint, and began to strike a 
 light. 
 
 Scarcely had he done so when Captain Thomson rushed with 
 a yell down on the smugglers. In a moment they were sur- 
 rounded, and Captain Thomson cried exultingly, ' Gentlemen, 
 you're my prisoners, in the King's name ! ' 
 
 ' For what, sir, are we your prisoners ? ' demanded Brown 
 sternly. 
 
 ' For what, ye scoundrel,' reiterated Thomson, in an indig- 
 nant tone ; ' for carrying on a contraband trade. How dare you 
 have the audacity to ask such a question, and the evidence of 
 your guilt lying on the beach ? ' 
 
 ' If I have brought over anything contraband of the revenue 
 laws of the country, then I'm your prisoner, Thomson ; but be- 
 ware of how you act in reference to a man carrying on a law- 
 ful trade,' said Brown firmly. 
 
 ' Is it lawful, sir, to bring from Arran a cargo of whisky. 
 
96 TALES AND TEADITIOXS. 
 
 and dispose of it, that has never paid a halfpenny to the 
 excise V asked Thomson, burning with passion. 
 
 ' No !' answered Brown, laughing, as he observed'the Laird 
 of Changue, acompanied by Burns and his friends from Kirk- 
 oswald coming up. ' An ' if ye find a gill o' whisky in ony o' 
 the barrels lying there, then march me off to " Stumpy ; " but 
 recollect, Captain Thomson, if ye incarcerate me for following 
 a lawful occupation, I'll strip that coat aff yer back.' 
 
 ' Au ' what's in them, sir ? ' demanded Thomson in a quieter 
 tone. 
 
 ' Ask Chapeldonnan, they belang to him,' said Brown, play- 
 ing with the butt of one of the pistols in his belt. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IIad it not been for the sense of smell, Chapeldonnan would 
 have suspected he was duped ; but the very air he breathed 
 was strongly impregnated with the alcoholic fragrance given 
 off by the kegs lying on the beach. The same "idea flashed 
 through the mind of Thomson and Chapeldonnan at the same 
 moment — Brown wishes to gain time until au overpowering- 
 number of his associates arrives, and then he will set us at de- 
 fiance. The arrival of Changue, one of the most determined 
 smugglers on the Carrick coast, strengthened this opinion, and 
 the parley would have been ended at once by making the crew 
 prisoners, but none of them cared about advancing on men so 
 ■well armed, especially on Brown, whose right hand rested on 
 the butt of the pistol in his belt. 
 
 ' You hear, Chapeldonnan, what Brown says, that you know 
 what the kegs contain,' observed Thomson. 
 
 'They smell sae strongly o' whisky that they inform on 
 themsel's,' answered Chapeldonnan. 
 
 ' Yet you know perfectly well. Laird, there's no' a drap o' 
 whisky in them,' said Brown, looking sternly at him. 
 
 ' No ' a drap o' whisky in them,' repeated Chapeldonnan in 
 a strange voice ; ' au ' dae je mean to tell me I dinna ken the 
 smell o' whisky. Brown ? ' 
 
 ' Ye should, for ye hae drank mony a barrel o't. But when 
 we were getting the peppermint water, which ye ordered, oot 
 o' the hold, Monro spilt a drap o' speerits, that he had for his 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIR. 97 
 
 private use, among the kegs, an' that's what ye fin' the smelt 
 o'. But ye werena fou at the time. Laird, ye gied the order, 
 therefore ye maun hae perfect guid mind o't.' 
 
 ' And do you mean to afSrm, Captain Brown, that the kegs 
 lying there contain only peppermint water ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing else, I can assure ye, Mr Thomson. The Laird 
 told me in the inn that he had discovered a grand market for 
 that article in Glasca, and it seems the vs^ater o' Glen Rosa is 
 
 better adapted for that purpose than ony we hae in the west ' 
 
 ' The villain's drunk !' exclaimed Chapeldonnan fiercelj% 
 interrupting Brown. ' Is there a man here believes him ? But 
 I'll curst sune see whether it's peppermint water or no'.' As 
 he said this he struck one of the kegs savagely with his foot, 
 knocking the end of it completely in, and the next moment the 
 fragrance of peppermint prevaded the air around them. A loud 
 derisive peal of laughter burst from the assembled smugglers. 
 
 Scarcely had it subsided, when Thomson, fuming with 
 rage and mortification, wheeled round fiercely on Chapeldonnan, 
 for he now regarded the whole as a plot to hold him up to 
 ridicule and contempt, and exclaimed savagely — ' Villain, was 
 it for this you brought me here? If you were not such a 
 contemptible wretch, I would give you the contents of that.' 
 As Thomson said this he held the muzzle of his pistol so close 
 to Chapeldonnan's head that instinctively he sprang backwards, 
 tripped over one of the kegs, and fell heavily among the 
 barrels giving only a faint groan. 
 
 ' Let the carrion lie there and rot,' shouted Thomson, who 
 now felt a thousand times more embittered against Chapel- 
 donnan, for his supposed treachery, than what he did towards 
 the smugglers. ' Come, lads, follow me ! ' 
 
 ' Ye'll better wait. Captain Thomson, an' see whether the 
 Laird's deid or leevin',' said Brown. 
 
 ' If he's dead he will save the Ayr hangman the trouble of 
 stringing him up. Come, men, he's among his friends, and 
 they can look after him.' 
 
 ' Are ye no' for a taste o' the peppermint before you gang. 
 Captain?' sneered Changue, as he passed where he stood 
 laughing. ' It's the best manufactured by Currie & Co., Gleu 
 Eosa.' 
 
 ' We'll meet again, Changue.' 
 
 ' I houp sae. Captain. Gude-nicht.' 
 
"98 TALES AND TEADITIONR. 
 
 ' This is the worst night's work ever I made since I joined 
 the service, and the sooner I'm removed from this district the 
 better, for between the fishers and weavers of Girvan I'll not 
 get walking the streets.' This prediction proved true, for as 
 soon as he appeared the following morning at ' Stumpy,' some 
 one bawled out ' Captain Peppermint ! ' 
 
 As soon as Thomson and his men disappeared, Burns 
 stepped forward and gazed into the face of Chapeldonnan, but 
 seemingly he was dead, and he communicated his fears to the 
 smugglers. 
 
 ' I wudna put a han' to him,' cried Chaugue, 'if the tide was 
 Avithin a yard o' his ugly carcase.' 
 
 ' Nor I either ! ' exclaimed Glentig. ' He's dune his best to 
 ruin us a'.' 
 
 ' I'm aware of that,' answered Burns ; ' but the wretch is 
 cither dead or dying, and I could not rest in my bed if he was 
 left to perish here.' As he said this he raised him np to a sit- 
 ting posture, and examined the wound in the back part of the 
 head. ' This is sad work, Mr Brown,' cried Burns, feelingly; 
 ' Come here and help me.' 
 
 ' We're no' to blame, Robin, supposing he wad never gie a 
 kick,' observed Brown, as he helped Burns to tie a napkin 
 round his head. This done he applied his flask, containing 
 something stronger than peppermint, to his lips, which had the 
 effect of restoring him to consciousness. Opening his eyes he 
 looked hard at Brown and demanded his money. ' Puir body !' 
 .said Brown, mockingly, ' he hisna recovered his senses yet.' 
 
 ' Gie me my twa huner and fifty pounds, Brown.' 
 
 ' I'll gie ye the contents o' that,' said Brown iu a low voice, 
 ' if ye speak anither word. Look around ye ; j'e're frien's are 
 ■awa hame, an' if it wusna for the sake o' the young man that's 
 here, ye wad never leave the Howe Port alive — ye low, sneakin', 
 mean, unprincipled villain. Noo, be off, before waur happens ye.' 
 
 Chapeldonnan looked round on the lawless group, and, with- 
 out speaking another word, staggered homewards. Our tale 
 is nearly told. A short time after the incidents narrated, 
 Captain Thomson petitioned to be removed to another part of 
 the coast, and, after his removal, Jamie Gordon returned to 
 Girvan, and was united to Miss Brown in marriage. Since or 
 before there never was such a merry wedding in the ' Ship.' 
 
 Burns and a number of his companions came to it from 
 
KIEKDANDIE FAIK. 99 
 
 Kirkoswald, and was Hghly amused by Jock Saunders sing- 
 ing the ' Crow,' and Charlie Johnston's recitation of the 
 ' Duck's march over the flushes.' Unconsciously iti such 
 scenes the greatest son of Scotia was prepared for the dignified 
 position in which, at last, his country proudly placed him. 
 Changue's lovely daughter, Nannie, and the Laird of Munon- 
 ■cion were also present, when Miss Brown was given away in 
 marriage by her brother, and, notwithstanding the size of the 
 laird's feet, Burns declared he danced charmingly. Glentig 
 swore the youthful bard kissed Nannie more than once on the 
 back stair, but knowing Burns' aversion to such practices we 
 are led to believe Glentig was ' tight.' 
 
 Chapeldonnan recovered the effects of his fall, but he took 
 the loss of his siller so sadl^^ to heart that he got on the spree 
 :at next Kirkdandie Fair, through vexation at seeing Brown 
 driving such a good trade, and died of the blues — the people 
 knew nothing about delirium tremens in those days. 
 
 Changue lived to fight many a hard battle at Kirkdandie, 
 :and to hear his grandson sing 
 
 ' Behind yon hills, where Stinchar flows, 
 'Mang moors and mosses many, 0.' 
 
100 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 THE GREY STONES OF GARLAFFIN. 
 
 en AFTER. I. 
 
 Ballanteae, or, as the name signifies, the 'towa ou the^ 
 shore,' has been for centuries the abode of a fearless, hardj' 
 race of fishermen, and, until recently, of smugglers. It is built 
 at the confluence of the Stinchar with the ocean. The parish 
 is intersected by three glens, unsurpassed for wild picturesque 
 beauty in the AVest of Scotland— the Stinchar, Tig, and App. 
 The former is a lonely mountain stream, and the principal river 
 in the district. It has its rise ia the far off moors of the parish 
 of Barr, on the farm of Black-Roo. After a rapid race of 
 thirty miles through the most magnificent mountain scenery, it 
 mingles its pellucid waters with the sea. From its rise to its 
 confluence, it affords to every lover of nature unmingled 
 pleasure. This is the stream to which Burns alludes in his 
 popular ballad, 
 
 ' Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows. ' 
 
 Lugar was substituted for Stinchar as more poetical, but, with 
 all due deference to Bums, Stinchar seems the best name of the 
 two. 
 
 Let the denizen of the city, who has a day or twos libert}' 
 to roam where he pleases, come and sit on the ruins of Ard- 
 stinchar Castle, and gaze around him on the swelling sea, bosky 
 dells, enriched hy every species of fern, and lofty hills. We'll 
 guarantee that his vision will be in no manner obscured by the 
 smoke incidental to the crowded marts of men. If not pleased 
 with the view from this point, let him ascend Benivaird, at the 
 head of Glen App. The view from this mountain is truly mag- 
 nificent, commanding, as it does, the whole Firth of Clyde, with 
 the Arran Hills, the Paps of Jura, Argyleshire, the Mull of 
 Cantyre, the Isle of Eathlin, the Garron Head, the Mountains 
 of Morn, the high lands in Cumberland, and the Isle of Man. 
 
THE GREY SlONES OF GAELAFFIN. 101 
 
 If he wishes to make altars of the mountains and the ocean, 
 this is the spot. Nor is it difficult to reach. From the com- 
 mercial capital of Scotland, you can sail direct to Ballantrae, 
 per ' Albion,' every week, for two or three shillings ; or, not 
 liking that route, you can have rail and coach for little more ; 
 ^nd those who have travelled the road between Girvan and 
 Ballantrae will agree with the writer of these traditions, that 
 it is a drive capable of stirring the deepest emotions of all who 
 love the sublime and beautiful. Scarcely have you left Girvau 
 when your attention is arrested by the sea-mews singing an- 
 thems o'er the altars of the main, perched upon Skart Rock ; 
 while looming to westward is AUsa Craig — or, as it is more 
 familiarly called, Paddy's-Milestone. The next turn of the road 
 opens up Ardmillan Bay, and you are ready to exclaim — 
 
 Oh I could the weary find a spot 
 
 Like this, so passing fair, 
 Life's e'ening sun wad never set 
 
 Envelop'd in despair ; 
 But Hope would spring within their hearts. 
 
 As bright as parting day, 
 That rolls like molten streams of gold 
 
 Across ArdmUlan Bay. 
 
 But we must hurry on, as we have to attend an assignation at 
 the ' Grey Stones of Garlaffin.' 
 
 It was a beautiful evening in Autumn, towards the latter 
 ■end of the last century, when a young, beautiful girl might have 
 been seen leaving one of the low thatched cottages in the Fore- 
 land, and tripping along in the direction of the Druid's Stones. 
 Before she reached them, however, the moon had risen, like a 
 burnished shield, over the tops of the eastern hills, presaging a 
 good day for the hardy fishermen to-morrow. Having arrived 
 at her destination, Mary sat down on a moss- covered stone, and 
 gazed anxiously around her, as if expecting some one. Across 
 the lovely valley of the Stinchar she could trace the dim out- 
 lines of the ruins of Ardstinchar, for many generations the abode 
 of the Kennedys of Bargany. Falling into a musing mood, her 
 active fancy re-peopled the hoary ruin, lighted its hall, and, in 
 imagination, she listened to the minstrels recite and sing the 
 daring deeds of its mighty lords. 
 
 ' Dearest Mary, I am afraid I have kept you waiting and 
 wearying here alone ; but, really, it was unavoidable.' 
 
102 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' I never got sic a start in a' my life,' exclaimed Mary, as. 
 she took the outstretched hand of the young sailor, and shook 
 it warmly. 
 
 ' Sit down again, Mary, I have something to tell you about 
 Knockdaw.' 
 
 ' I hate, Bryce, to hear his name mentioned. lie was ower 
 at the Foreland last week, and it seems he has taken such a 
 violent interest in my education that naething will sair him but 
 send me to some fine lady's seminary.' 
 
 ' Well, as I was coming here to-night he crossed my bows, 
 and I could not steer clear of him for some time — that's what 
 detained me.' 
 
 ' Weel, what is he up to noo ? 
 
 ' Oh ! it seems his cellars are getting empty, and as he does 
 not wish to support the coast-guard and excise — a lot of lazy 
 hounds, he says, he wished me to supply him as reasonably as 
 possible.' 
 
 ' I warn ye, Brj'ce, to hae naething to dae wi' him. If ye 
 hae ony respect for yoursel', or ony love for me, have no com- 
 merce wi' the ill-looking tyke,' cried Mary, passionately, spring- 
 ing to her feet and looking anxiously around her. 
 
 ' Compose yourself, dearest Marj',' said the young man, in 
 a soft, soothing tone of voice. ' Do you think I did not perceive 
 the drift of the lubberly villain ? I told him I was doing- 
 nothing in that line at present, but as soon as I could make a 
 safe run I would keep him in mind, and so I parted from him.' 
 
 ' That was wise, for notwithstanding his professions o' 
 friendship, I hae no faith in Knockdaw.' 
 
 As Mary said this, the lovers moved away from the Druid's 
 Stones, along the banks of the stream, in the direction of 
 Ballantrae. 
 
 ' So you have no faith in Knockdaw, my pretty Mary,' 
 muttered a man who rose slowly up from his crouching position 
 among the grey moss-covered stones and looked savagely after 
 the lovers as they walked away arm in arm. ' She hates me 
 and fears me, and the brave, beardless captain of the " Speed- 
 well" calls me a lubberly villain. I was strangely tempted to 
 give him the contents of that as a remembrance of me ;' as he 
 said this, he pulled a heavy pistol from his breast and examined 
 it, smiling grimly as he did so. 
 
 In place of proceeding homewards, Knockdaw, after leaving 
 
THE GEEY STONES Or GAELAFFIN. IDS' 
 
 the Grey Stones of GarlafiSn, repaired to the village inn, where- 
 his horse was pi\t up, and with a tact, not unworthy of a 
 modern diplomatist, entered readily into the rough humour 
 of the fishermen, who frequented the publican's commercial 
 room. 
 
 The reader is not to suppose that in those days few gentlemen 
 would visit such an obscure village as Ballantrae. In arriving- 
 at this conclusion, he would make a most egregious mistake. 
 A hundred people passed through it then for every one now. 
 When it is borne in mind that steamers and railways were un- 
 dreamed of, and that the only route, between Ireland and 
 Scotland, for lords, ladies, and gentlemen, was via, Portpatrick, 
 Stranraer, Ballantrae, ( jirvan, and Ayr, he will instantly change 
 Ms opinion. Scarcely a week passed without regiments of 
 soldiers, gangs of sailors, and civilians of every grade, from 
 the gipsy to the rich pedlar — the latter supplied the guidwife 
 with the newest fashions, and the guidman with whatever was 
 stirring in the country. After escorting Mary Ferguson home, 
 the Captain of the ' Speedwell ' strolled along the beach until 
 he reached the Stinchar, then ascended the bank of the stream, 
 until he arrived at the bridge, seated himself on the parapet and 
 watched the moonbeams dancing on the water, and the travel- 
 lers who passed. He was unconscious of the flight of time, for 
 he was busily engaged at a piece of work common to the youth- 
 ful in every age and clime — building castles in the air ; and a 
 superb structure it was, Mary, of course, reigning in queenlj^ 
 style iu its hall — when a man abruptly asked ' Do you belong 
 to Ballantrae V 
 
 ' I know it well, and I think I know you too — is your nam© 
 M'Creadie?' 
 
 The stranger hesitated a moment ere he replied, but gazing 
 keenly at the frank face of the Captain, he answered in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 ' I thought so. It's many years since I saw you, but boys 
 always remember the faces with which they have been familiar^ 
 I know one man in the clachan who will be delighted to see 
 you.' 
 
 ' To whom do you refer V 
 
 ' Jamie Ferguson, in the Foreland.' 
 
