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THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER; 
 
 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 

 
 
 "'^ 
 
THE 
 
 SURGEON'S DAUGHTER 
 
 CASTLE DANGEROUS 
 
 AND GLOSSARY 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 
 WITH STEEL PLATES FROM DESIGNS BY 
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK AND F. W. TOPHAM 
 
 NEW EDITION, WITH THE AUTHORS NOTES 
 
 LONDON AND NEW YORK 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS 
 
 1876 
 
LONDON : 
 DRADBURV, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
THE 
 
 SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The tale of the Surgeon's Daughter formed part of the second 
 series of Chronicles of the Canongate, published in 1827. 
 
 The Author has nothing to say now in reference to this little 
 Novel, but that the principal incident on which it turns, was 
 narrated to him one morning at breakfast by his worthy friend, 
 Mr. Train, of Castle Douglas, in Galloway, whose kind assistance 
 he has so often had occasion to acknowledge in the course of these 
 prefaces ; and that the military friend who is alluded to as having 
 furnished him with some information as to Eastern matters, was 
 Colonel James Ferguson of Huntly Burn, one of the sons of the 
 venerable historian and philosopher of that name — which name he 
 took the liberty of concealing under its Gaelic form of MacErries. 
 
 W. S. 
 
 Abbotsford, 
 Sept. 1831. 
 
 APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 
 
 \Mr. Train was requested by Sir Walter Scott to give him in 
 •writing the story as nearly as possible in the shape in which he 
 had told it J but the following narrative, which he drew up 
 accordingly, did not reach Abbotsford until July 1832.] 
 
 In the old Stock of Fife, there was not perhaps an individual 
 Vifhose exertions were followed by consequences of such a remark- 
 able nature as those of Davie Duff, popularly called " The Thane 
 of Fife," who, from a very humble parentage, rose to fill one of the 
 chairs of the magistracy of his native burgh. By industry and 
 economy in early life, he obtained the means of erecting, solely on 
 his own account, one of those ingenious manufactories for which 
 
6 APPENDIX TO 
 
 Fifeshire is justly celebrated. From the day on which the indus- 
 trious artisan first took his seat at thei Council Board, he a.ttended 
 so much to the interests of the little privileged community, that 
 civic honours were conferred on him as rapidly as the Set of the 
 Royalty* could legally admit. 
 
 To have the right of walking to church on holyday, preceded by 
 a phalanx of halberdiers, in habiliments fashioned as in former 
 times, seems, in the eyes of many a guild brother, to be a very 
 enviable pitch of worldly grandeur. Few persons were ever more 
 proud of civic honours than the Thane of Fife, but he knew well 
 how to turn his political influence to the best account. The council, 
 court, and other business of the burgh, occupied much of his time, 
 which caused him to intrust the management of his manufactory to 
 a near relation whose name was D*******, a young man of dis- 
 solute habits ; but the Thane, seeing at last, that by continuing that 
 extravagant person in that charge, his affairs would, in all proba- 
 bility, fall into a state of bankruptcy, applied to the member of 
 Parliament for that district to obtain a situation for his relation in 
 the civil department of the state. The knight, whom it is here 
 unnecessary to name, knowing how effectually the Thane ruled the 
 little burgh, applied in the proper quarter, and actually obtained an 
 appointment for D******* in the civil service of the East India 
 Company. 
 
 A respectable surgeon, whose residence was in a neighbouring 
 village, had a beautiful daughter named Emma, who had long been 
 courted by D*******. Immediately before his departure to India, 
 as a mark of mutual affection, they exchanged miniatures, taken by 
 an eminent artist in Fife, and each set in a locket, for the purpose 
 of having the object of affection always in view. 
 
 The eyes of the old Thane were now turned towards Hindostan 
 with much anxiety ; but his relation had not long arrived in that 
 distant quarter of the globe before he had the satisfaction of receiv- 
 ing a letter, conveying the welcome intelligence of his having taken 
 possession of his new station in a large frontier town of the 
 Company's dominions, and that great emoluments were attached to 
 the situation ; which was confirmed by several subsequent com- 
 munications of the most gratifying description to the old Thane, 
 who took great pleasure in spreading the news of the reformed 
 habits and singular good fortune of his intended heir. None of all 
 his former acquaintances heard with such joy the favourable report 
 of the successful adventurer in the East, as did the fair and accom- 
 plished daughter of the village surgeon ; but his previous character 
 caused her to keep her own correspondence with him secret from 
 her parents, to whom even the circumstance of her being acquainted 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 with D******* was wholly unknown, till her father received a 
 letter from him, in which he assured him of his attachment to 
 Emma long before his departure from Fife ; that having been so 
 happy as to gain her affections, he would have made her his wife 
 before leaving his native country, had he then had the means of 
 supporting her in a suitable rank through life ; and that, having it 
 now in his power to do so, he only waited the consent of her parents 
 to fulfil the vow he had formerly made. 
 
 The Doctor having a large family, with a very limited income to 
 support them, and understanding that D******* had at last 
 become a person of sober and industrious habits, he gave his 
 consent, in which Emma's mother fully concurred. 
 
 Aware of the straitened circumstances of the Doctor, D******* 
 remitted a sum of money to complete at Edinburgh Emma's 
 Oriental education, and fit her out in her journey to India ; she 
 was to embark at Sheemess, on board one of the Company's ships, 
 for a port in India, at which place, he said, he would Avait her 
 arrival, with a retinue suited to a person of his rank in society. 
 
 Emma set out from her father's house just in time to secure a 
 passage, as proposed by her intended husband, accompanied by 
 her only brother, who, on their arrival at Sheerness, met one 
 C******, an old schoolfellow, captain of the ship by which 
 Emma was to proceed to India. 
 
 It was the particular desire of the Doctor that his daughter 
 should be committed to the care of that gentleman, from the time 
 of her leaving the shores of Britain, till the intended marriage cere- 
 mony was duly performed on her arrival in India ; a charge that 
 was frankly undertaken by the generous sea-captain. 
 
 On the arrival of the fleet at the appointed port, D*******, with 
 a large cavalcade of mounted Pindarees, was, as expected, in atten- 
 dance, ready to salute Emma on landing, and to carry her direct 
 into the interior of the country. C******, who had made several 
 voyages to the shores of Hindostan, knowing something of Hindoo 
 manners and customs, was surprised to see a private individual in 
 the Company's service with so many attendants ; and when 
 D******* declined having the marriage ceremony performed, 
 according to the rites of the Church, till he returned to the place of 
 his abode, C******, more and more confirmed in his suspicion 
 that all was not right, resolved not to part with Emma, till he had 
 fulfilled, in the most satisfactory manner, the promise he had made 
 before leaving England, of giving her duly away in marriage. Not 
 being able by her entreaties to alter the resolution of D*******, 
 Emma solicited her protector C****** to accompany her to th« 
 place of her intended destination, to which he most readily agreed. 
 
8 APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 
 
 taking with him as many of his crew as he deemed sufficient to 
 ensure the safe custody of his innocent protdg^e, should any 
 attempt be made to carry her away by force. 
 
 Both parties journeyed onwards till they arrived at a frontier 
 town, where a native Rajah was waiting the arrival of the fair 
 maid of Fife, with whom he had fallen deeply in love, from 
 seeing her miniature likeness in the possession of. D*******, 
 to whom he had paid a large sum of money for the original, 
 and had only intrusted him to convey her in state to the seat of 
 his government. 
 
 No sooner was this villainous action of D******* known to 
 C******, than he communicated the whole particulars to the 
 commanding officer of a regiment of Scotch Highlanders that 
 happened to be quartered in that part of India, begging at the 
 same time, for the honour of Caledonia, and protection of in- 
 jured innocence, that he would use the means in his power, of 
 resisting any attempt that might be made by the native chief to 
 wrest from their hands the virtuous female who had been so shame- 
 fully decoyed from her native country by the worst of mankind. 
 Honour occupies too large a space in the heart of the Gael to 
 resist such a call of humanity. 
 
 The Rajah, finding his claim was not to be acceded to, and re- 
 solving to enforce the same, assembled his troops, and attacked 
 with great fury the place where the affrighted Emma was for a 
 time secured by her countrymen, who fought in her defence with 
 all their native valour, which at length so overpowered their assail- 
 ants, that they were forced to retire in every direction, leaving 
 behind many of their slain, among whom was found the mangled 
 corpse of the perfidious D*******. 
 
 C****** was immediately afterwards married to Emma, and 
 my informant assured me he saw them many years afterwards, 
 living happily together in the county of Kent, on the fortune 
 bequeathed by the " Thane of Fife." 
 
 J. T. 
 
 Castle Douglas, 
 July, 1832. 
 
PREFATORY. 
 
 Mt. (fftoftanflts's preface. 
 
 Indite, my muse, indite, 
 
 Subpoena'd is thy lyre, 
 The praises to requite 
 
 Which rules of court require. 
 
 Probationary Odes. 
 
 The concluding a literary undertaking, in whole or in part, is, 
 to the inexperienced at least, attended with an irritating titillation, 
 like that which attends on the healing of a wound — a prurient im- 
 patience, in short, to know what the world in general, and friends 
 in particular, will say to our labours. Some authors, I am told, 
 profess an oyster-like indifference upon this subject ; for my own 
 part, I hardly believe in their sincerity. Others may acquire it 
 from habit ; but in my poor opinion, a neophyte like myself must 
 be for a long time incapable of such sangfroid. 
 
 Frankly, I was ashamed to feel how childishly I felt on the 
 occasion. No person could have said prettier things than myself 
 upon the importance of stoicism concerning the opinion of others, 
 when their applause or censure refers to literary character only ; 
 and I had determined to lay my work before the public, with the 
 same unconcern with which the ostrich lays her eggs in the sand, 
 giving herself no farther trouble concerning the incubation, but 
 leaving to the atmosphere to bring forth the young, or otherwise, 
 as the climate shall serve. But though an ostrich in theory, I 
 became in practice a poor hen, who has no sooner made her 
 deposit, but she runs cackling about, to call the attention of every 
 one to the wonderful work which she has performed. 
 
 As soon as I became possessed of my first volume, neatly stitched 
 up and boarded, my sense of the necessity of communicating with 
 some one became ungovernable. Janet was inexorable, and seemed 
 already to have tired of my literary confidence ; for whenever I 
 drew near the subject, after evading it as long as she could, she 
 made, under some pretext or other, a bodily retreat to the kitchen 
 or the cockloft, her own peculiar and inviolate domains. My 
 publisher would have been a natural resource ; but he understands 
 his business too well, and follows it too closely, to desire to enter 
 into literary discussions, wisely considering, that he who has to sell 
 
10 PREFATORY. 
 
 books has seldom leisure to read them. Then my acquaintance, 
 now that I have lost Mrs. Bethune Baliol, are of that distant and 
 accidental kind, to whom I had not face enough to communicate 
 the nature of my uneasiness, and who probably would only have 
 laughed at me had I made any attempt to interest them m my 
 labours. 
 
 Reduced thus to a sort of despair, I thought of my friend and 
 man of business Mr. Fairscribe. His habits, it was true, were not 
 likely to render him indulgent to light literature, and, indeed, I had 
 more than once noticed his daughters, and especially my little 
 songstress, whip into her reticule what looked very like a circulating 
 hbrary volume, as soon as her father entered the room. Still he 
 was not only my assured, but almost my only friend, and I had 
 little doubt that he would take an interest in the volume for the 
 sake of the author, which the work itself might fail to inspire. I 
 sent him, therefore, the book, carefully sealed up, with an intima- 
 tion that I requested the favour of his opinion upon the contents, 
 of which I affected to talk in the depreciatory style, which calls for 
 point-blank contradiction, if your correspondent possess a grain of 
 civility. 
 
 This communication took place on a Monday, and I daily ex- 
 pected (what I was ashamed to anticipate by volunteering my 
 presence, however sure of a welcome) an invitation to eat an egg, 
 as was my friend's favourite phrase, of a card to drink tea with 
 Misses Fairscribe, or a provocation to breakfast, at least, with my 
 hospitable friend and benefactor, and to talk over the contents of 
 my enclosure. But the hours and days passed on from Monday 
 till Saturday, and I had no acknowledgment whatever that my 
 packet had reached its destination. " This is very unUke my good 
 friend's punctuality," thought I ; and having again and again vexed 
 James, my male attendant, by a close examination concerning the 
 time, place, and delivery, I had only to strain my imagination to 
 conceive reasons for my friend's silence. Sometimes I thought that 
 his opinion of the work had proved so unfavourable, that he was 
 averse to hurt my feelings by communicating it — sometimes, that, 
 escaping his hands to whom it was destined, it had found its way 
 into his writing-chamber, and was become the subject of criticism 
 to his smart clerks and conceited apprentices. " 'Sdeath ! " thought 
 I, " if I were sure of this, I would " 
 
 " And what would you do ? " said Reason, after a few moments' 
 reflection. " You are ambitious of introducing your book into every 
 writing and reading chamber in Edinburgh, and yet you take fire 
 at the thoughts of its being criticised by Mr. Fairscribe's young 
 people ? Be a little consistent, for shame." 
 
PREFATORY, M 
 
 " I will be consistent," said I, doggedly ; "but for all that, I will 
 call on Mr. Fairscribe this evening." 
 
 I hastened my dinner, donn'd my great-coat, (for the evening 
 threatened rain,) and went to Mr. Fairscribe's house. The old 
 demostic opened the door cautiously, and before I asked the 
 question, said, " Mr. Fairscribe is at home, sir ; but it is Sunday 
 night." Recognising, however, my face and voice, he opened the 
 door wider, admitted me, and conducted me to the parlour, where 
 I found Mr. Fairscribe and the rest of his family engaged in listen- 
 ing to a sermon by the late Mr. Walker of Edinburgh,* which was 
 read by Miss Catherine with unusual distinctness, simplicity, and 
 judgment. Welcomed as a friend of the house, I had nothing for 
 it but to take my seat quietly, and making a virtue of necessity, 
 endeavour to derive my share of the benefit arising from an excellent 
 sermon. But I am afraid Mr. Walker's force of logic and pre- 
 cision of expression were somewhat lost upon me. I was sensible 
 I had chosen an improper time to disturb Mr. Fairscribe, and when 
 the discourse was ended, I rose to take my leave, somewhat hastily, 
 I believe. "A cup of tea, Mr. Croftangry? " said the young lady. 
 " You will wait and take part of a Presbyterian supper ? " said Mr. 
 Fairscribe. — "Nine o'clock — I make it a point of keeping my 
 
 father's hours on Sunday at e'en. Perhaps Dr. [naming an 
 
 excellent clergyman] may look in." 
 
 I made my apology for declining his invitation ; and I fancy my 
 unexpected appearance, and hasty retreat, had rather surprised my 
 friend, since, instead of accompanying me to the door, he conducted 
 me into his own apartment. 
 
 " What is the matter," he said, " Mr. Croftangry ? This is not a 
 night for secular business, but if anything sudden or extraordinary 
 has happened " 
 
 " Nothing in the world," said I, forcing myself upon confession, 
 as the best way of clearing myself out of the scrape, — " only — only 
 I sent you a little parcel, and as you are so regular in acknowledg- 
 ing letters and communications, I — I thought it might have mis- 
 carried—that's aU." 
 
 My friend laughed heartily, as if he saw into and enjoyed my 
 motives and my confusion. " Safe ? — it came safe enough," he said. 
 " The wind of the world always blows its vanities into haven. But 
 this is the end of the session, when I have little time to read any 
 thing printed except Inner-House papers ; yet if you will take your 
 kail with us next Saturday, I will glance over your work, though 
 I am sure I am no competent judge of such matters." 
 
 With this promise I was fain to take my leave, not without half 
 persuading myself that if once the phlegmatic lawyer began njy 
 
12 PREFATORY. 
 
 lucubrations, he would not be able to rise from them till he had 
 finished the perusal, nor to endure an interval betwixt his readmg 
 the last page, and requesting an interview with the author. 
 
 No such marks of impatience displayed themselves, '^''"f' 
 blunt or keen, as my friend Joanna says, swift or leisurely, held his 
 course ; and on the appointed Saturday, I was at the door pre- 
 cisely as it struck four. The dinner hour, indeed, was five punc- 
 tually ; but what did I know but my friend might want half an hour's 
 conversation with me before that time ? I was ushered into an empty 
 drawing-room, and, from a needle-book and work-basket, hastily 
 abandoned, I had some reason to think I interrupted my little 
 friend, Miss Katie, in some domestic labour more praiseworthy than 
 elegant. In this critical age, filial piety must hide herself in a 
 closet, if she has a mind to darn her father's linen. 
 
 Shortly after, I was the more fuUy convinced that I had been 
 too early an intruder, when a wench came to fetch away the basket, 
 and recommend to my courtesies a red and green gentleman in a 
 cage, who answered all my advances by croaking out, " You're a 
 fool— you're a fool, I tell you ! " until, upon my word, I began to 
 think the creature was in the right. At last my friend arrived, a 
 little overheated. He had been taking a turn at golf, to prepare 
 him for " colloquy sublime." And wherefore not ? since the game, 
 with its variety of odds, lengths, bunkers, tee'd balls, and so on, 
 may be no inadequate representation of the hazards attending 
 literary pursuits. In particular, those formidable buffets, which 
 make one ball spin through the air like a rifle-shot, and strike 
 another down into the very earth it is placed upon, by the mal- 
 adroitness or the maJicious purpose of the player — what are they 
 but parallels to the favourable or depreciating notices of the 
 reviewers, who play at golf with the publications of the season, 
 even as Altisidora, in her approach to the gates of the infernal 
 regions, saw the devils playing at racket with the new books of 
 Cervantes' days. 
 
 Well, every hour has its end. Five o'clock came, and my friend, 
 with his daughters, and his handsome young son, who, though 
 fairly buckled to the desk, is every now and then looking over his 
 shoulder at a smart uniform, set seriously about satisfying the 
 corporeal wants of nature ; while I, stimulated by a nobler appe- 
 tite after fame, wished that the touch of a magic wand could 
 without all the ceremony of picking and choosing, carving and 
 slicing, masticating and swallowing, have transported a qicantmn 
 sufficit of the good things on my friend's hospitable board, into the 
 stomachs of those who surrounded it, to be there at leisure con- 
 verted into chyle, while their thoughts were turned on higher 
 
PREFATORY. 13 
 
 matters. At length all was over. But the young ladies sat still, 
 and talked of the music of the Freischutz, for nothing else was then 
 thought of ; so we discussed the wild hunters' song, and the tame 
 hunters' song, &c. &c. in aU which my young friends were quite 
 at home. Luckily for me, all this horning and hooping drew on 
 some allusion to the Seventh Hussars, which gallant regiment, I 
 observe, is a more favourite theme with both Miss Catherine and 
 her brother than with my old friend, who presently looked at his 
 watch, and said something significantly to Mr. James about office 
 hours. The youth got up with the ease of a youngster that would 
 be thought a man of fashion rather than of business, and endea- 
 voured, with some success, to walk out of the room, as if the loco- 
 motion was entirely voluntary ; Miss Catherine and her sisters left 
 us at the same time, and now, thought I, my trial comes on. 
 
 Reader, did you ever, in the course of your hfe, cheat the courts 
 of justice and lawyers, by agreeing to refer a dubious and im- 
 portant question to the decision of a mutual friend ? If so, you 
 may have remarked the relative change which the arbiter under- 
 goes in your estimation, when raised, though by your own free 
 choice, from an ordinary acquaintance, whose opinions were of as 
 little consequence to yojj as yours to him, into a superior personage, 
 on whose decision your fate must depend fro tanio, as my friend 
 Mr. Fairscribe would say. His looks assume a mysterious if not a 
 minatory expression ; his hat has a loftier air, and his wig, if he 
 wears one, a more formidable buckle. 
 
 I felt, accordingly, that my good friend Fairscribe, on the present 
 occasion, had acquired something of a similar increase of conse- 
 quence. But a week since, he had, in my opinion, been indeed an 
 exceUent-meaning man, perfectly competent to every thing within 
 his own profession, but immured at the same time among its 
 forms and technicalities, and as incapable of judging of matters of 
 taste as any mighty Goth whatsoever, of or belonging to the 
 ancient Senate House of Scotland. But what of that? I had 
 made him my judge by my own election ; and I have often ob- 
 served that an idea of declining such a reference, on account of 
 his own consciousness of incompetency, is, as it perhaps ought to 
 be, the last which occurs to the referee himself. He that has a 
 literary work subjected to his judgment by the author, immediately 
 throws his mind into a critical attitude, though the subject be one 
 which he never before thought of. No doubt the author is well 
 qualified to select his own judge, and why should the arbiter whom 
 he has chosen doubt his own talents for condemnation or acquittal, 
 since he has been doubtless picked out by his friend, from his 
 indubitable reliance on their competence ? Surely, the man who 
 
14 PREFATORY. 
 
 wrote the production is likely to know the person best quahfied to 
 judge of it. 
 
 Whilst these thoughts crossed my brain, I kept my eyes fixed on 
 my good friend, whose motions appeared unusually tardy to ine, 
 while he ordered a bottle of particular claret, decanted it with 
 scrupulous accuracy with his own hand, caused his old domestic to 
 bring a saucer of ohves, and chips of toasted bread, and thus, on 
 hospitable thoughts intent, seemed to me to adjourn the discussion 
 which I longed to bring on, yet feared to precipitate. 
 
 " He is dissatisfied," thought I, " and is ashamed to show it, 
 afraid doubtless of hurting my feelings. What had I to do to talk 
 to him about any thing save charters and sasines ?— Stay, he is 
 go'.ng to begin." 
 
 " We are old fellows now, Mr. Croftangry," said my landlord ; 
 " scarcely so fit to take a poor quart of claret between us, as we 
 would have been in better days to take a pint, in the old Scottish 
 liberal acceptation of the phrase. Maybe you would have liked me 
 to have kept James to help us. But if it is not on a holyday or so, 
 I think it is best he should observe office hours." 
 
 Here the discourse was about to fall, I relieved it by saying, 
 Mr. James was at the happy time of life, when he had better things 
 to do than to sit over the bottle. " I suppose," said I, " your son 
 is a reader." 
 
 " Um — yes — James may be called a reader in a sense j but I 
 doubt there is little solid in his studies — ^poetry and plays, Mr. 
 Croftangry, all nonsense — they set his head a-gadding after the 
 army, when he should be minding his business." 
 
 " I suppose, then, that romances do not find much more grace in 
 your eyes than dramatic and poetical compositions ? " 
 
 " Deil a bit, deil a bit, Mr. Croftangry, nor historical productions 
 either. There is too much fighting in history, as if men only were 
 brought into this world to send one another out of it. It nourishes 
 false notions of our being, and chief and proper end, Mr. Croft- 
 angry." 
 
 Still all this was general, and I became determined to bring our 
 discourse to a focus. " I am afraid, then, I have done very ill to 
 trouble you with my idle manuscripts, Mr. Fairscribe ; but you 
 must do me the justice to remember, that I had nothing better to 
 do than to amuse myself by writing the sheets I put into your 
 hands the other day. I may truly plead— 
 
 ' I left no calling for this idle trade.'" 
 
 " I cry your mercy, Mr. Croftangry," said my old friend, sud- 
 
PREFATORY. 15 
 
 denly recollecting — "yes, yes, I have been very rude ; but 1 had 
 forgotten entirely that you had taken a spell yourself at that idle 
 man's trade." 
 
 " I suppose," replied I, " you, on your side, have been too busy a 
 man to look at my poor Chronicles ? " 
 
 " No, no," said my friend, " I am not so bad as that neither. I 
 have read them bit by bit, just as I could get a moment's time, and 
 I believe I shall very soon get through them." 
 
 " Well, my good friend ? " said I, interrogatively. 
 
 And " Well, Mr. Croftangry," cried he, " I really think you have 
 got over the ground very tolerably well. I have noted down here 
 two or three bits of things, which I presume to be errors of the 
 press, otherwise it might be alleged, perhaps, that you did not fully 
 pay that attention to the grammatical rules which one would desire 
 to see rigidly observed." 
 
 I looked at my friend's notes, which, in fact, showed, that in one 
 or two grossly obvious passages, I had left uncorrected such sole- 
 'cisms in grammar. 
 
 " Well, well, I own my fault ; but, setting apart these casual 
 errors, how do you like tlie matter and the manner of what I have 
 been writing, Mr. Fairscribe ?" 
 
 " Why," said my friend, pausing, with more grave and important 
 hesitation than I thanked him for, " there is not much to be said 
 against the manner. The style is terse and intelligible, Mr. Croft- 
 angry, very intelligible ; and that I consider as the first point in 
 every thing that is intended to be understood. There are, indeed, 
 here and there some flights and fancies, which I comprehended 
 with difficulty; but I got to your meaning at last. There are 
 people that are like ponies ; their judgments cannot go fast, but 
 they go sure." 
 
 " That is a pretty clear proposition, my friend ; but then how did 
 you like the meaning when you did get at it ? or was that, like 
 some ponies, too difficult to catch, and, when catched, not worth 
 the trouble?" 
 
 " I am far from saying that, my dear sir, in respect it would be 
 downright uncivil ; but since you ask my opinion, I wish you could 
 have thought about something more appertaining to civil policy, 
 than all this bloody work about shooting and dirking, and down- 
 right hanging. I am told it was the Germans who first brought in 
 such a practice of choosing their heroes out of the Porteous Roll ;* 
 but, by my faith, we are like to be upsides with them. The first 
 was, as I am credibly informed, Mr. Scolar, as they call him ; a 
 scholar-like piece of work he has made of it, with his Robbers and 
 thieves." 
 
i6 PREFATORY. 
 
 " Schiller," said I, " my dear sir, let it be Schiller." 
 
 " Shiller, or what you like," said Mr. Fairscribe ; " I found the 
 book where I wish I had found a better one, and that is, in Kate s 
 work-basket. I sat down, and, like an old fool, began to read ; 
 but there, I grant, you have the better of Schiller, Mr. Croft- 
 angry." 
 
 « I should be glad, my dear sir, that you really think I have 
 approached that admirable author ; even your friendly partiahty 
 ought not to talk of my having excelled him." 
 
 " But I do say you have excelled him, Mr. Croftangry, in a most 
 material particular. For surely a book of amusement should be 
 something that one can take up and lay down at pleasure ; and I 
 can say justly, I was never at the least loss to put aside these sheets 
 of yours when business came in the way. But, faith, this Shiller, 
 sir, does not let you off so easily. I forgot one appointment on 
 particular business, and I wilfully broke through another, that I 
 might stay at home and finish his confounded book, which, after 
 all, is about two brothers, the greatest rascals I ever heard of. 
 The one, sir, goes near to murder his own father, and the other 
 (which you would think still stranger) sets about to debauch his 
 own wife." 
 
 " I find, then, Mr. Fairscribe, that you have no taste for the 
 romance of real life, no pleasire in contemplating those spirit- 
 rousing impulses, which force men of fiery passions upon great 
 crimes and great virtues ? " 
 
 " Why, as to that, I am not just so sure. But then, to mend the 
 matter," continued the critic, "you have brought in Highlanders 
 into every story, as if you were going back again, veils et reniis, 
 into the old days of Jacobitism. I must speak my plain mind, 
 Mr. Croftangry. I cannot tell what innovations in Kirk and State 
 may be now proposed, but our fathers were friends to both, as they 
 were settled at the glorious Revolution, and liked a tartan plaid as 
 little as they did a white surplice. I wish to Heaven, all this tartan 
 fever bode well to the Protestant succession and the Kirk of 
 Scotland." 
 