 ' How strange ! It was about him I was going to inquire. 
 Ay, and Jamie's stiU living yet' — the last sentence was said in 
 
104 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 a musing tone, more to himself than to the Captain of the 
 ' Speedwell.' 
 
 ' How long is it since you left here, M'Creadie ? ' 
 
 ' Fourteen years this very night. The revenue officers 
 were after me about that cursed smuggling affair in which 
 Willie M'Whirter was so seriously injured. I did what I 
 «ould to throw the land sharks off the scent of the booty, and 
 so got myself into hot water — ' 
 
 ' I have heard Jamie Ferguson relate many a time how 
 nobly you behaved; but,' here he lowered his voice to a 
 whisper, ' Was the Laird of Knockdaw at that time supposed 
 to have acted treacherously ? ' 
 
 ' Curse him ! ay ; but I have a pickle prepared for him that 
 will make him start some of these days ; but it's a di'y job 
 standing speaking here after a long journey.' 
 
 ' Pardon my forgetfulness ! ' exclaimed Bryce, springing 
 from his seat on the bridge, ' but the sight of your face, and the 
 joy I experienced when I saw the man who many a time took 
 me to sea with him when I was a boy, must be my apology.' 
 
 ' What's your name V 
 
 ' Bryce Girvan.' 
 
 ' My gallant little Captain, as I used to call ye — is it pos- 
 sible ? Why, I'm blowed if I'm not as happy to meet j'ou as 
 I would be if running a prize into harbour.' 
 
 Conversing in this manner they approached the inn, but just 
 as they were about to enter, Kennedy of Knockdaw passed out. 
 Being far gone in drink, however, he paid no attention to the 
 traveller. 
 
 ' That's your old friend, Jil'Creadie,' observed the Captain 
 in an undertone. 
 
 ' I knew his ugly figurehead in a moment. But tell me this, 
 Bryce, what became of the lassie or child Ferguson picked up 
 in the bay'?' 
 
 ' Were j'ou here at that time ? Ferguson told me you left 
 the day before that memorable event.' 
 
 'Yes, Ferguson is quite correct; I left Ballantrae, but 
 stayed all night in the Beumane Cave, waiting for a little of the 
 needful to carry me out of the locality, and hereby hangs a tale 
 which will surprise you and alarm the Laird of Knockdaw. 
 But I will not relate it here.' 
 
THE GBEY STONES OF GABLAFFIN. 105 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Come, sit tliee down, my bonny lasa ; 
 
 Come, sit tliee down by me, love ; 
 And I will tell thee many a tale, 
 
 Of the dangers of the sea, love." 
 
 ' Bbavo, Drynan ! Sing it out, man ; it's only the skipper o' the 
 " Speedwell" an' a freen o' his,' cried Tarn Coulthard, the cap- 
 tain and sole owner of the ' Jenny and Nancy ' of Ballantrae. 
 But Drynan was put out a little by the entrance of the expert 
 smuggler, Bryce Girvan, and the keen, sharp, weather-beaten 
 appearance of his companion, and would sing no more. 
 
 ' Bring a pint o' your best whisky, lassie ; and, messmates, 
 permit me to introduce to you my friend, and your comrade 
 for many a year — Jack M'Creadie, of the Shellknowes.' 
 
 'Is it possible? Gie 's a grup o' yer fin! Od! but Kate 
 Maclure will be the proud lass to see ye !' These were the 
 exclamations which greeted Jack on all sides as he took the 
 seat of honour at the head of the table. 
 
 As the night wore on, many were the strange tales told of 
 hairbreadth escapes from waves and excisemen ; but as 
 M'Creadie wished to spend an hour with, his old friend Fer- 
 guson, he had to bid them good night, and leave M'llraith in the 
 midst of a graphic account of the wreck of the ' Monte Video.' 
 
 No sooner did Captain Girvan get M'Creadie in tow for the 
 Foreland, than he a,gain reverted to the Laird of Knockdaw. 
 
 ' Well, it's a long yarn,' began M'Creadie, ' but as the night 
 is good, and I wish to have a ramble along the old familiar 
 beach, I will gratify your curiosity. But, before I introduce 
 my story, I must make a few observations. You must know 
 that the Lairds of Bennane and Knockdaw are Kennedys, and 
 nearly related — David Kennedy having disappeared somewhat 
 mysteriously, leaving a daughter, a child about three years of 
 age, to heir his estate. As there was no will to be found, 
 Knockdaw conceived the idea of annexing it to his own ; and 
 as he was the nearest of kin, in the event of the child's death, 
 it was Ms legally. To facilitate his diabolical project, he, under 
 the pretence of great friendship, became the child's guardian ; 
 but she had not been many weeks at Knockdaw until she 
 sickened and died, and was duly interred ia the family vault.' 
 
 H 
 
106 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Thank God !' fervently ejaculated Bryce Girvan. ' Do you 
 know, I was trembling with fear lest the child should turn out 
 to be Mary Ferguson.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I see how the land lies ; but to resume my story. 
 
 ' This night, fourteen years ago, I was lying in the Bennane 
 Cave, while the coastguard were searching for me in Ballan- 
 trae. Kate knew where I was, and after sunset paid me a visit, 
 bringing me a change of linen and a little money. It was a 
 beautiful night — just such another as this — and the hours 
 passed unheeded until day began to break, when we were forced 
 to part amidst showers of briny tears. It was anything but a 
 dry affair, I can assure ye. Poor thing, I'm glad she's living 
 and well.' As Jack said this, he drew the back of his hand 
 across his eyes, and spoke rather hoarseljn 
 
 ' Kate had scarcely left half an hour when I saw two men 
 approaching the cave. One of them had a large bundle, which 
 he carried carefully in his arms. As they advanced I retreated 
 into a dark recess of the cavern, and as they were only a few 
 yards from me, I heard every word they said. 
 
 ' " This is confoundedly strange, M'Cord," observed the 
 tallest of the two, who stood muffled up in his cloak, peering 
 through the grey mist of morning over the bay. "Sloan 
 promised to have that old leaky craft of his round from the 
 Whilk by this time, and I see no appearance of him yet. By 
 St Cuthbert, if you give me the brat I'll hurl her over the 
 rocks into the sea." 
 
 ' " Have patience, Knockdaw ; Sloan will not disappoint ye." 
 
 ' " Have patience !" exclaimed Knockdaw, savagely. " The 
 public think she is dead and buried at any rate, so give me the 
 child and I'll nurse her." As Knockdaw said this he advanced 
 and held out his hands. 
 
 ' " Stand off, Laird Kennedy, or I'll do you a mischief. 
 Thank God, there's the boat." 
 
 ' " Did you give her the laudanum?" 
 
 ' " Yes, yes. Let us hurry down to the beach." 
 
 ' Stupefied with horror, I gazed after them until they reached 
 the verge of the sea ; then I saw Knockdaw dip the child in the 
 waves, throw her on board the crazy boat, and shove her off. 
 Merciful God, what was I to do ! If I returned to Ballantrae 
 and informed on the villains, I had every prospect of ending my 
 days en a cotton plantation on the banks of the Mississippi. 
 
THE GKEY STONES OF GABLAFFIN. 107 
 
 Knockdaw might aiBrm that it was a daring falsehood, fabri- 
 cated by a lawless fellow to blast his character, as he was 
 known to be friendly to the revenue officers. So the idea was 
 no sooner formed than it was dismissed. 
 
 ' Meantime the ebb and a pirl of easterly wind carried the 
 boat and its helpless charge rapidly from the shore ; but never 
 will I forget with what gratitude I thanked God when I saw 
 Ferguson's boat round the Foreland, and make straight for 
 the wreck, as I have no doubt he supposed it to be. Tou 
 know the sequel better than I do.' 
 
 The Captain of the ' Speedwell ' had listened with breathless 
 attention to M'Creadie's narrative, and his heart was far too 
 good not to rejoice at the brilliant prospects it opened up to 
 Mary, although, as the heiress of Bennane, it raised, he thought, 
 an insuperable barrier between them. ' Well, this is the most 
 extraordinary yarn ever I heard spun. Ferguson, of course, 
 picked up the boat and towed her here ; but it was always 
 supposed by the fishermen that the ship to which she belonged 
 had been lost on the west coast of Ireland. She was considered 
 to have been a long time tossed about, as the child was half- 
 dead with wet and cold.' 
 
 ' The effects of the dip in the bay and the laudanum, ' 
 observed Jack. 
 
 ' Just so. I see it all now as plain as a marlinspike ; but 
 at the time such was the supposition.' 
 
 ' And quite nat'ral, too.' 
 
 ' Well, Ferguson had lost his own little Mary a short time 
 before this strange occurrence, and Bessie took to the little 
 waif of the waves at once. Indeed, she maintains to this day 
 there was something providential in it.' 
 
 ' Then she is living yet ? ' 
 
 ' Living and well,' responded the Captain ; ' I parted with 
 her not two hours ago.' 
 
 ' I thought as much, from your impatience ; bift it's quite 
 nat'ral at your time of life,' said Jack, with a sigh. 
 
 ' But you have never told me how you left the Bennane 
 Cave?' 
 
 'Well, after I saw the child picked up I left it with a 
 lighter heart, and began to beat up for Girvan, keeping along 
 the shore as closely as I could sail, for I was afraid to keep 
 the road, and this saved me a wearisome journey.' 
 
103 TALES AND TBADITIONS. 
 
 ' How ? ' 
 
 ' I had just got the length of Ardmillan Cave, when feeling 
 more down-hearted than weary, I sat down to enjoy the weed. 
 To tell you the truth, Kate was giving me a considerable amount 
 of uneasiness, and I sat smoking and thinking, until a tight 
 looking craft, that was hugging the land, sent a boat ashore 
 and invited me to come aboard and have dinner with the 
 Captain of the " Spitfire." I objected, but they urged me so 
 strongly that I was glad to comply. Although I was unaware 
 of it, the American war of independence had commenced, and, 
 as the navy needed hands, I was pressed into the service. 
 After cruising on the West Coast of Ireland some days, the 
 "Spitfire" bore away to Dublin, and I was drafted on board 
 the " Shannon." At the memorable action between her and the 
 " Chesapeake " I had the privilege of hauling down the saucy 
 Yankee's bunting, for which I was made captain of the fore-top. 
 Since, I have been round the world, and at last got discharged 
 with a good character and a well-filled purse, and here I am.' 
 
 By this time they had arrived at Ferguson's house, in the 
 Foreland, and as Drynan had informed Kate of Jack's arrival, 
 she was waiting and wearying to see him. The meeting was 
 a joyful one; and as M'Creadie had been a great favourite 
 before leaving, one after another dropped in to see him, so that 
 it was morning before he went to rest. 
 
 Knockdaw left Ballantrae and proceeded homewards, with 
 his mind filled with anything but agreeable reflections. The 
 very sight or name of the young lady he had so grossly 
 wronged, tended at all times to disturb his equanimity, and fill 
 his mind with vague fears for the future. Mentally, he resolved 
 to have her removed from the locality, but how it was to be 
 accomplished, as yet, was not clearly defined. When in 
 Ballantrae he had not been idle. He had learned, through one 
 of bis emissaries, that the ' Speedwell ' was to sail for a 
 cargo of contraband goods on an early day, and he determined 
 to use every means in his power to have the energetic Captain 
 apprehended by the Government officers. ' But it would be 
 better,' he soliloquised, 'if I could induce Comyn to scuttle his 
 ship. I'll see what money can do, after I have consulted with 
 M'Oord.' 
 
 In this amiable disposition he reached Knockdaw and 
 summoned his hoary accomplice into his service. 
 
THE GKET STONES OF GARLAFFIN. 109 
 
 Tarn M'Cord was a man now well advanced in years. He 
 had entered Kennedy's service young, and had committed a 
 faux pas before be was long in it, which had given the 
 unprincipled Laird a complete ascendency over his less astute 
 companion — for such he had become, although a servant. As 
 they advanced in years — they were about an age — ^they 
 progressed in vice, and it was nothing strange for M'Cord to 
 set his master at defiance. Daring a series of years they had 
 committed so many mean actions in company that they both 
 feared and hated each other. 
 
 ' I was at the clachan to-night, M'Cord,' said Knockdaw, in 
 that silly, idiotic style peculiar to drunkards. 
 
 ' Did you bring me here to tell me that ? ' 
 
 ' No, you impudent scoundrel, I did not.' 
 
 ' Well, whatever you have got to say, be quick about it, for 
 I have a stranger to attend to.' 
 
 ' A stranger, M'Cord ; you astonish me. Who the has 
 
 •deigned to visit Knockdaw ? ' 
 
 ' One you must welcome.' 
 
 ' Tell me at once who he is, or I'll throttle ye ? ' 
 
 ' Jamie Oolville.' 
 
 ' The lawyer from Ayr, who made himself so busy when 
 
 Katherine died ? I wish to she had. But it was all your 
 
 fault, M'Cord. I must go and see him. You may swear there 
 is mischief a-brewing.' 
 
 ' Better see him in the morning. I can say you are unwell 
 ^nd gone to bed.' 
 
 ' I'll take your advice for once, M'Cord. Away, and tell him 
 whatever lie comes uppermost.' 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Jack M'Ceeadie and the Captain of the ' Speedwell ' met on 
 the following morning by appointment ; and as the ' Grey 
 Stones of Garlaffin ' was a spot but little frequented, they re- 
 paired thither to hold their conference. After looking at 
 M'Creadie's tale from every point of view, it was considered 
 best, in the meantime, to say nothing about it to either Mary 
 •or her foster parents. They had powerful reasons for this Une 
 •of policy. Knockdaw, they reasoned, would move heaven and 
 
110 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 earth to screen himself and retain the property. lie would 
 have no difficulty in proving that Mary was buried long ago, 
 for nearly half of the parishioners had attended the funeral. 
 This done, it would not be hard to persuade the people that 
 M'Creadie's story was a base fabrication, concocted between 
 her lover — who was well known to be a smuggler — and a man 
 who had to fly the country for a similar offence. ' I see rocks 
 ahead,' observed M'Creadie, gravely, ' no matter how I view 
 this ugly piece of work ; but having turned it over in my mind 
 for fourteen years, I'll tell thee, Captain, what I think would 
 be our best mode of procedure. Let us go to-night to the Old 
 Church and examine the family vault of the Kennedys of Ben- 
 nane, and ascertain if the coffin of Katherine is in its place, and 
 what it contains. Having satisfied ourselves on that head, we 
 can summon the inhabitants, and prove the truth of my state- 
 ments.' 
 
 ' A noble idea, Jack,' exclaimed the Captain, ' and one 
 which we must carry out at once.' 
 
 Returning to the village they spent the remainder of the day 
 visiting friends ; but towards evening they mysteriously disap- 
 peared, much to the chagrin of their numerous acquaintances, 
 and bent their steps in the direction of the kirk. 
 
 The original church of Ballantrae was situated near the con- 
 fluence of the Tig and the Stinchar. The ruins stand, or did 
 lately, on the property of Garfar, about two miles from the sea. 
 The church was granted to the monks of Crossraguel by the 
 founder of that monastery, Duncan, Earl of Carrick, and con- 
 firmed to them by Robert I. and Robert III. The monks en- 
 joyed the patronage tithes ; and the other profits of the church 
 belonged to the vicarage, which was established by the Bishop 
 of Glasgow. Having arrived at the ruinous edifice, the two 
 sat down in the shadow of the wall, and looked around them in 
 silence. The night was calm and clear. Not a cloud obscured 
 the brilliancy of the moon ; and as her silvery radiance shone 
 through the trees upon the last resting-place of many genera- 
 tions of rich and poor, they felt a solemn awe steal over them. 
 Indeed, the mission which had brought them to such a place, 
 at such an hour, induced anything but feelings of levity. In 
 endeavouring to restore to a defenceless girl what was justly 
 hers, they felt they had a sacred duty to fulfil, and they were 
 determined to discharge it faithfully. To facilitate their pur- 
 
THE GEEY STONES OF GAELAEFIN. Ill 
 
 pose, M'Creadie liad brought a lantern witli him, and was busy 
 engaged trimming it when their attention was arrested by ap- 
 proaching footsteps. 
 
 ' There's some one coming this way,' said the Captain, in a 
 scarcely audible voice ; ' let us crouch down close behind this 
 stone.' 
 
 Without replying, Jack M'Creadie followed his comrade's 
 example, for now they could distinctly hear the voices of men 
 in conversation. 
 
 ' This is the place, Mr Colville ; there's the vault of the 
 Kennedys at the east corner,' said the one who apparently 
 acted as guide. 
 
 ' You have the keys with you, Ramsey, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, and the light.' 
 
 ' Well, let us proceed to work at once, for I'm quite im- 
 patient to test the truth of the anonj^ous note I received. If 
 it holds true, Knockdaw may look out.' 
 
 ' I can scarcely credit it, sir ; but we can soon learn — this is 
 the entrance.' 
 
 After trying a variety of keys, they found one which fitted 
 the lock, and in a moment they both disappeared inside. 
 
 ' Who can they be ? ' asked Captain Girvan, springing to 
 his feet. 
 
 ' How should I know ? but evidently they are no friends of 
 Knockdaw. Let's see what they're about,' said M'Creadie, as 
 he peered through one of the loopholes peculiar to charnel 
 houses. Captain Girvan followed his example. 
 
 In the centre of the place allotted to the dead stood the two 
 strangers, both fashionably dressed. The tallest of the two 
 might be about forty years of age ; his companion was some- 
 what younger, with a frank expression of face and deep-set 
 grey eyes. The other, who was evidently his superior, had a 
 sharp, swarthy face, aquiline nose, restless black eyes, and 
 stood gazing at three slabs, with rings attached to them, lying 
 at his feet over the resting place of the dead. 
 
 These peculiarities of dress and features M'Creadie and the 
 Captain had an ample opportunity of noting, as they stood 
 with the light between them on the floor of the vault. 
 