 " Both too well settled, I hope, in the minds of the subject," said 
 I, " to be affected by old rememljrances, on which we look back as 
 on the portraits of our ancestors, without recollecting, while we 
 gaze on them, any of the feuds by which the originals were ani- 
 mated while alive. But most happy should I be to light upon any 
 topic to supply the place of the Highlands, Mr. Fairscribe. I have 
 been just reflecting that the theme is becoming a little exhausted, 
 and your experience may perhaps supply " 
 
 " Ha, ha, \iz.—iny experience supply ! " interrupted Mr. Fair- 
 
PREFATORY. 
 
 scribe, with a laugh of derision. "Why, you might as weU ask 
 my son James's experience to supply a case about thirlage. No 
 no, my good friend, I have lived by the law, and in the law, all my 
 hfe ; and when you seek the impulses that make soldiers desert 
 and shoot their sergeants and corporals, and Highland drovers 
 dirk English graziers, to prove themselves men of fiery passions, 
 it is not to a man like me you should come. I could tell you 
 some tricks of my own trade, perhaps, and a queer story or two of 
 estates that have been lost and recovered. But, to tell you the 
 truth, I think you might do with your Muse of Fiction, as you call 
 her, as many an honest man does with his own sons in flesh and 
 blood." 
 
 " And how is that, my dear sir ? " 
 
 " Send her to India, to be sure. That is the true place for a 
 Scot to thrive in ; and if you carry your story fifty years back, as 
 there is nothing to hinder you, you will find as much shooting and 
 stabbing there as ever was in the wild Highlands. If you want 
 rogues, as they are so much in fashion with you, you have that 
 gallant caste of adventurers, who laid down their consciences at 
 the Cape of Good Hope as they went out to India, and forgot to 
 take them up again when they returned. Then, for great exploits, 
 you have in the old history of India, before Europeans were nume- 
 rous there, the most wonderful deeds, done by the least possible 
 means, that perhaps the annals of the world can afford." 
 
 " I know it," said I, kindling at the ideas his speech inspired. 
 " I remember in the delightful fpages of Orme, the interest which 
 mingles in his narratives, from the very small number of English 
 which are engaged. Each officer of a regiment becomes known to 
 you by name, nay, the non-commissioned officers and privates ac- 
 quire an individual share of interest. They are distinguished 
 among the natives like the Spaniards among the Mexicans. What 
 do I say ? they are like Homer's demigods among the warring 
 mortals. Men, like Clive and Caillaud, influenced great events, 
 like Jove himself. Inferior officers are like Mars or Neptune, and 
 the sergeants and corporals might well pass for demigods. Then the 
 various religious costumes, habits, and manners of the people of 
 Hindustan,— the patient Hindhu, the warlike Rajahpoot, the haughty 
 Moslemah, the savage and vindictive Malay— Glorious and un- 
 bounded subjects ! The only objection is, that I have never been 
 there, and know nothing at all about them." 
 
 " Nonsense, my good friend. You will tell us about them all the 
 better that you know nothing of what you are saying ; and come, 
 we'll finish the bottle, and when Katie (her sisters go to the as- 
 sembly) has given us tea, she wiU teU you the ouUine of the story 
 
iS PREFATORY. 
 
 of poor Menie Gray, whose picture you will see in the drawing- 
 room, a distant relation of my father's, who had, however, a hand- 
 some part of cousin Menie's succession. There are none livmg 
 that can be hurt by the story now, though it was thought best to 
 smother it up at the time, as indeed even the whispers about it led 
 poor cousin Menie to live very retired. I mind her well when a 
 child. There was something very gentle, but rather tiresome, about 
 poor cousin Menie." 
 
 When we came into the drawing-room, my friend pointed to a 
 picture which I had before noticed, without, however, its having 
 attracted more than a passing look ; now I regarded it with niore 
 attention. It was one of those portraits of the middle of the eigh- 
 teenth century, in which artists endeavoured to conquer the stiff- 
 ness of hoops and brocades, by throwing a fancy drapery around 
 the figure, with loose folds like a mantle or dressing gown, the stays, 
 however, being retained, and the bosom displayed in a manner 
 which shows that our mothers, like their daughters, were as liberal 
 of their charms as the nature of their dress might permit. To this, 
 the well-known style of the period, the features and form of the in- 
 dividual added, at first sight, little interest. It represented a hand- 
 some woman of about thirty, her hair wound simply about her head, 
 her features regular, and her complexion fair. But on looking more 
 closely, especially after having had a hint that the original had been 
 the heroine of a tale, I could observe a melancholy sweetness in the 
 countenance, that seemed to speak of woes endured, and injuries 
 sustained, with that resignation which women can and do some- 
 times display under the insults and ingratitude of those on whom 
 they have bestowed their affections. 
 
 " Yes, she was an excellent and an ill-used woman," said Mr. 
 Fairscribe, his eye fixed like mine on the picture — " She left our 
 family not less, I dare say, than five thousand pounds, and I believe 
 she died worth four times that sum ; but it was divided among the 
 nearest of kin, which was all fair." 
 
 " But her history, Mr. Fairscribe," said I—" to judge -from her 
 look, it must have been a melancholy one." 
 
 " You may say that, Mr. Croftangry. Melancholy enough, and 
 extraordinary enough too— But," added he, swallowing in haste a 
 cup of the tea which was presented to him, " I must away to my 
 business — we cannot be gowffing all the morning, and telling old 
 stories all the afternoon. Katie knows all the outs and ins of 
 cousin Menie's adventures as well as I do, and when she has o-iven 
 you the particulars, then I am at your service, to condescend more 
 articulately upon dates or particulars." 
 
 Well, here was I, a gay old bachelor, left to hear a love tale from 
 
PREFATORY. ig 
 
 my young friend Katie Fairscribe, who, when she is not surrounded 
 by a bevy of gallants, at which time, to my thinking, she shows less 
 to advantage, is as pretty, well behaved, and unaffected a girl as you 
 see tripping the new walks of Prince's Street or Heriot Row. Old 
 bachelorship so decided as mine has its privileges in such a Ute-ci- 
 tete, providing you are, or can seem for the time, perfectly good- 
 humoured and attentive, and do not ape the manners of your younger 
 years, in attempting which you will only make yourself ridiculous. 
 I don't pretend to be so indifferent to the company of a pretty young 
 woman as was desired by the poet, who wished to sit beside his 
 ' mistress — 
 
 " As unconcern'd, as when 
 
 Her infant beauty could beget 
 Nor happiness nor pain." 
 
 On the contrary, I can look on beauty and innocence, as something 
 of which I know and esteem the value, without the desire or hope 
 to make them my own. A young lady can afford to talk with an 
 old stager like me without either artifice or affectation ; and we 
 may maintain a species of friendship, the more tender, perhaps, 
 because we are of different sexes, yet with which that distinction 
 has very little to do. 
 
 Now, I hear my wisest and most critical neighbour remark, " Mr 
 Croftangry is in the way of doing a foolish thing. He is well to 
 pass — Old Fairscribe knows to a penny what he is worth, and Miss 
 Katie, with all her airs, may like the old brass that buys the new 
 pan. I thought Mr. Croftangry was looking very cadgy when he 
 came in to play a rubber with us last night. Poor gentleman, I am 
 sure I should be sorry to see him make a fool of himself." 
 
 Spare ^our compassion, dear madam, there is not the least danger. 
 The beaux yeux de ma cassette are not brilliant enough to make 
 amends for the spectacles which muSt supply the dimness of my 
 own. I am a little deaf too, as you know to your sorrow when we 
 are partners : and if I could get a nymph to marry me with all 
 these imperfections, who the deuce would marry Janet M'Evoy ? 
 and from Janet M'Evoy Chrystal Croftangry will not part. 
 
 Miss Katie Fairscribe gave me the tale of Menie Gray with much 
 taste and simplicity, not attempting to suppress the feeUngs, whether 
 of grief or resentment, which justly and naturally arose from the 
 circumstances of the tale. Her father afterwards confirmed the 
 principal outlines of the story, and furnished me with some addi- 
 tional circumstances, which Miss Katie had suppressed or forgotten. 
 I-ndeed, I have learned on this occasion, what old Lintot meant 
 when he told Pope, that he used to propitiate the critics of import- 
 
20 PREFATORY. 
 
 ance, when he had a work in the press, by now and then letting 
 them see a sheet of the blotted proof, or a few leaves of the original 
 manuscript. Our mystery of authorship hath something about it 
 so fascinating, that if you admit any one, however little he may 
 previously have been disposed to such studies, into your confidence, 
 you will find that he considers himself as a party interested, and, if 
 success follows, wiH think himself entitled to no inconsiderable 
 share of the praise. 
 
 The reader has seen that no one could have been naturally less 
 interested than was my excellent friend Fairscribe in my lucubra- 
 tions, when I first consulted him on the subject ; but since he has 
 contributed a subject to the work, he has become a most zealous 
 coadjutor ; and half-ashamed, I believe, yet half-proud of the lite- 
 rary stock-company, in which he has got a share, he never meets 
 me without jogging my elbow, and dropping some mysterious hints, 
 as, " I am saying — when will you give us any more of yon?" — or, 
 " Yon's not a bad narrative — I like yon." 
 
 Pray Heaven the reader may be of his opinion. 
 
THE 
 
 SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 When fainting Nature call'd for aid, 
 
 And hovering Death prepared the blow, 
 His vigorous remedy displa/d 
 
 The power of Art without the show ; 
 In Misery's darkest caverns known. 
 
 His useful care was ever nigh, 
 Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, 
 
 And lonely Want retired to die ; 
 No summons mock'd by cold delay. 
 
 No petty gains disclaim'd by pride 
 The modest wants of every day 
 
 The toil of every day supplied. 
 
 Samuel Johnson. 
 
 The exquisitely beautiful portrait which the Rambler has pamted 
 of his friend Levett, well describes Gideon Gray, and many other 
 village doctors, from whom Scotland reaps more benefit, and to 
 whom she is perhaps more ungrateful, than to any other class of 
 men, excepting her schoolmasters. 
 
 Such a rural man of medicine is usually the inhabitant of some 
 petty borough or village, which forms the central point of his prac- 
 tice. But, besides attending to such cases as the village may 
 afford, he is day and night at the service of every one who may 
 command his assistance within a circle of forty miles in diameter, 
 untraversed by roads in many directions, and including moors, 
 mountains, rivers, and lakes. For late and dangerous journeys 
 through an inaccessible country for services of the most es- 
 sential kind, rendered at the expense, or risk at least, of his 
 own health and life, the Scottish village doctor receives at best 
 a very moderate recompense, often one which is totally inade- 
 quate, and very frequently none whatsoever. He has none of 
 the ample resources proper to the brothers of the profession in 
 
22 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 an English town. The burgesses of a Scotch borough are ren- 
 dered, by their limited means of luxury, inaccessible to gout, sur- 
 feits, and all the comfortable chronic diseases, which are attendant 
 on wealth and indolence. Four years, or so, of abstemiousness, 
 enable them to stand an election dinner; and there is no hope of 
 broken heads among a score or two of quiet electors, who settle the 
 business over a table. There the mothers of the state never make 
 a point of pouring, in the course of every revolving year, a certain 
 quantity of doctor's stuff through the bowels of their beloved chil- 
 dren. Every old woman from the Townhead to the Townfit, can 
 prescribe a dose of salts, or spread a plaster ; and it is only when 
 a fever or a palsy renders matters serious, that the assistance of the 
 doctor is invoked by his neighbours in the borough. 
 
 But stiU the man of science cannot complain of inactivity or want 
 of practice. If he does not find patients at his door, he seeks them 
 through a wide circle. Like the ghostly lover of Biirger's Leonora, 
 he mounts at midnight, and traverses in darkness paths which, to 
 those less accustomed to them, seem formidable in dayhght, through 
 straits where the slightest aberration would plunge "him into a 
 morass, or throw him over a precipice, on to cabins which his horse 
 might ride over without knowing they lay in his way, unless he 
 happened to fall through the roofs. When he arrives at such a 
 stately termination of his journey, where his services are required, 
 either to bring a wretch into the world, or prevent one from leaving 
 it, the scene of misery is often such, that far from touching the 
 hard-saved shillings which are gratefully offered to him, he bestows 
 his medicines as well as his attendance — for charity. I have heard 
 the celebrated traveller Mungo Park, who had experienced both 
 courses of life, rather give the preference to travelling as a dis- 
 coverer in Africa, than to wandering by night and day the wilds of 
 his native land in the capacity of a country medical practitioner. He 
 mentioned having once upon a time rode forty miles, sat up all night, 
 and successfully assisted a woman under influence of the primitive 
 curse, for which his sole remuneration was a roasted potato and a 
 draught of buttermilk. But his was not the heart which grudged 
 the labour that relieved human misery. In short, there is no 
 creature in Scotland that works harder and is more poorly requited 
 than the country doctor, unless perhaps it may be his horse. Yet 
 the horse is, and indeed must be, hardy, active, and indefatigable, 
 in spite of a rough coat and indifferent condition ; and so you will 
 often find in his master, under an unpromising and blunt exterior 
 professional skill and enthusiasm, intelligence, humanity, courage,' 
 and science. 
 
 Mr. Gideon Gray, surgeon in the village of Middlemas, situated 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 in one of the midland counties of Scotland, led the rough, active, 
 and ill-rewarded course of life which we have endeavoured to de- 
 scribe. He was a man between forty and fifty, devoted to his pro- 
 fession, and of such reputation in the medical world, that he had 
 been more than once, as opportunities occurred, advised to exchange 
 Middlemas and its meagre circle of practice, for some of the larger 
 towns in Scotland, or for Edinburgh itself. This advice he had 
 always declined. He was a plain blunt man, who did not love 
 restraint, and was unwilling to subject himself to that which was 
 exacted in polite society. He had not himself found out, nor had 
 any friend hinted to him, that a slight touch of the cynic, in man- 
 ner and habits, gives the physician, to the common eye, an air of 
 authority which greatly tends to enlarge his reputation. Mr. Gray, 
 or, as the country people called him, Doctor Gray, (he might hold 
 the title by diploma for what I know, though he only claimed the 
 rank of Master of Arts,) had few wants, and these were amply sup- 
 plied by a professional income which generally approached two 
 hundred pounds a-year, for which, upon a-n average, he travelled 
 about five thousand miles on horseback in the course of the twelve 
 months. Nay, so liberally did this revenue support himself and his 
 ponies, called Pestle and Mortar, which he exercised alternately, 
 that he took a damsel to share it, Jean Watson, namely, the cherry- 
 cheeked daughter of an honest farmer, who being herself one of 
 twelve children, who had been brought up on an income of four- 
 score pounds a-year, never thought there could be poverty in more 
 than double the sum ; and looked on Gray, though now termed by 
 irreverent youth the Old Doctor, as a very advantageous match. 
 For several years they had no children, and it seemed as if Doctor 
 Gray, who had so often assisted the efforts of the goddess Lucina, 
 was never to invoke her in his own behalf. Yet his domestic roof 
 was, on a remarkable occasion, decreed to be the scene where the 
 goddess's art was required. 
 
 Late of an autumn evening three old women might be observed 
 plying their aged hmbs through the single street of the village at 
 Middlemas towards the honoured door, which, fenced off from the 
 vulgar causeway, was defended by a broken paling, enclosing two 
 slips of ground, half arable, half overrun with an abortive attempt 
 at shrubbery. The door itself was blazoned with the name of 
 Gideon Gray, M.A. Surgeon, &c. &c. Some of the idle young 
 fellows, who had been a minute or two before loitering at the other 
 end of the street before the door of the alehouse, (for the pretended 
 inn deserved no better name), now accompanied the old dames with 
 shouts of laughter, excited by their unwonted agility; and with 
 bets on the winner, as loudly expressed as if they had been laid at 
 
34 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the starting-post of Middlemas races. " Half-a-mutchkin on Luckie 
 Simson !"— " Auld Peg Tamson against the field !"— " Mair speed, 
 Alison Jaup, ye'Utak the wind out of them yet !"— " Canny against 
 the hill, lasses, or we may have a brusten auld carline amang ye !" 
 These, and a thousand such gibes, rent the air, without being 
 noticed, or even heard, by the anxious racers, whose object of con- 
 tention seemed to be, which should first reach the Doctor's door. 
 
 " Guide us, Doctor, what can be the matter now ?" said Mrs. 
 Gray, whose character was that of a good-natured simpleton; 
 " Here's Peg Tamson, Jean Simson, and Alison Jaup, running a 
 race on the hie street of the burgh !" 
 
 The Doctor, who had but the moment before hung his wet great- 
 coat before the fire, (for he was just dismounted from a long journey), 
 hastened down stairs, auguring some new occasion for his services, 
 and happy, that, from the character of the messengers, it was likely 
 to be within burgh, and not landward. 
 
 He had just reached the door as Luckie Simson, one of the racers, 
 arrived in the little area before it. She had got the start, and kept 
 it, but at the expense, for the time, of her power of utterance ; for 
 when she came in presence of the Doctor, she stood blowing like a 
 grampus, her loose toy flying back from her face, making the most 
 violent efforts to speak, but without the power of uttering a single 
 intelligible word. Peg Thomson whipped in before her. 
 
 " The leddy, sir, the leddy "— 
 
 " Instant help, instant help " — screeched, rather than uttered, 
 Alison Jaup ; while Luckie Simson, who had certainly won the race, 
 found words to claim the prize which had set them all in motion. 
 " And I hope, sir, you will recommend me to be the sick-nurse ; I 
 was here to bring vou the tidings lang before ony o' thae lazy 
 queans." 
 
 Loud were the counter protestations of the two competitors, and 
 loud the laugh of the idle loons who listened at a little distance. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, ye flyting fools," said the Doctor ; "and you, 
 ye idle rascals, if I come out among you" — So saying, he smacked 
 his long-lashed whip with great emphasis, producing much the effect 
 of the celebrated Quos ego of Neptune, in the first jEneid. " And 
 now," said the Doctor, "where, or who, is this lady?" 
 
 The question was scarce necessary ; for a plain carriage, with 
 four horses, came at a foot's-pace towards the door of the Doctor's 
 house, and the old women, now more at their ease, gave the Doctor 
 to understand that the gentleman thought the accommodation of 
 the Swan Inn totally unfit for his lady's rank and condition, and 
 had, by their advice, (each claiming the merit of the suggestion.) 
 brought her here, to experience the hospitality of the -west-rooms — 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 a spare apartment, in which Doctor Grayoccasionallyaccommodated 
 such patients, as he desired to keep for a space of time under his 
 own eye. 
 
 There were two persons only in the vehicle. The one, a gentle- 
 man in a riding dress, sprung out, and having received from the 
 Doctor an assurance that the lady would receive tolerable accom- 
 modation in his house, he lent assistance to his companion to leave 
 the carriage, and with great apparent satisfaction, saw her safely 
 deposited in a decent sleeping apartment, and under the respectable 
 charge of the Doctor and his lady, who assured him once more of 
 every species of attention. To bind their promise more firmly, the 
 stranger slipped a purse of twenty guineas (for this story chanced 
 in the golden age) into the hand of the Doctor, as an earnest of the 
 most liberal recompense, and requested he would spare no expense 
 in providing all that was necessary or desirable for a person in the 
 lady's condition, and for the helpless being to whom she might im- 
 mediately be expected to give birth. He then said he would retire 
 to the inn, where he begged a message might instantly acquaint 
 him with the expected change in the lady's situation. 
 
 "She is of rank," he said, "and a foreigner ; let no expense be 
 spared. We designed to have reached Edinburgh, but were forced 
 to turn off the road by an accident." Once more he said, " let no 
 expense be spared, and manage that she may travel as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " That," said the Doctor, " is past my control. Nature must not 
 be hurried, and she avenges herself of every attempt to do so." 
 
 " But art," said the stranger, " can do much," and he proffered a 
 second purse, which seemed as heavy as the first. 
 
 " Art," said the Doctor, " may be recompensed, but cannot be 
 purchased. You have already paid me more than enough to take 
 the utmost care I can of your lady ; should I accept more money, 
 it could only be for promising, by implication at least, what is 
 beyond my power to perform. Every possible care shall be taken 
 of your lady, and that affords the best chance of her being speedily 
 able to travel. — Now, go you to the inn, sir, for I may be instantly 
 wanted, and we have not yet provided either an attendant for the 
 lady, or a nurse for the child ; but both shall be presently done." 
 
 " Yet a moment. Doctor — what languages do you understand?" 
 
 " Latin and French I can speak indifferently, and so as to be 
 understood ; and I read a little Italian." 
 
 " But no Portuguese or Spanish V continued the stranger. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " That is unlucky. But you may make her understand you by 
 means of French. Take notice, you are to comply with her request 
 
s6 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 in every thing— if you want means to do so, you may apply to 
 me." 
 
 " May I ask, sir, by what name the lady is to be " 
 
 "It is totally indifferent," said the stranger, interrupting the 
 question ; " you shall know it at more leisure." 
 
 So saying, he threw his ample cloak about him, turning himself 
 half round to assist the operation, with an air which the Doctor 
 would have found it difficult to imitate, and walked down the street 
 to the little inn. Here he paid and dismissed the postilions, and 
 shut himself up in an apartment, ordering no one to be admitted 
 till the Doctor should call. 
 
 The Doctor, when he returned to his patient's apartment, found 
 his wife in great surprise, which, as is usual with persons of her 
 character, was not unmixed with fear and anxiety. 
 
 " She cannot speak a word like a Christian being," said Mrs. 
 Gray. 
 
 " I know it," said the Doctor. 
 
 " But she threeps to keep on a black fause-face, and skirls if we 
 offer to take it away." 
 
 " Well then, let her wear it — What harm will it do ? " 
 
 " Harm, Doctor ! Was ever honest woman brought to bed with 
 a fause-face on ? " 
 
 " Seldom, perhaps. But, Jean, my dear, those who are not quite 
 honest must be brought to bed all the same as those who are, and 
 we are not to endanger the poor thing's life by contradicting her 
 whims at present." 
 
 Approaching the sick woman's bed, he observed that she indeed 
 wore a thin silk mask, of the kind which do such uncommon service 
 in the elder comedy ; such as women of rank still wore in travelling, 
 but certainly never in the situation of this poor lady. It would 
 seem she had sustained importunity on the subject, for when she 
 saw the Doctor, she put her hand to her face, as if she was afraid 
 he would insist on pulling off the vizard. He hastened to say, in 
 tolerable French, that her will should be a law to them in every 
 respect, and that she was at perfect liberty to wear the mask till it 
 was her pleasure to lay it aside. She understood him ; for she 
 replied, by a very imperfect attempt, in the same language, to 
 express her gratitude for the permission, as she seemed to regard 
 it, of retaining her disguise. 
 
 The Doctor proceeded to other arrangements ; and, for the satis- 
 faction of those readers who may love minute information, we 
 record, that Luckie Simson, the first in the race, carried as a prize 
 the situation of sick-nurse beside the delicate patient ; that Peg 
 Thomson was permitted the privilege of recommending her good- 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 daughter, Bet Jamieson, to be wet-nurse ; and an oe, or grandchild, 
 of Luckie Jaup was hired to assist in the increased drudgery of the 
 family ; the Doctor thus, like a practised minister, dividing among 
 his trusty adherents such good things as fortune placed at his 
 disposal. 
 
 About one in the morning the Doctor made his appearance at 
 the Swan Inn, and acquainted the stranger gentleman, that he 
 wished him joy of being the father of a healthy boy, and that the 
 mother was, in the usual phrase, as well as could be expected. 
 
 The stranger heard the news with seeming satisfaction, and then 
 exclaimed, " He must be christened, Doctor ! he must be christened 
 instantly ! " 
 
 " There can be no hurry for that," said the Doctor. 
 
 " We think otherwise," said the stranger, cutting his argument 
 short. " I am a Catholic, Doctor, and as I may be obliged to 
 leave this place before the lady is able to travel, I desire to see my 
 child received into the pale of the church. There is, I understand, 
 a Catholic priest in this wretched place ? " 
 
 "There is a Catholic gentleman, sir, Mr. Goodriche, who is 
 reported to be in orders." 
 
 " I commend your caution. Doctor," said the stranger ; " it is 
 dangerous to be too positive on any subject. I will bring that 
 same Mr. Goodriche to your house to-morrow." 
 
 Gray hesitated for a moment. " I am a Presbyterian Protestant, 
 sir," he said, " a friend to the constitution as established in church 
 and state, as I have a good right, having drawn his Majesty's pay, 
 God bless him, for four years, as surgeon's mate in the Cameronian 
 regiment, as my regimental Bible and commission can testify. But 
 although I be bound especially to abhor all trafficking or trinketing 
 with Papists, yet I will not stand in the way of a tender conscience. 
 Sir, you may call with Mr. Goodriche, when you please, at my 
 house ; and undoubtedly, you being, as I suppose, the father of the 
 child, you will arrange matters as you please ; only, I do not desire 
 to be thought an abettor or countenancer of any part of the Popish 
 ritual." 
 
 " Enough, sir," said the stranger haughtily, " we understand each 
 other." 
 
 The next day he appeared at the Doctor's house with Mr. Good- 
 riche, and two persons understood to belong to that reverend gen- 
 tleman's communion. The party were shut up in an apartment 
 with the infant, and it may be presumed that the solemnity of 
 baptism was administered to the unconscious being, thus strangely 
 launched upon the, world. When the priest and witnesses had 
 retired, the strange gentleman informed Mr. Gray, that, as the lady 
 
28 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 had been pronounced unfit for travelling for several days, he was 
 himself about to leave the neighbourhood, but would return thither 
 in the space of ten days, when he hoped to find his companion 
 able to leave it, 
 
 " And by what name are we to call the child and mother ? " 
 
 " The infant's name is Richard." 
 
 " But it must have some sirname— so must the lady— She cannot 
 reside in my house, yet be without a name." 
 
 " Call them by the name of your town here— Middlemas, I think 
 it is?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Middlemas is the name of the mother, and Richard 
 Middlemas of the child— and I am Matthew Middlemas, at your 
 service. This," he continued, " will provide Mrs. Middlemas in 
 every thing she may wish to possess — or assist her in case of 
 accidents." With that he placed ^loo in Mr. Gray's hand, who 
 rather scrupled receiving it, saying, " He supposed the lady was 
 qualified to be her own purse-bearer." 
 
 " The worst in the world, I assure you. Doctor," replied the 
 stranger. " If she wished to change that piece of paper, she would 
 scarce know how many guineas she should receive for it. No, Mr. 
 Gray, I assure you you will find Mrs. Middleton— Middlemas — 
 what did I call her — as ignorant of the affairs of this world as any 
 one you have met with in your practice : So you will please to be 
 her treasurer and administrator for the time, as for a patient that is 
 incapable to look after her own affairs." 
 