 ' Help me to lift these stones aside, Ramsey.' 
 
 Without speaking another word, they both bent down and 
 carefully removed the slabs which covered the grave. 
 
112 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 ' Hold up the light ; there, that will do. Here is the cofSn 
 of " Katherine Kennedy, aged three years and four months." 
 How very particular Kuockdaw has been ! But what does it 
 contain? ' 
 
 ' Have you the tools 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Well, set to work and raise the lid.' 
 
 Ramsey obeyed in silence, and in the course of a few minutes 
 it was uncovered. 
 
 ' Here's the child,' exclaimed Ramsey, dragging forth a large 
 billet of oak, and throwing it on the floor. 
 
 ' The infernal scoundrel,' exclaimed the Captain, involuntarily, 
 who had watched the whole proceedings with intense anxiety 
 through the iron grating. 
 
 Ramsey and Colville leaped nearly off their feet, the latter 
 exclaiming — ' Good heavens, did you not hear some one speak?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, and I fear we have been watched, for I could 
 swear it was a human voice I heard.' 
 
 ' You need not be alarmed, gentlemen,' said Captain Girvan, 
 as he opened the door of the vault and stepped inside. ' You 
 have only anticipated us in our work.' 
 
 " What mean you, sir?' demanded Colville, sternly, as he 
 stepped a pace back, and drew a pistol from his breast pocket. 
 
 ' Simply that we're friends of the wronged heiress, and came 
 here for the express purpose of doing what you have done.' 
 
 ' You were many years of using the knowledge which you 
 possessed,' said Colville, still keeping the muzzle of the pistol 
 pointed towards the Captain. 
 
 ' I might retort with equal propriety, and charge you with 
 either negligence or want of knowledge ; but here's my comrade 
 has known it for fourteen years.' 
 
 ' Ha ! and what was the reason he kept his secret so long ?' 
 
 'Jack,' said the Captain, addressing- M'Creadie, 'you'll 
 better rehearse to the gentlemen the tale you told me.' 
 
 Without any hesitation, M'Creadie commenced in a clear, 
 manly voice, and related what the reader already knows.^ As 
 he proceeded with his narrative, the group formed a picture 
 that Rembrandt would have been delighted to paint. Mi 
 Colville stood with his left foot resting on the wooden repre- 
 sentative of the house of Bennane, bent forward in his anxiety 
 to catch every word that fell from Jack's lips, while in his right 
 
THE GREY STONES OP GAKLAFFIN. 113 
 
 hand he still retained the pistol. Eamsey stood by his side, 
 ■with his keen grey eyes fixed on the face of the narrator. 
 The Captain of the ' Speedwell ' was standing opposite Mr 
 Colville, with his right hand thrust into his left breast — for he 
 never travelled at night without a brace of barkers. The lamp 
 was languishing for want of being trimmed, and threw a sickly 
 gloom on the damp^ slimy walls, which gave them a most re- 
 pulsive look. 
 
 When M'Creadie concluded his tale Mr Colville put up his 
 pistol, and grasping M'Creadie warmly by the hand, he ex- 
 claimed, ' I am deeply your debtor, for, but for you, the discov- 
 ery which we have made would have availed but little, as we 
 would have been still ignorant of the fate of the child.' 
 
 'Thank God ! she's living and well,' exclaimed M'Creadie, 
 fervently. 
 
 ' Amen,' responded Mr Colville. 
 
 ' Seeing we have been so explicit with you, I think, sir, you 
 should inform us how you acquired any knowledge of an event 
 that occurred so many years ago,' observed Mr Girvan. 
 
 ' My tale is soon told. The Laird of Bennane and I were 
 most intimate friends. He attached himself to the cause of 
 Charles Edward, and, it is supposed, fell at the battle of Preston. 
 He left no will that can be discovered. Upon the demise of 
 his infant daughter, the property, of course, became Knock- 
 daw's, and a suspicion that he had used foul play to obtain 
 possession never once crossed my mind. Last week, however, 
 I received an annoymous letter which stated that the heiress 
 was not dead, and that the funeral was a mockery ; that if I 
 wished to assure myself of the truth of the writer's statement, 
 I had only to come here and I would find, instead of a child, 
 a block of wood in the coffin. It was such a wild, improbablj'- 
 looking tale that I hesitated some time before I informed Mr 
 Eamsey of the communication, but he took quite a different 
 view of the affair. So we left Ayr and arrived at Knockdaw 
 last night. The Laird came home late, and I did not see him ; 
 so I started early this morning, telling M'Cord to inform his 
 master that I had some business of importance to transact in 
 Ballantrae, but that I hoped to return and see him in the course 
 of a day or two. You know the rest.' 
 
 ' Well, how do you intend to proceed now ? ' asked Captaia 
 Girvan, in an anxious voice. 
 
114 TALES AND TEADITIOKS. 
 
 ' la the meantime, let us replace the woodea body ia the 
 cofBD, and every oue must keep secret our nocturnal visit to this 
 place. We will separate before we enter Ballantrae ; but to- 
 morrow evening meet me and Ramsay at the " Grey Stones of 
 GarlafEn," and I will inform you what I think is best to be 
 done.' 
 
 Having replaced the wood in the cofBn, and locked the door, 
 they proceeded down the Stinchar in the direction of Ballantrae. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 The unexpected visit of Messrs Colville and Ramsey, and their 
 sudden departure, had seriously annoyed Knockdaw and his 
 accomplice in crime. Years had elapsed since they had con- 
 jointly committed the foul deed that had placed Knockdaw in 
 the possession of Bennane ; still their consciences were as 
 easily alarmed as if the crime had been committed yesterday. 
 There was only one individual living, they thought, that knew 
 the whole details of the conspiracy, and she w^ getting ad- 
 vanced in years, and ^vas still in his service ; therefore thej' had 
 no dread of Janet Baird, the housekeeper. In earlier years 
 M'Cord had made love to her, as it was necessary to secure 
 her aid in carrying out their plans regarding the infant heiress. 
 As M'Cord was not a man given to marriage, he delayed the 
 fulfilment of his promise to wed her from mouth to month and 
 from year to year, and latterly he abandoned her altogether. It 
 is said—' Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,' and the wisest 
 man might have added— bitter too. If M'Cord had forgotten 
 his promise, Janet had not ; and as drowning men are said to 
 catch at straws, so Janet had arrived at that time of life when 
 women become terrified they are to remain in a state of single 
 blessedness for ever, and she resolved to make her faithless 
 swain fulfil his promise and marry her, or take steps secretly 
 to work his ruin. Accordingly, she threw off her apron (a few 
 days previous to the opening of this tale), donned her silk gown, 
 and garnished her mutch with an enormous quantity of red 
 ribbons, and held her way down to the great man's apartment. 
 Janet neither stammered, blushed, nor bowed as she entered 
 it, but, coolly taking a seat, bade M'Cord good morning. 
 
 ' In the name o' everything that's gude, Miss Baird, whaur 
 
THE GREY STOKES OF GAELAFFIN. 115 
 
 are ye going this morning '? I didna see ye sae well dressed 
 syne the nicht ye attended Meg M'Kissock's bridal.' 
 
 ' The next bridal I gang to maun be my ain — ' 
 
 ' A wise resolution, Miss Baird,' observed M'Cord, interrupt- 
 ing her ; ' really I'm surprised a lass o' your appearance didna 
 tak' a man lang syne.' 
 
 ' I never got the chance, and a' through you, ye deceiving, 
 black-hearted, lying villain,' exclaimed Janet, storming up. 
 
 ' Whist ! for gude's sake, whist. Miss Baird, the Laird will 
 hear ye, and ye ken he likes quietness in the morning.' 
 
 ' I carena a fig for the Laird ! ' cried Janet, snapping her 
 fingers in his face ; but the next moment she resorted to 
 woman's strength and weakness, and began to sob bitterly. 
 ' I hae seen the day, Mr M'Cord, when ye were glad to see me 
 comuDg the way o' yer room. I wasna Miss Baird then, but 
 " dear Janet, my pretty bird, and bonnie lassie ; " but I'm 
 cheaply set aside noo, and sairs me richt for lavishing my love 
 on a man that disna care I was thrown ower Gamesloup.' 
 
 ' I'm always glad to see ye, Janet. Sae dry yer bonnie een 
 and listen to reason.' 
 
 ' Weel, what are ye gaun to say ? ' asked Janet, looking at 
 her lover through her tears. 
 
 • Ye see, dear, we're baith getting weel up in years- 
 
 ' I kenna about yer age, Mr M'Cord, but I'm no that auld 
 but I could mak' a comfortable hame for ye yet.' 
 
 ' Granted, my dawtie ; but ye interrupted me before I had 
 my say oot. As I was remarking, we're baith getting — or at 
 least I am growing auld, and seeing we hae wanted the 
 comforts ye were speaking aboot sae lang, I think it wad be 
 baith improper and- sinfu' to disturb the even tenor o' oor life 
 noo.' 
 
 ' Am I to understand, Mr M'Cord, that ye never intend to 
 marry 1 ' 
 
 ' That's exactly the meaning o' my words. Miss Baird.' 
 
 ' If ye *' Miss Baird" me again, ye low, unprincipled vagabond, 
 I'll tear yer ugly een oot.' As Janet advanced with the inten- 
 tion of putting her threat into execution, the door opened, and 
 the Laird of Knockdaw stepped into the apartment. 
 
 Janet cast a look of scorn and hatred at her faithless swain, 
 and hastily retreated to her room. 
 
 Bolting her door, she sat down at the table, and, in her 
 
116 TALES .AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 passion, penned the note which had brought Mr Colville to 
 Ballantrae. 
 
 The morning after Colville left Knockdaw, the Laird held a 
 long conference with M'Cord, and many were the conjectures 
 hazarded as to the cause of his visit. Somehow they had a 
 presentiment that it boded them no good. ' I think the best 
 thing we can do is to set Comyn on Colville's trail. Send him 
 here, and I'll give him instructions.' 
 
 M'Cord hastened to obey his master's commands, and in a 
 short time returned in company with Comyn, who acted as the 
 Laird's spy and emissary upon all occasions. 
 
 For some years past M'Cord had lost the confidence of the 
 smugglers who frequented the port of Ballantrae and the Bay 
 of Finnart, and as Comyn was an expert smuggler, and had 
 every appearance of being an open-hearted, frank, fearless man, 
 he was quite a favourite in the village. 
 
 ' Comyn,' said the Laird, addressing him as soon as he 
 entered his apartment, ' I wish you to do me a bit of service, 
 for which I intend to reward you handsomely.' 
 
 ' Is it of a dangerous nature ? ' asked Comyn, for he knew 
 the Laird better than suppose he was going to give him much 
 for doing little. 
 
 'Xo, but it will require all your tact to do it well. You 
 must go to Ballantrae and learn the whereabouts of a Mr 
 Colville. You may easily distinguish him by his dress, which 
 is somewhat uncommon in this district. Kneebreeches of black 
 silk velvet, and hose to match, a vest of the same material, and 
 a, short, fashionable, dark cloak ; rather tall in stature, swarthy 
 features, and dark eyes — that's the man. You must follow his 
 movements ; wherever he goes never lose sight of him for a 
 single moment, but beware of attracting his attention, for 
 he's as sharp as a hawk. Dog his footsteps until he retires 
 for the night, and return here before you sleep. Now, go at 
 once, and there's an earnest of mv determination to pay you 
 well.' 
 
 As the Laird said this he tossed Comyn his purse across the 
 table. Comj'n's eyes dilated with pleasure as he pocketed the 
 money^ for his ruling passion was avarice. To gi'atify his 
 love of gold, he was willing to engage in the most reckless and 
 unlawful enterprise. 
 
 Drinking a class now and again, he loitered about the 
 
THE GEEY STONES OF GAELAFPIN. 117 
 
 Ballantrae Inn all day, seeing Mr Colville and Ramsey pass 
 out and in. As night set in, however, he observed them bend 
 their steps in the direction of the Stinchar, and thither he 
 followed them, until they reached the vicinity of the Parish 
 Church. Screened from observation by the trees, which grew 
 around it, he approached it cautiously, and saw Colville and his 
 companion enter it; but to Comyn's great astonishment, the- 
 Captain of the ' Speedwell ' and another man approached the 
 loopholes, before mentioned, and peered through them. He 
 now conjectured it was a smuggling affair, and that Knockdaw 
 had employed him to discover where the booty was hid ; for, 
 strange as it may sound in the ears of our readers, one of the 
 best receptacles of smuggled goods in the parish was a vault 
 beneath the church. ' I can now perceive the cause of Knock- 
 daw's unwonted liberality,' muttered Comyn, 'but if the know- 
 ledge is worth so much to him, it must be of value to me.' He 
 had just arrived, mentally, at this laudable conclusion, when 
 Captain Girvan and his companion disappeared inside. The 
 coast was now clear, so approaching the wickets he saw and 
 heard all with which the reader is already acquainted. 
 
 Comyn, having made the great discovery of Knockdaw's- 
 villany, hastened down the Stinchar, cogitating all the way 
 how he should make the best use of his knowledge. At last 
 he resolved to extort from the Laird all the money he could, 
 securing to himself the liberty of either acting with or against 
 him, as circumstances would suggest. 
 
 By the time he reached the Laird's it was getting late, but 
 on announcing himself he was shown by M'Cord at once to 
 Knockdaw's apartment. 
 
 As the Laird and M'Cord listened to Comyn's tale they shook 
 with dismay. Until this moment, they had considered their 
 crime of outrage and wrong safe in their own keeping, but now 
 there was proof as clear and strong as holy writ against 
 them ; and to complete their horror, Comyn was also cognizant 
 of their base treachery. The same thought swept instantane- 
 ously through Knockdaw and M'Cord's mind that, whatever 
 was the future consequences, he would have to be disposed of ; 
 but he was a strong, powerful man, and if the attempt upon 
 his life miscarried, it might cost them theks immediately. 
 
 ' I need not say to you, Comyn, that, in the meantime, I 
 depend on you, as I would on my nearest friend, that you will 
 
118 TALES AND TRADITION'S. 
 
 retain j^oiir knowledge of this affair closely to yourself,' said 
 Knockdaw. 
 
 ■• That depends on how I'm paid. Laird,' observed Comyn. 
 
 A rapid glance passed between Knockdaw and M'Cord, 
 which Comyn failed to perceive, so busily was he engaged 
 computing how much he should ask for keeping his secret, or 
 I'ather theirs. 
 
 ' I'm aware of that, Comyn; and that I intend to pay you 
 handsomely I think you had a convincing proof this morning.' 
 
 ' Yes, that's true enough ; but you see, Knockdaw, this is 
 an important secret, and must be be paid for accordingly.' 
 
 ' I pledge you my word you shall have no reason to reflect 
 on my want of liberality to-morrow night ; but it's now one 
 o'clock, and as j^ou have a good way to go I must bid you 
 good-night. Take another glass of brandy and then start.' 
 
 Comyn started, but it was reluctantly. He had a long, 
 lonely road before him, but the night was clear and good, and 
 being well primed with brandy he journeyed bravelj' along. 
 The cottage in which he resided was not in the village, and 
 from Knockdaw there were two waj^s of reaching it. The 
 shortest way led through a waste, thickly strewn with huge 
 whinstone boulders and black frowning rocks, which seemed 
 very pretty when the sun was shining, but at night they had 
 a wild, weird-looking appearance. He had arrived nearly at the 
 j^ublic road, and had commenced to clamber down the precipice 
 which bounded it on the east, when he sprang suddenly off his 
 feet and fell forward down the face of the bleak rock. The 
 ]iext moment the report of a pistol aw^oke the sleeping echoes, 
 and died far away among the hills. 
 
 CIIAPTBE V. 
 
 It was far advanced in the morning when the Laird of Knock- 
 daw came from his chamber, and sat down to breakfast. The 
 meal passed in silence, for he well knew the crisis of his fate 
 had arrived, and unless he could dispose of Colville and his 
 friends, as Comyn had been last night, utter ruin, and perhaps 
 ;i shameful death, stared him in the face. These were the 
 thoughts which occupied his mind as he tried to eat a little, 
 but the excitement and excess of last night had completely 
 
THE GEEY STONES OP GAELAEFIN. 119 
 
 destroyed his appetite. He felt the necessity of conferring 
 with M'Cord, but somehow his nature revolted against it. It 
 may seem strange, but after every additional crime they avoided 
 each other more and more, and as they advanced in years 
 their hatred of each other vsras proportionally increased. Per- 
 haps they were taught by experience to justly estimate each 
 other's worth. 
 
 As the Laird sat chewing the cud of bitter reflection the 
 door opened and Mr M'Cord walked in and sat down. If death 
 levels all distinctions, so does crime ; and Knockdaw saw and 
 felt the truth of this observation as he looked askance at his 
 servant. 
 
 ' We have a more difficult job before us to-night than we 
 had this morning,' observed Knockdaw, eyeing his servant and 
 accomplice keenly. 
 
 ' Not a bit, if we go about it as cautiously. At most there 
 will be but four of them, and there are plenty of pistols here. I 
 intend taking a few in my belt, and I suppose you will do 
 the same. If they had left the selection of the place of meeting 
 to you and me they could not have pleased me better. How 
 easy it will be for us to secrete ourselves among the whin and 
 broom which grow so luxuriantly among the grey stones of 
 Garlaffin, and bring down our man as gracefully as you would 
 a pheasant.' 
 
 ' M'Cord, you have been drinking this morning, and recol- 
 lect if we bungle this job to-night, it will cost us our lives,' said 
 the Laird, in a sober manner. 
 
 ' I could not help taking a drop, for I felt so nervous since 
 I dropped Comyn over the crag into the sea.' 
 
 ' He's safe enough, at any rate,' observed the Laird, shud- 
 dering, and looking anxiously round the room. ' Do you know, 
 M'Cord, I think I have a touch of the Hues myself — I never 
 felt as queer in all my life. You'd better bring in the bottle.' 
 