 This was spoke, as it struck Dr. Gray, in rather a haughty and 
 supercilious manner. The words intimated nothing in themselves, 
 more than the same desire of preserving incognito, which might be 
 gathered from all the rest of the stranger's conduct ; but the 
 manner seemed to say, " I am not a person to be questioned by 
 any one — What I say must be received without comment, how 
 little soever you may believe or understand it." It strengthened 
 Gray in his opinion, that he had before him a case either of seduc- 
 tion, or of private marriage, betwixt persons of the very highest 
 rank ; and the whole bearing, both of the lady and the gentleman, 
 confirmed his suspicions. It was not in his nature to be trouble- 
 some or inquisitive, but he could not fail to see that the lady wore 
 no marriage-ring ; and her deep sorrow, and perpetual tremor, 
 seemed to indicate an unhappy creature, who had lost the protec- 
 tion of parents, without acquiring a legitimate right to that of a 
 husband. He was therefore somewhat anxious when Mr. Middle- 
 mas, after a private conference of some length with the lady, bade 
 him farewell. It is true, he assured him of his return within ten 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 eg 
 
 days, being the very shortest space which Gray could be prevailed 
 upon to assign for any prospect of the lady being moved with safety. 
 
 " I trust in Heaven that he will return," said Gray to himself, 
 " but there is too much mystery about all this, for the matter being 
 a plain and well-meaning transaction. If he intends to treat this 
 poor thing, as many a poor girl has been used before, I hope that 
 my house will not be the scene in which he chooses to desert her. 
 The leaving the money has somewhat a suspicious aspect, and 
 looks as if my friend were in the act of making some compromise 
 with his conscience. Well — I must hope the best. Meantime my 
 P9,th plainly is to do what I can for the poor lady's benefit." 
 
 Mr. Gray visited his patient shortly after Mr. Middlemas's de- 
 parture — as soon, indeed, as he could be admitted. He found her 
 in violent agitation. Gray's experience dictated the best mode of 
 relief and tranquillity. He caused her infant to be brought to her. 
 She wept over it for a long time, and the violence of her agitation 
 subsided under the influence of parental feehngs, which, from her 
 appearance of extreme youth, she must have experienced for the 
 first time. 
 
 The observant physician could, after this paroxysm, remark that 
 his patient's mind was chiefly occupied in computing the passage 
 of the time, and anticipating the period when the return of her 
 husband — if husband he was — might be expected. She consulted 
 almanacks, enquired concerning distances, though so cautiously as 
 to make it evident she desired to give no indication of the direction 
 of her companion's journey, and repeatedly compared her watch 
 with those of others ; exercising, it was evident, all that delusive 
 species of mental arithmetic by which mortals attempt to accele- 
 rate the passage of Time while they calculate his progress. At 
 other times she wept anew over her child, which was by all judges 
 pronounced as goodly an infant as needed to be seen ; and Gray 
 sometimes observed that she mumured sentences to the uncon- 
 scious infant, not only the words, but the very sound and accents 
 of which were strange to him, and which, in particular, he knew 
 not to be Portuguese. 
 
 Mr. Goodriche, the Catholic priest, demanded access to her upon 
 one occasion. She at first declined his visit, but afterwards received 
 it, under the idea, perhaps, that he might have news from Mr. 
 Middlemas, as he called himself. The interview was a very short 
 one, and the priest left the lady's apartment in displeasure, which 
 his prudence could scarce disguise from Mr. Gray. He never re- 
 turned, although the lady's condition would have made his atten- 
 tions and consolations necessary, had she been a member of the 
 Catholic Church. 
 
30 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Our Doctor began at length to suspect his fair guest was a 
 Jewess, who had yielded up her person and affections to one of a 
 different religion ; and the peculiar style of her beautiful counte- 
 nance went to enforce this opinion. The circumstance made no 
 difference to Gray, who saw only her distress and desolation, and 
 endeavoured to remedy both to the utmost of his power. He was, 
 however, desirous to conceal it from his wife, and the others around 
 the sick person, whose prudence and liberality of thinking might 
 be more justly doubted. He therefore so regulated her diet, that 
 she could not be either offended, or brought under suspicion, by 
 any of the articles forbidden by the Mosaic law being presented to 
 her. In other respects than what concerned her health or conve- 
 nience, he had but little intercourse with her. 
 
 The space passed within which the stranger's return to the 
 borough had been so anxiously expected by his female companion. 
 The disappointment occasioned by his non-arrival was manifested 
 in the convalescent by inquietude, which was at first mingled with 
 peevishness, and afterwards with doubt and fear. When two or 
 three days had passed without message or letter of any kind. Gray 
 himself became anxious, both on his own account and the poor 
 lady's, lest the stranger should have actually entertained the idea 
 of deserting this defenceless and probably injured woman. He 
 longed to have some communication with her, which might enable 
 him to judge what enquiries could be made, or what else was most 
 fitting to be done. But so imperfect was the poor young woman's 
 knowledge of the French language, and perhaps so unwilling she 
 herself to throw any light on her situation, that every attempt of 
 this kind proved abortive. When Gray asked questions con- 
 cerning any subject which appeared to approach to explanation, 
 he observed she usually answered him by shaking her head, in 
 token of not understanding what he said; at other times by 
 silence and with tears, and sometimes referring him to Mojtsieur. 
 
 For Monsieur's arrival, then, Gray began to become very impa- 
 tient, as that which alone could put an end to a disagreeable species 
 of mystery, which the good company of the borough began now to 
 make the principal subject of their gossip ; some blaming Gray 
 for taking foreign landloupers * into his house, on the subject of 
 whose morals the most serious doubts might be entertained ; others 
 envying the " bonny hand " the doctor was like to make of it, by 
 having disposal of the wealthy strangei-'s travelling funds ; a cir- 
 cumstance which could not be well concealed from the public, when 
 the honest man's expenditure for trifling articles of luxury came 
 far to exceed its ordinary bounds. 
 
 The conscious probity of the honest Doctor enabled him to 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 31 
 
 despise this sort of tittle-tattle, though the secret knowledge of its 
 existence could not be agreeable to hiiji. He went his usual rounds 
 with his usual perseverance, and waited with patience until time 
 should throw light on the subject and history of his lodger. It was 
 now the fourth week after her confinement, and the recovery of the 
 stranger might be considered as perfect, when Gray, returning from 
 one of his ten-mile visits, saw a post-chaise and four horses at the 
 door. "This man has returned," he said, "and my suspicions 
 have done him less than justice." With that he spurred his horse, 
 a signal which the trusty steed obeyed the more readily, as its 
 progress was in* the du-ection of the stable door. But when, 
 dismounting, the Doctor hurried into his own house, it seemed 
 to him, that the departure as well as the arrival of this distressed 
 lady was destined to bring confusion to his peaceful dwelling. 
 Several idlers had assembled about his door, and two or three 
 had impudently thrust themselves forward almost into the pas- 
 sage, to listen to a confused altercation which was heard from 
 within. 
 
 The Doctor hastened forward, the foremost of the intruders re- 
 treating in confusion on his approach, while he caught the tones of 
 his wife's voice, raised to a pitch which he knew, by experience, 
 boded no good ; for Mrs. Gray, good-humoured and tractable in 
 general, could sometimes perform the high part in a matrimonial 
 duet. Having much more confidence in his wife's good intentions 
 than her prudence, he lost no time in pushing into the parlour, to 
 take the matter into his own hands. Here he found his helpmate 
 at the head of the whole militia of the sicjc lady's apartment, that 
 is, wet nurse, and sick nurse, and girl of all work, engaged in violent 
 dispute with two strangers. The one was a dark-featured elderly 
 man, with an eye of much sharpness and severity of expression, 
 which now seemed partly quenched by a mixture of grief and mor- 
 tification. The other, who appeared actively sustaining the dispute 
 with Mrs. Gray, was a stout, bold-looking, hard-faced person, armed 
 with pistols, of which he made rather an unnecessary and ostenta- 
 tious display. 
 
 " Here is my husband, sir," said Mrs. Gray in a tone of triumph, 
 for she had the grace to believe the Doctor one of the greatest 
 men living — " Here is the Doctor — let us see what you will say 
 now." 
 
 "Why just what I said before, ma'am," answered the man, 
 " which is, that my warrant must be obeyed. It is regular, ma'am, 
 regular." 
 
 So saying, he struck the forefinger of his right hand against a 
 paper which he held towards Mrs, Gray with his left. 
 
32 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "Address yourself to me, if you please, sir," said the Doctor, 
 seeing that he ought to lose no time in removing the cause into the 
 proper court. " I am the master of this house, sir, and I wish to 
 know the cause of this visit." 
 
 " My business is soon told," said the man. " I am a king's mes- 
 senger, and this lady has treated me, as if I was a baron-bailie's 
 officer." 
 
 " That is not the question, sir," replied the Doctor. " If you are 
 a king's messenger, where is your warrant, and what do you pro- 
 pose to do here ? " At the same time he whispered the little wench 
 to call Mr. Lawford, the town-clerk, to come thither as fast as he 
 possibly could. The good-daughter of Peg Thomson started off. 
 with an activity worthy of her mother-in-law. 
 
 " There is my warrant," said the official, " and you may satisfy 
 yourself." 
 
 " The shameless loon dare not tell the Doctor his errand," said 
 Mrs. Gray exultingly. 
 
 " A bonny errand it is," said old Lucky Simson, " to carry away 
 a lying-in woman, as a gled* would do a clocking-hen." 
 
 " A woman no a month delivered " — echoed the nurse Jamie- 
 son. 
 
 " Twenty-four days eight hours and seven minutes to a second," 
 said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 The Doctor having looked over the warrant, which was regular, 
 began to be afraid that the females of his family, in their zeal for 
 defending the character of their sex, might be stirred up into 
 some sudden fit of mutiny, and therefore commanded them to be 
 silent. 
 
 " This," he said, " is a warrant for arresting the bodies of Richard 
 Tresham, and of Zilia de Mongada, on account of high treason. 
 Sir, I have served his Majesty, and this is not a house in which 
 traitors are harboured. I know nothing of any of these two 
 persons, nor have I ever heard even their names." 
 
 " But the lady whom you have received into your family," said 
 the messenger, " is Zilia de Mongada, and here stands her father, 
 Matthias de Mongada, who will make oath to it." 
 
 " If this be true," said Mr. Gray, looking towards' the alleged 
 officer, " you have taken a singular duty on you. It is neither my 
 habit to deny my own actions, nor to oppose the laws of the land. 
 There is a lady in this house slowly recovering from confinement, 
 having become under this roof the mother of a healthy child. If 
 she be the person described in this warrant, and this gentleman's 
 daughter, I must surrender her to the laws of the country." 
 
 Here the Esculapian militia were once more in motion. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 33 
 
 Surrender, Doctor Gray ! It's a shame to hear you speak, and 
 you that lives by women and weans^ abune your other means ! " so 
 exclaimed his fair better part. 
 
 " I wonder to hear the Doctor ! " — said the younger nurse ; 
 " there's no a wife in the town would believe it o' him." 
 
 " I aye thought the Doctor was a man till this moment," said 
 Luckie Simson ; " but I believe him now to be an auld wife, little 
 baulder than mysell; and I dinna wonder now that poor Mrs. 
 Gray" 
 
 "Hold your peace, you foolish women," said the Doctor. "Do 
 you think this business is not bad enough already, that you are 
 making it worse with your senseless claver?* — Gentlemen, this 
 is a very sad case. Here is a warrant for a high crime against a 
 poor creature, who is little fit to be moved from one house to 
 another, much more dragged to a prison. I tell you plainly, that 
 I think the execution of this arrest may cause her death. It is 
 your business, sir, if you be really her father, to consider what you 
 can do to soften this matter, rather than drive it on." 
 
 "Better death than dishonour," replied the stern-looking old 
 man, with a voice as harsh as his aspect ; " and you, messenger," 
 he continued, "' look what you do, and execute the warrant at your 
 peril." 
 
 " You hear," said the man, appealing to the Doctor himself, " I 
 must have immediate access to the lady." 
 
 " In a lucky time," said Mr. Gray, "here comes the town-clerk. — 
 You are very welcome, Mr. Lawford. Your opinion here is much 
 wanted as a man of law, as well as of sense and humanity. I was 
 never more glad to see you in all my life." 
 
 He then rapidly stated the case ; and the messenger, under- 
 standing the new-comer to be a man of some authority, again ex- 
 hibited his warrant. 
 
 " This is a very sufficient and valid warrant, Dr. Gray," replied 
 the man of law. " Nevertheless, if you are disposed to make oath, 
 that instant removal would be unfavourable to the lady's health, 
 unquestionably she must remain here, suitably guarded." 
 
 " It is not so much the mere act of locomotion which I am 
 afraid of," said the surgeon ; " but I am free to depone, on soul and 
 conscience, that the shame and fear of her father's anger, and the 
 sense of the affront of such an arrest, with terror for its conse- 
 quences, may occasion violent and dangerous illness — even death 
 itself." 
 
 " The father must see the daughter, though they may have quar- 
 relled," said Mr. Lawford ; " the officer of justice must execute his 
 warrant, though it should frighten the criminal to death ; these 
 
 D 
 
34 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 evils are only contingent, not direct and immediate consequences. 
 You must give up the lady, Mr. Gray, though your hesitation is 
 very natural." 
 
 " At least, Mr. Lawford, I ought to be certain that the person in 
 my house is the party they search for." 
 
 " Admit me to her apartment," replied the man whom the mes- 
 senger termed Mongada. 
 
 The messenger, whom the presence of Lawford had made some- 
 thing more placid, began to become impudent once more. He 
 hoped, he said, by means of his female prisoner, to acquire the 
 information necessary to apprehend the more guilty person. If 
 more delays were thrown in his way, that information might come 
 too late, and he would make all who were accessory to such delay 
 responsible for the consequences. 
 
 " And I," said Mr. Gray, " though I were to be brought to the 
 gallows for it, protest, that this course may be the murder of my 
 patient. — Can bail not be taken, Mr. Lawford ? " 
 
 " Not in cases of high treason," said the official person ; and 
 then continued in a confidential tone, " Come, Mr. Gray, we all 
 know you to be a person well affected to our Royal Sovereign King 
 George and the Government ; but you must not push this too far, 
 lest you bring yourself into trouble, which every body in Middle- 
 mas would be sorry for. The forty-five has not been so far gone 
 by, but we can remember enough of warrants of high treason — ay, 
 and ladies of quality committed upon such charges. But they 
 were all favourably dealt with — Lady Ogilvy, Lady Macintosh, 
 Flora Macdonald, and all. No doubt this gentleman knows what 
 he is doing, and has assurances of the young lady's safety — So you 
 must just jouk and let the jaw gae by, as we say." 
 
 " Follow me, then, gentlemen," said Gideon, " and you shall see 
 the young lady ; " and then, his strong features working with 
 emotion at anticipation of the distress which he was about to 
 inflict, he led the way up the small staircase, and opening the door, 
 said to Mongada who had followed him, " This is your daughter's 
 only place of refuge, in which I am, alas ! too weak to be her 
 protector. Enter, sir, if your conscience wilL permit you." 
 
 The stranger turned on him a scowl, into which it seemed as if 
 he would willingly have thrown the power of the fabled basihsk. 
 Then stepping proudly forward, he stalked into the room. He was 
 followed by Lawford and Gray at a little distance. The messenger 
 remained in the doorway. The unhappy young woman had heard 
 the disturbance, and guessed the cause too truly. It is possible 
 she might even have seen the strangers on their descent from the 
 carriage. When they entered the room, she was on her knees, 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 35 
 
 beside an easy chair, her face in a silk wrapper that was hung over 
 it. The man called Mon,5ada uttered a single word ; by the accent 
 it might have been something equivalent to wretch j but none knew 
 its import. The female gave a convulsive shudder, such as that by 
 which a half-dying soldier is affected on receiving a second wound. 
 But without minding her emotion, Mongada seized her by the arm, 
 and with little gentleness raised her to her feet, on which she seemed 
 to stand only because she was supported by his strong grasp. He 
 then pidled from her face the mask which she had hitherto worn. 
 The poor creature still endeavoured to shroud her face, by covering 
 it with her left hand, as the manner in which she was held pre- 
 vented her from using the aid of the right. With little effort her 
 father secured that hand also, which, indeed, was of itself far too 
 little to serve the purpose of concealment, and showed her beauti- 
 ful face, burning with blushes and covered with tears. 
 
 " You, Alcalde, and you. Surgeon," he said to Lawford and Gray, 
 with a foreign action and accent, " this woman is my daughter, the 
 same Zilia Mongada who is signal'd in that protocol. Make way, 
 and let me carry her where her crimes may be atoned for." 
 
 " Are you that person's daughter ? " said Lawford to the 
 lady. 
 
 " She understands no English," said Gray ; and addressing his 
 patient in French, conjured her to let him know whether she was 
 that man's daughter or not, assuring her of protection if the fact 
 were otherwise. The answer was murmured faintly, but was too 
 distinctly intelligible — " He was her father." 
 
 All farther title of interference seemed now ended. The mes- 
 senger arrested his prisoner, and, with some delicacy, required the 
 assistance of the females to get her conveyed to the carriage in 
 waiting. 
 
 Gray again interfered. — " You will not," he said, " separate the 
 mother and the infant ? " 
 
 Zilia de Mongada heaid the question, (which being addressed 
 to the father, Gray had inconsiderately uttered in French,) and 
 it seemed as if it recalled to her recollection the existence of 
 the helpless creature to which she had given birth, forgotten for 
 a moment amongst the accumulated horrors of her father's pre- 
 sence. She uttered a shriek, expressing poignant grief, and 
 turned her eyes on her father with the most intense supplication. 
 
 " To the parish with the bastard ! " — said Mongada ; while the 
 helpless mother sunk lifeless into the arms of the females, who 
 had now gathered round her. 
 
 " That will not pass, sir," said Gideon. — " If you are father to 
 that lady, you must be grandfather to the helpless child ; and 
 
 D 3 
 
36 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you must settle in some manner for its future provision, or refer 
 us to some responsible person." 
 
 Mongada looked towards Lawford, who expressed himself satisfied 
 of the propriety of what Gray said. 
 
 " I object not to pay for whatever the wretched child may re- 
 quire," said he ; " and if you, sir," addressing Gray, " choose to 
 take charge of him, and breed him up, you shall have what will 
 better your living." 
 
 The Doctor was about to refuse a charge so uncivilly offered ; 
 but after a moment's reflection, he replied, " I think so indifferently 
 of the proceedings I have witnessed, and of those concerned in 
 them, that if the mother desires that I should retain the charge of 
 this child, I will not refuse to do so." 
 
 Mongada spoke to his daughter, who was just beginning to 
 recover from her swoon, in the same language in which he had first 
 addressed her. The proposition which he made seemed highly 
 acceptable, as she started from the arms of the females, and, 
 advancing to Gray, seized his hand, kissed it, bathed it in her tears, 
 and seemed reconciled, even in parting with her child, by the 
 consideration, that the infant was to remain under his guardian- 
 ship. 
 
 " Good, kind man," she said in her indifferent French, "you have 
 saved both mother and child." 
 
 The father, meanwhile, with mercantile deliberation, placed in 
 Mr. Lawford's hands notes and bills to the amount of a thousand 
 pounds, which he stated was to be vested for the child's use, and 
 advanced in such portions as his board and education might re- 
 quire. In the event of any correspondence on his account being 
 necessary, as in case of death or the like, he directed that com- 
 munication should be made to Signior Matthias Mongada, under 
 cover to a certain banking-house in London. 
 
 " But beware," he said to Gray, " how you trouble me about these 
 concerns, unless in case of absolute necessity." 
 
 " You need not fear, sir," replied Gray ; " I have seen nothing 
 to-day which can induce me to desire a more intimate correspon- 
 dence with you than may be indispensable." 
 
 While Lawford drew up a proper minute of this transaction, by 
 which he himself and Gray were named trustees for the child, Mr. 
 Gray attempted to restore to the lady the balance of the consider- 
 able sum of money which Tresham (if such was his real name) 
 had formerly deposited with him. With every species of gesture, 
 by which hands, eyes, and even feet, could express rejection, as 
 well as in her own broken French, she repelled the proposal of re- 
 imbursement, while she entreated that Gray would consider the 
 
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 : :^;j,C!Sl*; *!sisSsssfe5siKS:^^: 
 
 ^1^^^^-^^" 
 
 
 
 
 
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 P 
 
 j^PHH 
 
 - 
 
 
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 E" 
 
 
 
 L 
 
 1- ■■■' ....,^..^^. 
 
 
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THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 37 
 
 money as his own property ; and at the same time forced upon 
 him a ring set with brilhants, which seemed of considerable value. 
 The father then spoke to her a few stern words, which she heard 
 with an air of mingled agony and submission. 
 
 " I have given her a few minutes to see and weep over the 
 miserable being which has been the seal of her dishonour," said 
 the stern father. " Let us retire and leave her alone. — You," to 
 the messenger, " watch the door of the room on the outside." 
 
 Gray, Lawford, and Mongada, retired to the parlour accoirdingly, 
 where they waited in silence, each busied with his own reflections, 
 till, within the space of half an hour, they received information that 
 the lady was ready to depart. 
 
 " It is well," replied Mongada; " I am glad she has yet sense, 
 enough left to submit to that which needs must be." 
 
 So saying, he ascended the stair, and returned, leading down his 
 daughter, now again masked and veiled. As she passed Gray, she 
 uttered the words — " My child, my child ! " in a tone of unutterable 
 anguish ; then entered the carriage, which was drawn up as close 
 to the door of the Doctor's house as the little enclosure would per- 
 mit. The messenger, mounted on a led horse, and accompanied 
 by a servant and assistant, followed the carriage, which drove 
 rapidly off, taking the road which leads to Edinburgh. All who 
 had witnessed this strange scene, now departed to make their con- 
 jectures, and some to count their gains ; for money had been dis- 
 tributed among the females who had attended on the lady, with so 
 much liberality, as considerably to reconcile them to the breach of 
 the rights of womanhood inflicted by the precipitate removal of the 
 patient. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The last cloud of dust which the wheels of the carriage had 
 raised was dissipated, when dinner, which claims a share of human 
 thoughts even in the midst of the most marvellous and affecting 
 incidents, recurred to those of Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " Indeed, Doctor, you will stand glowering out of the window till 
 some other patient calls for you, and then have to set off without 
 your dinner ;— and I hope Mr. Lawford will take pot-luck with us, 
 for it is just his own hour ; and indeed we had something rather 
 better than ordinary for this poor lady— lamb and spinage, and a 
 veal Florentine." 
 
 The surgeon started as from a dream, and joined in his wife's 
 hospitable request, to which Lawford willingly assented. 
 
38 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 We will suppose the meal finished, a bottle of old and generous 
 Antigua upon the table, and a modest little punch-bowl, judiciously 
 replenished for the accommodation of the Doctor and his guest. 
 Their conversation naturally turned on the strange scene which 
 they had witnessed, and the Town Clerk took considerable merit 
 for his presence of mind. 
 
 " I am thinking, Doctor," said he, " you might have brewed a 
 bitter browst to yourself if I had not come in as I did." 
 
 "Troth, and it might very well so be," answered Gray ; "for, to 
 tell you the truth, when I saw yonder fellow vapouring with his 
 pistols among the women folk in my own house, the old Came- 
 ronian spirit began to rise in me, and a little thing would have 
 made me cleek to the poker." 
 
 " Hoot ! hoot ! that would never have done. Na, na," said the 
 man of law, " this was a case where a little prudence was worth all 
 the pistols and pokers in the world." 
 
 " And that was just what I thought when I sent to you. Clerk 
 Lawford," said the Doctor. 
 
 " A wiser man he could not have called on to a difficult case,'' 
 added Mrs. Gray, as she sat with her work at a little distance from 
 the table. 
 
 " Thanks t'ye, and here's t'ye, my good neighbour," answered the 
 scribe ; " will you not let me help you to another glass of punch, 
 Mrs. Gray?" This being declined, he proceeded. "I amjalous- 
 ing that the messenger and his warrant were just brought in to pre- 
 vent any opposition. Ye saw how quietly he behaved after I had 
 laid down the law — I'll never believe the lady is in any risk from 
 him. But the father is a dour chield ; depend upon it, he has bred 
 up the young filly on the curb-rein, and that has made the poor 
 thing start off the course. I should not be surprised that he took 
 her abroad, and shut her up in a convent." 
 
 " Hardly," replied Doctor Grey, " if it be true, as I suspect, that 
 both the father and daughter are of the Jewish persuasion." 
 
 " A Jew ! " said Mrs. Gray ; " and have I been taking a' this 
 fyke about a Jew ? — I thought she seemed to gie a scunner at the 
 eggs and bacon that Nurse Simson spoke about to her. But I 
 thought Jews had aye had lang beards, and yon man's face is just 
 like one of our ain folks — I have seen the Doctor with a langer 
 beard himsell, when he has not had leisure to shave." 
 
 " That might have been Mr. Monijada's case," said Lawford, 
 " for he seemed to have had a hard journey. But the Jews are 
 often very respectable people, Mrs. Gray — they have no territorial 
 property • because the law is against them there, but they have 
 a good hank in the money market— plenty of stock in the funds, 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 Mrs. Gray, and, indeed, I think this poor young woman is better 
 with her ain father, though he be a Jew and a dour chield into the 
 bargain, than she would have been with the loon that wranged her, 
 who is, by your account, Dr. Gray, baith a papist and a rebel. The 
 Jews are well attached to government ; they hate the Pope, the Devil, 
 and the Pretender, as much as any honest man among ourselves." 
 
 " I cannot admire either of the gentlemen," said Gideon. " But 
 it is but fair to say, that I saw Mr. Mongada when he was highly 
 incensed, and to all appearance not without reason. Now, this 
 other man Tresham, if that be his name, was haughty to me, and I 
 think something careless of the poor young woman, just at the 
 time when he owed her most kindness, and me some thankfulness. 
 I am, therefore, of your opinion, Clerk Lawford, that the Christian 
 is the worse bargain of the two." 
 
 " And you think of taking care of this wean yourself. Doctor ? 
 That is what I call the good Samaritan." 
 
 " At cheap cost. Clerk ; the child, if it lives, has enough to bring 
 it up decently, and set it out in life, and I can teach it an honour- 
 able and useful profession. It will be rather an amusement than a 
 trouble to me, and I want to make some remarks on the childish 
 diseases, which, with God's blessing, the child must come through 
 under my charge ; and since Heaven has sent us no children" 
 
 " Hoot, hoot ! " said the Town-Clerk, " you are in ower great a 
 hurry now — you have na been sae lang married yet. — Mrs. Gray, 
 dinna let my daffing chase you away — we will be for a dish of tea 
 belive, for the Doctor and I are nae glass-breakers." 
 
 Four years after this conversation took place, the event happened, 
 at the possibility of which the Town-Clerk had hinted ; and Mrs. 
 Gray presented her husband with an infant daughter. But good 
 and evil are strangely mingled in this sublunary world. The fulfil- 
 ment of his anxious longing for posterity was attended with the 
 loss of his simple and kind-hearted wife ; one of the most heavy 
 blows which fate could inflict on poor Gideon, and his house was 
 made desolate even by the event which had promised for months 
 before to add new comforts to its humble roof. Gray felt the shock 
 as men of sense and firmness feel a decided blow, from the effects 
 of which they never hope again fully to raise themselves. He dis- 
 charged the duties of his profession with the same punctuality as 
 ever, was easy, and even, to appearance, cheerful in his intercourse 
 with society ; but the sunshine of existence was gone. Every 
 morning he missed the affectionate charges which recommended to 
 him to pay attention to his own health while he was labouring to 
 restore that blessing to his patients. Every evening, as he returned ' 
 from his weary round, it was without the consciousness of a kind 
 
40 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and affectionate reception from one eager to tell, and interested to 
 hear, all the Uttle events of the day. His whistle, which used to 
 arise clear and strong so soon as Middlemas steeple was in view, 
 was now for ever silenced, and the rider's head drooped, while the 
 tired horse, lacking the stimulus of his master's hand and voice, 
 seemed to shuffle along as if it experienced a share of his despon- 
 dency. There were times when he was so much dejected as to be 
 unable to endure even the presence of his little Menie, in whose 
 infant countenance he could trace the lineaments of the mother, of 
 whose loss she had been the innocent and unconscious cause. 
 " Had it not been for this poor child " — he would think ; but, 
 instantly aware that the sentiment was sinful, he would snatch the 
 infant to his breast, and load it with caresses— then hastily desire 
 it to be removed from the parlour. 
 
 The Mahometans have a fanciful idea, that the true believer, in 
 his passage to Paradise, is under the necessity of passing barefooted 
 over a bridge composed of red-hot iron. But on this occasion, all 
 the pieces of paper which the Moslem has preserved during his life, 
 lest some holy thing being written upon them might be profaned, 
 arrange themselves between his feet and the burning metal, and so 
 save him from injury. In the same manner, the effects of kind and 
 benevolent actions are sometimes found, even in this world, to 
 assuage the pangs of subsequent afflictions. 
 
 Thus, the greatest consolation which poor Gideon could find 
 after his heavy deprivation, was in the frolic fondness of Richard 
 Middlemas, the child who was in so singular a manner thrown upon 
 his charge. Even at this early age he was eminently handsome. 
 When silent or out of humour, his dark eyes and striking counte- 
 nance presented some recollections of the stern character imprinted 
 on the features of his supposed father ; but when he was gay and 
 happy, which was much more frequently the case, these clouds were 
 exchanged for the most frolicsome, mirthful expression, that ever 
 dwelt on the laughing and thoughtless aspect of a child. He 
 seemed to have a tact beyond his years in discovering and conform- 
 ing to the peculiarities of human character. His nurse, one prime 
 object of Richard's observance, was Nurse Jamieson, or, as she 
 was more commonly called for brevity, and par excellence, Nurse. 
 This was the person who had brought him up from infancy. She 
 had lost her own child, and soon after her husband, and being thus 
 a lone woman, had, as used to be common in Scotland, remained a 
 member of Dr. Gray's family. After the death of his wife, she 
 gradually obtained the principal superintendence of the whole 
 household ; and being an honest and capable manager, was a 
 person of very great importance in the family. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 She was bold in her temper, violent in her feelings, and, as often 
 happens with those in her condition, was as much attached to 
 Richard Middlemas, whom she had once nursed at her bosom, as 
 if he had been her own son. This affection the child repaid by all 
 the tender attentions of which his age was capable. 
 
 Little Dick was also distinguished by the fondest and kindest 
 attachment to his guardian and benefactor. Dr. Gray. He was 
 officious in the right time and place, quiet as a lamb when his 
 patron seemed inclined to study or to muse, active and assiduous 
 to assist or divert him whenever it seemed to be wished; and, in 
 choosing his opportunities, he seemed to display an address far 
 beyond his childish years. 
 
 As time passed on, this pleasing character seemed to be still 
 more refined. In everything like exercise or amusement, he was 
 the pride and leader of the boys of the place, over the most of 
 whom his strength and activity gave him a decided superiority. 
 At school his abilities were less distinguished, yet he was a favourite 
 with the master, a sensible and useful teacher. 
 
 " Richard is not swift," he used to say to his patron. Dr. Gray, 
 " but then he is sure ; and it is impossible not to be pleased with a 
 child who is so very desirous to give satisfaction." 
 
 Young Middlemas's grateful affection to his patron seemed to 
 increase with the expanding of his faculties, and found a natural 
 and pleasing mode of displaying itself in his attentions to little 
 Menie * Gray. Her slightest hint was Richard's law, and it was in 
 vain that he was summoned forth by a hundred shrill voices to take 
 the lead in hye-spye, or at foot-ball, if it was little Menie's pleasure 
 that he should remain within, and build card-houses for her amuse- 
 ment. At other times, he would take the charge of the little damsel 
 entirely under his own care, and be seen wandering with her oji the 
 borough common, collecting wild flowers, or knitting caps made of 
 bulrushes. Menie was attached to Dick Middlemas, in proportion 
 to his affectionate assiduities ; and the father saw with pleasure 
 every new mark of attention to his child on the part of his 
 protegd. 
 
 During the time that Richard was silently advancing from a 
 beautiful child into a fine boy, and approaching from a fine boy to 
 the time when he must be termed a handsome youth, Mr. Gray 
 wrote twice a-year with much regularity to Mr. Mongada, through 
 the channel that gentleman had pointed out. The benevolent man 
 thought, that if the wealthy grandfather could only see his relative, 
 of whom any family might be proud, he would be unable to per- 
 severe in his resolution of treating as an outcast one so nearly con- 
 nected with him in blood, and so interesting in person and dis- 
 
42 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 position. He thought it his duty, therefore, to keep open the slender 
 and oblique communication with the boy's maternal grandfather, as 
 that which might, at some future period, lead to a closer connexion. 
 Yet the correspondence could not, in other respects, be agreeable 
 to a man of spirit like Mr. Gray. His own letters were as short as 
 possible, merely rendering an account of his ward's expenses, 
 including a moderate board to himself, attested by Mr. Lawford, 
 his co-trustee ; and intimating Richard's state of health, and his 
 progress in education, with a few words of brief but warm eulogy 
 upon his goodness of head and heart. But the answers he received 
 were still shorter. " Mr. Mongada," such was their usual tenor, 
 " acknowledges Mr. Gray's letter of such a date, notices the contents, 
 and requests Mr. Gray to persist in the plan which he has hitherto 
 prosecuted on the subject of their correspondence." On occasions 
 where extraordinary expenses seemed likely to be incurred, the re- 
 mittances were made with readiness. 
 
 That day fortnight after Mrs. Gray's death, fifty pounds were 
 received, with a note, intimating that it was designed to put the 
 child R. M. into proper mourning. The writer had added two or 
 three words, desiring that the surplus should be at Mr. Gray's 
 disposal, to meet the additional expenses of this period of 
 calamity ; but Mr. Mongada had left the phrase unfinished, ap- 
 parently in despair of turning it suitably into English. Gideon, 
 without farther investigation, quietly added the sum to the 
 account of his ward's little fortune, contrary to the opinion of 
 Mr. Lawford, who, aware that he was rather a loser than a 
 gainer by the boy's residence in his house, was desirous that 
 his friend should not omit an opportunity of recovering some 
 part of his expenses on that score. But Gray was proof against 
 all remonstrance. 
 
 As the boy advanced towards his fourteenth year. Dr. Gray wrote 
 a more elaborate account of his ward's character, acquirements, and 
 capacity. He added, that he did this for the purpose of enabhng 
 Mr. Mongada to judge how the young man's future education should 
 be directed. Richard, he observed, was arrived at the point where 
 education, losing its original and general character, branches off 
 into different paths of knowledge, suitable to particular professions, 
 and when it was therefore become necessary to determine which of 
 them it was his pleasure that young Richard should be trained for; 
 and he would, on his part, do all he could to carry Mr. Mongada's 
 wishes into execution, since the amiable qualities of the boy made 
 him as dear to him, though but a guardian, as he could have been 
 to his own father. 
 
 The answer, which arrived in the course of a week or ten days, 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 was fuller than usual, and written in the first person.—" Mr. Gray," 
 such was the tenor, "our meeting has been under such circum- 
 stances as could not make us favourably known to each other at 
 the time. But I have the advantage of you, since, knowing your 
 motives for entertaining an indifferent opinion of me, I could re- 
 spect them, and you at the same time ; whereas you, unable to 
 comprehend the motives — I say, you, being unacquainted with the 
 infamous treatment I had received, could not understand the reasons 
 that I have for acting as I have done. Deprived, sir, by the act of 
 a villain, of my child, and she despoiled of honour, I cannot bring 
 myself to think of beholding the creature, however innocent, whose 
 look must always remind me of hatred and of shame. Keep the 
 poor child by you — educate him to your own profession, but take 
 heed that he looks no higher than to fill such a situation in iife as 
 you yourself worthily occupy, or some other line of like importance. 
 For the condition of a farmer, a country lawyer, a medical practi- 
 tioner, or some such retired course of life, the means of outfit and 
 education shall be amply supplied. But I must warn him and 
 you, that any attempt to intrude himself on me further than I may 
 especially permit, will be attended with the total forfeiture of my 
 favour and protection. So, having made known my mind to you, 
 I expect you will act accordingly." 
 
 The receipt of this letter determined Gideon to have some ex- 
 planation with the boy himself, in order to learn if he had any 
 choice among the professions thus opened to him ; convinced, at 
 the same time, from his docility of temper, that he would refer the 
 selection to his (Dr. Gray's) better judgment. 
 
 He had previously, however, the unpleasing task of acquainting 
 Richard Middlemas with the mysterious circumstances attending 
 his birth, of which he presumed him to be entirely ignorant, simply 
 because he himself had never communicated them, but had let the 
 boy consider himself as the orphan child of a distant relation. But 
 though the Doctor himself was silent, he might have remembered 
 that Nurse Jamieson had the handsome enjoyment of her tongue, 
 and was disposed to use it liberally. 
 
 From a very early period, Nurse Jamieson, amongst the variety 
 of legendary lore which she instilled into her foster son, had not 
 forgotten what she called the awful season of his coming into the 
 world — the personable appearance of his father, a grand gentleman, 
 who looked as if the whole world lay at his feet — the beauty of his 
 mother, and the terrible blackness of the mask which she wore, 
 her een that glanced like diamonds, and the diamonds she wore on 
 her fingers, that could be compared to nothing but her own een, the 
 fairness of her skin, and the colour of her silk rokelay, with much 
 
44 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 proper stuff to the same purpose. Then she expatiated on the 
 arrival of his grandfather, and the awful man, armed with pistol, 
 dirk, and claymore, (the last weapons existed only in Nurse's ima- 
 gination,) the very Ogre of a fairy tale— then all the circumstances 
 of the carrying off his mother, while bank-notes were flying about 
 the house like screeds of brown paper, and gold guineas were as 
 plenty as chuckie-stanes. All this, partly to please and interest 
 the boy, partly to indulge her own talent for amphfication. Nurse 
 told with so many additional circumstances, and gratuitous com- 
 mentaries, that the real transaction, mysterious and odd as it cer- 
 tainly was, sunk into tameness before the Nurse's edition, like 
 humble prose contrasted with the boldest flights of poetry. 
 
 To hear all this did Richard seriously incline, and still more was 
 he interested with the idea of his valiant father coming for him un- 
 expectedly at the head of a gallant regiment, with music playing 
 and colours flying, and carrying his son. away on the most beautiful 
 pony eyes ever beheld : Or his mother, bright as the day, might 
 suddenly appear in her coach and six, to reclaim her beloved child; 
 or his repentant grandfather, with his pockets stuffed out with 
 bank-notes, would come to atone for his past cruelty, by heaping 
 his neglected grandchild with unexpected wealth. Sure was Nurse 
 Jamieson, " that it wanted but a blink of her bairn's bonny ee to 
 turn their hearts, as Scripture sayeth ; and as strange things had 
 been, as they should come a'thegither to the town at the same 
 time, and make such a day as had never been seen in Middlemas ; 
 and then her bairn would never be called by that lowland name of 
 Middlemas any more, which sounded as if it had been gathered 
 out of the town gutter ; but would be called Galatian,* or Sir Wil- 
 liam Wallace, or Robin Hood, or after some other of the great 
 princes named in story-books." 
 
 Nurse Jamieson's history of the past, and prospects of the future, 
 were too flattering not to excite the .most ambitious visions in the 
 mind of a boy, who naturally felt a strong desire of rising in the 
 world, and was conscious of possessing the powers necessaiy to his 
 advancement. The incidents of his birth resembled those he found 
 commemorated in the tales which he read or hstened to ; and there 
 seemed no reason why his own adventures should not have a ter- 
 mination corresponding to those of such veracious histories. In a 
 word, while good Doctor Gray imagined that his pupil was dwelling 
 in utter ignorance of his origin, Richard was meditating upon 
 nothing else than the time and means by which he anticipated his 
 being extricated from the obscurity of his present condition, and 
 enabled to assume the rank to which, in his own opinion, he was 
 entitled by birth. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 So stood the feelings of the young man, when, one day after 
 dinner, the Doctor snuffing the candle, and taking from his pouch 
 the great leathern pocketbook in which he deposited particular 
 papers, with a small supply of the most necessary and active medi- 
 cines, he took from it Mr. Mongada's letter, and requested Richard 
 Middlemas's serious attention, while he told him some circum- 
 stances concerning himself, which it greatly imported him to know. 
 Richard's dark eyes flashed fire — the blood flushed his broad and 
 well-formed forehead — the hour of explanation was at length come. 
 He listened to the narrative of Gideon Gray, which, the reader 
 may believe, being altogether divested of the gilding which Nurse 
 Jamieson's imagination had bestowed upon it, and reduced to what 
 mercantile men termed the needful, exhibited little more than the 
 tale of a child of shame, deserted by its father and mother, and 
 brought up on the reluctant charity of a more distant relation, who 
 regarded him as the living though unconscious evidence of the dis- 
 grace of his family, and would more willingly have paid for the 
 expenses of his funeral, than that of the food which was grudgingly 
 provided for him. "Temple and tower," a hundred flattering 
 edifices of Richard's childish imagination, went to the ground at 
 once, and the pain which attended their demolition was rendered 
 the more acute, by a sense of shame that he should have nursed. 
 such reveries. He remained, while Gideon continued his explana- 
 tion, in a dejected posture, his eyes fixed on the ground, and the 
 veins of his forehead swoln with contending passions. 
 
 " And now, my dear Richard," said the good surgeon, " you must 
 think what you can do for yourself, since your grandfather leaves 
 you the choice of three honourable professions, by any of which, 
 well and wisely prosecuted, you may become independent if not 
 wealthy, and respectable if not great. You will naturally desire a 
 little time for consideration." 
 
 " Not a minute," said the boy, raising his head, and looking 
 boldly at his guardian. " I am a freeborn Englishman, and will 
 return to England if I think fit." 
 
 "A free-born fool you are" — said Gray; "you were born, as I 
 think, and no one can know better than I do, in the blue room of 
 Stevenlaw's Land, in the Town-head of Middlemas, if you call that 
 being a free-bom Englishman." 
 
 " But Tom Hillary,"— this was an apprentice of Clerk Lawford, 
 who had of late been a great friend and adviser of young Middle- 
 mas — " Tom Hillary says that I am a free-born Englishman, not- 
 withstanding, in right of my parents." 
 
 " Pooh, child ! what do we know of your parents ? — But what 
 has your being an Englishman to do with the present question ? " 
 
46 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Oh Doctor ! " answered the boy, bitterly, " you know we from 
 the south side of Tweed cannot scramble so hard as you do. The 
 Scots are too moral, and too prudent, and too robust, for a poor 
 pudding-eater to live amongst them, whether as a parson, or as a 
 lawyer, or as a doctor — with your pardon, sir." 
 
 " Upon my life, Dick," said Gray, " this Tom Hillary will turn 
 your brain. What is the meaning of all this trash ? " 
 
 " Tom Hillary says that the parson lives by the sins of the 
 people, the lawyer by their distresses, and the doctor by their dis- 
 eases — always asking your pardon, sir." 
 
 " Tom Hillary," repUed the Doctor, " should be drummed out of 
 the borough. A whipper-snapper of an attorney's apprentice, run 
 away from Newcastle ! If I hear him talking so, I'll teach him to 
 speak with more reverence of the learned professions. Let me 
 hear no more of Tom Hillary, whom you have seen far too much 
 of lately. Think a little, like a lad of sense, and tell me what 
 answer I am to give Mr. Mongada." 
 
 " Tell him," said the boy, the tone of affected sarcasm laid aside, 
 and that of injured pride substituted in its room, " tell him, that 
 my soul revolts at the obscure lot he recommends to me. I am 
 determined to enter my father's profession, the army, unless my 
 grandfather chooses to receive me into his house, and place me in 
 his own line of business." 
 
 " Yes, and make you his partner, I suppose, and acknowledge 
 you for his heir ? " said Dr. Gray ; " a thing extremely likely to 
 happen, no doubt, considering the way in which he has brought 
 you up all along, and the terms in which he now writes concerning 
 you." 
 
 " Then, sir, there is one thing which I can demand of you," 
 replied the boy. " There is a large sum of money in your hands 
 belonging to me ; and since it is consigned to you for my use, I 
 demand you should make the necessary advances to procure a 
 commission in the army — account to me for the balance — and so, 
 with thanks for past favours, I will give you no trouble in future." 
 
 " Young man," said the Doctor, gravely, " I am very sorry to see 
 that your usual prudence and good humour are not proof against 
 the disappointment of some idle expectations which you had not 
 the slightest reason to entertain. It is very true that there is a 
 sum, which, in spite of various experjses, may still approach to a 
 thousand pounds or better, which remains in my hands for your 
 behoof But I am bound to dispose of it according to the will of 
 the donor ; and at any rate, you are not entitled to call for it until 
 you come to years of discretion ; a period from which you are six 
 years distant, according to law, and which, in one sense, you will 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 never reach at all, unless you alter your present unreasonable 
 crotchets. But come, Dick, this is the first time I have seen you 
 in so absurd a humour, and you have many things, I own, in your 
 situation to apologize for impatience even greater than you have 
 displayed. But you should not turn your resentment on me, that 
 am no way in fault. You should remember, that I was your earliest 
 and only friend, and took charge of you when every other person 
 forsook you." 
 
 " I do not thank you for it," said Richard, giving way to a burst 
 of uncontrolled passion. " You might have done better for me had 
 you pleased." 
 
 "And in what manner, you ungrateful boy?" said Gray, whose 
 composure was a little ruffled. 
 
 " You might have flung me under the wheels of their carriages as 
 they drove off, and have let them trample on the body of their 
 child, as they have done on his feelings." 
 
 So saying, he rushed out of the room, and shut the door behind 
 him with great violence, leaving his guardian astonished at his 
 sudden and violent change of temper and manner. 
 
 " What the deuce can have possessed him ? Ah, well. High- 
 spirited, and disappointed in some follies which that Tom Hillary 
 has put into his head. But his is a case for anodynes, and shall 
 be treated accordingly." 
 
 While the Doctor formed this good-natured resolution, young 
 Middlemas rushed to Nurse Jamieson's apartment, where poor 
 Menie, to whom his presence always gave holyday feelings, 
 hastened to exhibit, for his admiration, a new doll, of which she 
 had made the acquisition. No one, generally, was more interested 
 in Menie's amusements than Richard ; but at present Richard, like 
 his celebrated namesake, was not i'the vein. He threw off the 
 little damsel so carelessly, almost so rudely, that the doll flew out 
 of Menie's hand, fell on the hearth-stone, and broke its waxen 
 face. The rudeness drew from Nurse Jamieson a rebuke, even 
 although the culprit was her darling. 
 
 " Hout awa', Richard — that wasna like yoursell, to guide Miss 
 Menie that gate. — Hand your tongue. Miss Menie, and I'll soon 
 mend the baby's face." 
 
 But if Menie cried, she did not cry for the doll ; and while the 
 tears flowed silently down her cheeks, she sat looking at Dick 
 Middlemas with a childish face of fear, sorrow, and wonder. 
 Nurse Jamieson was soon diverted from her attention to Menie 
 Gray's distresses, especially as she did not weep aloud, and her 
 attention became fixed on the altered countenance, red eyes, and 
 swoln features of her darling foster-child. She instantly com- 
 
48 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 menced an investigation into the cause of his distress, after the 
 usual inquisitorial manner of matrons of her class. " What is the 
 matter wi' my bairn?" and " Wha has been vexing my bairn?" 
 with similar questions, at last extorted this reply : 
 
 " I am not your bairn— I am no one's bairn — no one's son. I 
 am an outcast from my family, and belong to no one. Dr. Gray 
 has told me so himself." 
 
 " And did he cast up to my bairn that he was a bastard ?— troth 
 he was na blate — my certie, your father was a better man than 
 ever stood on the Doctor's shanks — a handsome grand gentleman, 
 with an ee like a gled's, and a step like a Highland piper." ~ 
 
 Nurse Jamieson had got on a favourite topic, and would have 
 expatiated long enough, for she was a professed admirer of mascu- 
 line beauty, but there was something which displeased the boy in 
 her last simile ; so he cut the conversation short, by asking whether 
 she knew exactly how much money his grandfather had left with 
 Dr. Gray for his maintenance. " She could not say — didna ken — 
 an awfu' sum it was to pass out of ae man's hand — She was sure it 
 wasna less than ae hundred pounds, and it might weel be tvva." In 
 short, she knew nothing about the matter ; but she was sure Dr. 
 Gray would count to him to the last farthing ; for everybody kend 
 that he was a just man where siller was concerned. However, if 
 her bairn wanted to ken mair about it, to be sure the Town-clerk 
 could tell him all about it." 
 
 Richard Middlemas arose and left the apartment, without saying 
 more. He went immediately to visit the old Town-clerk, to whom 
 he had made himself acceptable, as, indeed, he had done to most 
 of the dignitaries about the burgh. He introduced the conversa- 
 tion by the proposal which had been made to him for choosing a 
 profession, and after speaking of the mysterious circumstances of 
 his birth, and the doubtful prospects which lay before him, he 
 easily led the Town-clerk into conversation as to the amount of 
 the funds, and heard the exact state of the money in his guardian's 
 hands, which corresponded with the information he had already 
 received. He next sounded the worthy scribe on the possibility of 
 his going into the army ; but received a second confirmation of the 
 intelligence Mr. Gray had given him ; being informed that no part 
 of the money could be placed at his disposal till he was of age ; 
 and then not without the especial consent of both his guardians, 
 and particularly that of his master. He therefore took leave of 
 the Town-clerk, who, much approving the cautious manner in 
 which he spoke, and his prudent selection of an adviser at this 
 important crisis of his life, intimated to him, that should he choose 
 the law, he would himself receive him into his office, upon a very 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 moderate apprentice-fee, and would part with Tom Hillary to 
 make room for him, as the lad was "rather pragmatical, and 
 plagued him with speaking about his English practice, which they 
 had nothing to do with on this side of the Border— the Lord be 
 thanked!" 
 
 Middlemas thanked him for his kindness, and promised to con- 
 sider his kind offer, in case he should determine upon following the 
 profession of the law. 
 
 From Tom Hillary's master Richard went to Tom Hillary him- 
 self, who chanced then to be in the office. He was a lad about 
 twenty, as smart as small, but distinguished for the accuracy with 
 which he dressed his hair, and the splendour of a laced hat and 
 embroidered waistcoat, with which he graced the church of Middle- 
 mas on Sundays. Tom Hillary had been bred an attorney's clerk 
 in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, but, for some reason or other, had found 
 it more convenient of late years to reside in Scotland, and was 
 recommended to the Town-clerk of Middlemas, by the accuracy 
 and beauty with which he transcribed the records of the burgh. 
 It is not improbable that the reports concerning the singular cir- 
 cumstances of Richard Middlemas's birth, and the knowledge that 
 he was actually possessed of a considerable sum of money, induced 
 Hillary, though so much his senior, to admit the lad to his com- 
 pany, and enrich his youthful mind with some branches of infor- 
 mation, which, in that retired corner, his pupil might otherwise 
 .have been some time in attaining. Amongst these were certain 
 games at cards and dice, in which the pupil paid, as was reason- 
 able, the price of initiation by his losses to his instructor. After a 
 long walk with this youngster, whose advice, like the unwise son 
 of the wisest of men, he probably valued more than that of his 
 more aged counsellors, Richard Middlemas returned to his lodgings 
 in Stevenlaw's Land, and went to bed sad and supperless. 
 
 The next morning Richard arose with the sun, and his night's 
 rest appeared to have had its frequent effect, in cooling the passions 
 and correcting the understanding. Little Menie was the first per- 
 son to whom he made the amende honorable; and a much smaller 
 propitiation than the new doll with which he presented her would 
 have been accepted as an atonement for a much greater offence. 
 Menie was one of those pure spirits, to whom a state of unkindness, 
 if the estranged person has been a friend, is a state of pain, and 
 the slightest advance of her friend and protector was sufficient to 
 regain all her childish confidence and affection. 
 
 The father did not prove more inexorable than Menie had done. 
 Mr; Gray, indeed, thought he had good reason to look cold upon 
 Richard at their next meeting, being not a little hurt at the un- 
 
50 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 grateful treatment which he had received on the preceding evening. 
 But Middlemas disarmed him at once, by frankly pleading that he 
 had suffered his mind to be carried away by the supposed rank 
 and importance of his parents, into an idle conviction that he was 
 one day to share them. The letter of his grandfather, which con- 
 demned him to banishment and obscurity for life, was, he acknow- 
 ledged, a very severe blow ; and it was with deep sorrow that he 
 reflected, that the irritation of his disappointment had led him to 
 express himself in a manner far short of the respect and reverence 
 of one who owed Mr. Gray the duty and affection of a son, and 
 ought to refer to his decision every action of his life. Gideon, 
 propitiated by an admission so candid, and made with so much 
 humility, readily dismissed his resentment, and kindly enquired of 
 Richard, whether he had bestowed any reflection upon the choice 
 of profession which had been subjected to him ; offering, at the 
 same time, to allow him all reasonable time to make up his 
 mind. 
 
 On this subject, Richard Middlemas answered with the same 
 promptitude and candour. — " He had," he said, " in order to forming 
 his opinion more safely, consulted with his friend, the Town-clerk." 
 The Doctor nodded approbation. " Mr. Lawford had, indeed, 
 been most friendly, and had even offered to take him into his own 
 office. But if his father and benefactor would permit him to study, 
 under his instructions, the noble art in which he himself enjoyed 
 such a deserved reputation, the mere hope that he might by-and- 
 by be of some use to Mr. Gray in his business, would greatly over- 
 balance every other consideration. Such a course of education, 
 and such a use of professional knowledge when he had acquired it, 
 would be a greater spur to his industry, than the prospect even of 
 becoming Town-clerk of Middlemas in his proper person." 
 
 As the young man expressed it to be his firm and unalterable 
 choice, to study medicine under his guardian, and to remain a 
 member of his family, Dr. Gray informed Mr. MonQada of the lad's 
 determination ; who, to testify his approbation, remitted to the 
 Doctor the sum of ^loo as apprentice fee, a sum nearly three 
 times as much as Gray's modesty had hinted at as necessary. 
 