 Leaving these confederates in crime to mature their plans, 
 let us return to Ballantrae and ascertain how the other charac- 
 ters in the drama are passing their time. 
 
 Jack M'Creadie and Kate had retired for an hour or two 
 to the ruins of Ardstinchar, where they had spent many a 
 happy, joyous day— 
 
 Wben earth appeared a blest abode, 
 And life a long, bright, pleasant road. 
 
120 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 Here Jack, with his arms around Kate's waist, renewed the 
 vows of his youth, to which she listened as eagerly as she did 
 fourteen years ago. Some of the ill-speaking gossips affirmed 
 that she had never received the offer of a man, else she would 
 not have waited so long on M'Oreadie ; but this was nothing but 
 spleen, for it could have been easily attested that Drynan, the 
 fisher, and Macilray, the blacksmith, both sought the hand of 
 Miss Maclure in marriage, but had been courteously refused. 
 We say courteously; for Katie, being a kind, good, wise girl, 
 felt uncommonly to break the heart of the burly blacksmith. 
 Of course, while Jack was sitting with his arms around her 
 waist, he was informed of this and far more. 
 
 The ' Speedwell ' was lying in the port ready 'to start on her 
 perilous cruise, but the Captain was not on board. Ever since 
 he heard the strange tale about Mary, his mind could settle to 
 nothing. His crew remarked there was something wrong, but 
 they never imagined there was a woman in the case. Their 
 opinion was that Captain Girvan had only to court and win the 
 greatest lady in the land. Indeed, as far as good looks, breed- 
 ing, and bravery were concerned, he deserved nothing less, but 
 these things do not go so much bj' merit as the length of the 
 purse, and the Captain's moneybags not being' weighty enough 
 to marry an heiress, he felt desponding and melancholy. 
 
 Mary and the Captain were walking arm-in-arm along the 
 beach, picking up shells and carrying on a conversation in low 
 tones, although there was no one near. 
 
 'I'm going to suppose a case, Mary, but it's only a 
 supposition,' said the Captain, stooping down and lifting up a 
 beautiful pebble; ' if you were becoming immensely rich, having 
 a fine estate, and carriage, would you not regret wedding an 
 obscure individual like me ? ' 
 
 ' Bryce ! what makes you ask such a strange question ? 
 Wha's gaun to leave me an estate or anything else? Ye 
 should speak sensibly.' 
 
 ' I didn't say, dearest Mary, any person was going to 
 leave you an estate ; I'm only supposing such a thing.' 
 
 ' Weel, then, suppose naething aboot it, for neither station 
 nor riches can or could ever change my affection for you.' 
 
 The Captain rewarded this declaration not by kissing her, 
 for the bay was dotted with fishing boats, while Misses 
 M'Hatteric and Simpson, two of the most celebrated gossips of 
 
THE GREY STONES OF GAKLAFFIN. 121 
 
 the village, were pretending to water a web of linen they had 
 out bleaching, but in reality they were watching the lovers ; 
 therefore he only pressed her hand and said — 'Mary, this 
 avowal will comfort me by night and by day when far from 
 Ballantrae.' 
 
 ' Wherever ye go, dear Bryce, my prayers will be duly 
 offered up night and morning for your safety. And, oh! I 
 beseech ye to abandon this perilous life, and settle doun to some 
 peacefu' occupation.' 
 
 ' Well, well, love, if this be a successful run I'll make it the 
 last voyage in the " Speedwell." ' 
 
 Colville and Ramsey spent the greater part of the day 
 about the inn, but towards night they took theii- departure for 
 the ' Grey Stones of GarlaiEn.' They had scarcely reached 
 the place of rendezvous when they were joined by Captain 
 Girvan and M'Creadie. Although the day had been beautiful, 
 towards evening it changed, and, as darkness set in, a strong 
 breeze of westerly wind swept up the Stinchar, while large 
 masses of clouds kept driving over the face of the moon, 
 occasionally obscuring her altogether. 
 
 ' I have come to the conclusion, my friends,' observed Mr 
 Colville, 'that the best thing we can do is to proceed to 
 Knockdaw to-morrow and make a prisoner of the Laird, charge 
 him with the crime of obtaining possession of Bennane un- 
 lawfully, and with the abduction of the infant heiress.' 
 
 Before another word could be spoken, the party were 
 suddenly startled by the report of a pistol, immediately behind 
 where they stood sheltered by the broom and whin bushes, 
 followed by a savage yell, and then another shot, a low groan, 
 and then all was still. 
 
 The reader will be at no loss to conjecture who the parties 
 were who were hidden among the broom bushes, from the 
 conversation between Knockdaw and M'Cord in the morning ; 
 but as he may not be aware of the cause of such an unexpected 
 occurrence we will hasten to inform him. 
 
 Knockdaw and his servant had arrived at the ' Grey Stones 
 of Garlaffiu ' long before Colville and his party, and to beguile 
 the time, which hung rather heavily on their hand, they 
 applied themselves frequently to a brandy bottle which they 
 had brought with them. After waiting and wearying till 
 night, they had the satisfaction of seeing the parties approach 
 
 I 
 
122 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 the spot where they were concealed. ' Now, M'Cord, take 
 your pistol ia yonr hand and creep cautiously after me through 
 the bushes. AVhen I halt, I warn you to do the same, for it 
 will be within a few yards of our friends ; be sure and bring- 
 down Colville, and I'll square accounts with the Captain of the 
 " Speedwell." Now, follow me.' Like serpents they crept 
 along through the rank broom, Knockdaw leading, and 
 M'Cord following close on his trail. While advancing 
 cautiously in this order, the projecting twig of a bush caught 
 the trigger of M'Cord's pistol, and the next moment the con- 
 tents of it were lodged in Knockdaw's body. In the twinkling 
 of an eye it flashed across the Laird's mind that M'Cord had 
 betrayed him, and turning suddenly round, with a horrid 
 imprecation, he shot M'Cord dead on the spot. 
 
 ' Follow me ! ' shouted Captain Girvan, as he dashed into 
 the thicket ; but before he proceeded many yards he found 
 Knockdaw and M'Cord lying together in the cold embrace of 
 death. 
 
 ' They have saved the country a considerable amount of 
 annoyance and cash,' observed Mr Colville, when he recognized 
 who they were. 
 
 ' What is to be done with the bodies ? ' asked Jack M'Creadie. 
 ' Tou see, gentlemen, it's a great advantage to die at sea. 
 There you're sure to get a cool, clean resting-place, and there's 
 no undertaker's fees to pay.' 
 
 ' It's a sad end to come to,' observed Captain Girvan. 
 
 ' Ramsey, you'll better go and bring a machine from the 
 inn, and recollect, don't say a word about this to any one. 
 We'll remove the bodies to Knockdaw immediately.' 
 
 Accordingly that night the corpses of Knockdaw and his 
 worthless servant were conveyed home, but, secretly as it was 
 done, the truth became known shortly afterwards ; and when 
 Mary Ferguson was declared to be Katherine Kennedy, and 
 the heiress of Bennane, Peggy M'Hatteric was heard exclaim- 
 ing for two-three days — ' I aye tauld ye Mary Ferguson wad 
 turn oot tae be a grand leddy j'et.' 
 
 Mary was more astonished than pleased at her good 
 fortune. With her kind foster parents she was quite happy — 
 a boon neither rank nor riches can confer. 
 
 Jack M'Creadie, shortly after these exciting events, was 
 duly wed to Miss Maclure, and Katie, for a few years succes- 
 
THE GEET STONES OF GAELAPFIN. 123 
 
 eively, presented Jack with a son. Many of their descendants 
 are yet about Ballantrae. 
 
 Bryce Girvan, the intrepid captain of the ' Speedwell,' left 
 the port of Ballantrae in the evening, a few days after the 
 tragic occurrence at the ' Grey Stones of Garlaffin,' and never 
 to this day has his fate been learned. There was a stiff 
 breeze of south-west wind, and it is supposed that, in his 
 anxiety to make a quick run and return to his first and only 
 love, he crowded on too much sail, and went down in the bay. 
 Be this as it may, not a spar belonging to the ' Speedwell ' 
 was ever washed ashore. 
 
 The heiress of Bennane mourned his loss for many a 
 day, but time, the great alleviator of human woe, reconciled 
 her to her fate ; and after the lapse of a few years she wed a 
 distant relation, and lived to see her grandchildren gather 
 ferns among the Gret Stones op Gaelaffin. 
 
124 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 CRUGGLETON CASTLE 
 
 A TALE OF GALLOWAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SHORT distance from the Royal Burgh of Whithorn, on 
 the coast, stands the ruins of Cruggleton Castle. Nothing now 
 renaains of that vast feudal fortress except a ruined archway, 
 which looks as if it would topple over into the sea at no 
 distant date. The spot on which the castle stood is a kind of 
 promontory, formed by a small bay on each side, and elevated 
 about two hundred feet above the level of the sea, which moans 
 and fumes, like the departed spirits of its lords, around the base 
 of the rock on which it was built. The fosse in front of it, which 
 was the only accessible part of the castle, encloses upwards of 
 an acre of ground, and is still quite visible. Those who are fond 
 of the grand and picturesque would do well to visit this hoary 
 ruin. A pleasant drive of half-an-hour or so takes the denizen 
 of the overcrowded town or city from Whithorn to this sweet 
 secluded spot ; at least Charlie, a diminutive pony from Shet- 
 land or Orkney, we forget which, conveyed the writer of this 
 tradition iu about that time. 
 
 Cruggleton Castle had long defied all the power of the 
 minions of England to take it. The Laird, Willie Ker, was 
 young, intrepid, and fearless, and looked down, like an eagle 
 from its eyre, with haughty contempt upon the efforts of Comyn 
 to wrest it from him. It was after repulsing his assailants with 
 great slaughter, that the Laird of Castle Feather and Ker sat 
 together, in a spacious room overlooking the sea, in earnest con- 
 versation. 
 
 'I tell thee, Ker, thou'rt too careless about thy castle,' said 
 Douglas, in a warning voice ; ' I have heard it said that Lord 
 Soulis, to whom thou'rt going to accord welcome to-morrow, is 
 
CKUGGLETON CASTLE. 125 
 
 a secret partizan of the English — therefore I pray thee to 
 beware.' 
 
 Ker laughed gaily ere he replied. ' Know'st thou not, 
 Douglas, that Lord Soulis was one of my father's firmest 
 friends, and think'st thou he would enter my castle as a friend 
 to betray it into the hands of the English. I could not harbour 
 such a base opinion of any man.' 
 
 'Always the way with the young and inexperienced. 
 They judge the world by their own unsophisticated heart, until 
 they receive a severe lesson, which Heaven forbid you should 
 ever do; for, if any ill would befall thee, Mary would assuredly 
 break her heart.' 
 
 ' I know thy tongue is guileless and thy heart true; there- 
 fore, I thank thee for thy friendly advice. Eest assured I will 
 neglect no necessary precaution.' 
 
 ' Have you not a retainer of Lord Soulis in the castle just 
 now?' 
 
 'Yes, yes, but he brought the message of his Lordship's 
 coming, and my henchman, Gordon, says he goes moping 
 about the castle like an owl. It seems he's in great sorrow 
 about a brother of his who was lately slain.' 
 
 ' Where, or by whom ? ' 
 
 'What a question, Douglas! Dost thou think I would 
 ask?' 
 
 ' Thou should'st, and if his answer was not satisfactory I 
 would turn him out of the castle. Perhaps he's taking a plan 
 of the fortress when he's going moping about, and it's just pos- 
 sible that the tale about his brother's death is all a myth.' 
 
 ' Take a glass of wine, Douglas, and dispel these idle sus- 
 picions. What do I regard either Lord Soulis or his servant?' 
 
 ' I'll drink no wine to-night, Ker,' said the old Laird of 
 Castle Feather, rising and preparing to leave. 'Be on thy 
 guard, Willie, for I have a presentiment on my mind that some 
 dreadful calamity is about to befall thee.' 
 
 The very earnestness of the Douglas had a depressing effect 
 on the mind of Ker, therefore he remained silent as he followed 
 Ms visitor to the gate of the castle, where his horse was 
 waiting. 
 
 Mounting his steed his keen grey eyes rested on the face of 
 Lord Soulis' retainer, who was so intently looking at the fosse 
 in front of the castle that he observed them not. 
 
126 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 'Is that the melancholy chiel we were speaking about?' 
 asked the old Lahd in a low voice. 
 
 ' The same.' 
 
 ' Then by St Ninian I would hurl him over the parapet 
 into the sea ; he's an ill-looking thief, and if he's not drowned 
 he'll be hung.' As the Laird said this he rode off, leaving Ker 
 to his meditations. 
 
 While the foregoing conversation was taking place between 
 the Laird of Cruggleten and Douglas, Oomyn, one of the as- 
 pirants for the Scottish crown, and Lord Soulis, a blood rela- 
 tion of his, were sitting tete-a-tete in the Priory of Whithorn. 
 The Prior, more through fear than love, professed to be friendly 
 to the English cause; therefore his gates were open to Comyn, 
 who was known to be a creature of Edward's, the English 
 king. 
 
 ' So you have got Bertram introduced into Cruggleton,' ob- 
 served Comyn to Lord SouUs. 
 
 ' Yes, and rest assured he will scan the castle with a critical 
 eye. Would to God I had- a thousand followers like him. I 
 could subdue Scotland.' 
 
 ' The robber Wallace is likely to subdue us, if more energetic 
 measures are not adopted for his suppression,' said Comj'n, 
 dryly. 
 
 ' Never mind Wallace at present, it's Percy's business to 
 look after him ; let us endeavour to sup in Cruggleton 
 to-morrow night.' 
 
 ' I would rather than all the gold in Whithorn ; but how is 
 it to be accomplished ? I have lost some hundreds of good 
 men already trying to gain admittance, and I'm on the wrong 
 side of it yet.' 
 
 ' You mean the outside. Well, leave it to me and Bertram, 
 and we'll see what can be done.' 
 
 ' Will you require many men ?' 
 
 ' No, no ; whatever is accomplished will depend more on 
 cunning than force ; but remember I will expect a coronet when 
 you are raised to the Scottish throne.' 
 
 ' You will have earned one. Let us drink success to your 
 enterprise.' 
 
 They filled their goblets with the sparkling wine belonging 
 to the Prioiy, and sat long discussing their treacherous plot. 
 At length, having nearly exhausted their flagons and their 
 
CKUGGLETON CASTLE. 127 
 
 theme of discourse — the capture of Cruggleton — they reth-ed 
 for the night. 
 
 By noon on the following day Lord Soulis and a few of his 
 trusty followers arrived at the castle, where they were made 
 right welcome. Dinner was served up in the great banqueting 
 hall, and wine, sentiment, and song, circulated freely. Lord 
 Soulis completely threw his inexperienced host off his guard 
 by his warm eulogiums of Wallace. He perceived in a moment 
 that the young enthusiastic Laird of Cruggleton entered heart 
 and soul into the daring exploits of the champion of his enslaved 
 country; and when he saw his eyes dilate as he leaned forward 
 least a word of the exciting theme should escape him, he felt 
 assured he had touched the chord that vibrated to his heart. 
 Having secured the entire confidence of the Laird, Lord Soulis 
 left the table as soon as possible, and, under pretext of en- 
 joying a solitary half-hour, sought the battlements. 
 
 The afternoon was beautiful, scarcely a breath of wind 
 ruffled the sm'face of the sleeping sea. But what cared the 
 perfidious Soulis for the wild grandeur of the rugged coast, 
 the song of bhds, or the fragrance of flowers! His mind was 
 busy devising a scheme for betraying not only the castle, but 
 its young, confiding Laird, into the hands of his bitterest 
 enemies, and, Judas-like, he meant to accomplish his ruin with 
 the kiss of friendship. * 
 
 He sat down on the parapet, where he considered he would 
 be least observed, and' gazed anxiously around him. In a 
 moment he was joined by Bertram. 
 
 'Sit here beside rue, Bertram,' said his Lordship, in a 
 scarcely audible voice. 'Well, have you made a survey of 
 this falcon's eyre 1 ' 
 
 'I have.' 
 
 ' And what is your opinion 1 ' 
 
 ' It's impregnable,' replied Bertram, who was evidently a 
 man of few words, 
 
 ' You mean it's impossible to force an entrance.' 
 
 'Exactly.' 
 
 ' But is it not possible to gain admittance by the gate by a 
 little artifice ? ' 
 
 ' That entirely depends on the vigilance of the sentinels. 
 Recollect every precaution is taken here the same as in a 
 regular garrison.' 
 
128 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Well, well, the sentries must be thrown into the moat at 
 the moment I leave the hall and drop a lighted torch from 
 the battlements. This is the signal agreed on between Oomyn 
 and me. He will leave Whithorn with two hundred men by 
 nightfall. Remember your life depends on your bravery and 
 intrepidity.' 
 
 ' More lives than mine depend, say rather, on our treacher}',' 
 muttered Bertram, as he looked after his Lordship descending- 
 from the battlements. 
 
 Never had the Laird of Cruggleton spent a more pleasant 
 afternoon than in the company of the brilliant Lord Soulis. 
 Sitting at the supper table he was quite delighted with the 
 frank, manly manner in which Soulis spoke of the wrongs of 
 Scotland. How ungracious, he thought it was, of the Laird 
 of Castle Feather to be so suspicious of such a noble, fearless 
 advocate 'of Scotland's rights as Lord Soulis; but he would 
 read him a fine lecture on his want of faith the first time they 
 met. In the meantime, Soulis pressed the wine on his young 
 host, calling on him to pledge him to the success of this project 
 and that for freeing Scotland from English misrule and 
 oppression. At last Soulis rose from the table and begged to 
 be excused for a moment, as he had neglected to give his 
 henchman some important instructions. He might have been 
 absent about ten minutes, when a retainer rushed into the hall 
 with his sword dripping, exclaiming — ' Fly, Laird, we are 
 betrayed ! ' As he cried this, he staggered and fell lifeless at his 
 master's feet. 
 
 The clanging of swords, and the yells of men engaged in 
 deadly conflict, now struck upon the Laird's ears. Starting up 
 instinctively he rushed to the hall door, but here he was met 
 by an overwhelming force of Soulis' followers, headed by the 
 treacherous Bertram, who cried exultantly — ' Now yield thee, 
 Ker, for escape is impossible.' 
 
 ' Never to a perfidious craven like thee ! ' exclaimed Ker, as 
 he sprang suddenly forward and passed his sword through his 
 body, exclaiming as he did so, ' That's for thy treachery, base 
 born hound.' 
 
 ' On him, my brave men ! cut him down where he stands,' 
 cried a voice in the rear that he instantly recognized as that of 
 Lord SouHs. Pressed on every side, Ker retreated, parrying- 
 the blows as well as he could, until he reached the extremity 
 
CKUGGLETON CASTLE. 129' 
 
 of the hall, when, quick as lightning, he sprang into a room 
 enveloped in total darkness. His cowardly assailants rushed 
 in after him, thinking they now had him securely iu their toils, 
 but in this they were doomed to disappointment. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOED SoULis ordered lights to be brought, thinking that his 
 men had only to lay their hands on the Laird crouched up in 
 some corner of the room, but to their great astonishment, when 
 lights were procured, they found it empty ; and, what added to 
 the disappointment of his Lordship, there seemed no way of 
 exit but by the door through which they had entered. 
 
 ' There must be some mystery here, my brave followers,' 
 observed his Lordship, looking round on their terror-stricken 
 faces, for it was a superstitious age, and the man who was 
 fearless and brave in battle or foray trembled to face the 
 Powers of Darkness. 
 
 ' Are you sure he entered the room, my Lord ? ' asked a 
 young aspirant for knighthood. 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' cried Soulis, impatiently. ' Strike the panelling 
 with the hilt of your swords; there must be some secret passage 
 leading from the room.' 
 
 , The men obeyed, and sounded the oaken wainscoting until 
 his Lordship ordered them to desist. The idea that the Laird 
 of Cruggleton might that moment be within a few yards of 
 him made Soulis feel anything but comfortable, after the base, 
 treacherous part he had acted, and it was with some re- 
 luctance he left the room and ordered his followers to form a 
 cordon round the castle, so as to prevent his escape. 
 
 ' The man who brings me the body of Ker, dead or alive, shall 
 be handsomely rewarded,' exclaimed his Lordship, as he saw 
 his retainers depart to execute his commands. 
 
 The room, into which the young Laird had so suddenly 
 sprung, had been planned for an emergency like the present. 
 By touching a secret spring in one of the panels, well 
 known to Ker, an entrance was opened displaying a flight of 
 rough steps leading to the base of the rock on which the castle 
 was built. Descending these hurriedly, he reached the sea 
 level. Clambering over the huge boulders, he commenced to 
 
130 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 ascend the precipitous boundary of the small bay to the north 
 of the castle. Having accomplished this task, he halted a 
 moment to recover his breath, and consider what was the best 
 course to pursue. If he took the road to Whithorn his enemies 
 might overtake him, and he shrewdly guessed his fate if he 
 fell into their hands. Again, if he sought refuge in Castle 
 Feather, he might involve his friend in his own fate. His 
 followers, he was sure, would be put to the sword, and how to 
 act or what to do he knew not. Casting a fond look at his 
 paternal castle, he dashed a tear from his eye, and muttering, 
 ' There will be a day of terrible reckoning for this yet, my Lord 
 Soulis,' took his way along the rugged coast. 
 
 Strongly as Cruggleton was fortified by nature, the castle 
 of Douglas seemed to outrival it. Around the base of the rock 
 on which it was perched, the sea seems never to be at rest ; 
 and the ocean, as it rushes through fissures and caves in the 
 rocks around it, formed we suppose by the lapse of time and 
 the strong tides which run along the coast, has a wild, weird 
 sound which strikes a chill to the heart. Having at length 
 reached in safety this point, the Laird of Cruggleton sat down 
 and gazed wistfully at the strong feudal fortress of his truest 
 friend, and the abode of the peerless Mary — his only daughter 
 — who had sported with him along the rocky beach from her 
 infancy. He loved her fondly and truly, and her father both 
 knew and approved of Mary's choice. 
 
 ' But what will she think of me now ? ' sighed Willie Ker, 
 as he seated himself on a fragment of rock and gazed down on 
 the restless waves. It was just getting lighter in the east 
 when gradually he fell into a calm sleep, induced, no doubt, by 
 a night of anxietj' and toil. How long he had slept he knew 
 not, when he was aroused from his slumber by the clashing of 
 swords and the fierce imprecations of men in deadly conflict, 
 but scarcely had his eyes rested on the combatants a moment, 
 when he saw the most powerful of the two force the other over 
 the precipitous rock into the dread abyss below. Laying down 
 his sword, he wiped the perspiration from his brow, and turn- 
 ing round to where Ker was standing, he said, ' That was a 
 tough job, Laird.' 
 
 ' Gordon ! ' exclaimed the Laird, ' I never thought to see 
 you again. My brave henchman, how did you make your 
 escape ? ' 
 
CRtrGGLETON CASTLE. 131 
 
 ' By preferring the water of the moat to Lord Soulis' mercy.' 
 
 ' But how did you find your way here ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I thought Douglas would like to hear the news from 
 me as well as a stranger, and I wanted to break your mis- 
 fortune as gently to bonnie Mary as possible.' 
 
 ' Gordon, I trust in God I'll have it in my power to reward 
 thee yet ; but tell me who he was whom I saw thee hurl over 
 the rock ? ' 
 
 ' No friend of thine, I can assure thee. When I came up 
 he was in the act of sending thee to sleep for ever, but you see 
 he dug a pit and fell into it himself.' 
 
 • ' And a fearful pit it is,' said Ker, shuddering, as he peered 
 over the ledge of the rock. 
 
 ' He'll never return to the cowardly Soulis to tell him tales, 
 I'll swear.' 
 
 ' What are we going to do, Gordon ? ' 
 
 ' Let us have some breakfast with your old, tried friend, 
 Douglas, and we'll hear what he advises.' 
 
 This suggestion of Gordon's was quite agreeably received by 
 the Laird, so they hastened round to the gate and demanded 
 admittance. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the indignation of the Laird of 
 Castle Feather when he heard the tale of bloodshed and wrong. 
 
 ' My unfortunate dear friend, such deeds dare not have 
 been committed during the wise reign of Alexander, but there's 
 no redi-ess now for such a foul dastardly deed but one, and I 
 doubt it would be unsuccessful. However, we'll see, we'll see,' 
 said Douglas, in a musing tone. ' In the meantime, we must 
 have breakfast.' 
 
 Although advanced in years, the Laird of Castle Feather 
 was still active and hale, and during the morning meal he wa,s 
 busy forming plans and rejecting them. He never once said 
 to the young Laird, 'If you had taken my advice and warning this 
 calamity would have been averted.' He rather admired Ker for 
 his unsuspicious nature, well knowing it was the index of a 
 noble, generous disposition. As soon as breakfast was over, 
 he said to Mary—' You may retire, dear ; we are going to hold 
 a council of war.' Mary bowed and withdrew, and with the 
 tears streaming down her girlish face, for to her inexperienced 
 mind the whole seemed so strange, unaccountable, and savage, 
 that she thought it all a hideous dream. 
 
132 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ' Now,' said Douglas, breaking silence, when the door shut, 
 'there's but one course you can pursue ; summon your vassals 
 here, and I'll gather mine together as soon as I consider it pru- 
 dent, and with caution and cunning we may regaia the castle.' 
 
 ' This is my quarrel, Douglas, and sorry would I be to drag- 
 thee into it.' 
 
 ' It's every honest man's quarrel, sir, who has the least 
 sense of justice or honour left in him. If this hellish work is 
 to go unpunished, let us assume the distaff or the cowl, and, 
 like the monks, sing of peace and rest in heaven, for we'll get 
 none in Scotland.' 
 
 ' That's my opinion. Laird,' observed Gordon, who was per- 
 fectly delighted with the fire displayed by Douglas. 
 
 ' It's also my opinion, but I know the castle is impregnable 
 if properly guarded, and I feel to bring ruin on my best and 
 truest friend.' 
 
 ' WQl you leave Soulis in possession, or are you determined 
 to endeavour to regain Cruggleton ? ' 
 
 ' That will be my determination, until I either sleep in it or 
 the grave. Think'st thou, dear Douglas, I can ever forget or 
 forgive last night's outrage and wrong ? ' 
 
 ' I think not, else thou'rt unworthy of thy noble sire or 
 Mary's hand. Seek thou the maiden and comfort her : Gordon, 
 come with me.' 
 
 Leaving Ker and Douglas to mature their plans, let us re- 
 turn to Cruggleton. 
 
 At an early hour Lord Soulis left the castle, and rode direct 
 across the waste moorland, which then separated it from Whit- 
 horn, attended by a few of his followers, for he feared to trust 
 himself alone through a district where he knew Ker had many 
 friends. All impatient to communicate the news of the capture 
 of the castle, he rode rapidly up the wide street of the village, 
 closely followed by his retainers, and halted at the principal 
 entrance to the Priory, and was immediately shown by a sleek 
 brother of the fraternity to the suite of apartments set apart for 
 Comyn's use. 
 
 ' I doubt you are too early astir, my Lord, to bring good 
 tidings,' observed Comyn, smiling, and extending his hand to 
 his friend. 
 
 ' Cruggleton is youi's, when you choose to occupy it, my 
 Lord.' 
 
CEUGGLETON CASTLE. 133 
 
 ' Impossible ! Soulis, this shall not be forgotten. How did 
 you accomplish it ? Did you lose many men ? Have you slain 
 or captured Ker ? ' 
 
 ' Neither.' 
 
 ' Ha ! did he escape 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' That's unfortunate. He may trouble us again.' 
 
 ' It must be alone, then, for the greater part of his followers 
 are laid out for burial in the courtyard.' 
 
 ' Good ! Just sit down a minute until I dress, and I'll ride 
 over and see this renowned castle. I think, Soulis, this should 
 raise me in the estimation of Edward.' 
 
 ' No doubt of it, my Lord. The craven Lord of Galloway, 
 John Baliol, I'm told, is rapidly sinking in the estimation of 
 Edward.' 
 
 ' He's too obsequious, time-serving, and spiritless to rule 
 Scotland at any rate.' 
 
 Of course the ambitious Soulis acquiesced in the sentiments 
 of the haughty aspirant for the crown, although he well knew 
 they had been guilty of as mean and dastardly an action as 
 ever had been perpetrated by the sycophant Baliol, in the base, 
 treacherous manner they had become possessed of Cruggleton. 
 
 As soon as Comyn had dressed, and summoned his numerous 
 followers, they bade good-bj'e to the worthy Prior, and started 
 for the castle. As they rode over the moor, Soulis briefly re- 
 lated the night's adventure to Comyn, as he termed it, remark- 
 ing, however, that Ker had slain his accomplished henchman 
 Bertram, and as yet he was uncertain of the fate of Foster, 
 whom he had sent along the coast in quest of Ker. 
 
 ' What a noble castle ! ' exclaimed Comyn, upon entering 
 the court. ' I could defend it with a hundred men against the 
 power of England.' 
 
 ' It's yours, noble Comyn ; and long may you live to enjoy 
 the lordly pile.' 
 
 ' Thanks, Soulis, many thanks. Now, since I'm master here, 
 let us dedicate this evening to hilarity ; there's little danger to 
 apprehend from Ker for a long time to come.' 
 
 In regal state Comyn sat that evening at the head of the 
 table, while Soulis occupied the seat of honour on his right ; 
 on the left were a few knights and their ladies, who looked up 
 admiringly at the great Comyn, who was destined, they hoped, 
 
134 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 at no distant day to rule Scotland. After dinner waa served, 
 and the wiue set on the tahle, the minstrels were ordered in, 
 and mirth and music resounded through the great hall at 
 Cruggleton. 
 
 ' Among other trophies won from Ker last night, we man- 
 aged to capture his favourite minstrel,' observed Soulis, laughing 
 and filling his silver goblet with wine. 
 
 ' Let him be sent for immediately, I wish to hear him sing.' 
 Accordingly one of the pages was despatched for Grey, and 
 in the course of a few minutes he returned with an old man 
 bearing a harp. Grey had entered the service of the late 
 Laird of Cruggleton when a boy, -therefore he was deeply at- 
 tached to the young Laird. It may be imagined he was in no 
 mood for singing, but knowing he imperilled his life by refusing, 
 he ran his fingers rapidly over the harp, and sung — 
 
 ' Cruggleton, beneath thy archway, 
 
 Leaning o'er the restless sest; 
 Have I sat beside a maiden 
 
 Fairer, dearer far to me 
 Than the aznre of the ocean ; 
 
 Than the fragrant clover lea ; 
 Than ambition, fame, or glory. 
 
 Or ancestral pedigree ! ' 
 
 ' My Lord Soulis,' shouted a retainer, rushing into the hall, 
 in breathless haste, ' the castle is attacked on all sides by Ker !' 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 In a moment's time the mirth was hushed, and the merry laugh 
 and ready jest were succeeded by the screaming of ladies, as 
 they rushed pell-mell from the lighted hall to seek a place of 
 safety. Ml was alarm and consternation, and Lord Soulis and 
 Comyn were terror-stricken, for well they knew what their fate 
 would be if they fell into the hands of the deeply-wronged 
 Laird. Not a moment, however, was to be lost, so drawing 
 their swords they ran to the battlements, crj^ing on their re- 
 tainers to follow them. 
 
 Meantime the battle at the drawbridge was fierce and 
 furious. Ker and Gordon had swam the moat with about a 
 score of the bravest men, and had managed to reach the bridge 
 unseen, but in the act of lowering it the armed retainers of Soulis 
 
CRUGGLETON CASTLE. 135 
 
 caught the alarm and rushed to the rescue of the sentinels in over- 
 powering numbers. Seeing the bridge unlowered, and hearing 
 the battle raging inside, the old Laird of Castle Feather ordered 
 Ms men to cross the moat and assist Ker. Soulis and Comyn 
 now reached the point so bravely contested, and encouraged 
 their men by word and action. Ker saw his men, as they came 
 up in the darkness and confusion, stricken down, until only 
 Gordon remained fighting at his side. By this time they were 
 forced back to the verge of the fosse, and perceiving that all 
 was lost, Gordon shouted, ' Follow me,' and sprang into the 
 vrater. Ker hesitated a moment and then followed his dauntless 
 henchman. 
 
 ' Lower the bridge, my gallant men, and pursue Ker,' 
 shouted Soulis at the top of his voice. ' If he escapes, never 
 return to me.' 
 
 Douglas waited until he heard this order given, and knowing 
 that all was lost, he mounted his steed and rode rapidly home 
 to guard his own castle. After what he had witnessed, he 
 mentally resolved that his enemies would not find him napping 
 at his post. 
 
 The night was dark and stormy as Ker and Gordon fled 
 across the moor in the direction of Whithorn. Sometimes they 
 could hear the cries of their pursuers, but being on foot they 
 managed to elude them, and before day reached Whithorn, 
 wet, dejected, and completely worn out. 
 
 ' I wonder what pretty Susan will think of her gallant lover 
 this morning,' said Gordon, trying to assume a gaiety he did 
 not feel. 
 
 ' To whom do you allude ? ' asked Ker, in a dejected tone. 
 
 'To my sweetheart. Laird, and this is where she lives,' 
 answered Gordon, as he tapped at the door of a very humble, 
 low-thatched cottage. 
 
 ' Who's there ? ' asked a sweet feminine voice. 
 
 ' For the love of our blessed Lady, Susan, open the door. 
 Here is the young Laird of Cruggleton quite impatient to see 
 your flaxen curls and laughing blue eyes.' 
 
 ' Stay a minute, and I'll admit ye,' for she had by this time 
 heard of the taking of Cruggleton, and, thinking her lover had 
 been slain, she did not take long to dress. 
 
 The door was unbarred, and Ker and Gordon entered, but 
 in the dark entry Susan mistook Ker for her lover, and, as he 
 
136 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 was foremost, she wound her arms around his neck and gave 
 him a kiss of welcome. 
 
 ' I doubt you have made a mistake, Susan ; but no matter, 
 I'll get two at your earliest convenience.' 
 
 ' Come this way,' said Susan ; ' how wet and cold you 
 are. Off with your clothes, both of ye, I'll bring you a change 
 of my father's.' As she said this she hurried them into a small 
 bedroom, lighted a fire, brought them dry raiment, set bread, 
 milk, and cheese, on the table, told them to make themselves 
 as comfortable as they could, and then retired. They made a 
 hearty meal, and, feeling sorely fatigued, they threw themselves 
 on the bed and slept until the morning was far advanced. 
 
 Susan, knowing the danger her lover was in, slept little, and 
 at an early hour she was out through the village, gleaning all 
 the news. 
 
 ' You are closely pursued,' observed Susan, as she set 
 breakfast before the fugitives; •'Comyn's men have been 
 ranging the village all morning. But I have also heard good 
 news.' 
 
 ' What is it?' exclaimed the young men, in one voice. 
 
 ' Wallace has defeated the English, with great slaughter, at 
 a place in Ayrshire called Loudon Hill, and has marched into 
 Galloway to retake the castles held by the Southroners.' 
 
 ' That is indeed good news, Susan, but I doubt it's too good 
 to be true,' observed Ker, in a musing tone of voice. 
 
 'I'm led to believe it's true,' persisted Susan, 'for I heard 
 Friar Logan say to Laird Garlies that Wallace's army was 
 encamped at Minigaff, and that's not far from this.' 
 
 ' Thank God,' exclaimed Ker, fervently; 'this has infused 
 new life into me. If it was dark I would join his standard 
 before sunrise.' 
 