 Shortly after, when Dr. Gray and the Town-clerk met at the 
 small club of the burgh, their joint theme was the sense and steadi- 
 ness of Richard Middlemas. 
 
 " Indeed," said the Town-clerk, "he is such a friendly and dis- 
 interested boy, that I could not get him to accept a place in my 
 office, for fear he should be thought to be pushing himself forward 
 at the expense of Tam Hillary." 
 
 "And, indeed. Clerk," said Gray, " I have sometimes been afraid 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. ji 
 
 that he kept too much company with that Tam Hillary of yours ; 
 but twenty Tam Hillarys would not corrupt Dick Middlemas." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dick was come to high renown 
 Since he commenced physician ; 
 
 Tom was held by all the town 
 The better politician. 
 
 Tojn and Dick. 
 
 At the same period when Dr. Gray took under his charge his 
 youthful lodger Richard Middlemas, he received proposals from 
 the friends of one Adam Hartley, to receive him also as an appren- 
 tice. The lad was the son of a respectable farmer on the English 
 side of the Border, who, educating his eldest son to his own occu- 
 pation, desired to make his second a medical man, in order to avail 
 himself of the friendship of a great man, his landlord, who had 
 offered to assist his views in life, and represented a doctor or sur- 
 geon as the sort of person to whose advantage his interest could be 
 most readily applied. Middlemas and Hartley were therefore 
 associated in their studies. In winter they were boarded in Edin- 
 burgh, for attending the medical classes which were necessary for 
 taking their degree. Three or four years thus passed on, and, from 
 being mere boys, the two medical aspirants shot up into young 
 men, who, being both very good-looking, well dressed, well bred, 
 and having money in their pockets, became personages of some 
 importance in the little town of Middlemas, where there was scarce 
 any thing that could be termed an aristocracy, and in which beaux 
 were scarce and belles were plenty. 
 
 Each of the two had his especial partisans ; for though the young 
 men themselves lived in tolerable harmony together, yet, as usual 
 in such cases, no one could approve of one of them, without at the 
 same time comparing him with, and asserting his superiority over 
 his companion. 
 
 Both were gay, fond of dancing, and sedulous attendants on the 
 practeezings, as he called them, of Mr. M'Fittoch, a dancing- 
 master, who, itinerant during the summer, became stationary in 
 the winter season, and afforded the youth of Middlemas the benefit 
 of his instructions at the rate of twenty lessons for five shiUings 
 sterling. On these occasions, each of Dr. Gray's pupils had his 
 appropriate praise. Hartley danced with most spirit— Middlemas 
 with a better grace. Mr. M'Fittoch would have turned out Richard 
 
 E 3 
 
52 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 against the country-side in the minuet, and wagered the thing 
 dearest to him in the world, (and that was his kit,) upon his assured 
 superiority ; but he admitted Hartley was superior to him m horn- 
 pipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels. 
 
 In dress. Hartley was most expensive, perhaps because his father 
 afforded him better means of being so ; but his clothes were neither 
 so tasteful when new, nor so well preserved when they began to 
 grow old, as those of Richard Middlemas. Adam Hartley was 
 sometimes fine, at other times rather slovenly, and on the former 
 occasions looked rather too conscious of his splendour. His chum 
 was at all times regularly neat and well dressed ; while at the same 
 time he had an air of good-breeding, which made him appear 
 always at ease ; so that his dress, whatever it was, seemed to be 
 just what he ought to have worn at the time. 
 
 In their persons there was a still more strongly marked distinc- 
 tion. Adam Hartley was full middle size, stout, and well limbed ; 
 and an open English countenance, of the genuine Saxon mould, 
 showed itself among chestnut locks, until the hair-dresser destroyed 
 them. He loved the rough exercises of wrestling, boxing, leaping, 
 and quarter-staff, and frequented, when he could obtain leisure, the 
 bull-baitings and foot-ball matches, by which the burgh was some- 
 times enlivened. 
 
 Richard, on the contrary, was dark, like his father and mother, 
 with high features, beautifully formed, but exhibiting something of 
 a foreign character ; and his person was tall and slim, though 
 muscular and active. His address and manners must have been 
 natural to him, for they were, in elegance and ease, far beyond any 
 example which he could have found in his native burgh. He 
 learned the use of the small-sword while in Edinburgh, and took 
 lessons from a performer at the theatre, with the purpose of refining 
 his mode of speaking. He became also an amateur of the drama, 
 regularly attending the playhouse, and assuming the tone of a 
 critic in that and other lighter departments of literature. To fill 
 up the contrast, so far as taste was concerned, Richard was a dex- 
 terous and successful angler — Adam, a bold and unerring shot. 
 Their efforts to surpass each other in supplying Dr. Gray's table, 
 rendered his house-keeping much preferable to what it had been on 
 former occasions ; and, besides, small presents of fish and game 
 are always agreeable amongst the inhabitants of a country town, 
 and contributed to increase the popularity of the young sports- 
 men. 
 
 While the burgh was divided, for lack of better subject of dis- 
 putation, concerning the comparative merits of Dr. Gray's two 
 apprentices, he himself was sometimes chosen the referee. But in 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. S3 
 
 this, as on other matters, the Doctor was cautious. He said the 
 lads were both good lads, and would be useful men in the pro- 
 fession, if their heads were not carried with the notice which the 
 foolish people of the burgh took of them, and the parties of plea- 
 sure that were so often taking them away from their business. No 
 doubt it was natural for him to feel more confidence in Hartley, who 
 came of ken'd folk, and was very near as good as a born Scotsman. 
 But if he did feel such a partiality, he blamed himself for it, since 
 the stranger child, so oddly cast upon his hands, had peculiar good 
 right to such patronage and affection as he had to bestow ; and 
 truly the young man himself seemed so grateful, that it was impos- 
 sible for him to hint the slightest wish, that Dick Middlemas did 
 not hasten to execute. 
 
 There were persons in the burgh of Middlemas who were indis- 
 creet enough to suppose that Miss Menie must be a better judge 
 than any other person of the comparative merits of these accom- 
 plished personages, respecting which the public opinion was gene- 
 rally divided. No one even of her greatest intimates ventured to 
 put the question to her in precise terms ; but her conduct was 
 narrowly observed, and the critics remarked, that to Adam Hartley 
 her attentions were given more freely and frankly. She laughed 
 with him, chatted with him, and danced with him ; while to Dick 
 Middlemas her conduct was more shy and distant. The premises 
 seemed certain, but the public were divided in the conclusions 
 which were to be drawn from them. 
 
 It was not possible for the young men to be the subject of such 
 discussions without being sensible that they existed ; and thus 
 contrasted together by the little society in which they moved, they 
 must have been made of better than ordinary clay, if they had not 
 themselves entered by degrees into the spirit of the controversy, 
 and considered themselves as rivals for public applause. 
 
 Nor is it to be forgotten, that Menie Gray was by this time shot 
 up into one of the prettiest young women,' not of Middlemas 
 only, but of the whole county, in which the little burgh is situated. 
 This, indeed, had been settled by evidence, which could not be 
 esteemed short of decisive. At the time of the races, there were 
 usually assembled in the burgh some cornpany of the higher classes 
 from the country around, and many of the sober burghers mended 
 their incomes, by letting ■their apartments, or taking in lodgers of 
 quahty for the busy week. All the rural thanes and thanesses 
 attended on these occasions ; and such was the number of cocked 
 hats and silken trains, that the little town seemed for a time totally 
 to have changed its inhabitants. On this occasion, persons of a 
 certain quality only were permitted to attend upon the nightly balls 
 
S4 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 which were given in the old Townhouse, and the line of distinction 
 excluded Mr. Gray's family. 
 
 The aristocracy, however, used their privileges with some feelings 
 of deference to the native beaux and belles of the burgh, who were 
 thus doomed to hear the fiddles nightly, without being permitted 
 to dance to them. One evening in the race-week, termed the 
 Hunters' Ball, was dedicated to general amusement, and liberated 
 from the usual restrictions of etiquette. On this occasion all the 
 respectable families in the town were invited to share the amuse- 
 ment of the evening, and to wonder at the finery, and be grateful 
 for the condescension, of their betters. This was especially the 
 case with the females, for the number of invitations to the gentle- 
 men of the town was much more limited. Now, at this general 
 muster, the beauty of Miss Gray's face and person had placed her, 
 in the opinion of all competent judges, decidedly at the head of all 
 the belles present, saving those with whom, according to the 
 ideas of the place, it would hardly have been decent to compare her. 
 
 The Laird of the ancient and distinguished house of Loupon- 
 height did not hesitate to engage her hand during the greater part 
 of the evening ; and his mother, renowned for her stern assertion 
 of the distinctions of rank, placed the little plebeian beside her at 
 supper, and was heard to say, that the surgeon's daughter behaved 
 very prettily indeed, and seemed to know perfectly well where and 
 what she was. As for the young Laird himself, he capered so high, 
 and laughed so uproariously, as to give rise to a rumour, that he 
 was minded to " shoot madly from his sphere," and to convert the 
 village Doctor's daughter into a lady of his own ancient 
 name. 
 
 During this memorable evening, Middlemas, and Hartley, who 
 had found room in the music gallery, witnessed the scene, and, as 
 it would seem, with very different feelings. Hartley was evidently 
 annoyed by the excess of attention which the gallant Laird of 
 Louponheight, stimulated by the influence of a couple of bottles of 
 claret, and by the presence of a partner who danced remarkably 
 well, paid to Miss Menie Gray. He saw from his lofty stand all 
 the dumb show of gallantry, with the comfortable feelings of a 
 famishing creature looking upon a feast which he is not permitted 
 to share, and regarded every extraordinary frisk of the jovial Laird, 
 as the same might have been looked upon by a gouty person, who 
 apprehended that the dignitary was about to descend on his toes. 
 At length, unable to restrain his emotion, he left the gaUery and 
 returned no more. 
 
 Far different was the demeanour of Middlemas. He seemed 
 gratified and elevated by the attention which was generally paid to 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. SS 
 
 Miss Gray, and by the admiration she excited. On the valiant 
 Laird of Louponheight he looked with indescribable contempt, and 
 amused himself with pointing out to the burgh dancing-master, 
 who acted pro tempore as one of the band, the frolicsome bounds 
 and pirouettes, in which that worthy displayed a great deal more 
 of vigour than of grace. 
 
 " But ye shouldna laugh sae loud, Master Dick," said the master 
 of capers ; " he hasna had the advantage of a real gracefu' teacher, 
 as ye have had ; and troth, if he listed to tak some lessons, I think 
 I could make some hand of his feet, for he is a souple chield, and 
 has a gallant instep of his ain ; and sic a laced hat hasna been 
 seen on the causeway of Middlemas this mony a day. — Ye are 
 standing laughing there, Dick Middlemas ; I would have you 
 be sure he does not cut you out with your bonny partner 
 yonder." 
 
 " He be ! " Middlemas was beginning a sentence which 
 
 could not have concluded with strict attention to propriety, when 
 the master of the band summoned M'Fittoch to his post, by the 
 following ireful expostulation : — "What are ye about," sir? Mind 
 your bow-hand. How the deil d'ye think three fiddles is to keep 
 down a bass, if yin o' them stands girning and gabbling as ye're 
 doing ? Play up, sir ! " 
 
 Dick Middlemas, thus reduced to silence, continued, from his 
 lofty station, like one of the gods of the Epicureans, to survey 
 what passed below, without the gaieties which he witnessed being 
 able to excite more than a smile, which seemed, however, rather 
 to indicate a good-humoured contempt for what was passing than 
 a benevolent sympathy with the pleasures of others. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Now hold thy tongue, Billy Bewick, he said, 
 
 Of peaceful talking let me be ; 
 But if thou art a man, as I think thou art. 
 
 Come ower the dike and fight with me. 
 
 Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 On the morning after this gay evening, the two young men 
 were labouring together in a plot of ground behind Stevenlaw's 
 Land, which the Doctor had converted into a garden, where he 
 raised, with a view to pharmacy as well as botany, some rare 
 plants, which obtained the place from the vulgar the sounding 
 name of the Physic Garden,* Mr. Gray's pupils readily complied 
 
S6 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 with his wishes, that they would take some care of this favourite 
 spot, to which both contributed their labours, after which Hartley 
 used to devote himself to the cuhivation of the kitchen garden, 
 which he had raised into this respectability from a spot not excel- 
 ling a common kail-yard, while Richard Middlemas did his utmost 
 to decorate with flowers and shrubs a sort of arbour, usually called 
 Miss Menie's bower. 
 
 At present, they were both in the botanic patch of the garden, 
 when Dick Middlemas asked Hartley why he had left the ball so 
 soon the evening before ? 
 
 " I should rather ask you," said Hartley, " what pleasure you felt 
 in staying there ? — I tell you, Dick, it is a shabby low place this 
 Middlemas of ours. In the smallest burgh in England, every 
 decent freeholder would have been asked if the Member gave a 
 ball." 
 
 "What, Hartley !" said his companion, "are you, of all men, a 
 candidate for the honour of mixing with the first born of the earth? 
 Mercy on us ! How will canny Northumberland (throwing a true 
 northern accent on the letter R,) acquit himself? Methinks I see 
 thee in thy pea-green suit, dancing a jig with the Honourable Miss 
 Maddie MacFudgeon, while chiefs and thanes around laugh as they 
 would do at a hog in armour !" 
 
 " You don't, or perhaps you won't, understand me," said Hartley. 
 " I am not such a fool as to desire to be hail-fellow-well-met with 
 these fine folks — I care as little for them as they do for me. But 
 as they do not choose to ask us to dance, I don't see what business 
 they have with our partners." 
 
 "Partners, said you!" answered Middleitias; "I don't think 
 Menie is very often yours." 
 
 " As often as I ask her," answered Hartley, rather haughtily. 
 
 " Ay ? Indeed ?— I did not think that.— And hang me, if I think 
 so yet," said Middlemas, with the same sarcastic tone. " I tell thee, 
 Adam, I will bet you a bowl of punch, that Miss Gray will not 
 dance with you the next time you ask her. All I stipulate, is to 
 know the day." 
 
 " I will lay no bets about Miss Gray," said Hartley ; " her father 
 is my master, and I am obliged to him— I think I should act very 
 scurvily, if I were to make her the subject of any idle debate betwixt 
 you and me." 
 
 "Very right," replied Middlemas ; "you should finish one quarrel 
 before you begin another. Pray, saddle your pony, ride up to the 
 gate of Louponheight Castle, and defy the Baron to mortal combat, 
 for having presumed to touch the fair hand of Menie Gray." 
 
 " I wish you would leave Miss Gray's name out of the question, 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. S7 
 
 and take your defiances to your fine folks in your own name, and 
 see what they will say to the surgeon's apprentice." 
 
 " Speak for yourself, if you please, Mr. Adam Hartley. I was 
 not born a clown, like some folks, and should care little, if I saw it 
 fit, to talk to the best of them at the ordinary, and make myself 
 understood too." 
 
 " Very likely," answered Hartley, losing patience ; " you are one 
 of themselves, you know — Middlemas of that Ilk." 
 
 "You scoundrel !" said Richard, advancing on him in fury, his 
 taunting humour entirely changed into rage. 
 
 " Stand back," said Hartley, " or you will come by the worst ; if 
 you will break rude jests, you must put up with rough answers." 
 
 " I will have satisfaction for this insult, by Heaven ! " 
 
 " Why, so you shall, if you insist on it," said Hartley ; " but 
 better, I think, to say no more about the matter. We have both 
 spoken what would have been better left unsaid. I was in the 
 wrong to say what I said to you, although you did provoke me. — 
 And now I have given you as much satisfaction as a reasonable 
 man can ask." 
 
 " Sir," repeated Middlemas, " the satisfaction which I demand, is 
 that of a gentleman — the Doctor has a pair of pistols." 
 
 " And a pair of mortars also, which are heartily at your service, 
 gentlemen," said Mr. Gray, coming forward from behind a yew 
 hedge, where he had listened to the whole or greater part of this 
 dispute. " A fine story it would be of my apprentices shooting each 
 other with my own pistols ! Let me see either of you fit to treat a 
 gunshot wound, before you think of inflicting one. Go, you are 
 both very foolish boys, and I cannot take it kind of either of you to 
 bring the name of my daughter into such disputes as these. Hark 
 ye, lads, ye both owe me, I think, some portion of respect, and even 
 of gratitude — it will be a poor return, if, instead of living quietly 
 with this poor motherless girl, like brothers with a sister, you should 
 oblige me to increase my expense, and abridge my comfort, by 
 sending my child from me, for the few months that you are to 
 remain here. Let me see you shake hands, and let us have no 
 more of this nonsense." 
 
 While their master spoke in this manner, both the young men 
 stood before him in the attitude of self-convicted criminals. At the 
 conclusion of his rebuke, Hartley turned frankly round, and offered 
 his hand to his companion, who accepted it, but after a moment's 
 hesitation. There was nothing further passed on the subject, but 
 the lads never resumed the same sort of intimacy which had existed 
 betwixt them in their earlier acquaintance. On the contrary, 
 avoiding every connexion not absolutely required by their situation. 
 
S8 tHE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and abridging as much as possible even their indispensable inter- 
 course in professional matters, they seemed as much estranged from 
 each other as two persons residing in the same small house had the 
 means of being. 
 
 As for Menie Gray, her father did not appear to entertain the 
 least anxiety upon her account, although from his frequent and 
 almost daily absence from home, she was exposed to constant 
 intercourse with two handsome young men, both, it might be sup- 
 posed, ambitious of pleasing her more than most parents would 
 have deemed entirely prudent. Nor was Nurse Jamieson, — her 
 menial situation, and her excessive partiality for her foster-son, con- 
 sidered, — altogether such a matron as could afford her protection. 
 Gideon, however, knew that his daughter possessed, in its fullest 
 extent, the upright and pure integrity of his own character, and that 
 never father had less reason to apprehend that a daughter should 
 deceive his confidence ; and, justly secure of her principles, he 
 overlooked the danger to which he exposed her feelings and affections. 
 
 The intercourse betwixt Menie and the young men seemed now 
 of a guarded kind on all sides. Their meeting was only at meals, 
 and Miss Gray was at pains, perhaps by her father's recommenda- 
 tion, to treat them with the same degree of attention. This, how- 
 ever, was no easy matter ; for Hartley became so retiring, cold, and 
 formal, that it was impossible for her to sustain any prolonged 
 intercourse with him ; whereas Middlemas, perfectly at his ease, 
 sustained his part as formerly upon all occasions that occurred, and 
 without appearing to press his intimacy assiduously, seemed never- 
 theless to retain the complete possession of it. 
 
 The time drew nigh at length when the young men, freed from 
 the engagements of their indentures, must look to play their own 
 independent part in the world. Mr. Gray informed Richard Middle- 
 mas that he had written pressingly upon the subject to Mongada, 
 and that more than once, but had not yet received an answer ; nor 
 did he presume to offer his own advice, until the pleasure of his 
 grandfather should be known. Richard seemed to endure this sus- 
 pense with morepatience than the Doctor thought belongednaturally 
 to his character. He asked no questions — stated no conjectures- 
 showed no anxiety, but seemed to await with patience the turn which 
 events should take. " My young gentleman," thought Mr. Gray, 
 " has either fixed on some course in his own mind, or he is about to 
 be more tractable than some points of his character have led me to 
 expect." 
 
 In fact, Richard had made an experiment on this inflexible re- 
 lative, by sending Mr. Mongada a letter full of duty, and affection, 
 and gratitude, desiring to be permitted to correspond with him in 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 person, and promising to be guided in every particular by his will. 
 The answer to this appeal was his own letter returned, with a note 
 from the bankers whose cover had been used, saying, that any 
 future attempt to intrude on Mr. Mon^ada, would put a final period 
 to their remittances. 
 
 While things were in this situation in Stevenlaw's Land, Adam 
 Hartley one evening, contrary to his custom for several months, 
 sought a private interview with his fellow-apprentice. He found 
 him in the little arbour, and could not omit observing, that Dick 
 Middlemas, on his appearance, shoved into his bosom a small 
 packet, as if afraid of its being seen, and snatching up a hoe, began 
 to work with great devotion, like one who wished to have it thought 
 that his whole soul was in his occupation. 
 
 " I wished to speak with you, Mr. Middlemas,'' said Hartley ; 
 " but I fear I interrupt you." 
 
 " Not in the least," said the other, laying down his hoe ; " I was 
 only scratching up the weeds which the late showers have made 
 rush up so numerously. I am at your service." 
 
 Hartley proceeded to the arbour, and seated himself. Richard 
 imitated his example, and seemed to wait for the proposed com- 
 munication. 
 
 " I have had an interesting communication with Mr. Gray " — 
 said Hartley, and there stopped, like one who finds himself enter- 
 ing upon a difficult task. 
 
 " I hope the explanation has been satisfactory ? " said Middlemas. 
 
 " You shall judge. — Doctor Gray was pleased to say something 
 to me very civil about my proficiency in the duties of our profession ; 
 and, to my great astonishment, asked me, whether, as he was now 
 becoming old, I had any particular objection to continue in my 
 present situation, but with some pecuniary advantages, for two 
 years longer ; at the end of which he promised to me that I should 
 enter into partnership with him." 
 
 "Mr. Gray is an undoubted judge," said Middlemas, "what 
 person will best suit him as a professional assistant. The business 
 may be worth ;^2oo a-year, and an active assistant might go nigh 
 to double it, by riding Strath-Devan and the Carse. No great 
 subject for division after all, Mr. Hartley." 
 
 " But," continued Hartley, " that is not all. The Doctor says — 
 he proposes — in short, if I can render myself agreeable, in the 
 course of these two years, to Miss Menie Gray, he proposes, that 
 when they terminate, I should become his son as well as his 
 partner." 
 
 As he spoke, he kept his eye fixed on Richard's face, which was 
 for a moment strongly agitated ; but instantly recovering, he 
 
6o THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 answered, in a tone where pique and offended pride vainly en- 
 deavoured to disguise themselves under an affectation of in- 
 difference, " Well, Master Adam, I cannot but wish you joy of the 
 patriarchal arrangement. You have served five years for a pro- 
 fessional diploma— a sort of Leah, that privilege of killing and 
 curing. Now you begin a new course of servitude for a lovely 
 Rachael. Undoubtedly— perhaps it is rude in me to ask— but vm- 
 doubtedly you have accepted so flattering an arrangement ? " 
 
 " You cannot but recollect there was a condition annexed," said 
 Hartley, gravely. 
 
 " That of rendering yourself acceptable to a girl you have known 
 for so many years ? " said Middlemas, with a half-suppressed sneer. 
 " No great difficulty in that, I should think, for such a person as 
 Mr. Hartley, with Doctor Gray's favour to back him. No, no — 
 there could be no great obstacle there." 
 
 "Both you and I know the contrary, Mr. Middlemas," said 
 Hartley, very seriously. 
 
 "I know? — How should I know anything more than yourself 
 about the state of Miss Gray's inclinations ? " said Middlemas. " I 
 am sure we have had equal access to know them." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but some know better how to avail themselves 
 of opportunities. Mr. Middlemas, I have long suspected that you 
 have had the inestimable advantage of possessing Miss Gray's 
 affections, and " 
 
 " I ? " — interrupted Middlemas ; " you are jesting, or you are 
 jealous. You do yourself less, and me more, than justice ; but the 
 compliment is so great, that I am obliged to you for the mistake." 
 
 " That you may know," answered Hartley, " I do not speak either 
 by guess, or from what you call jealousy, I tell you frankly, that 
 Menie Gray herself told me the state of her affections. I naturally 
 communicated to her the discourse I had with her father. I told 
 her I was but too well convinced that at the present moment I did 
 not possess that interest in her heart, which alone might entitle me 
 to request her acquiescence in the views which her father's goodness 
 ■ held out to me ; but I entreated her not at once to decide against 
 me, but give me an opportunity to make way in her affections, if 
 possible, trusting that time, and the services which I should render 
 to her father, might have an ultimate effect in my favour." 
 
 " A most natural and modest request. But what did the young 
 lady say in reply ? " 
 
 " She is a noble-hearted girl, Richard Middlemas ; and for her 
 frankness alone, even without her beauty and her good sense, 
 deserves an emperor. I cannot express the graceful modesty with 
 which she told me, that she knew too well the kindliness, as she was 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 6i 
 
 pleased to call it, of my heart, to expose me to the protracted pain of 
 an unrequited passion. She candidly informed me that she had been 
 long engaged to you in secret — that you had exchanged portraits ; 
 —and though without her father's consent she would never become 
 yours, yet she felt it impossible that she should ever so far change 
 her sentiments as to afford the most distant prospect of success to 
 another." 
 
 " Upon my word," saici Middlemas, " she has been extremely 
 candid indeed, and I am very much obliged to her ! " 
 
 "And upon 7ny honest word, Mr. Middlemas," returned Hartley, 
 " You do Miss Gray the greatest injustice — nay, you are ungrateful 
 to her, if you are displeased at her making this declaration. She 
 loves you as a woman loves the first object of her affection — she 
 loves you better " — He stopped, and Middlemas completed the 
 sentence. 
 
 " Better than I deserve, perhaps ? — Faith, it may -vyellbe so, and I 
 love her dearly in return. But after all, you know, the secret was 
 mine as well as hers, and it would have been better that she had 
 consulted me before making it public." 
 
 " Mr. Middlemas," said Hartley earnestly, " if the least of this 
 feeling, on your part, arises from the apprehension that your secret 
 is less safe because it is in my keeping, I can assure you that such 
 is my grateful sense of Miss Gray's goodness, in communicating, to 
 save me pain, an affair of such delicacy to herself and you, that 
 wild horses should tear me limb from limb before they forced a 
 word of it from my lips." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my dear friend,'' said Middlemas, with a frankness of 
 manner indicating a cordiality that had not existed between them 
 for some time, " you must allow me to be a little jealous in my 
 turn. Your true lover cannot have a title to the name, unless he be 
 sometimes unreasonable ; and somehow, it seems odd she should 
 have chosen for a confidant one whom I have often thought a for- 
 midable rival ; and yet I am so far from being displeased, that I 
 do not know that the dear sensible girl could after all have made a 
 better choice. It is time that the foolish coldness between us should 
 be ended, as you must be sensible that its real cause lay in our 
 rivalry. I have much need of good advice, and who can give it to 
 me better than the old companion, whose soundness of judgment I 
 have always envied, even when some injudicious friends have given 
 me credit for quicker parts ? " 
 
 Hartley accepted Richard's proffered hand, but without any of 
 the buoyancy of spirit with which it was offered. 
 
 " I do not intend," he said, " to remain many days in this place, 
 perhaps not very many hours. But if, in the meanwhile, I can 
 
62 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 benefit you, by advice or otherwise, you may fully command me. 
 It is the only mode in which I can be of service to Menie Gray." 
 
 " Love my mistress, love me ; a happy Jiendani to the old proverb. 
 Love me, love my dog. Well, then, for Menie Gray's sake, if not 
 for Dick Middlemas's, (plague on that vulgar tell-tale name,) will 
 you, that are a stander-by, tell us who are the unlucky players, what 
 you think of this game of ours ? " 
 
 " How can you ask such a question, when the field lies so fair 
 before you ? I am sure that Doctor Gray would retain you as his 
 assistant upon the same terms which he proposed to me. You are 
 the better match, in all worldly respects, for his daughter, having 
 some capital to begin the world with." 
 