 ' And I'll accompany thee,' cried Gordon, enthusiastically. 
 
 ' Oh, Jamie, what a resolution,' exclaimed Susan, wringing 
 her hands and looking piteously in his face. 
 
 'Oh, Susan,' exclaimed Gordon, in the sametone as his sweet- 
 heart, ' would'st thou like to see me going skulking about the 
 village, when brave men were pouring out their blood like water 
 to' free our country from the yoke of Edward.' 
 
 ' I would not/ answered Susan, stoutly, drying her eyes. 
 
 ' There's the kiss I promised thee last night. Thou'rt a 
 brave lass.' 
 
CKUGGLETON CASTLE. 137 
 
 Everything being arranged for the departure of the fugitives, 
 at nightfall they took their departure, but not until the Laird of 
 Cruggleton had given Susan instructions to go to Castle Feather 
 and acquaint Mary Douglas of his determination to join Wallace, 
 and of his unalterable love. ' Say to her aged father that I 
 hope to return before long, and yet wrest my castle from the 
 base miscreant, Soulis, and his hired assassins.' This mission 
 Susan promised faithfully to fulfil, and with many tears she bade 
 them God speed. 
 
 Wishing to avoid Wigtown, the fugitives left the road and 
 struck across the fields; but not being perfectly acquainted 
 with the locality, they lost theu: way, and a considerable portion 
 of time trying to find it. As soon as their pursuers observed 
 this they redoubled their speed, kept on right through Wigtown, 
 and, at the base of the hill on which the town is built, lay in 
 ambush. 
 
 Along the hill side came the fugitives, congratulating them- 
 selves that their enemies had given up the pursuit, when suddenly 
 a dozen of stalwart ruffians sprang on the road before them, 
 and cried — ' Now yield thee, Ker, Lord Soulis and Comyn lack 
 thy company.' 
 
 ' Never, while I can wield this good sword ! ' exclaimed Ker, 
 striking the leader and spokesman to the earth. This was the 
 signal for a general onslaught. With yells and execrations the 
 whole band rushed forward, but scarcely had they done so when 
 from the wood, on the opposite side of the road, there rushed 
 forth about fifty men, headed by Wallace. 
 
 ' Down with Comyn's base serfs!' shouted Wallace, in that 
 clear commanding voice that could ever be heard above the 
 roar of battle, as he rushed into the thickest of the melee. 
 ' Spare them not,' he cried, as at each sweep of his tremendous 
 sword he laid another on the road. 
 
 In less time than we have taken to narrate it, the followers 
 of Soulis and Comyn were all slain but one, who acted on the 
 maxim — 'He that fights, and runs away, may live to fight 
 another day.' This craven fled into Wigtown, alarmed the 
 castle, told the Governor that Wallace was advancing at the 
 head of a victorious army, and that he had alone escaped to tell 
 the news. The Governor was a very prudent gentleman, who 
 regarded the Scot, but specially Wallace, as a thorough-bred 
 savage, and having heard of the defeat of his countrymen, in a 
 
 K 
 
138 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 regular battle, he evacuated the castle at once, and iu such 
 haste were they to depart that all the valuable stores it con- 
 tained fell into Wallace's hands, without striking a blow. 
 
 Having thus obtained possession of the castle, Wallace ap- 
 pointed Adam Gordon, the ancestor of the noble house of Ken- 
 muir, to the Governorship of the castle, and then calling a 
 council of gentlemen, who had joined his standard, he ordered 
 the Laird of Cruggleton to state his grievance, and how he had 
 earned the hatred of Comyn. 
 
 He commenced and briefly related, in a modest style, all 
 the incidents with which the reader is already acquainted, and 
 ended by saying — ' The liberty of my country has been ever 
 dearer to me than life, and if you are pleased, sir, to accept of 
 my humble services, I shall never disgrace the noble cause in 
 which you are embarked.' 
 
 ' And have you an ambition to retake yonr castle from the 
 detestable wretch who holds it?' asked Sir WilUam Douglas, 
 the Laird of Douglasdale, and head of a great family. 
 
 ' That is my ambition, but I am powerless to do so. In 
 trying to re-take it, all my followers were slain, with the ex- 
 ception of one, and he is here.' 
 
 ' It's most fortunate for you. Laird, that I was intending to 
 surprise this castle last night,' observed Wallace, as he gazed 
 admuingly at the noble bearing, and handsome, frank face of 
 Ker. 
 
 ' Had it not been for your timely interference I would have 
 been overpowered and slain, for I never would have yielded to 
 the serfs of Comyn and Soulis.' 
 
 ' What have you got to say, Sir James Graham, to this 
 affair ? Can you suggest nothing ? ' 
 
 ' My unfortunate country has certainly sunk very low, when 
 such deeds can be perpetrated openly. To think that an aspi- 
 rant to the throne of Scotland would disgrace himself so is 
 beyond my comprehension, and gives me a low idea of our 
 nobles indeed.' 
 
 ' You tell me, Ker, your castle is strong. I believe your 
 statement ; I have heard favourable mention of it before ; but 
 strong as it is, I will assist you to retake it, if you faithfully 
 promise, on tlie word of a true kuight, never to desert your 
 •country's cause.' 
 
 ' I swear before the gentlemen here assembled that while a 
 
CRUGGLETON CASTLE. 13a 
 
 southern foe pollutes the. soil of Scotland, I will never let my 
 good sword rest' 
 
 ' Enough . Now you may retire, and to-morrow evening you 
 will act as guide to Cruggleton.' 
 
 When Ker descended the stair and told Gordon the result 
 of his enterprise, he danced, shouted, and cut the most fan- 
 tastic capers through the room, singing as he did so— 
 
 Cruggleton, within thy bowers, 
 I may love my lass again. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 After Ker's defeat, Lord Soulis and Comyn held an earnest 
 conference. ~ Had he been slain or captured, their minds would 
 have been at rest, but with such an active, brave, determined 
 foe alive, they could not but be uneasy and alarmed. Men 
 were ordered to every assailable point of the castle, and the 
 man who neglected his duty was promised a short shrive and 
 a long rope. 
 
 The space around the drawbridge was literally strewn with 
 the bodies of retainers belonging to Ker, Soulis, and Comyn, 
 and, witnessed in the dawn of day, presented a ghastly scene. 
 No one thought of retiring to rest, and as Comyn was not re- 
 nowned for being extra brave, he resolved to leave the castle 
 as quickly as possible, and leave Soulis in possession in the 
 meantime. The very fact of Ker disappearing so mysteriously 
 on the night that Lord Soulis attacked it made him arrive at 
 this conclusion at once. He naturally reasoned that if he knew 
 a secret way out, he was sure to know the road back again, 
 and possibly he might strike a dagger to his heart when he 
 was sleeping. 
 
 After breakfast the ladies declared they would not stay 
 another night in such a castle for the wealth of a kingdom ; 
 and as they could not travel alone, their knights had a good 
 excuse for leaving also. Soulis was no way annoyed by this, 
 but he could scarcely suppress his ire when Comyn announced 
 his departure for Dumfries. 
 
 ' Will you take your retainers with you, my lord?' asked 
 Soulis as calmly as he could. 
 
 ' I cannot well travel without them, but I'll leave you a few,' 
 
140 TALES AXD TKADITIONS. 
 
 'I need them not. If this castle is properly guarded a 
 dozen of men could defend it against a thousand,' said Soulis. 
 proudly. 
 
 ' I'm perfectly aware of that, else I would not leave. I 
 should know something of its capabilities, seeing the men and 
 money it has cost me.' 
 
 ' And never took it,' sneered Soulis. 
 
 'That task was reserved for a man with more cunning' 
 than—' 
 
 ' Bravely,' said Soulis, smiling. ' But it would be very im- 
 politic of us to quarrel, therefore we will let the subject rest.' 
 
 ' You are right, Soulis. There's my hand.' 
 
 ' You will find all right upon your return,' said Soulis, 
 taking his proffered hand and shaldng it warmly. He did this 
 not through love but policy. He liked him as well, however, 
 as villains generally do each other. 
 
 Soulis stood by the drawbridge until Comyn and the greater 
 part of his retainers passed; then waving his adieu, he re- 
 turned to the castle, mentally resolving to retain it for his own 
 use, seeing he had risked so much to obtain possession. 
 
 Comyn rode across the waste moor, in the direction of 
 Whithorn, heartily congratulating himself of being clear of such 
 unsafe quarters ; but upon reaching the Priory, great was his 
 astonishment to learn that Wallace was in Wigtown, and that 
 the English governor of the castle had fled. Now he deeply 
 regretted leaving Cruggleton, but to return and tell Soulis that 
 he was afraid to encounter Wallace was to proclaim himself a 
 coward, therefore he resolved to remain under the holy protec- 
 tion of Prior Scott. 
 
 Leaving a suiBcient number of men to defend the Castle of 
 Wigtown, Wallace selected a hundred of his bravest men and 
 started for Cruggleton, Ker acting as guide. Passing through 
 Kirkinner, they kept Garliestown on the left and AMiithorn on 
 the right, thus adopting a route about equi-distant from both 
 places, their intention being to proceed as secretly as possible 
 to the castle. 
 
 The night was calm and beautiful, and the moonbeams 
 danced with a silvery radiance upon the placid sea when 
 Wallace arrived in the vicinity of Cruggleton. Leaving his 
 men a little to the north of the castle, he took with him Ker, 
 Steven, and Gordon — the latter protesting against being left 
 
CEUGGLETON CASTLE. 14T 
 
 behind — and went forth to reconnoitre, ^^fter descending the 
 precipitous rocky boundary of the bay, Wallace declared there 
 was but one way of taking the castle, and that was by scaling 
 the rock on which it was built. 
 
 ' There are never any sentinels posted on the sea side of the 
 castle, I suppose, Ker?' said Wallace, as he seated himself on 
 a rock and sm-veyed the dim outlines of the castle. 
 
 ' You're right in your conjecture, sir ; the west side of the 
 rock is considered impregnable, no living thing, save a sea- 
 bird, has been ever known to ascend the rock.' 
 
 ' I will ascend it to-night, and if you have not a steady- 
 hand and a firm nerve, I advise you not to try it. I know 
 Steven can follow me wherever I go.' 
 
 ' I have both went up and down many times, when I wanted 
 to see a friend of mine who resides in Whithorn, and did not 
 care about asking permission,' observed Gordon, modestly. 
 
 ' You're just about the age when one would risk their neck 
 to see a pretty girl, and to-night you shall have the honour 
 of leading the forlorn hope.' 
 
 ' Many thanks, sir ; believe me, I'm as proud as if I was to 
 be knighted.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you may earn that honour yet on some well 
 fought field.' 
 
 ' I know a secret way into the castle, but it would lead us 
 into the hall,' observed Ker. 
 
 ' The very place I do not want to go just now. We will 
 ascend the rock, with Gordon as a guide. When up, creep 
 stealthily along after the example I will set you. Not a word 
 is to be spoken by any one, no matter what may be the danger 
 or difficulty ; when you come to a sentry, hurl him over the 
 rock into the sea, until we reach the bridge over the fosse. 
 Douglas will lead my men instantly forward when I sound my 
 bugle. These are my final instructions. Gordon, lead the way.' 
 
 Having arrived in safety at the bottom of the rock, Gordon 
 looked about him carefully, and, laying hold of a projecting 
 piece of rock, he planted his foot firmly and began his perilous 
 ascent, closely followed by his companions. Slowly, painfully 
 they crept up the sheer precipice, until Gordon was safely up, 
 then bending over the dizzy height, he assisted the others unta 
 the rocky pinnacle beside him. 
 
 While the adventurers are drawing their breath, and 
 
142 TALES AND TBADITIONS. 
 
 preparing for rushing like falcons on their prey, let us hurriedly 
 glance inside at Lord Soulis and his retainers. 
 
 It was a little past midnight, and deep silence pervaded the 
 castle. About eleven o'clock Soulis had went the rounds of 
 the sentries, and saw that every man was at the post assigned 
 him ; not that he was afraid of an attack, bat it was a military 
 age and men prided themselves upon their discipline and war- 
 like attainments. He retired to rest, and by slow degrees he 
 fell asleep. 
 
 There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, 
 ■while it holds the body captive, does not free the mind from a 
 sense of things about it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. 
 So far as an overpowering drowsiness, a prostration of strength, 
 and an entire inability to control our thoughts or power of 
 motion can be called sleep, this is it ; and yet we have a 
 consciousness of everything about us. 
 
 Soulis knew perfectly well he was in his room, that his 
 sword was on the table, and yet he was asleep. Suddenly the 
 scene changed ; there was a suffocating sensation came over 
 him, and he thought with a glow of terror that he heard a 
 trumpet sound, mingled with savage cries and the rushing of 
 many men into his chamber, and he awoke trembling. 
 
 ' Good heaven, what was that which struck me dumb with 
 terror ! ' 
 
 From every quarter of the castle came the cry of despair, 
 the yells of men in a death and life struggle, and the loud 
 clashing of arms. 
 
 Springing out of bed he seized his sword and rushed into 
 the hall. But is impossible to describe his terror and consterna- 
 tion when, in place of meeting his followers, he was confronted 
 by Ker and Wallace. 
 
 ' At last we meet on equal terms, Lord Soulis,' exclaimed 
 Ker, rushing towards him. 
 
 ' Oh ! spare my life for the sake of former friendship,' cried 
 Soulis, in despairing accents. 
 
 ' Such mercy as ye showed my brave followers ye shall receive. 
 Seize him, my brave men, and hurl him over the battlements.' 
 
 Soulis, driven to bay, made an ineffectual struggle to 
 resist, but he was overpowered in a moment, dragged from th& 
 hall, and while prayers and execrations alternately trembled ou 
 his lips, he was hurled into eternity. By this time such of 
 
CEUGGLETON CASTLE. 143 
 
 his followers as were not slain were consigned to the dun- 
 geons of the castle to await their doom. 
 
 On the following morning Comyn sat at breakfast with the 
 ■worthy Prior, laughing and jesting about Ker's disastrous 
 attempt to retake Cruggleton, when his henchman entered and 
 announced the death of Soulis and Ker's success. 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' cried the worthless aspirant for the crown of 
 Scotland, as he sprang to his feet pale and trembling. ' Ker 
 had not the means or men to retake the castle.' 
 
 ' It is nevertheless true ; a few of his retainers effected their 
 escape by springing into the moat, and have reached Whithorn. 
 Wallace, who is in company with Ker, is expected here in a 
 few hours.' 
 
 This was enough. In a few minutes Comyn was in the 
 saddle fleeing across the country in the direction of Dumfries. 
 Subsequently he received the punishment due to his treachery 
 from the hands of Bruce and Kirkpatrick. 
 
 About noon on the following day the Laird of Castle Feather 
 and his beauteous daughter arrived at Cruggleton, and as the 
 old man listened to the tale of how the castle was taken, tears 
 of joy streamed down his aged face. As the castle contained 
 everything needful for man and beast, and as Wallace's baud 
 of patriots stood greatly in need of rest, it was arranged that 
 they should remain a few days ia such good quarters and re- 
 cruit their strength. Before leaving, Mary Douglas became 
 Mrs Ker, and Gordon and Susan followed their example, the 
 latter gentleman being left to defend the castle during his 
 master's absence. 
 
 Those acquainted with the history of Wallace know that 
 Ker never deserted his standard, that he faithfully fulfilled the 
 pledge given to the illustrious Champion of Scotland in Wigton 
 Castle, and that after Wallace's base betrayal he attached 
 himself to the cause of Bruce, and rose to eminence in that 
 great King's service. 
 
 Note. As some of the descendants of the brave Laird of 
 
 Cruggleton are still residing in Galloway, the author of the 
 tale takes this opportunity of stating that in the History of 
 Galloway, published by Nicholson, Kirkcudbright, the name of 
 the Laird is spelled Kerlie and Ker ; we adopted the latter, but 
 have since learned that the former is more correct. 
 
IM TALES AND TKADITIONS. 
 
 GREENAN C.ASTLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 (jREENAN Castle! how many have sat beside its crumbliug- 
 walls, listening to the hoarse murmur of the waves as they 
 lashed themselves into foam against its rocky foundations, and 
 mused upon the wizard-working power of time. Here, in ages 
 long ago buried in oblivion, knights and ladies held their 
 revels, whilst minstrels sang the bold exploits of its lords by 
 land and sea: now it is tenantless, roofless, and haunted — not 
 by ghosts, but by wandering winds from the Western Sea. To 
 the inhabitants of Ayr it has ever been a place of favourite 
 resort, as it seems to possess charms alike for rich and poor. 
 To the merchant chained to counter or desk, during the dog- 
 days it has irresistible charms. As he saunters along the sand, 
 gazing at the sun setting in golden glory behind the peaks of 
 Arran, or looking at the rippling waves chasing each other in 
 merry gambols o'er the beach, his soul is Ufted above the dross 
 of earth to the source of beauty and joy that surrounds him. 
 
 It was a beautiful summer's evening, towards the latter end 
 of June, and about the beginning of the fifteenth century — we 
 wish to be not over particular as to dates — that Richard Ken- 
 nedy sat alone in his chamber in Greenan Castle, musing, not 
 on war, but on the peerless face of Mabel Bruce, who was the 
 only child of Edward Bruce of Cunningpark, which then stood 
 isolated on an island formed by the Doon. 
 