 "All true— but methinks Mr. Gray has showed no great pre- 
 dilection for me in this matter." 
 
 " If he has done injustice to your indisputable merit," said 
 Hartley drily, "the preference of his daughter has more than 
 atoned for it." 
 
 " Unquestionably ; and dearly, therefore, do I love her ; other- 
 wise, Adam, I am not a person to grasp at the leavings of other 
 people." 
 
 " Richard," replied Hartley, " that pride of yours, if you do not 
 check it, will render you both ungrateful and miserable. Mr. 
 Gray's ideas are most friendly. He told me plainly, that his choice 
 of me as an assistant, and as a member of his family, had been a 
 long time balanced by his early affection for you, until he thought 
 he had remarked in you a decisive discontent with such limited pro- 
 spects as his offer contained, and a desire to go abroad into the world, 
 and push, as it is called, your fortune. He said, that although it 
 was very probable that you might love his daughter well enough to 
 relinquish these ambitious ideas for her sake, yet the demons of 
 Ambition and Avarice would return after the exerciser Love had 
 exhausted the force of his spells, and then he thought he would 
 have just reason to be anxious for his daughter's happiness." 
 
 " By my faith, the worthy senior speaks scholarly and wisely," 
 answered Richard — " I did not think he had been so clear-sighted. 
 To say the truth, but for the beautiful Menie Gray, I should feel 
 like a mill horse, walking my daily round in this dull country, while 
 other gay rovers are trying how the world will receive them. For 
 instance, where do you yourself go .'' " 
 
 " A cousin of my mother's commands a ship in the Company's 
 service. I intend to go with him as surgeon's mate. If I like the 
 sea service, I will continue in it ; if not, I will enter some other 
 line." This Hartley said with a sigh. 
 
 " To India ! " answered Richard ; " happy dog— to India ! You 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 63 
 
 may well bear with equanimity all disappointments sustained on 
 this side of the globe. Oh, Delhi ! oh, Golconda ! have your 
 names no power to conjure down idle recollections ? — India, where 
 gold is won by steel ; where a brave man cannot pitch his desire of 
 fame and wealth so high, but that he may realize it, if he have 
 fortune to his friend ? Is it possible that the bold adventurer can 
 fix his thoughts on you, and still be dejected at the thoughts that 
 a bonny blue-^eyed lass looked favourably on a less lucky feUow than 
 himself? Can this be ? " 
 
 "Less lucky?" said Hartley. "Can you, the accepted lover of 
 Menie Gray, speak in that tone, even though it be in jest ! " 
 
 " Nay, Adam," said Richard, " don't be angry with me, because, 
 being thus far successful, I rate my good fortune not quite so rap- 
 turously as perhaps you do, who have missed the luck of it. Your 
 philosophy should tell you, that the object which we attain, or are 
 sure of attaining, loses, perhaps, even by that very certainty, a little 
 of the extravagant and ideal value, which attached to it while the 
 object of feverish hopes and aguish fears. But for all that, I 
 cannot live without my sweet Menie. I would wed her to-morrow, 
 with all my soul, without thinking a minute on the clog which so 
 early a marriage would fasten on our heels. But to spend two 
 additional years in this infernal wilderness, cruizing after crowns 
 and half-crowns, when worse men are making lacs and crores of 
 rupees — It is a sad falling off, Adam. Counsel me, my friend, — 
 can you not suggest some mode of getting off from these two years 
 of destined dulness ? " 
 
 " Not I," replied Hartley, scarce repressing his displeasure ; 
 " and if I could induce Dr. Gray to dispense with so reasonable a 
 condition, I should be very sorry to do so. You are but twenty- 
 one, and if such a period of probation was, in the Doctor's prudence, 
 judged necessary for me, who am full two years older, I have no 
 idea that he will dispense with it in yours." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Middlemas ; " but do you not think that 
 these two, or call them three, years of probation, had better be spent 
 in India, where much may be done in a little while, than here, where 
 nothing can be done save just enough to get salt to our broth, or 
 broth to our salt ? Methinks I have a natural turn for India, and 
 so I ought. My father was a soldier, by the conjecture of all who 
 saw him, and gave me a love of the sword, and an arm to use one. 
 My mother's father was a rich trafficker, who loved wealth, I 
 warrant me, and knew how to get it. This petty two hundred a- 
 year, with its miserable and precarious possibilities, to be shared 
 with the old gentleman, sounds in the ears of one like me, who 
 have the world for the winning, and a sword to cut my way through 
 
64 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 it, like something little better than a decent kind of beggary. Menie 
 is in herself a gem— a diamond— I admit it. But then, one would 
 not set such a precious jewel in lead or copper, but in pure gold ; 
 ay, and add a circlet of brilliants to set it off with. Be a good 
 fellow, Adam, and undertake the setting my project in proper 
 colours before the Doctor. I am sure the wisest thing for him and 
 Menie both, is to permit me to spend this short time of probation 
 in the land of cowries. I am sure my heart will be there at any 
 rate, and while I am bleeding some bumpkin for an inflammation, I 
 shall be in fancy reUeving some nabob, or rajahpoot, of his plethora 
 of wealth. Come— will you assist, will you be auxiliary? Ten 
 chances but you plead your own cause, man, for I may be brought 
 up by a sabre, or a bow-string, before I make my pack up ; then 
 your road to Menie will be free and open, and, as you will be pos- 
 sessed of the situation of comforter ex officio, you may take her 
 ' with a tear in her ee,' as old saws advise." 
 
 " Mr. Richard Middlemas," said Hartley, " I wish it were possible 
 for me to tell you, in the few words which I intend to bestow on 
 you, whether I pity you or despise you the most. Heaven ^has 
 placed happiness, competence, and content within your power, and 
 you are willing to cast them away, to gratify ambition and avarice. 
 Were I to give an advice on this subject, either to Dr. Gray or his 
 daughter, it would be to break off all connexion with a man, who, 
 however clever by nature, may soon show himself a fool, and how- 
 ever honestly brought up, may also, upon temptation, prove himself 
 a villain. — You may lay aside the sneer, which is designed to be a 
 sarcastic smile. I will not attempt to do this, because I am con- 
 vinced that my advice would be of no use, unless it could come un- 
 attended with suspicion of my motives. I will hasten my departure 
 from this house, that we may not meet again ; and I will leave it to 
 God Almighty to protect honesty and innocence against the dangers 
 which must attend vanity and folly." So saying, he turned con- 
 temptuously from the youthful votary of ambition, and left the 
 garden. 
 
 " Stop,'' said Middlemas, struck with the picture which had been 
 held up to his conscience — " Stop, Adam Hartley, and I will confess 
 to you " — But his words were uttered in a faint and hesitating 
 manner, and either never reached Hartley's ear, or failed in chang- 
 ing his purpose of departure. 
 
 When he was out of the garden, Middlemas began to recall his 
 usual boldness of disposition — " Had he stayed a moment longer," 
 he said, " I would have turned Papist, and made him my ghostly 
 confessor. The yeomanly churl ! — I would give something to 
 know how he has got such a hank over me. What are Menie 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 Gray's engagements to him ? She has given him his answer, and 
 what right has he to come betwixt her and me? If old Mongada 
 had done a grandfather's duty, and made suitable settlements on 
 me, this plan of marrying the sweet girl, and settling here in her 
 native place, might have done well enough. But to live the life of 
 the poor drudge her father — to be at the command and call of 
 every boor for twenty miles round ! — why, the labours of a higgler, 
 who travels scores of miles to barter pins, ribands, snuff and 
 tobacco, against the house-wife's private stock of eggs, mort-skins, 
 and tallow, is more profitable, less laborious, and faith, I think, 
 equally respectable. No, no, — unless I can find wealth nearer 
 home, I will seek it where every one can have it for the gathering ; 
 and so I will down to the Swan Inn, and hold a final consultation 
 with my friend." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The friend whom Middlemas expected to meet at the Swan, was 
 a person already mentioned in this history by the name of Tom 
 Hillary, bred an attorney's clerk in the ancient town of Novum 
 Castrum — doctus utriusque juris, as far as a few months in the 
 service of Mr. Lawford, Town-Clerk of Middlemas, could render 
 him so. The last mention that we made of this gentleman, was 
 when his gold-laced hat veiled its splendour before the fresher 
 mounted beavers of the 'prentices of Dr. Gray. That was now 
 about five years since, and it was within six months that he had 
 made his appearance in Middlemas, a very different sort of per- 
 sonage from that which he seemed at his departure. 
 
 He was now called Captain ; his dress was regimental, and his 
 language martial. He seemed to have plenty of cash, for he not 
 only, to the great surprise of the parties, paid certain old debts, 
 which he had left unsettled behind him, and that notwithstanding 
 his having, as his old practice told him, a good defence of pre- 
 scription, but even sent the minister a guinea, to the assistance of 
 the parish poor. These acts of justice and benevolence were 
 bruited abroad greatly to the honour of one, who, so long absent, 
 had neither forgotten his just debts, nor hardened his heart against 
 the cries of the needy. His merits were thought the higher, when 
 it was understood he had served the honourable East India 
 Company — that wonderful company of merchants, who may indeed, 
 with the strictest propriety, be termed princes. It was about the 
 middle of the eighteenth century, and the directors in Leadenhall 
 
 r 
 
66 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER 
 
 Street were silently laying the foundation of that immense empire, 
 which afterwards rose like an exhalation, and now astonishes 
 Europe, as well as Asia, with its formidable extent, and stupendous 
 strength. Britain had now begun to lend a wondering ear to the 
 account of battles fought, and cities won, in the East ; and was 
 surprised by the return of individuals who had left their native 
 country as adventurers, but now reappeared there surrounded by 
 Oriental wealth and Oriental luxury, which dimmed even the 
 splendour of the most wealthy of the British nobility. In this new- 
 found El Dorado, Hillary had, it seems, been a labourer, and, if he 
 told truth, to some purpose, though he was far from having com- 
 pleted the harvest which he meditated. He spoke, indeed, of 
 making investments, and, as a mere matter of fancy, he consulted 
 his old master. Clerk Lawford, concerning the purchase of a moor- 
 land farm, of three thousand acres, for which he would be content 
 to give three or four thousand guineas, providing the game was 
 plenty, and the trouting in the brook such as had been represented 
 by advertisement. But he did not \vish to make any extensive 
 landed purchase at present. It was necessary to keep up his in- 
 terest in Leadenhall Street ; and in that view, it would be impolitic 
 to part with his India stock and India bonds. In short, it was 
 folly to think of settling on a poor thousand or twelve hundred 
 a-year, when one was in the prime of life, and had no liver com- 
 plaint ; and so he was determined to double the Cape once again, 
 ere he retired to the chimney corner of life. All he wished was, to 
 pick up a few clever fellows for his regiment, or rather for his own 
 company ; and as in all his travels he had never seen finer fellows 
 than about Middlemas, he was willing to give them the preference 
 in completing his levy. In fact, it was making men of them at 
 once, for a few white faces never failed to strike terror into these 
 black rascals ; and then, not to mention the good things that were 
 going at the storming of a Pettah, or the plundering of a Pagoda, 
 most of these tawny dogs carried so much treasure about their 
 persons, that a won battle was equal to a mine of gold to the 
 victors. 
 
 The natives of Middlemas listened to the noble Captain's marvels 
 with different feelings, as their temperaments were saturnine or 
 sanguine. But none could deny that such things had been ; and as 
 the narrator was known to be a bold dashing fellow, possessed of 
 some abilities, and, according to the general opinion, not Hkely to 
 be withheld by any peculiar scruples of conscience, there was no 
 giving any good reason why Hillary should not have been as suc- 
 cessful as others in the field, which India, agitated as it was by 
 war and intestine disorders, seemed to offer to every enterprising 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 adventurer. He was accordingly received by his old acquaintances 
 at Middlemas rather with the respect due to his supposed wealth, 
 than in a manner corresponding with his former humble pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 Some of the notables of the village did indeed keep aloof. 
 Among these, the chief was Dr. Gray, who was an enemy to every 
 thing that approached to fanfaronade, and knew enough of the 
 world to lay it down as a sort of general rule, that he who talks a 
 great deal of fighting is seldom a brave soldier, and he who always 
 speaks about wealth is seldom a rich man at bottom. Clerk Law- 
 ford was also shy, notwithstanding his commimings with Hillary 
 upon the subject of his intended purchase. The coolness of the 
 Captain's old employer towards him was by some supposed to 
 arise out of certain circumstances attending their former con- 
 nexion ; but as the Clerk himself never explained what these were, 
 it is unnecessary to make any conjectures upon the subject. 
 
 Richard Middlemas very naturally renewed his intimacy with his 
 former comrade, and it was from Hillary's conversation, that he 
 had adopted the enthusiasm respecting India, which we have heard 
 him express. It was indeed impossible for a youth, at once inex- 
 perienced in the world, and possessed of a most sanguine disposi- 
 tion, to listen without sympathy to the glowing descriptions of 
 Hillary, who, though only a recruiting captain, had all the elo- 
 quence of a recruiting sergeant. Palaces rose like mushrooms in 
 his descriptions ; groves of lofty trees, and aromatic shrubs unknown 
 to the chilly soils of Europe, were tenanted by every object of the 
 chase, from the royal tiger down to the jackall. The luxuries of a 
 Natch, and the peculiar Oriental beauty of the enchantresses who 
 perfumed their voluptuous Eastern domes, for the pleasure of the 
 haughty English conquerors, were no less attractive than the battles 
 and sieges on which the Captain at other times expatiated. Not a 
 stream did he mention but flowed over sands of gold, and not a 
 palace that was inferior to those of the celebrated Fata Morgana. 
 His descriptions seemed steeped in odours, and his every phrase 
 perfumed in ottar of roses. The interviews at which these descrip- 
 tions took place, often ended in a bottle of choicer wine than the 
 Swan Inn afforded, with some other appendages of the table, which 
 the Captain, who was a bon-vivant, had procured from Edinburgh. 
 From this good cheer Middlemas was doomed to retire to the 
 homely evening meal of his master, where not all the simple beau- 
 ties of Menie were able to overcome his disgust at the coarseness 
 of the provisions, or his unwillingness to answer questions con- 
 cerning the diseases of the wretched peasants who were subjected 
 to his inspection. 
 
 F 2 
 
63 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Richard's hopes of being acknowledged by his father had long 
 since vanished, and the rough repulse and subsequent neglect on 
 the part of Mongada, had satisfied him that his grandfather was 
 inexorable, and that neither then, nor at any future time, did he 
 mean to realize the visions which Nurse Jamieson's splendid fig- 
 ments had encouraged him to entertain. Ambition, however, was 
 not lulled to sleep, though it was no longer nourished by the same 
 hopes which had at first awakened it. The Indian Captain's lavish 
 oratory supplied the themes which had been at first derived from 
 the legends of the nursery ; the exploits of a Lawrence and a Clive, 
 as well as the magnificent opportunities of acquiring wealth to 
 which these exploits opened the road, disturbed the slumbers of the 
 young adventurer. There was nothing to counteract these except 
 his love for Menie Gray, and the engagements into which it had 
 led him. But his addresses had been paid to Menie as much for 
 the gratification of his vanity, as from any decided passion for that 
 innocent and guileless being. He was desirous of carrying off the 
 prize, for which Hartley, whom he never loved, had the courage to 
 contend with him. Then Menie Gray had been beheld with ad- 
 miration by men his superiors in rank and fortune, but with whom 
 his ambition incited him to dispute the prize. No doubt, though 
 urged to play the gallant at first rather from vanity than any other 
 cause, the frankness and modesty with which his suit was admitted, 
 made their natural impression on his heart. He was grateful to 
 the beautiful creature, who acknowledged the superiority of his 
 person and accomplishments, and fancied himself as devotedly 
 attached to her, as her personal charms and mental merits would 
 have rendered any one who was less vain or selfish than her lover. 
 Still his passion for the surgeon's daughter ought not, he pruden- 
 tially determined, to bear more than its due weight in a case so 
 very important as the determining his line of life ; and this he 
 smoothed over to his conscience, by repeating to himself, that 
 Menie's interest was as essentially concerned as his own, in post- 
 poning their marriage to the establishment of his fortune. How 
 many young couples had been ruined by a premature union ! 
 
 The contemptuous conduct of Hartley in their last interview, had 
 done something to shake his comrade's confidertce in the truth of 
 this reasoning, and to lead him to suspect that he was playing a 
 very sordid and unmanly part, in trifling with the happiness of this 
 amiable and unfortunate young woman. It was in this doubtful 
 humour that he repaired to the Swan Inn, where he was anxiously 
 expected by his friend the Captain. 
 
 When they were comfortably seated over a bottle of Paxarete, 
 Middlemas began, with characteristical caution, to sound his friend 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER, 69 
 
 about the ease or difficulty with which an individual, desirous 01 
 entering the Company's service, might have an opportunity of 
 getting a commission. If Hillary had answered truly, he would 
 have replied, that it was extremely easy ; for, at that time, the East 
 India service presented no charms to that superior class of people 
 who have since struggled for admittance under its banners. But 
 the worthy Captain replied, that though, in the general case, it 
 might be difficult for a young man to obtain a commission, without 
 serving for some years as a cadet, yet, under his own protection, a 
 young man entering his regiment, and fitted for such a situation, 
 might be sure of an ensigncy, if not a lieutenancy, as soon as ever 
 they set foot in India. " If you, my dear fellow," continued he, 
 extending his hand to Middlemas, " would think of changing sheep- 
 head broth and haggis for mulagatawny and curry, I can only say, 
 that though it is indispensable that you should enter the service at 
 
 first simply as a cadet, yet, by , you should live like a brother 
 
 on the passage with me ; and no sooner were we through the surf 
 at Madras, than I would put you in the way of acquiring both wealth 
 and glory. You have, I think, some trifle of money — a couple of 
 thousands or so ? " 
 
 " About a thousand or twelve hundred," said Richard, affecting 
 the indifference of his companion, but feeling privately humbled by 
 the scantiness of his resources. 
 
 " It is quite as much as you will find necessary for the outfit and 
 passage," said his adviser ; " and, indeed, if you had not a farthing, 
 it would be the same thing ; for if I once say to a friend, I'll help 
 you, Tom Hillary is not the man to start for fear of the cowries. 
 However, it is as well you have something of a capital of your own 
 to begin upon." 
 
 " Yes," replied the proselyte. " I should not like to be a burden 
 on any one. I have some thoughts, to tell you the truth, to marry 
 before I leave Britain ; and in that case, you know, cash will be 
 necessary, whether my wife goes out with us, or remains behind, 
 till she hear how luck goes with me. So, after all, I may have to 
 borrow a few hundreds of you." 
 
 " What the devil is that you say, Dick, about marrying and 
 giving in marriage ? " replied his friend. " What can put it into 
 the head of a gallant young fellow like you, just rising twenty-one, 
 and six feet high on your stocking'soles, to make a slave of your- 
 self for life ? No, no, Dick, that will never do. Remember the 
 old song 
 
 'Bachelor Bluff, bachelor Bluff, 
 Hey for a heart that's rugged and tough ! ' " 
 
70 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Ay, ay, that sounds very well," replied Middlemas ; " but then 
 one must shake off a number of old recollections." 
 
 " The sooner the better, Dick ; old recollections are like old 
 clothes, and should be sent off by wholesale ; they only take up 
 room in one's wardrobe, and it would be old-fashioned to wear 
 them. But you look grave upon it. Who the devil is it has made 
 such a hole in your heart ? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " answered Middlemas, " I'm sure you must remember 
 ^Menie — my master's daughter." 
 
 " What, Miss Green, the old pottercarrier's daughter ?— a likely 
 girl enough, I think." 
 
 " My master is a surgeon," said Richard, " not an apothecary, 
 and his name is Gray." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Green or Gray — what does it signify ? He sells his own 
 drugs, I think, which we in the south call being a pottercarrier. 
 The girl is a likely girl enough for a Scottish ball-room. But is she 
 up to any thing ? Has she any 7touz ? " 
 
 "Why, she is a sensible girl, save in loving me," answered 
 Richard ; " and that, as Benedict says, is no proof of her wisdom, 
 and no great argument of her folly." 
 
 "But has she spirit— spunk— dash— a spice of the devil about 
 her?" 
 
 " Not a penny-weight — the kindest, simplest, and most manage- 
 able of human beings," answered the lover. 
 
 " She won't do then," said the monitor, in a decisive tone. " I 
 am sorry for it, Dick ; but she will never do. There are some 
 women in the world that can bear their share in the bustling life 
 we live in India — ay, and I have known some of them drag for- 
 ward husbands that would otherwise have stuck fast in the mud till 
 the day of judgment. Heaven knows how they paid the turnpikes 
 they pushed them through ! But these were none of your simple 
 Susans, that think their eyes are good for nothing but to look at 
 their husbands, or their fingers but to sew baby-clothes. De- 
 pend on it, you must give up your matrimony, or your views of 
 preferment. If you wilfully tie a clog round your throat, never 
 think of running a race ; but do not suppose that your breaking off 
 with the lass will make any very terrible catastrophe. A scene 
 there may be at parting ; but you will soon forget her among the 
 native girls, and she will fall in love with Mi-. Tapeitout, the 
 minister's assistant and successor. She is not goods for the Indian 
 market, I assure you." 
 
 Among the capricious weaknesses of humanity, that one is parti- 
 cularly remarkable which inclines us to esteem persons and things 
 not by their real value, or even by our own judgment, so much as 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 71 
 
 by the opinion of others, who are often very incompetent judges. 
 Dick Middlemas had been urged forward, in his suit to Menie 
 Gray, by his observing how much her partner, a booby laird, had 
 been captivated by her ; and she was now lowered in his esteem, 
 because an impudent low-lived coxcomb had presumed to talk of 
 her with disparagement. Either of these worthy gentlemen would 
 have been as capable of enjoying the beauties of Homer, as judging 
 of-the merits of Menie Gray. 
 
 Indeed the ascendency which this bold-talking, promise-making 
 soldier had acquired over Dick Middlemas, wilful as he was in gene- 
 ral, was of a despotic nature ; because the Captain, though greatly 
 inferior in information and talent to the youth whose opinions he 
 swayed, had skill in suggesting those tempting views of rank and 
 wealth, to which Richard's imagination had been from childhood 
 most accessible. One promise he exacted from Middlemas, as a 
 condition of the services which he was to render him — It was abso- 
 lute silence on the subject of his destination for India, and the 
 views upon which it took place. " My recruits," said the Captain, 
 " have been all marched off for the depot at the Isle of Wight ; and 
 I want to leave Scotland, and particularly this little burgh, without 
 being worried to death, of which I must despair, should it come to 
 be known that I can provide young griffins, as we call them, with 
 commissions. Gad, I should carry off all the first-born of Middle- 
 mas as cadets, and none are so scrupulous as I am about making 
 promises. I am as trusty as a Trojan for that ; and you know I 
 cannot do that for every one which I would for an old friend like 
 Dick Middlemas." 
 
 Dick promised secrecy, and it was agreed that the two friends 
 should not even leave the burgh in company, but that the Captain 
 should set off first, and his recruit should join him at Edinburgh, 
 where his enlistment might be attested ; and then they were to 
 travel together to town, and arrange matters for their Indian 
 voyage. 
 
 Notwithstanding the definitive arrangement which was thus 
 made for his departure, Middlemas thought from time to time 
 with anxiety and regret about quitting Menie Gray, after the en- 
 gagement which had passed between them. The resolution was 
 taken, however ; the blow was necessarily to be struck ; and her 
 ungrateful lover, long since determined against the life of domestic 
 happiness, which he might have enjoyed had his views been better 
 regulated, was now occupied with the means, not indeed of break- 
 ing off with her entirely, but of postponing all thoughts of their 
 union until the success of his expedition to India. 
 
 He might have spared himself all anxiety on this last subject. 
 
72 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The wealth of that India to which he was bound would not have 
 bribed Menie Gray to have left her father's roof against her father's 
 commands ; still less when, deprived of his two assistants, he must 
 be reduced to the necessity of continued exertion in his declining 
 life, and therefore might have accounted himself altogether de- 
 serted, had his daughter departed from him at the same time. But 
 though it would have been her unalterable determination not to 
 accept any proposal of an immediate union of their fortunes, Menie 
 could not, with all a lover's power of self-deception, succeed in per- 
 suading herself to be satisfied with Richard's conduct towards her. 
 Modesty, and a becoming pride, prevented her from seeming to 
 notice, but could not prevent her from bitterly feeling, that her 
 lover was preferring the pursuits of ambition to the humble lot 
 which he might have shared with her, and which promised content 
 at least, if not wealth. 
 
 "If he had loved me as he pretended," such was the unwilling 
 conviction that rose on her mind, "my father would surely not 
 have ultimately refused him the same terms which he held out to 
 Hartley. His objections would have given way to my happiness, 
 nay, to Richard's importunities, which would have removed his 
 suspicions of the unsettled cast of his disposition. But I fear — I 
 fear Richard hardly thought the terms proposed were worthy of his 
 acceptance. Would it not have been natural too, that he should 
 have asked me, engaged as we stand to each other, to have united 
 our fate before his quitting Europe, when I might either have re- 
 mained here with my father, or accompanied him to India, in quest 
 of that fortune which he is so eagerly pushing for? It would have 
 been wrong — very wrong — in me to have consented to such a pro- 
 posal, unless my father had authorized it ; but surely it would have 
 been natural that Richard should have offered it ? Alas ! men do 
 not know how to love like women. Their attachment is only one 
 of a thousand other passions and predilections, — they are daily 
 engaged in pleasures which blunt their feelings, and in business 
 which distracts them. We — we sit at home to weep, and to think 
 how coldly our affections are repaid ! " 
 
 The time was now arrived at which Richard Middlemas had a 
 right to demand the property vested in the hands of the Town- 
 Clerk and Doctor Gray. He did so, and received it accordingly. 
 His late guardian naturally enquired what views he had formed in 
 entering on life ? The imagination of the ambitious aspirant saw 
 in this simple question a desire, on the part of the worthy man, to 
 offer, and perhaps press upon him, the same proposal which he had 
 made to Hartley. He hastened, therefore, to answer drily, that he 
 had some hopes held out to him which he was not at liberty to 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 73 
 
 communicate ; but that the instant he reached London, he would 
 write to the guardian of his youth, and acquaint him with the 
 nature of his prospects, which he was happy to say were rather of 
 a pleasing character. 
 
 Gideon, who supposed that at this critical period of his life, the 
 father, or grandfather of the young man might perhaps have inti- 
 mated a disposition to open some intercourse with him, only 
 replied, — " You have been the child of mystery, Richard ; and as 
 you came to me, so you leave me. Then, I was ignorant from 
 whence you came, and now, I know not whither you are going. It 
 is not, perhaps, a very favourable point in your horoscope, that 
 every thing connected with you is a secret. But as I shall always 
 think with kindness on him whom 1 have known so long, so when 
 you remember the old man, you ought not to forget that he has 
 done his duty to you, to the extent of his means and power, and 
 taught you that noble profession, by means of which, wherever 
 your lot casts you, you may always gain your bread, and alleviate, 
 at the same time, the distresses of your fellow- creatures." Middle- 
 mas was excited by the simple kindness of his master, and poured 
 forth his thanks with the greater profusion, that he was free from 
 the terror of the emblematical collar and chain, which a moment 
 before seemed to glisten in the hand of his guardian, and gape to 
 enclose his neck. 
 