 Dick Kennedy, as he was familiarly called in those uncouth 
 days, when girls had faithers and mithers instead of 'papas 
 and mammas,' as they have now-a-days, had set his heart 
 upon winning the beauteous Mabel, but she had set her 
 heart in array against him — that citadel being already 
 occupied by the manly form and handsome face of David 
 Cochrane of Bridgehouse. As we remarked before, Kennedy 
 
GKEENAN CASTLE. 145 
 
 had set his heart upon winning the 'Rose o' the Isle,' as 
 Mabel was called by all the gallants of Ayr and AUoway 
 parishes ; but how was he to obtain possession' of the 
 coveted prize ? True, her father was his tenant, and not over 
 rich ; but he did not like to resort to extremes until they could 
 be no longer avoided. Had he been half as much annoyed by 
 a man as he was by the fairy minx, he would have knocked him 
 on the head at once ; but he very much doubted if any insult 
 offered to her father was likely to secure her affections. After 
 sitting and looking at the sleeping sea and fleet of fishers' 
 boats which doited the bay, with sails flapping idly to-and-fro, 
 as they rose and fell with the crestless waves, Dick arose from 
 his recumbent posture, shook himself like a water dog after a 
 swim, lifted his hat, and sauntered forth to the Castle-yard. 
 
 ' Did you see Macnairston about, f razer ? ' asked Ken- 
 nedy at his favourite groom. 
 
 ' I saw him, sir, going in the direction of Doonfoot about 
 half an hour ago.' 
 
 Without speaking another word, Kennedy took the direction 
 in which he supposed he would find his trusty henchman, 
 Macnairston. Descending the precipitous path which led to the 
 beach, he sauntered dreamily along the sand until he reached 
 the Doon, where he found his servant sitting beneath an alder, 
 fishing. 
 
 ' What luck, Macnairston ?' exclaimed the Laird of Greenan, 
 as soon as he was within hailing distance of his servant. 
 
 ' Middling, sir,' answered the servant, rising to his feet, 
 laying his rod on the bank, and turning round. ' The truth is, 
 Laird, the trout are sometimes like the lasses, a little capricious 
 in their moods. They'll sometimes take a worm three or four 
 days old, and at other times refuse the most tempting bait,' 
 As Macnairston said this he looked in the direction of Cun- 
 ingpark and laughed. 
 
 ' Thou'rt inclined to be enigmatical this evening, Macnair- 
 ston. Speak out plainly, man, thou know'st I hate riddles.' 
 
 ' You see, Laird, that the Bridgehouse boat is lying on our 
 side this evening.' 
 
 ' Well, sirrah ! what of that 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh! nothing particular. The boat is as often at this side 
 of the Doon as the other,' answered the privileged henchman, 
 as he leisurely wound up his line. 
 
146 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 ' If thou stand'st there puzzling me any longer, by St Joha 
 I'll send thy ugly carcase to keep company with the fishj^to- 
 night in the deepest pool in the stream.' 
 
 Macnairston looked up into the Laird's face, and shuddered 
 ■when he observed the passion with which it was convulsed. 
 
 ' In plain language then, Laird, you have a rival for the fair 
 Mabel.' 
 
 ' Thou'rt surely raving mad or jesting, Macnairston ; if the 
 latter, beware.' 
 
 ' Seeing's believing, sir.' 
 
 ' What is he, or where is he to be found ? ' cried the Laird, 
 laying his hand instinctively on his sword. 
 
 ' Be calm, sir, and I'll inform ye of the whole affair.' 
 
 ' Be calm ! j'e low-born varlet. How dare ye catechise 
 me,' cried the Laird, fuming with passion, and pacing rapidly 
 to-and-fro along the bank like a caged hysena. 
 
 Macnairston, seeing his master taking it so sorely to heart, 
 gathered up his fishing tackle, ascended the bank, and ap- 
 proached him with a half affrighted look, for well he knew he 
 had a temper not to be trifHed with. 
 
 ' Speak out, man, ye have nothing to fear. Tell me at 
 once what you know and what you think.' 
 
 ' I saw, while sitting here, Davie Cochrane, of Bridgehouse, 
 sauntering along the bank of the stream, as if he expected 
 some one to meet him. He did not wait long before Mabel 
 came tripping along, arraj^ed in the blue silk kirtle and snood 
 that you admire so much, and jumping into the boat, she was 
 beside him in a moment's time.' 
 
 ' Well, well, Macnairston, in Heaven's name come to the 
 point at once, or I'll throttle ye where ye stand.' 
 
 ' If ye don't allow me to tell my tale in my own wa^-, I'll 
 speak no more.' 
 
 Kennedy knew his henchman had a dogged, fearless nature, 
 and as he was anxious to hear out the story which he had so 
 imreasonably interrupted, he said in a milder voice, ' Come, 
 come, Macnairston, I won't interrupt you again, supposing you 
 to spin a yarn that would reach from here to Ailsa.' 
 
 'I would not have known,' resumed Macnairston, 'that 
 Davie was her lover, but the moment she sprung on to the 
 bank he wound his arms around her, and kissed her more than 
 once.' 
 
GREENAN CASTLE. 147 
 
 ' Holy Virgin ! what an asa I must be uot to have per- 
 ceived this long ago. Davie Cochrane, a smooth-faced, chicken- 
 hearted boy, to come and carry off from me the prize upon which 
 I have set my heart. But I'll be revenged on him before long. 
 Macnairston, which way did they go ? ' 
 
 ' Whist, sir ; see, yonder they come this way, arm in arm. 
 You'll believe me now.' As Macnairston said this, he pointed 
 in the du'ection in which the lovers were advancing. 
 
 ' Let us crouch down here and see this game out,' said the 
 Laird, as he seized Macnairston by the arm and dragged him 
 down beside a tree which screened them from the view of the 
 youthful lovers. Evidently Mabel was happy.. Her merry 
 laugh could be heard ringing through the trees as they ap- 
 proached. Each peal of laughter went like a dagger to the 
 Laird's proud, vindictive heart ; but he bit his nether lip imtil 
 the blood came to suppress his indignation. From his hiding 
 place he could see every movement of his hated rival, but when 
 he saw Cochrane fold her to his heart, and kiss her over and 
 over again, it required all the strength and tact of Macnaii'ston 
 to hold him back. Had Cochrane been aware of his proximity 
 to death he would not have lingered so long on the bank of 
 the Doon watching the retreating form of the fair maiden, to- 
 whom he was so deeply and faithfully attached ; but Heaven 
 in mercy hides these things from human view. 
 
 ' I'll dispatch the knave where he stands, Macnairston ! ' 
 exclaimed Kennedy, savagely. ' Let go your grip, or I'll sheath 
 my dagger in your heart.' But Macnairston knew his humour, 
 and heeded him not until Cochrane and Mable were gone. 
 
 ' Thank God ! ' exclaimed Macnairston, wiping the perspir- 
 ation from his brow, ' he's gone. Had you slain him here, in 
 broad daylight, you might have bidden farewell to Greenan 
 for ever. Take my advice, you can square accounts with him 
 when the sun's in the north, without anyone being the wiser 
 of it.' 
 
 ' I daresay your right, Macnairston ; but you know I have 
 little patience with those who thwart me. But it's settled in 
 my mind that either he or I die, and that before many sunsets.' 
 
 ' I'm quite agreeable, Lahd, to see that he's properly cared 
 for as soon as ye think proper, but it must be done quietly."^ 
 
 Having arrived at this laudable resolution, they returned to 
 the castle in silence. Whatever were their thoughts, each 
 
148 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 kept them to himself. Dick Kennedy retired early to his 
 •chamber, not to sleep, but to concoct his diabolical scheme of 
 revenge. How far he was successful the sequel wiU show. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Between the father of Mabel Bruce and Davie Cochrane there 
 had ever existed a firm friendship. Scarcely a day passed 
 without an exchange of civility between the Laird of Bridge- 
 house and the tenant of Cunningpark. It was, therefore, with 
 feelings of delight they beheld the growing attachment between 
 their respective childi'en — David and Mabel. Their houses lay 
 so near each other, and they were so often in company to- 
 gether, that it would have been strange, indeed, if their young 
 susceptible hearts had not been impressed by the rosy god. 
 As children they had spent many happy hours on the sandy 
 beach, between Greenan and Ayr, and, as they advanced in 
 years, their walks were extended to the sweet sylvan glades 
 along the Doon and the Aj'r, where they often repaired to re- 
 new their vows of love, and dream of blissful years in the 
 future. 
 
 Unfortunately, Mabel's peerless face and form at last at- 
 tracted the notice of the Laird of Greenan, who had but 
 recently returned to Scotland, after an absence of many years. 
 Where or how he had spent his time none knew but Macnair- 
 ston ; some said in France, others in Italy ; but these were 
 only idle conjectures, and but few dared to ask the haughty, 
 rich Laird of Greenan for an account of his peregrinations. 
 
 After the incident of the previous evening, he passed a 
 restless night, and at breakfast he was silent and dull looking. 
 Macnairston knew his humour too well to disturb him. At 
 last the Laird turned round and abruptly said — ' Mac, I have 
 had a bad night of it.' 
 
 ' Sorry to hear that, sir,' said the henchman, composedly. 
 
 ' That's a lie ! j'ou don't care a fig I was at the bottom of 
 the sea,' exclaimed Kennedy, trying to work himself up to fever 
 heat. 
 
 ' Thanks for the compliment, sir.' 
 
 ' You knew of this cursed love affair long ago, for you are 
 (>ternally about the Doon.' 
 
GKEENAN CASTLE. 149- 
 
 ' I did not. I have seen them sometimes together, but I 
 never suspected Cochrane was wooing the damsel.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! how innocent you are, Mac ; you are the most 
 consummate hypocrite ever I met.' 
 
 ' I studied under a good master.' 
 
 ' This to me, you knave ! Beware of exciting me this morning.' 
 
 ' You're exciting yourself, sir. Was I ia your position I 
 would win the damsel first, and then woo her at my leisure.' 
 
 ' Sit down, Mac ; I was thinking of that scheme, but how 
 is it to be carried out ? ' 
 
 ' It's simple, quite simple, sir.' 
 
 ' Pray explain yourself.' 
 
 ' I will endeavour to see Cochrane to-day, and ascertain, if 
 possible, on what night he is going to meet her again ; this 
 done, I will set a gin for the pretty bird.' 
 
 ' Let me hear your plan of trapping her ; I don't like any 
 mystery between you and me.' 
 
 ' Well, if you cannot trust me to work it safely put, I'll tell 
 you all about it. If he is to meet her to-night on the banks of 
 the Doon as usual, I will get a boy that I can depend on to 
 convey a message to the beauteous Mabel, that an imforeseeu 
 circumstance has occurred to prevent him keeping his appoint- 
 ment as he has to go immediately to Dunure on his father's 
 business ; but that he expects to return about nine o'clock, and 
 that it would give him the greatest pleasure to meet her about 
 Greenan. Of course you'll understand Cochrane will wait for her 
 at the trysting tree, while you convey her safely to the castle.' 
 
 ' The plan is worthy of your fertile brain ; but if we were 
 seen ' 
 
 ' We will be disguised,' interrupted Mac 
 
 ' I am beginning to understand, but what about the boy ? ' 
 
 ' You'll never do for a diplomatist — I'll be the boy to Mr 
 Cochrane. But if this scheme does not meet your approbation, 
 I'll tell you of another which might be resorted to, although 
 I would prefer the first.' 
 
 ' Well, let me hear it.' 
 
 ' Edward Bruce is your tenant, and not overly burdened 
 with worldly gear.' 
 
 'Well, proceed,' said the Laird approvingly, seeing Mac 
 seemed to hesitate. 
 
 ' I would pay Mr Bruce a visit, tell him your honourable 
 
150 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 intentions— that is, if you are really in earnest — show him how 
 •comfortable and happy you are capable of making his daughter, 
 and hear what he says to that. If he refuses his consent to 
 your union, then play your last card — threaten eviction.' 
 
 ' You are an invaluable follower, Mac,' ejaculated the Laird, 
 warmly. 
 
 ' If the proposal which I think you are inclined to make 
 miscarries, I will hear another tale this evening ; and bethink 
 you ere you commit yourself. If your offer is rejected, it will 
 put them on the qui vive.' 
 
 ' I never thought on that, Mac ; you are the best at setting 
 up pins and knocking them down ever I met.' 
 
 ' You know, sir, there are two ways of looking at anything.' 
 
 ' Get my horse ready, and I'll ride over to Cunningpark and 
 ,see how the land lies.' 
 
 ' Will I accompany you V 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'I would have gloried in witnessing his humiliation,' 
 muttered Macnairston, on his way to the stable. ' lie thinks 
 because he's rich and powerful, forsooth, that he has only to 
 be obeyed ; but he'll meet with a great disappointment this day. 
 I know they're betrothed, and that Edward Bruce will refuse 
 his offer with scorn, for I have led him to detest the proud, 
 heartless Laird of Greenan. He imagines I have forgotten the 
 gross outrage he committed on the only girl ever I loved ; but 
 before this game is played out I'll teach the tyrant I have 
 feelings as well as he.' Entering the stable, he ordered 
 Frazer to saddle the Laird's horse, and lead him round to the 
 hall door. Feeling confident Kennedy would meet with a 
 refusal, Macnairston took his way across the fields to Bridge- 
 house to have a chat with the lover of Mabel. 
 
 During his ride along the sands from Greenan to Cunning- 
 park, pride and love alternately ruled the heart of the haughty 
 Laird. More than twenty times he reined wp his steed on the 
 short way between the two houses, but at last love gained the 
 mastery, and he rode forward at a brisk pace. He found Mr 
 Bruce at home, and after a few preliminary remarks about the 
 weather, he introduced the cause of his visit and his matri- 
 monial intentions by observing that since his return to 
 Scotland to heir the estate he had resolved to take a wife and 
 settle down for life. 
 
GEEENAN CASTLE. 151 
 
 'A moat laudable resolution, Laird, seeing you are reputed 
 to have the wherewith to maintain one in pomp and splendour. 
 No doubt you have fixed on the damsel that is to be so 
 favoured,' observed Mr Bruce, quietly. 
 
 Kennedy cast a sharp, scrutinising look at Mr Bruce's face, 
 but there was nothing in it discouraging or sneering. ' Yes, 
 Mr Bruce, but the young lady that I have set my heart upon 
 may not accept of my offer.' 
 
 'That's quite possible. Young ladies have sometimes 
 strange fancies, and often choose men for husbands whom their 
 parents think unsuitable for them.' 
 
 ' Do you not think, Mr Bruce, that it's the duty of a father 
 to interfere, when by so doiBg he might insure his daughter's 
 happiness?' 
 
 ' Ay, if we were sure of securing their happiness it would 
 be right to use a little coercion, but experience teaches us that 
 our opinions and estimates of human character are often 
 erroneous. Therefore I have resolved that my daughter will 
 have the privilege of choosing or refusing as her fancy 
 dictates.' 
 
 ' It was of Mabel I was going to speak. In a word, Mr 
 Bruce, I am devotedly attached to her. I love her with my 
 whole heart, although I have never spoken to her on the 
 subject.' 
 
 There was something so straightforward and honest in this 
 avowal — something so different from Macnairston's represen- 
 tations of Kennedy's character — that Mr Bruce was completely 
 taken by surprise. 
 
 'Laird, you astonish me!' exclaimed Bruce. 'Mabel is 
 so unfitted for the exalted position to which you have hon- 
 ourably proposed to raise her, that really I know not what 
 to say.' 
 
 ' You, at least, have no objection to our union ? ' 
 
 ' None in the world, if she is agreeable ; but as I told you 
 before, I will use no coercion.' 
 
 'Thanks for your permission to woo your handsome 
 daughter.' 
 
 'And I as sincerely thank you for the gentlemanly manner 
 in which you have proposed for her hand. If you think proper 
 you can see her immediately.' 
 
 Mabel was accordingly sent for, but could not be found. 
 
152 TALES AND TEADITIOXS. 
 
 Every imaginable corner about the house was searched, but 
 in vain ; at last Betty made the announcement that she had been 
 seen going in the direction of Bridgehouse. This seemed satis- 
 factory to her father, who briefly remarked she was in the habit 
 of going there daily, but that it was usually later in the day before 
 she went. With a smile on his lips and a curse in his heart 
 Kennedy was constrained to leave. Mounting his horse he 
 rode off at a furious pace in the direction which Betty had said 
 Mabel had taken. 
 
 'If my fate depended upon Bruce's answer I would be 
 confident of success,' he soliloquised as he rode along. ' But 
 why not use his parental authority? It seems she has be- 
 witched him as well as me. If I'm to be successful Cochrane 
 must be removed, that's evident. The minx ! only to think of 
 her going every day to Bridgehouse ; but at the first oppor- 
 tunity I'll remove the temptation out of her path. Ha ! Mac, 
 
 what the d are you doing here 1 ' cried Kennedy, suddenly 
 
 reining up his steed beside his henchman. 
 
 'Yesterday I was fishing, but to-day I'm setting snares. 
 CJome along and I'll tell you the news.' 
 
 CHAPTER iU. 
 
 If there are two ways of looking at everything, so there are 
 different ways of reading manj' expressions. When Macnair- 
 ston said he had been setting snares, Kennedy thought, 
 naturally enough, it was for Davie Cochrane, whereas it was 
 for the express purpose of ti'apping himself Macnairston had 
 been plotting. Master and servant were both about an age, 
 the same size and complexion, but their externals were the 
 only resemblance between them'. Mentally the servant left 
 the master far in the shade. 
 