 " One word more," said Mr. Gray, producing a small ring-case. 
 "This valuable ring was forced upon me by your unfortunate 
 mother. I have no right to it, having been amply paid for my 
 services ; and I only accepted it with the purpose of keeping it for 
 you till this moment should arrive. It may be useful, perhaps, 
 should there occur any question about your identity." 
 
 " Thanks, once more, my more than father, for this precious 
 relic, which may indeed be useful. You shall be repaid, if India 
 has diamonds left." 
 
 "India and diamonds!" said Gray. "Is your head turned, 
 child?" 
 
 "I mean," stammered Middlemas, "if London has any Indian 
 diamonds." 
 
 " Pooh ! you foolish lad," answered Gray, " how .should you buy 
 diamonds, or what should I do with them, if you gave me ever so 
 many.' Get you gone with you while I am angry." — The tears 
 were glistening in the old man's eyes. — " If I get pleased with you 
 again, I shall not know how to part with you." 
 
 The parting of Middlemas with poor Menie was yet more affect- 
 ing. Her sorrow revived in his mind all the liveliness of a first 
 love, and he redeemed his character for sincere attachment, by not 
 
74 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 only imploring an instant union, but even going so far as to propose 
 renouncing his more splendid prospects, and sharing Mr. Gray's 
 humble toil, if by doing so he could secure his daughter's hand. 
 But though there was consolation in this testimony of her lover's 
 faith, Menie Gray was not so unwise as to' accept of sacrifices 
 which might afterwards have been repented of. 
 
 " No, Richard," she said, " it seldom ends happily when people 
 alter, in a moment of agitated feeling, plans which have been 
 adopted under mature deliberation. I have long seen that your 
 views were extended far beyond so humble a station as this place 
 affords promise of. It is natural they should do so, considering 
 that the circumstances of your birth seem connected with riches 
 and with rank. Go, then, seek that riches and rank. It is possible 
 your mind may be changed in the pursuit, and if so, think no more 
 about Menie Gray. But if it should be otherwise, we may meet 
 again, and do not believe for a moment that there can be a change 
 in Menie Gray's feelings towards you." 
 
 At this interview, much more was said than it is necessary to 
 repeat, much more thought than was actually said. Nurse Jamie- 
 son, in whose chamber it took place, folded her bairns, as she 
 called them, in her arms, and declared that Heaven had made 
 them for each other, and that she would not ask of Heaven to live 
 beyond the day when she should see them bridegroom and bride. 
 
 At length, it became necessary that the parting scene should end ; 
 and Richard Middlemas, mounting a horse which he had hired for 
 the journey, set off for Edinburgh, to which metropolis he had 
 already forwarded his heavy baggage. Upon the road the idea 
 more than once occurred to him, that even yet he had better return 
 to Middlemas, and secure his happiness by uniting himself at once 
 to Menie Gray, and to humble competence. But from the moment 
 that he rejoined his friend Hillary at their appointed place of ren- 
 dezvous, he became ashamed even to hint at any change of pur- 
 pose ; and his late excited feelings were forgotten, unless in so far 
 as they confirmed his resolution, that as soon as he had attained a 
 certain portion of wealth and consequence, he would haste to share 
 them with Menie Gray. Yet his gratitude to her father did not 
 appear to have slumbered, if we may judge from the gift of a very 
 handsome cornelian seal, set in gold, and bearing engraved upon 
 it Gules, a lion rampant within a bordure Or, which was carefully 
 dispatched to Stevenlaw's Land, Middlemas, with a suitable letter.. 
 Menie knew the handwriting, and watched her father's looks as he 
 read it, thinking, perhaps, that it had turned on a different topic. 
 Her father pshawed and poohed a good deal when he had finished 
 the billet, and examined the seal. 
 
.THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 7S 
 
 " Dick Middlemas " he said, " is but a fool after all, Menie. I 
 am sure I am not like to forget him, that he should send me a token 
 of remembrance ; and if he would be so absurd, could he not have 
 sent me the improved lithotomical apparatus ? And what have I, 
 Gideon Gray, to do with the arms of my Lord Gray ?— No, no — my 
 old silver stamp, with the double G upon it, will serve my turn — 
 But put the bonnie dye* away, Menie, my dear — it was kindly 
 meant, at any rate." 
 
 The reader cannot doubt that the seal was safely and carefully 
 preserved. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid 
 Numbers of all diseased. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 After the Captain had finished his business, amongst which he 
 did not forget to have his recruit regularly attested, as a candidate 
 for glory in the service of the Honourable East India Company, 
 the friends left Edinburgh. From thence they got a passage by 
 sea to Newcastle, where Hillary had also some regimental affairs to 
 transact, before he joined his regiment. At Newcastle the Captain 
 had the good luck to find a small brig, commanded by an old 
 acquaintance and schoolfellow, which was just about to sail for the 
 Isle of Wight. " I have arranged for our passage with him," he 
 said to Middlemas — " for when you are at the depot, you can learn 
 a little of your duty, which cannot be so well taught on board of 
 ship, and then I will find it easier to have you promoted." 
 
 " Do you mean," said Richard, " that I am to stay at the Isle of 
 Wight all the time that you are jigging it away in London ? " 
 
 "Ay, indeed do I," said his comrade, "and it's best for you too ; 
 whatever business you have in London, I can do it for you as well, 
 or something better than yourself." 
 
 " But I choose to transact my own business myself, Captain 
 Hillary," said Richard. 
 
 " Then you ought to have remained your own master, Mr. Cadet 
 Middlemas. At present you are an enlisted recruit of the Honour- 
 able East India Company ; I am your officer, and should you 
 hesitate to follow me abroad, why, you foolish fellow, I could have 
 you sent on board in handcuffs." 
 
 This was jestingly spoken ; but yet there was something in the 
 
76 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tone which hurt Middlemas's pride, and alarmed his fears. He had 
 observed of late, that his friend, especially when in company of 
 others, talked to him with an air of command or superiority, 
 difficult to be endured, and yet so closely allied to the freedom 
 often exercised betwixt two intimates, that he could not find any 
 proper mode of rebuffing, or resenting it. Such manifestations of 
 authority were usually followed by an instant renewal of their 
 intimacy ; but in the present case that did not so speedily ensue. 
 
 Middlemas, indeed, consented to go with his companion to the 
 Isle of Wight, perhaps because if he should quarrel with him, the 
 whole plan of his Indian voyage, and all the hopes built upon it, 
 must fall to the ground. But he altered his purpose of intrusting 
 his comrade with his little fortune, to lay out as his occasions 
 might require, and resolved himself to overlook the expenditure of 
 his money, which, in the form of Bank of England notes, was safely 
 deposited in his travelling trunk. Captain Hillary, finding that 
 some hint he had thrown out on this subject was disregarded, 
 appeared to think no more about it. 
 
 The voyage was performed with safety and celerity ; and having 
 coasted the shores of that beautiful island, which he who once 
 sees never forgets, through whatever part of the world his future 
 path may lead him, the vessel was soon anchored off the little 
 town of Ryde ; and, as the waves were uncommonly still, Richard 
 felt the sickness diminish, which, for a considerable part of the 
 passage, had occupied his attention more than any thing else. 
 
 The master of the brig, in honour to his passengers, and affection 
 to his old schoolfellow, had formed an awning upon deck, and 
 proposed to have the pleasure of giving them a little treat before 
 they left his vessel. Lobscous, sea-pie, and other delicacies of a 
 naval description, had been provided in a quantity far dispropor- 
 tionate to the number of the guests. But the punch which suc- 
 ceeded was of excellent quality, and portentously strong. Captain 
 Hillary pushed it round, and insisted upon his companion taking 
 his full share in the merry bout, the rather that, as he facetiously 
 said, there had been some dryness between them, which good 
 liquor would be sovereign in removing. He renewed, with 
 additional splendours, the various panoramic scenes of India and 
 Indian adventures, which had first excited the ambition of Mid- 
 dlemas, and assured him, that even if he should not be able to 
 get him a commission instantly, yet a short delay would only 
 give him time to become better acquainted with his military 
 duties ; and Middlemas was too much elevated by the liquor he 
 had drank, to see any difficulty which could oppose itself to his 
 lortunes. Whether those who shared in the compotation were 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 more seasoned topers — whether Middlemas drank more than they 
 — or whether, as he himself afterwards suspected, his cup had 
 been drugged, like those of King Duncan's body-guard, it is 
 certain, that on this occasion he passed, with unusual rapidity, 
 through all the different phases of the respectable state of drunken- 
 ness — laughed, sung, whooped, and hallooed, was maudlin in his 
 fondness, and frantic in his wrath, and at length fell into a fast 
 and imperturbable sleep. 
 
 The effect of the liquor displayed itself, as usual, in a hundred 
 wild dreams of parched deserts, and of serpents whose bite inflicted 
 the most intolerable thirst — of the suffering of the Indian on the 
 death-stake— and the torments of the infernal regions themselves ; 
 when at length he awakened, and it appeared that the latter vision 
 was in fact realized. The sounds which had at first influenced his 
 dreams, and at length broken his slumbers, were of the most 
 horrible, as well as the most melancholy description. They came 
 from the ranges of pallet-beds, which were closely packed together 
 in a species of military hospital, where a burning fever was the 
 prevalent complaint. Many of the patients were under the in- 
 fluence of a high delirium, during which they shouted, shrieked, 
 laughed, blasphemed, and uttered the most horrible imprecations. 
 Others, sensible of their condition, bewailed it with low groans, 
 and some attempts at devotion, which showed their ignorance of 
 the principles, and even the forms of religion. Those who were 
 convalescent talked ribaldry in a loud tone, or whispered to each 
 other in cant language, upon schemes which, as far as a passing 
 phrase could be understood by a novice, had relation to violent 
 and criminal exploits. 
 
 Richard Middlemas's astonishment was equal to his horror. He 
 had but one advantage over the poor wretches with whom he was 
 classed, and it was in enjoying the luxur)- of a pallet to himself — 
 most of the others being occupied by two unhappy beings. He 
 saw no one who appeared to attend to the wants, or to heed the 
 complaints, of the wretches around him, or to whom he could offer 
 any appeal against his present situation. He looked for his clothes, 
 that he might arise and extricate himself from this den of horrors ; 
 but his clothes were nowhere to be seen, nor did he see his port- 
 manteau, or sea-chest. It was much to be apprehended he would 
 never see them more. 
 
 Then, but too late, he remembered the insinuations which had 
 passed current respecting his friend the Captain, who was supposed 
 to have been discharged by Mr. Lawford, on account of some 
 breach of trust in the Town-Clerk's service. But that he should 
 have trepanned the friend who had reposed his whole confidence in 
 
78 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 him— that he should have plundered him of his fortune, and placed 
 him in this house of pestilence, with the hope that death might 
 stifle his tongue, were iniquities not to have been anticipated, even 
 if the worst of these reports were true. 
 
 But Middlemas resolved not to be awanting to himself. This 
 place must be visited by some officer, military or medical, to whom 
 he would make an appeal, and alarm his fears at least, if he could 
 not awaken his conscience. While he revolved these distracting 
 thoughts, tormented at the same time by a burning thirst which 
 he had no means of satisfying, he endeavoured to discover if, 
 among those stretched upon the pallets nearest him, he could not 
 discern some one likely to enter into conversation with him, and 
 give him some information about the nature and customs of this 
 horrid place. But the bed nearest him was occupied by two 
 fellows, who, although to judge from their gaunt cheeks, hollow 
 eyes, and ghastly looks, they were apparently recovering from the 
 disease, and just rescued from the jaws of death, were deeply 
 engaged in endeavouring to cheat each other of a few half-pence at 
 a game of cribbage, mixing the terms of the^game with oaths not 
 loud but deep ; each turn of luck being hailed by the winner as 
 well as the loser with execrations, which seemed designed to blight 
 both body and soul, now used as the language of triumph, and now 
 as reproaches against fortune. 
 
 Next to the gamblers was a pallet, occupied indeed by two 
 bodies, but only one of which was living — the other sufferer had 
 been recently relieved from his agony. 
 
 " He is dead — he is dead ! " said the wretched survivor. 
 
 " Then you die too, and be d — d," answered one of the players, 
 " and then there will be a pair of you, as Pugg says." 
 
 " I tell you he is growing stiff and cold," said the poor wretch— 
 " the dead is no bed-fellow for the living. For God's sake, help to 
 rid me of the corpse." 
 
 " Ay, and get the credit of having done him— as may be the case 
 with yourself, friend— for he had some two or three hoggs about 
 him" 
 
 "You know you. took the last rap from his breeches-pocket not 
 an hour ago," expostulated the poor convalescent — " But help me 
 to take the body out of the bed, and I will not tell the jigger-dubber 
 that you have been before-hand with him." 
 
 " You tell the jigger-dubber ! " answered the cribbage player. 
 " Such another word, and I will twist your head round till your 
 eyes look at the drummer's handwriting on your back. Hold your 
 peace, and don't bother our game with your gammon, or I will 
 make you as mute as your bed-fellow." 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 The unhappy wretch, exhausted, sunk back beside his hideous 
 companion, and the usual jargon of the game, interlarded with 
 execrations, went on as before. 
 
 From this specimen of the most obdurate indifference, contrasted 
 with the last excess of misery, Middlemas became satisfied how 
 little could be made of an appeal to the humanity of his fellow- 
 sufferers. His heart sunk within him, and the thoughts of the 
 happy and peaceful home, which he might have called his own, 
 arose before his over-heated fancy, with a vividness of perception 
 that bordered upon insanity. He saw before him the rivulet which 
 wanders through the burgh-muir of Middlemas, where he had so 
 often set little mills for the amusement of Menie while she was a 
 child. One draught of it would have been worth all the diamonds 
 of the East, which of late he had worshipped with, such devotion ; 
 but that draught was denied to him as to Tantalus. 
 
 Rallying his senses from this passing illusion, and knowing 
 enough of the practice of the medical art, to be aware of the neces- 
 sity of preventing his ideas from wandering, if possible, he endea- 
 voured to recollect that he was a surgeon, and, after all, should not 
 have the extreme fear for the interior of a military hospital, which 
 its horrors might inspire into strangers to the profession. But 
 though he strove, by such recollections, to rally his spirits, he was 
 not the less aware of the difference betwixt the condition of a 
 surgeon, who might have attended such a place in the course of 
 his duty, and a poor inhabitant, who was at once a patient and a 
 prisoner. 
 
 A footstep was now heard in the apartment, which seemed to 
 silence all the varied sounds of woe that filled it. The cribbage 
 party hid their cards, and ceased their oaths ; other wretches, 
 whose complaints had arisen to frenzy, left off their wild exclama- 
 tions and entreaties for assistance. Agony softened her shriek, 
 Insanity hushed its senseless clamours, and even Death seemed 
 desirous to stifle his parting groan in the presence of Captain 
 Seelencooper. This official was the superintendent, or, as the 
 miserable inhabitants termed him, the Governor of the Hospital. 
 He had all the air of having been originally a turnkey in some ill- 
 regulated jail— a stout, short, bandy-legged man, with one eye, and 
 a double portion of ferocity in that which remained. He wore an 
 old-fashioned tarnished uniform, which did not seem to have been 
 made for him ; and the voice in which this minister of humanity 
 addressed the sick, was that of a boatswain, shouting in the midst 
 of a storm. He had pistols and a cutlass in his belt ; for his mode 
 of administration being such as provoked even hospital patients to 
 revolt, his life had been more than once in danger amongst them. 
 
8o THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He was followed by two assistants, who carried handcuffs and 
 strait-jackets. 
 
 As Seelencooper made his rounds, complaint and pain were 
 hushed, and the flourish of the bamboo, which he bore in his hand, 
 seemed powerful as the wand of a magician to silence all complaint 
 and remonstrance. 
 
 " I tell you the meat is as sweet as a nosegay — and for the bread, 
 it's good enough, and too good, for a set of lubbers, that lie sham- 
 ming Abraham, and consuming the Right Honourable Company's 
 victuals — I don't speak to them that are really sick, for God knows 
 I am always for humanity." 
 
 " If that be the case, sir," said Richard Middlemas, whose lair 
 the Captain had approached, while he was thus answering the low 
 and humble complaints of those by whose bed-side he passed — " if 
 that be the case, sir, I hope your humanity will make you attend to 
 what I say." 
 
 " And who the devil are you ? " said the governor, turning on 
 him his single eye of fire, while a sneer gathered on his harsh 
 features, which were so well qualified to express it. 
 
 " My name is Middlemas — I come from Scotland, and have 
 been sent here by some strange mistake. I am neither a private 
 soldier, nor am I indisposed, more than by the heat of this cursed 
 place." 
 
 " Why then, friend, all I have to ask you is, whether you are an 
 attested recruit or not ? " 
 
 " I was attested at Edinburgh," said Middlemas, " but " 
 
 " But what the devil would you have, then ? — you are enlisted— 
 the Captain and the Doctor sent you here — surely they know best 
 whether you are private or officer, sick or well." 
 
 " But I was promised," said Middlemas, " promised by Tom 
 Hillary " 
 
 " Promised, were you ? Why, there is not a man here that has 
 not been promised something by somebody or another, or perhaps 
 has promised something to himself. This is the land of promise, 
 my smart fellow, but you know it is India that must be the land of 
 performance. So good morning to you. The Doctor will come 
 his rounds presently, and put you all to rights." 
 
 " Stay but one moment — one moment only — I have been 
 robbed." 
 
 " Robbed ! look you there now," said the Governor — " everybody 
 that comes here has been robbed. — Egad, I am the luckiest fellow 
 in Europe — other people in my line have only thieves and black- 
 guards upon their hands ; but none come to my ken but honest, 
 decent, unfortunate gentlemen, that have been robbed 1 " 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHl'ER. Si 
 
 " Take care how you treat this so lightly, sir," said Middlemas ; 
 " I have been robbed of a thousand pounds." 
 
 Here Governor Seelencooper's gravity was totally overcome, and 
 his laugh was echoed by several of the patients, either because 
 they wished to curry favour with the superintendent, or from the 
 feehng which influences evil spirits to rejoice in the tortures of 
 those who are sent to share their agony. 
 
 " A thousand pounds ! " exclaimed Captain Seelencooper, as he 
 recovered his breath, — " Come, that's a good one— I like a fellow 
 that does not make two bites of a cherry— why, there is not a cull 
 in the ken that pretends to have lost more than a few hoggs, and 
 here is a servant to the Honourable Company that has been robbed 
 of a thousand pounds ! Well done, Mr. Tom of Ten Thousand — 
 you're a credit to the house, and to the service, and so good morn- 
 ing to you." 
 
 He passed on, and Richard, starting up in a storm of anger and 
 despair, found, as he would have called after him, that his voice, 
 betwixt thirst and agitation, refused its office. " Water, water ! " 
 he said, laying hold, at the same time, of one of the assistants who 
 followed Seelencooper by the sleeve. The fellow looked carelessly 
 round ; there was a jug stood by the side of the cribbage players, 
 which he reached to Middlemas, bidding )iim, " Drink and be 
 d d.» 
 
 The man's back was no sooner turned, than the gamester threw 
 himself from his own bed into that of Middlemas, and grasping 
 firm hold of the arm of Richard, ere he could carry the vessel to 
 his head, swore he should not have his booze. It may be readily 
 conjectured, that the pitcher thus anxiously and desperately re- 
 claimed, contained something better than the pure element. In 
 fact, a large proportion of it was gin. The jug was broken in the 
 struggle, and the liquor spilt. Middlemas dealt a blow to the 
 assailant, which was amply and heartily repaid, and a combat 
 would have ensued, but for the interference of the superintendent 
 and his assistants, who, with a dexterity that showed them well 
 acquainted with such emergencies, clapped, a strait-waistcoat upon 
 each of the antagonists. Richard's efforts at remonstrance only 
 procured him a blow from Captain Seelencooper's rattan, and a 
 tender admonition to hold his tongue, if he valued a whole skin. 
 
 Irritated at once by. sufferings of the mind and of the body, 
 tormented by raging thirst, and by the sense of his own dreadful 
 situation, the mind of Richard Middlemas seemed to be on the 
 point of becoming unsettled. He felt an insane desire to imitate 
 and reply to the groans, oaths, and ribaldry, which, as soon as 
 the superintendent quitted the hospital, echoed around him. 
 
 G 
 
82 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He longed, though he struggled against the impulse, to vie in 
 curses with the reprobate, and in screams with the maniac. But 
 his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, his mouth itself seemed 
 choked with ashes ; there came upon him a dimness of sight, a 
 rushing sound in his ears, and the powers of life were for a time 
 suspended. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A wise physician, skill'd our wounds to heal, 
 Is more than armies to the common weal. 
 
 Pope's Homer. 
 
 As Middlemas returned to his senses, he was sensible that his 
 blood felt more cool ; that the feverish throb of his pulsation was 
 diminished ; that the ligatures on his person were removed, and 
 his lungs performed their functions more freely. One assistant 
 was binding up a vein, from which a considerable quantity of blood 
 had been taken ; another, who had just washed the face of the 
 patient, was holding aromatic vinegar to his nostrils. As he began 
 to open his eyes, the person who had just completed the bandage, 
 said in Latin, but in a very low tone, and without raising his head, 
 " Annon sis Ricardus ille Middlemas, ex civitate Middlemassiense ? 
 Responde in Lingua Latina." 
 
 " Sum ille miserrimus," replied Richard, again shutting his eyes ; 
 for strange as it may seem, the voice of his comrade Adam Hartley, 
 though his presence might be of so much consequence in this 
 emergency, conveyed a pang to his wounded pride. He was con- 
 scious of unkindly, if not hostile, feelings towards his old com- 
 panion ; he remembered the tone of superiority which he used to 
 assume over him, and thus to lie stretched at his feet, and in a 
 manner at his mercy, aggravated his distress, by the feelings of 
 the dying chieftain, " Earl Percy sees my fall." This was, how- 
 ever, too unreasonable an emotion to subsist above a minute. In 
 the next, he availed himself of the Latin language, with which both 
 were familiar, (for in that time the medical studies at the celebrated 
 University of Edinburgh were, in a great measure, conducted in 
 Latin,) to tell in a few words his own folly, and the villainy of 
 Hillary. 
 
 " I must be gone instantly," said Hartley — " Take courage — I 
 trust to be able to assist you. In the meantime, take food and 
 physic from none but my servant, who you see holds the sponge in 
 his hand. You are in a place where a man's life has been taken 
 for the sake of his gold sleeve-buttons." 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 83 
 
 " Stay yet a moment," said Middlemas — " Let me remove this 
 temptation from my dangerous neighbours." 
 
 He drew a small packet from his under waistcoat, and put it 
 into Hartley's hands. 
 
 "If I die," he said, "be my heir. You deserve her better 
 than I." 
 
 All answer was prevented by the hoarse voice of Seelencooper. 
 
 " Well, Doctor, will you carry through your patient ?" 
 
 " Symptoms are dubious yet," said the Doctor — " That was an 
 alarming swoon. You must have him carried into the private 
 ward, and my young man shall attend him." 
 
 " Why, if you command it. Doctor, needs must ; — ^but I can tell 
 you there is a man we both know, that has a thousand reasons at 
 least for keeping him in the public ward." 
 
 " I know nothing of your thousand reasons," said Hartley ; " I 
 can only tell you that this young fellow is as well-limbed and likely 
 a lad as the Company have among their recruits. It is my, busi- 
 ness to save him for their service, and if he dies by your neglecting 
 what I direct, depend upon it I will not allow the blame to lie at 
 my door. I will tell the General the charge I have given you." 
 
 " The General ! " said Seelencooper, much embarrassed — " Tell 
 the General.' — ay, about his health. But you will not say any 
 thing about what he may have said in his light-headed fits ? My 
 eyes ! if you listen to what feverish patients say when the tantivy 
 is in their brain, your back will soon break with tale-bearing, for I 
 will warrant you plenty of them to carry." 
 
 " Captain Seelencooper," said the Doctor, " I do not meddle 
 with your department in the hospital : My advice to you is, not to 
 trouble yourself with mine. I suppose, as I have a commission in 
 the service, and have besides a regular diploma as a physician, I 
 know when my patient is light-headed or otherwise. So do you 
 let the man be carefully looked after, at your peril." 
 
 Thus saying, he left the hospital, but not till, under pretext of 
 again consulting the pulse, he pressed the patient's hand, as if to 
 assure him once more of his exertions for his liberation. 
 
 " My eyes ! " muttered Seelencooper, " this cockerel crows gal- 
 lant, to come from a Scotch roost ; but I would know well enough 
 how to fetch the youngster off the perch, if it were not for the cure 
 he has done on the General's pickaninies." 
 
 Enough of this fell on Richard's ear to suggest hopes of deliver- 
 ance, which were increased when he was shortly afterwards re- 
 moved to a separate ward, a place much more decent in appearance, 
 and inhabited only by two patients, who seemed petty officers. 
 Although sensible that he had no illness, save that weakness which 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 succeeds violent agitation, he deemed it wisest to suffer himself 
 still to be treated as a patient, in consideration that he should thus 
 remain under his comrade's superintendence. Yet while preparing 
 to avail himself of Hartley's good offices, the prevailing reflection 
 of his secret bosom was the ungrateful sentiment, " Had Heaven 
 no other means of saving me than by the hands of him I like least 
 on the face of the earth ? " 
 
 Meanwhile, ignorant of the ungrateful sentiments of his comrade, 
 and indeed wholly indifferent how he. felt towards him, Hartley 
 proceeded in doing him such service as was in his power, without 
 any other object than the discharge of his own duty as a man and 
 as a Christian. The manner in which he became qualified to 
 render his comrade assistance, requires some short explanation. 
 
 Our story took place at a period, when the Directors of the East 
 India Company, with that hardy and persevering policy which has 
 raised to such a height the British Empire in the East, had deter- 
 mined to send a large reinforcement of European troops to the 
 support of their power in India, then threatened by the kingdom of 
 Mysore, of which the celebrated Hyder Ally had usurped the 
 government, after dethroning his master. Considerable difficulty 
 was found in obtaining recruits for that service. Those who might 
 have been otherwise disposed to be soldiers, were afraid of the 
 climate, and of the species of banishment which the engagement 
 implied ; and doubted also how far the engagements of the Com- 
 pany might be faithfully observed towards them, when they were 
 removed from the protection of the British laws. For these and 
 other reasons, the military service of the King was preferred, and 
 that of the Company could only procure the worst recruits, although 
 their zealous agents scrupled not to employ the worst means. 
 Indeed the practice of kidnapping, or crimping, as it is technically 
 called, was at that time general, whether for the colonies, or even 
 for the King's troops ; and as the agents employed in such trans- 
 actions must be of course entirely unscrupulous, there was not only 
 much villainy committed in the direct prosecution of the trade, but 
 it gave rise incidentally to remarkable cases of robbery, and even 
 murder. Such atrocities were of course concealed from the autho- 
 rities for whom the levies were made, and the necessity of obtaining 
 soldiers made men, whose conduct was otherwise unexceptionable, 
 cold in looking closely into the mode in which their recruiting 
 service was conducted. 
 