 During the period they were abroad they were pretty much 
 on terms of equality, for Kennedy would enter into no under- 
 taking without first consulting Mac, as he generally called him. 
 "When at Vienna their fortunes were at a very low ebb, and as 
 Kennedy, as a sept of the powerful house of Culzean, had access 
 to the best families, ]\Iacnairston suggested to him the pro- 
 priety of replenishing their exchequer at the private gaming 
 tables of the wealthy citizens. To facilitate this laudable pro- 
 
GBEENAN CASTLE. 153 
 
 ject, Macnairston initiated his master, who was completely on 
 the rocks, into all the mysterious tricks which can be done with 
 cards ; and as Macnairston was passed off as a distant relation 
 of Kennedy's, they often played at the same table. They were 
 invariably fortunate, for between them were established tele- 
 graphic signs, which enabled them to play into each other's 
 hands, so that if Macnairston lost, Kennedy was sure to win. 
 By following up this dishonourable practice they became rich ; 
 and when they considered they had stayed long enough in one 
 city they removed to another. At last they reached Paris, and 
 there a circumstance occurred which was destined, unfor- 
 tunately, to work Kennedy's ruin. One of the houses these 
 accomplished gentlemen resorted to often was that of Count de 
 Larcy, who was reputed to keep the gayest establishment and 
 the best wines in Paris, while his only daughter Julia was cele- 
 brated far and near for her accomplishments and rare beauty. 
 Kennedy and Macnairston both made love to the Count's 
 beauteous daughter, and Macnairston was the favourite suitor, 
 which excited Kennedy's jealousy to a fearful degree. At last, 
 fearful that his servant was going to carry off the coveted 
 prize, he craved a private audience, and denounced Macnairston 
 as a plebeian and a benedict, and the Count's doors were closed 
 against him. Kennedy now had the field to himself, and the 
 young lady being truly grateful to him for his friendly warning, 
 he had little difficulty in ingratiating himself into her favour, 
 and in a short time succeeded in accomplishing her ruin. In 
 vain Macnairston craved to know the nature of his offence. 
 His master told him he had been expelled the Count's house for 
 making undue familiarity with the Lady Julia. 
 
 About this time Kennedy received a message from the Rec- 
 tor of St John's Kirk, Ayr, urging upon him the necessity of 
 returning home instantly, as his father was dying. 
 
 Without informing the unfortunate Lady JuKa, Kennedy 
 began to prepare for his homeward journey ; but Macnairston, 
 being often in the company of JuKa's valet, informed him of his 
 master's intention of leaving soon for Scotland. 
 
 Upon being informed of this by her servant, the rage and 
 despair of the ruined Julia was fearful to witness. The very 
 fact of Kennedy's reticence was proof, strong as holy writ, that 
 he meant to betray her. In her terrible distress she sent for 
 Macnau-ston, and among other things told him of Kennedy's 
 perfidy, thmking, no doubt, that he would espouse her quarrel. 
 
 L 
 
154 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 Gladly would he have done so, but well he knew Kennedy 
 would scorn to fight a duel with his servant. Instantly he 
 would have left Kennedy's service, for the system which had 
 replenished his master's coffers had enriched his own, but by doing 
 so he relinquished any chance of revenging the perfidy he had 
 been guilty of. He told Julia of the resolve he had taken ; and 
 her love, being so basely trampled on, was changed into the most 
 implacable hatred, therefore she entered heart and soul into 
 Macnairston's scheme, promising him a princely reward when 
 it was accomplished. ^Mth this mutual understanding they 
 parted. 
 
 Whatever dark thoughts were passing through Macnairston's 
 mind, when he appeared before Kennedy his face wore as bland a 
 smile as ever. That night they started for Scotland, and arrived 
 at Greenan about two months before the opening of this tale. 
 
 'Did you see the young Laird of Bridgehouse to-day?' 
 asked Kennedy, impatiently, at his servant whom he met as 
 described at the end of the last chapter. 
 
 ' I did, and he is elated about his approaching marriage.' 
 
 ' His approaching marriage,' reiterated the Laird, ' surely 
 he's dreaming, Mac ? ' 
 
 ' Well, the day's not settled on yet, on which it's to take 
 place, but it's well understood that it will be immediately.' 
 
 ' The infernal, old, scheming, hypocritical wretch! ' ejaculated 
 Kennedy, fiercely, 'he never breathed a syllable of this to me.' 
 
 ' To whom do you refer 1 ' 
 
 ' Bruce, of course. I am just coming from his house, and 
 he gave me full permission to woo and win Mabel.' 
 
 ' He did,' cried Macnairston, in well-feigned astonishment ; 
 ' well, it is hard to understand human nature. I tell thee. 
 Laird, he both knows and approves of the marriage.' 
 
 ' Did you see Mabel when at Bridgehouse ? ' 
 
 ' I did not.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! just a 7'use to get j^ou out of the way. Go back 
 now and you'll find they have been sporting with your feelings. 
 I learned one thing when at Bridgehouse,' said Macnakston, 
 in a sneering tone. 
 
 ' Thou'rt a devil, Mac, and if you tempt me farther, I'll 
 sheath my sword in your carcase.' 
 
 Macnairston cast a furtive, dark, malignant look at him and 
 remained silent. His time for speaking had not yet come. 
 
 ' What did you learn, knave, when at Bridgehouse 1 ' 
 
GEEENAN CASTLE. 155 
 
 ' That the beauteous Mabel and the brave Cochrane are to 
 meet to-night.' 
 
 'Where?' 
 
 ' Near Alloway Kirk.' 
 
 ' Well, Mac, it will be their last meeting if you're willing to 
 ■ help me.' 
 
 ' Me help you ! . well, you know, dear master, how ready I 
 have always been to serve you.' 
 
 ' And yourself at same time, Mac, but we'U not quarrel now.' 
 
 ' I rather think not, especially when we have such important 
 •business to settle to-night.' 
 
 ' You'U be sure and get the message conveyed, to Mabel. 
 Eemember any bungling on your part will ruin the plot.' 
 
 ' I'm aware of that, sir. Depend upon my tact and discre- 
 tion. The road near Greenan is lonely and unfrequented.' 
 
 , By this time they had arrived at the castle, and, as the under- 
 standing seemed to be perfect between them, they separated. 
 
 The afternoon wore wearily along, but at last the dial in 
 the garden indicated the hour in which each had to assume 
 their characters in the tragic drama about to be enacted. 
 
 ' I'm going to bait the trap. Laird,' cried Macnairston, at 
 the door of Kennedy's room ; 'be sure and be at the rendezvous 
 at the appointed hour.' 
 
 ' Depend upon me, Mac, I'll be there.' 
 
 Macnairston walked down the court of the castle, humming 
 a favourite Scottish ballad with the greatest indifference, while 
 his master exclaimed, as he watched his retreating form, ' He's 
 an invaluable servant.' 
 
 Regardless of the beauty of the scenery around him, 
 Macnairston took the shortest way to Cunningpark, where 
 Mr Bruce made him welcome, but scarcely in such a warm 
 manner as usual. He informed him of Kennedy's visit and 
 proposal, and characterised it as being strictly honourable. 
 
 ' Had you and Mabel accepted his proposal, you would have 
 found the villain out. However, it is nothing to me, Mr Bruce, 
 bow you settle the matter. I have only acted as a friend to 
 you and fair Mabel, and if you do not follow my advice, it 
 will neither make nor mar my fortune.' 
 
 ' Don't be angry, Mac. I believe you have spoken disin- 
 terestedly in this affah,' said the confiding old man. 
 
 Macnairston next sought Mabel, and informed her that he 
 had just left Bridgehouse, and that David had told him that it 
 
156 TALES AKD TRADITIONS. 
 
 was impossible lie could meet her at the Kirk to-night, as he 
 had to go on important business to Dunure, but that, as he had 
 something of importance to communicate, he would be glad to 
 meet her on the road above Greenan about nine o'clock. 
 
 Mabel would never have dreamed of going so far, but she, 
 like every other young lady, was all impatient to tell her 
 lover of Kennedy's visit and proposal, so after reflecting a 
 moment she said she would go. 
 
 Having arrived at Bridgehouse, Macnairston sought the 
 young Laird, and prepared to play his last card. 
 
 ' I have doleful news foryou this evening,' began Macnairston, 
 in a weU-assumed voice and look of sorrow ; " Kennedy was 
 teUing me before I left that he had a trap laid for Mabel to- 
 night ; and when I heard his diabolical scheme unfolded, I 
 could not rest until I informed you of it." 
 
 ' Gracious heaven ! I don't understand you, man ; tell me, in 
 mercy, what you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I can tell you but little further than this, that Mabel has 
 been given to understand you cannot meet her at the Kirk, but 
 that she is to see you on the path a little above Greenan. Of 
 course Kennedy will be waiting for her in place of j'ou, and bear 
 the fair Mabel off to his eyrie.' 
 
 ' Will he, the false-hearted craven ! Then it will be over my 
 corpse,' exclaimed the young Laird, as he rushed into the stable 
 and brought forth a powerful horse. 
 
 ' Give me another, and I'll accompany you, let the conse- 
 quences be what they maj-.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 While the incidents narrated in the last chapter were occurring 
 at Bridgehouse, Mabel was hurrying along the road leading to 
 Dunure. The last rays of the setting sun were lighting up the 
 fleecy clouds afar to the westward, and giving to some the 
 appearance of huge mountains, whose rifted summits were 
 covered with snow, while others seemed great castles tinted with 
 blue and gold. Immediately on her left, rose Brown Carrick 
 Hill, covered with heather, hazel, broom, and whin, among 
 which the mavis and blackbird poured forth their vespers, 
 mingled with the lowing of kine and bleating of sheep. Occa- 
 sionally a soft, cooling breeze came sighing over the placid sea, 
 
GKEENAN CASTLE. 157 
 
 lifting gently, for a moment, the luxuriant tresses of her dark 
 auburn hair, peeping beneath at her snowy neck, and then 
 letting them fall gracefully over her shoulders — in those days 
 chignons were unfashionable. What a pity ! 
 
 Mabel was not gaudily dressed, but what we call tidy. Over 
 her left arm she carried that indispensable article of a Scottish 
 lassie's outfit — a tartan plaid. The very simplicity of her attire 
 enhanced her loveliness, and proved the truth of the poet's 
 words — 
 
 'Beauty needs not the foreign aid of ornaments. 
 But is, when unadorned, adorned the most.' 
 
 As she skipped along over the velvet pathway she felt 
 happy — as the young and innocent always do. It is only when 
 sin has found an entrance into that most beautiful structure of 
 Creative power — man — that we become wretched, faithless, 
 hopeless. Mabel's hope was strong and brilliant as the roseate 
 tints that lingered yet on the hills around her. Away in the 
 future were glorious vistas through which she wandered with 
 the idol of her heart — David Cochrane. 
 
 Along with the young Laird of Bridgehouse, how truthful 
 seemed the words — 
 
 ' With love, a cottage by a brook 
 
 In some fair glen, is better far 
 Than palaces, tho'.grand they look, 
 
 If won by fraud or deadly war. 
 If love lights up the humblest cot, 
 
 Then that's a holy, happy spot. ' 
 
 As these thoughts swept pleasantly through her mind a sudden 
 turn in the road brought her nearly face to face with a solitary 
 horseman. Mabel walked to the side-path to allow the stranger 
 to pass, but such evidently was not his intention, for reining 
 tip his steed, he sprang from the saddle, and before Mabel 
 recovered her self-possession, he clasped his arms around her 
 and struggled for a kiss. In a moment she recognized the 
 hated Laird of Greenan, and renewed her struggles to free her- 
 self. Grasping her plaid he wound it quickly around her head, 
 but not until she had awakened the sleeping echoes with a 
 -wild despairing crj^ for help. That cry for help was heard by 
 Cochrane and Macnairston, and they lashed their steeds 
 furiously forward to reach the place from which it proceeded. 
 Long and bravely did Mabel struggle in the hands of her ruth- 
 less assaulter, but she was no match for such a powerful 
 
158 TALES AND TRADITIONS. 
 
 ruffian. At length she became insensible and sunk helplessly 
 to the earth. Pantingly Kennedy lifted her up, threw her 
 across the back of his well-trained horse, sprang into the saddle, 
 and made off with the apparently lifeless maiden. Leaving the 
 road, he struck across the fields for Greenan, but not without 
 being seen by his pursuers. Leaving the road, at a point 
 further down, they scoured across the country, and at last got 
 between Kennedy and the castle. So busily was he engaged 
 holding Mabel and managing his horse that he never observed 
 the horsemen approaching until Cochrane shouted, ' Cowardly 
 dastard! I have caught you at last.' As he cried this he rode 
 furiously up, brandishing his sword. 
 
 Seeing there was no chance of escape, Kennedy threw ]Mabel 
 from the horse, and, drawing his sword, prepared to defend 
 himself. The next moment they were engaged in deadly con- 
 flict, but the inexperienced Laird of Bridgehouse was no match 
 for the well-trained Laird of Greenan. 
 
 Macnairston watched with knitted brows the contest, with- 
 out uttering a word, until he saw Cochrane fall from his horse ; 
 then, rushing forward, he exclaimed — ' Now, Kennedy, you and 
 I must square accounts.' 
 
 ' Base-born hound, I'll soon send thee to thy long account ! ' 
 cried Kennedy, panting with passion ; but, embittered as he was 
 against his treacherous henchmen, his strength was nearly gone. 
 
 ' That's for Lady .Julia, Laird,' cried Macnairston, as he 
 passed his sword through his right arm, ' and that's for myself,' 
 he exultingly exclaimed, as he severed the left one from his 
 body. Kennedy, with a savage curse on his lips, fell beside the 
 Laird of Bridgehouse. 
 
 Without casting a glance at his three victims? he turned 
 his horse's head, exclaiming, as he rode off the field, ' They 
 may lie there till they rot for me.' 
 
 Mabel had recovered from her state of unconsciousness, and, 
 seeing Macnairston ride off, she gathered courage to rise and 
 look about her. She saw Cochrane lying in a pool of blood, 
 and Kennedy stretched beside him. Eaising her lover's head, 
 she saw with infinite joy that life was not extinct, although he 
 was dangerously wounded in the left side. Staunching the flow 
 of blood as well as she could, she laid his head on her bosom 
 and sobbed piteously. Although it was nearly dark, the cries 
 of the combatants and the clashing of swords had attracted to 
 the spot two of the serfs belonging to Greenan. 
 
GKEENAN CASTLE. 159- 
 
 ' Holy Virgin ! girl, who has done this ? ' exclaimed the 
 strongest and fiercest looking of the two. 
 
 ' It was Macnairston,' sobbed Mabel. ' For God's sake, help 
 them to the castle.' 
 
 ' This is strange, maiden. Where is Mac?' As the stout 
 retainer said this he sprang on the back of Kennedy's Horse, 
 and then cried at his companion to give him a grip of his 
 master's hand ; unitedly they lifted him up. ' Set the damsel 
 now on the other horse, and try and lift that youth from the 
 earth.' This was a work of some difficulty, but at last it was 
 accomplished, and they at once started for the castle. 
 
 A messenger was instantly despatched to Ayr for Father 
 Forbes, one of the priests belonging to St John's. 
 
 At this period clergymen were not only cures of the soul, but 
 of the body ; therefore, when Father Forbes arrived at Greenan, 
 late at night, he set instantly about examining the state of 
 Cochrane and Kennedy. The former, with proper care, he said, 
 would recover ; but Kennedy's was a hopeless case, although, 
 he said, he might live to morning. Doing his best to restore 
 Kennedy to consciousness, by applying restoratives, he at last 
 opened his eyes, gazed wildly about him, and asked for wine. 
 
 ' Give him whatever he asks for,' said the holy man ; ' he 
 has but a few hours to live, and I wish to hear his confession 
 before he dies.' 
 
 ' Can money not save my life ? ' groaned the dying man. 
 
 ' Not all the wealth of the world ; prepare to meet thy God,' 
 said the priest, in a solemn voice. 
 
 ' Dogs Cochrane live ? ' 
 
 'He does. What of that?' 
 
 ' Give me more wine. Is he here ? Ask him if he forgives 
 me ?' gasped Kennedy. 
 
 ' He forgives thee as he hopes to be forgiven. 
 
 ' That's well ! Macnairston, curse him.' 
 
 ' Hush,' said the priest, interrupting him ; ' you must for- 
 give your enemies.' 
 
 ' I cannot. I'm immensely rich : you'll find my gold in a 
 strong oaken chest in my bedroom. Give Mabel Bruce for 
 dower a thousand pieces of gold ; the remainder of my wealth 
 I leave to found a church to be called St Leonard. Dost thou 
 hear, priest?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, my son ; say on.' 
 
 ' It is to be built in the vicinity of Ayr ; and^the officiating 
 
160 TALES AND TEADITIONS. 
 
 cliaplain is to offer up a mass weekly for the repose of my 
 soul.' 
 
 ' It shall be faithfully performed.' 
 
 Kennedy fell back on the pillow and breathed with 
 difficulty. 
 
 ' Thy end is approaching, friend ; would' st thou care to 
 speak to me privately? ' 
 
 The only audible reply to this was the name of Macnairston, 
 but whether he cursed or blessed him was long disputed by 
 the priests of St Leonards. 
 
 The proud, imperious Kennedy gave a groan, quivered con- 
 vulsively, and expired. 
 
 ' Requiescat in jtace^ muttered the priest, as he made the 
 sign of the cross, and ordered one of the servants to light the 
 way to Kennedy's bed room, to seal his wealth in the name of 
 the church. 
 
 The young Laird of Bridgehouse was removed from Gree- 
 nan Castle on the morning following the death of Kennedy. 
 With gentle nursing he recovered from the effects of his wound 
 in the course of a few weeks, and shortly afterwards he was 
 united to the Kose of the Isle. They lived to wander with 
 their children's children along the sunny slopes of Brown 
 Carrick Hill, and along the banks of Doon, which has since been 
 rendered classic by the immortal Burns. 
 
 Macnairston found his way to Paris, and at once sought the 
 abode of the fair Lady de Larcy. Her father, hearing of her 
 disgrace, died 8orro\ving. Being thus left to the freedom of 
 her own will, she ran headlong into every excess of the gay 
 capital. For awhile she seemed pleased with the attentions of 
 Macnairston, but, wearying of his jealous superintendence, she 
 quietly disposed of him. He went one night to bed rather 
 tipsj-, and in the morning was found dead. 
 
 We must now draw the curtain and retire ; but to the 
 lover of the picturesque, we would say that around the auld. 
 toun of Ayr, there are many sweet haunts, with hallowed 
 recollections, but none are in our opinion more worthy of a visit 
 than the storm-beaten, crumbling ruins of Greeuan Castle. 
 
 BViX AND WIUGUT, PBIMBRS, QLASQOW. 
 
^»r,r, 
 
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