 The principal depot of the troops which were by these means 
 assembled, was in the Isle of Wight, where the season proving 
 unhealthy, and the men themselves being many of them of a bad 
 habit of body, a fever of a malignant character broke out amongst 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 85 
 
 them, and speedily crowded with patients the military hospital, of 
 which Mr. Seelencooper, himself an old and experienced crimp 
 and kidnapper, had obtained the superintendence. Irregularities 
 began to take place also among the soldiers who remained healthy, 
 and the necessity of subjecting them to some discipline before they 
 sailed was so evident, that several officers of the Company's naval 
 service expressed their belief that otherwise there would be dan- 
 gerous mutinies on the passage. 
 
 To remedy the first of these evils, the Court of Directors sent 
 down to the island several of their medical servants, amongst 
 whom was Hartley, whose qualifications had been amply certified 
 by a medical board, before which he had passed an examination, 
 besides his possessing a diploma from the University of Edinburgh 
 as M.D. 
 
 To enforce the discipline of their soldiers, the Court committed 
 full power to one of their own body. General Witherington. The 
 General was an officer who had distinguished himself highly in 
 their service. He had returned from India five or six years before, 
 with a large fortune, which he had rendered much greater by an 
 advantageous marriage with a rich heiress. The General and his 
 lady went little into society, but seemed to live entirely for their 
 infant family, those in number being three, two boys and a girl. 
 Although he had retired from the service, he willingly undertook 
 the temporary charge committed to him, and taking a house at a 
 considerable distance from the town of Ryde, he proceeded to enrol 
 the troops into separate bodies, appoint officers of capacity to each, 
 and by regular training and discipline, gradually to bring them 
 into something resembling good order. He heard their complaints 
 of ill usage in the articles of provisions and appointments, and did 
 them upon all occasions the strictest justice, save that he was never 
 known to restore one recruit to his freedom from the service, how- 
 ever unfairly or even illegally his attestation might have been 
 obtained. 
 
 " It is none of my business,'' said General Witherington, " how 
 you became soldiers, — soldiers I found you, and soldiers I will 
 leave you. But I will take especial care, that as soldiers you shall 
 have every thing, to a penny or a pin's head, that you are justly 
 entitled to." He went to work without fear or favour, reported 
 many abuses to the Board of Directors, had several officers, com- 
 missaries, &c., removed from the service, and made his name as 
 great a terror to the peculators at home, as it had been to the 
 enemies of Britain in Hindostan. 
 
 Captain Seelencooper, and his associates in the hospital depart- 
 ment, heard and trembled, fearing that their turn should come 
 
86 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 next ; but the General, who elsewhere examined all with his own 
 eyes, showed a reluctance to visit the hospital in person. Public 
 report industriously imputed this to fear of infection. Such was 
 certainly the motive ; though it was not fear for his own safety that 
 influenced General Witherington, but he dreaded lest he should 
 carry the infection home to the nursery, on which he doated. The 
 alarm of his lady was yet more unreasonably sensitive ; she would 
 scarcely suffer the children to walk abroad, if the wind but blew 
 from the quarter where the Hospital was situated. 
 
 But Providence baffles the precautions of mortals. In a walk 
 across the fields, chosen as the most sheltered and sequestered, the 
 children, with their train of Eastern and European attendants, met 
 a woman who carried a child that was recovering from the small- 
 pox. The anxiety of the father, joined to some religious scruples 
 on the mother's part, had postponed innoculation, which was then 
 scarcely come into general use. The infection caught like a quick- 
 match, and ran like wildfire through all those in the family who 
 had not previously had the disease. One of the General's children, 
 the second boy, died, and two of the Ayas, or black female ser- 
 vants, had the same fate. The hearts of the father and mother 
 would have been broken for the child they had lost, had not their 
 grief been suspended by anxiety for the fate of those who lived, 
 and who were confessed to be in imminent danger. They were 
 like persons distracted, as the symptoms of the poor patients 
 seemed gradually to resemble more nearly that of the child already 
 lost. 
 
 While the parents were in this agony of apprehension, the 
 General's principal servant, a native of Northumberland like him- 
 self, informed him one morning that there was a young man from 
 the same county among the hospital doctors, who had publicly 
 blamed the mode of treatment observed towards the patients, and 
 spoken of another which he had seen practised with eminent success. 
 
 " Some impudent quack," said the General, " who would force 
 himself into business by bold assertions. Doctor Tourniquet and 
 Doctor Lancelot are men of high reputation." 
 
 " Do not mention their reputation," said the mother, with a 
 mother's impatience ; " did they not let my sweet Reuben die ? 
 What avails the reputation of the physician, when the patient 
 perisheth ? " 
 
 " If his honour would but see Doctor Hartley," said Winter, 
 turning half towards the lady, and then turning back again to his 
 master. " He is a very decent young man, who, I am sure, never 
 expected what he said to reach your honour's ears ;— and he is a 
 native of Northumberland." 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 87 
 
 " Send a servant with a led horse," said the General ; " let the 
 young man come hither instantly." 
 
 It is well known, that the ancient mode of treating the small-pox 
 was to refuse to the patient every thing which Nature urged him to 
 desire ; and, in particular, to confine him to heated rooms, beds 
 loaded with blankets, and spiced wine, when Nature called for cold 
 water and fresh air. A different mode of treatment had of late 
 been adventured upon by some practitioners, who preferred reason to 
 authority, and Gideon Gray had followed it for several years with 
 extraordinary success. 
 
 When General Witherington saw Hartley, he was startled at his 
 youth ; but when he heard him modestly, but with confidence, state 
 the difference of the two modes of treatment, and the rationale of 
 his practice, he listened with the most serious attention. So did 
 his lady, her streaming eyes turning from Hartley to her husband, 
 as if to watch what impression the arguments of the former were 
 making upon the latter. General Witherington was silent for a 
 few minutes after Hartley had finished his exposition, and seemed 
 buried in profound reflection. " To treat a fever," he said, " in a 
 manner which tends to produce one, seems indeed to be adding 
 fuel to fire." 
 
 " It is— it is," said the lady. " Let us trust this young man. 
 General Witherington. We shall at least give our darlings the 
 comforts of the fresh air and cold water, for which they are pining." 
 But the General remained undecided. "Your reasoning," he 
 said to Hartley, " seems plausible ; but still it is only hypothesis. 
 What can you show to support your theory, in opposition to the 
 general practice ? " 
 
 " My own observation," replied the young man. " Here is a 
 memorandum-book of medical cases which I have witnessed. It 
 contains twenty cases of small-pox, of which eighteen were re- 
 coveries." 
 " And the two others ? " said the General. 
 
 " Terminated fatally," replied Hartley ; " we can as yet but 
 partially disarm this scourge of the human race." 
 
 "Young man," continued the General, " were I to say that a 
 thousand gold mohrs were yours in case my children live under 
 your treatment, what have you to peril in exchange ? " 
 " My reputation," answered Hartley, firmly. 
 " And you could warrant on your reputation the recovery of your 
 patients ? " 
 
 " God forbid I should be so presumptuous ! But I think I could 
 warrant my using those means, which, with God's blessing, afford 
 the fairest chance of a favourable result." 
 
88 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Enough— you are modest and sensible, as well as bold, and I 
 will trust you." 
 
 The lady, on whom Hartley's words and manner had made 
 a great impression, and who was eager to discontinue a mode of 
 treatment which subjected the patients to the greatest pain and 
 privation, and had already proved unfortunate, eagerly acquiesced, 
 and Hartley was placed in full authority in the sick room. 
 
 Windows were thrown open, fires reduced or discontinued, loads 
 of bed-clothes removed, cooling drinks superseded muUed wine 
 and spices. The sick-nurses cried out murder. Boctors Tourni- 
 quet and Lancelot retired in disgust, menacing something like a 
 general pestilence, in vengeance of what they termed rebellion 
 against the neglect of the aphorisms of Hippocrates. Hartley 
 proceeded quietly and steadily, and the patients got into a fair road 
 of recovery. 
 
 The young Northumbrian was neither conceited nor artful ; yet, 
 with all his plainness of character, he could not but know the 
 influence which a successful physician obtains over the parents of 
 the children whom he has saved from the grave, and especially 
 before the cure is actually completed. He resolved to use this 
 influence in behalf of his old companion, trusting that the military 
 tenacity of General Witherington would give way on consideration 
 of the obligation so lately conferred upon him. 
 
 On his way to the General's house, which was at present his 
 constant place of residence, he examined the packet which Middle- 
 mas had put into his hand. It contained the picture of Menie 
 Gray, plainly set, and the ring, with brilliants, which Doctor Gray 
 had given to Richard, as his mother's last gift. The first of 
 these tokens extracted from honest Hartley a sigh, perhaps a tear 
 of sad remembrance. " I fear," he said, " she has not chosen 
 worthily ; but she shall be happy, if I can make her so." 
 
 Arrived at the residence of General Witherington, our Doctor 
 went first to the sick apartment, and then carried to their parents 
 the delightful account that the recovery of the children might be 
 considered as certain. " May the God of Israel bless thee, young 
 man ! " said the lady, trembling with emotion ; " thou hast wiped 
 the tear from the eye of the despairing mother. And yet — alas ! 
 alas ! still it must flow when I think of my cherub Reuben. Oh ! 
 Mr. Hartley, why did we not know you a week sooner ? — my darling 
 had not then died." 
 
 "God gives and takes away, my lady," answered Hartley ; "and 
 you must remember, that two are restored to you out of three. It 
 is far from certain, that the treatment I have used towards the 
 convalescents would have brought through their brother; for 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 the case, as reported to me, was of a very inveterate descrip- 
 tion." 
 
 " Doctor," said Witherington, his voice testifying more emotion 
 than he usually or willingly gave way to, " you can comfort the 
 sick in spirit as well as the sick in body. But it is time we settle 
 our wager. You betted your reputation, which remains with you, 
 increased by all the credit due to your eminent success, against a 
 thousand gold mohrs, the value of which you will find in that 
 pocketbook." 
 
 " General Witherington," said Hartley, " you are wealthy, and 
 entitled to be generous — I am poor, and not entitled to decline 
 whatever may be, even in a liberal sense, a compensation for my 
 professional attendance. But there is a bound to extravagance, 
 both in giving and accepting ; and I must not hazard the newly 
 acquired reputation with which you flatter me, by giving room to 
 have it said, that I fleeced the parents, when their feelings were all 
 afloat with anxiety for their children. Allow me to divide this 
 large sum ; one half I will thankfully retain, as a most liberal 
 recompense for my labour ; and if you still think you owe me any 
 thing, let me have it in the advantage of your good opinion and 
 countenance." 
 
 " If I acquiesce in your proposal, Doctor Hartley,'' said the 
 General, reluctantly receiving back a part of the contents of the 
 pocketbook, " it is because I hope to serve you with my interest, 
 even better than with my purse." 
 
 " And indeed, sir," replied Hartley, " it was upon your interest 
 that I am just about to make a small claim." 
 
 The General and his lady spoke both in the same breath, to 
 assure him his boon was granted before asked. 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said Hartley ; " for it respects a 
 point on which I have heard say, that your Excellency is rather 
 inflexible— the discharge of a recruit." 
 
 " My duty makes me so," replied the General — " You know the 
 sort of fellows that we are obliged to content ourselves with — they 
 get drunk — grow pot-valiant— enlist over-night, and repent next 
 morning. If I am to dismiss all those who pretend to have been 
 trepanned, we should have few volunteers remain behind. Every 
 one has some idle story of the promises of a swaggering Sergeant 
 Kite — It is impossible to attend to them. But let me hear yours, 
 however." 
 
 " Mine is a very singular case. The party has been robbed of a 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 " A recruit for this service possessing a thousand pounds ! My 
 dear Doctor, depend upon it, the fellow has gulled you. Bless my 
 
9° THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 heart, would a man who had a thousand pounds think of enlisting 
 as a private sentinel ? " 
 
 " He had no such thoughts," answered Hartley. " He was per- 
 suaded by the rogue whom he trusted, that he was to have a com- 
 mission." 
 
 " Then his friend must have been Tom Hillary, or the devil; 
 for no other could possess so much cunning and impudence. He 
 will certainly fiad his way to the gallows at last. Still this story of 
 the thousand pounds seems a touch even beyond Tom Hillary. 
 What reason have you to think that this fellow ever had such a 
 sum of money?" 
 
 " I have the best reason to know it for certain," answered Hart- 
 ley ; " he and I served our time together, under the same excellent 
 master ; and when he came of age, not liking the profession which 
 he had studied, and obtaining possession of his little fortune, he 
 was deceived by the promises of this same Hillary." 
 
 " Who has had him locked up in our well-ordered Hospital 
 yonder ?" said the General. 
 
 " Even so, please your Excellency," replied Hartley ; " not, I 
 think, to cure him of any complaint, but to give him the oppor- 
 tunity of catching one, which would silence all enquiries." 
 
 " The matter shall be closely looked into. But how miserably 
 careless the young man's friends must have been to let a raw lad 
 go into the world with such a companion and guide as Tom Hillary, 
 and such a sum as a thousand pounds in his pocket. His parents 
 had better have knocked him on the head. It certainly was not 
 done like canny Northumberland, as my servant Winter calls it." 
 
 " The youth must indeed have had strangely hard-hearted, or 
 careless parents," said Mrs. Witherington, in accents of pity. 
 
 " He never knew them, madam," said Hartley ; " there was a 
 mystery on the score of his birth. A cold, unwilling, and almost 
 unknown hand, dealt him out his portion when he came of lawful 
 age, and he was pushed into the world like a bark forced from 
 shore, without rudder, compass, or pilot." 
 
 Here General Witherington involuntarily looked to his lady, 
 while, guided by a similar impulse, her looks were turned upon 
 him. They exchanged a momentary glance of deep and peculiar 
 meaning, and then the eyes of both were fixed on the ground. 
 
 "Were you brought up in Scotland ?" said the lady, addressing 
 herself, in a faltering voice, to Hartley— "And what was your 
 master's name ? " 
 
 " I served my apprenticeship with Mr. Gideon Gray of the town 
 of Middlemas," said Hartley. 
 
 " Middlemas ! Gray ! " repeated the lady, and fainted away. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. gi 
 
 Hartley offered the succours of his profession ; the husband flew 
 to support her head, and the instant that Mrs. Witherington began 
 to recover, he whispered to her, in a tone betwixt entreaty and 
 warning, " Zilia, beware — beware ! " 
 
 Some imperfect sounds which she had begun to frame, died away 
 upon her tongue. 
 
 " Let me assist you to your dressing-room, my love," said her 
 obviously anxious husband. 
 
 She arose with the action of an automaton, which moves at the 
 touch of a spring, and half hanging upon her husband, half drag- 
 ging herself on by her own efforts, had nearly reached the door of 
 the room, when Hartley following, asked if he could be of any 
 service. 
 
 " No, sir," said the General sternly ; " this is no case for a 
 stranger's interference ; when you are wanted I will send for 
 you." 
 
 Hartley stepped back on receiving a rebuff in a tone so different 
 from that which General Witherington had used towards him in 
 their previous intercourse, and disposed, for the first time, to give 
 credit to public report, which assigned to that gentleman, with 
 several good qualities, the character of a very proud and haughty 
 man. Hitherto, he thought, I have seen him tamed by sorrow and ' 
 anxiety, now the mind is regaining its natural tension. But he 
 must in decency interest himself for this unhappy Middlemas. 
 
 The General returned into the apartment a minute or two after- 
 wards, and addressed Hartley in his usual tone of politeness, 
 though apparently still under great embarrassment, which he in 
 vain endeavoured to conceal. 
 
 " Mrs. Witherington is better," he said, " and will be glad to see 
 you before dinner. You dine with us, I hope ? " 
 
 Hartley bowed. 
 
 " Mrs. Witherington is rather subject to this sort of nervous fits, 
 and she has been much harassed of late by grief and apprehension. 
 When she recovers from them, it is a few minutes before she can 
 collect her ideas, and during such intervals — to speak very con- 
 fidentially to you, my dear Doctor Hartley — she speaks sometimes 
 about imaginary events which have never happened, and sometimes 
 about distressing occurrences in an early period of life. I am not, 
 therefore, willing that any one but myself, or her old attendant Mrs. 
 Lopez, should be with her on such occasions." 
 
 Hartley admitted that a certain degree of light-headedness was 
 often the consequence of nervous fits. 
 
 The General proceeded. " As to this young man — this friend of 
 yours — this Richard Middlemas — did you not call him so ? " 
 
92 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Not that I recollect," answered Hartley ; " but your Excellency 
 has hit upon his name." 
 
 "That is odd enough— Certainly you said something about 
 Middlemas ? " replied General Witherington. 
 
 " I mentioned the name of the town," said Hartley. 
 
 " Ay, and I caught it up as the name of the recruit — I was indeed 
 occupied at the moment by my anxiety about my wife. But this 
 Middlemas, since such is his name, is a wild young fellow, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " I should do him wrong to say so, your Excellency. He may 
 have had his follies like other young men ; but his conduct has, so 
 far as I know, been respectable ; but, considering we lived in the 
 same house, we were not very intimate." 
 
 " That is bad — I should have liked him — that is — it would have 
 been happy for him to have had a friend like you. But I suppose 
 you studied too hard for him. He would be a soldier, ha ? — Is he 
 good-looking ? " 
 
 " Remarkably so," replied Hartley ; " and has a very prepossess- 
 ing manner." 
 
 " Is his complexion dark or fair ? " asked the General. 
 
 " Rather uncommonly dark," said Hartley, — " darker, if I may 
 use the freedom, than your Excellency's." 
 
 " Nay, then, he must be a black ouzel indeed ! — Does he imder- 
 stand languages ? " 
 
 " Latin and French tolerably well." 
 
 " Of course he cannot fence or dance ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, sir, I am no great judge ; but Richard is reckoned 
 to do both with uncommon skill." 
 
 " Indeed ! — Sum this up, and it sounds well. Handsome, ac- 
 complished in exercises, moderately learned, perfectly well-bred, 
 not unreasonably wild. - All this comes too high for the situation of 
 a private sentinel. He must have a commission. Doctor — entirely 
 for your sake." 
 
 " Your Excellency is generous." 
 
 " It shall be so ; and I will find means to make Tom Hillary 
 disgorge his plunder, unless he prefers being hanged, a fate he has 
 long deserved. You cannot go back to the Hospital to-day. You 
 dine with us, and you know Mrs. Witherington's fears of in- 
 fection ; but to-morrow find out your friend. Winter shall see him 
 equipped with every thing needful. Tom Hillary shall repay 
 advances, you know ; and he must be off with the first detachment 
 of the recruits, in the Middlesex Indiaman, which sails from the 
 Downs on Monday fortnight ; that is, if you think him fit for the 
 voyage. I dare say the poor fellow is sick of the Isle of Wight." 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 " Your Excellency will permit the young man to pay his respects 
 to you before his departure ? " 
 
 " To what purpose, sir ? " said the General, hastily and peremp- 
 torily ; but instantly added, " You are right — I should hke to see 
 him. Winter shall let him know the time, and take horses to fetch 
 him hither. But he must have been out of the Hospital for a day 
 or two ; so the sooner you can set him at liberty the better. In the 
 meantime, take him to your own lodgings, Doctor ; and do not let 
 him form any intimacies with the officers, or any others, in this 
 place, where he may light on another Hillary." 
 
 Had Hartley been as well acquainted as the reader with the 
 circumstances of young Middlemas's birth, he might have drawn 
 decisive conclusions from the behaviour of General Witherington, 
 while his comrade was the topic of conversation. But as Mr. 
 Gray and Middlemas himself were both silent on the subject, he 
 knew little of it but from general report, which his curiosity had 
 never induced him to scrutinize minutely. Nevertheless, what he 
 did apprehend interested him so much, that he resolved upon try- 
 ing a little experiment, in which he thought there could be no great 
 harm. He placed on his finger the remarkable ring intrusted to 
 his care by Richard IVliddlemas, and endeavoured to make it con- 
 spicuous in approaching Mrs. Witherington ; taking care, however, 
 that this occurred during her husband's absence. Her eyes had 
 no sooner caught a sight of the gern, than they became riveted to 
 it, and she begged a nearer sight to it, as strongly resembling one 
 which she had given to a friend. Taking the ring from his finger, 
 and placing it in her emaciated hand. Hartley informed her it was 
 the property of the friend in whom he had just been endeavouring 
 to interest the General. Mrs. Witherington retired in great 
 emotion, but next day summoned Hartley to a private interview, 
 the particulars of which, so far as are necessary to be known, shall 
 be afterwards related. 
 
 On the succeeding day after these important discoveries, Middle- 
 mas, to his great delight, was rescued from his seclusion in the 
 Hospital, and transferred to his comrade's lodgings in the town of 
 Ryde, of which Hartley himself was a rare inmate ; the anxiety of 
 Mrs. Witherington detaining him at the General's house, long after 
 his medical attendance might have been dispensed with. 
 
 Within two or three days a commission arrived for Richard 
 Middlemas, as a lieutenant in the service of the East India 
 Company. Winter, by his master's orders, put the wardrobe of 
 the young officer on a suitable footing ; while Middlemas, en- 
 chanted at finding himself at once emancipated from his late 
 dreadful difficulties, and placed under the protection of a man of 
 
94 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 such importance as the General, obeyed impUcitly the hints trans- 
 mitted to him by Hartley, and enforced by Winter, and abstained 
 from going into public, or forming acquaintances with any one. 
 Even Hartley himself he saw seldom ; and, deep as were his 
 obhgations, he did not perhaps greatly regret the absence of one, 
 whose presence always affected him with a sense of humiliation and 
 abasement. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The evening before he was to sail for the Downs, where the 
 Middlesex lay ready to weigh anchor, the new lieutenant was sum- 
 moned by Winter to attend him to the General's residence, for the 
 purpose of being introduced to his patron, to thank him at once, 
 and to bid him farewell. On the road, the old man took the liberty 
 of schooling his companion concerning the respect which he ought 
 to pay to his master, " who was, though a kind and generous man 
 as ever came from Northumberland, extremely rigid in punc- 
 tiliously exacting the degree of honour which was his due." 
 
 While they were advancing towards the house, the General and 
 his wife expected their arrival with breathless anxiety. They were 
 seated in a superb drawing-room, the General behind a large 
 chandelier, which, shaded opposite to his face, threw all the light 
 to the other side of the table, so that he could observe any person 
 placed there, without becoming the subject of observation in turn. 
 On a heap of cushions, wrapped in a gUttering drapery of gold and 
 silver muslins, mingled with shawls, a luxury which was then a 
 novelty in Europe, sate, or rather reclined, his lady, who, past the 
 full meridian of beauty, retained charms enough to distinguish her 
 as one who had been formerly a very fine woman, though her mind 
 seemed occupied by the deepest emotion. 
 
 " Zilia," said her husband, " you are unable for what you have 
 undertaken — take my advice — retire — you shall know all and 
 every thing that passes — but retire. To what purpose should you 
 cling to the idle wish of beholding for a moment a being whom 
 you can never again look upon i " 
 
 " Alas ! " answered the lady, " and is not your declaration, that I 
 shall never see him more, a sufficient reason that I should wish to 
 see him now — should wish to imprint on my memory the features 
 and the form] which I am never again to behold while we are 
 in the body ? Do not, my Richard, be more cruel than was my 
 poor father, even when his wrath was in its bitterness. He let me 
 look upon my infant, and its cherub face dwelt with me, and was 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 my comfort, among the years of unutterable sorrow in which my 
 youth wore away." 
 
 " It is enough, Zilia — you have desired this boon — I have granted 
 it — and, at whatever risk, my promise shall be kept. But think 
 how much depends on this fatal secret — your rank and estimation 
 in society — my honour interested that that estimation should 
 remain uninjured. Zilia, the moment that the promulgation of 
 such a secret gives prudes and scandal-mongers a right to treat 
 you with scorn, will be fraught with unutterable misery, perhaps 
 with bloodshed and death, should a man dare to take up the 
 rumour." 
 
 " You shall be obeyed, my husband," answered Zilia, " in all that 
 the frailness of nature will permit. But oh, God of my fathers, of 
 what clay hast thou fashioned us, poor mortals, who dread so much 
 the shame which follows sin, yet repent so little for the sin itself!" 
 In a minute afterwards steps were heard — the door opened — 
 Winter announced Lieutenant Middlemas, and the unconscious 
 son stood before his parents. 
 
 Witherington started involuntarily up, but immediately con- 
 strained himself to assume the easy deportment with which a 
 superior receives a dependent, and which, in his own case, was 
 usually mingled with a certain degree of hauteur. The mother had 
 less command of herself. She too sprung up, as if with the inten- 
 tion of throwing herself on the neck of her son, for whom she 
 had travailed and sorrowed. But the warning glance of her 
 husband arrested her, as if by magic, and she remained standing, 
 with her beautiful head and neck somewhat advanced, her hands 
 clasped together, and extended forward in the attitude of motion, 
 but motionless, nevertheless, as a marble statue, to which the 
 sculptor has given all the appearance of life, but cannot impart its 
 powers. So strange a gesture and posture might have excited the 
 young officer's surprise ; but the lady stood in the shade, and he 
 was so intent in looking upon his patron, that he was scarce even 
 conscious of Mrs. Witherington's presence. 
 
 " I am happy in this opportunity," said Middlemas, observing 
 that the General did not speak, " to return my thanks to General 
 Witherington, to whom they never can be sufficiently paid." 
 
 The sound of his voice, though uttering words so indifferent, 
 seemed to dissolve the charm which kept his mother motionless. 
 She sighed deeply, relaxed the rigidity of her posture, and sunk 
 back on the cushions from which she had started up. Middlemas 
 turned a look towards her at the sound of the sigh, and the rustling 
 of her drapery. The General hastened to speak. 
 
 " My wife, Mr. Middlemas, has been unwell of late — your 
 
gS THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 friend, Mr. Hartley, might mention it [to you— an afifection of the 
 nerves." 
 
 Mr. Middlemas was, of course, sorry and concerned. 
 
 " We have had distress in our family, Mr. Middlemas, from the 
 ultimate and heart-breaking consequences of which we have 
 escaped by the skill of your friend, Mr. Hartley. We will be 
 happy if it is in our power to repay a part of our obligations in 
 services to his friend and protegd, Mr. Middlemas." 
 
 " I am only acknowledged as /lis protegi, then," ^;^o«^^/ Richard ; 
 but he said, " Every one must envy his friend, in having had the 
 distinguished good fortune to be of use to General Witherington 
 and his family." 
 
 " You have received your commission, I presume. Have you 
 any particular wish or desire respecting your destination ? " 
 
 " No, may it please your Excellency," answered Middlemas. 
 " I suppose Hartley would tell your Excellency my unhappy state 
 — that 1 am an orphan, deserted by the parents who cast me on 
 the wide world, an outcast about whom nobody knows or cares, 
 except to desire that I should wander far enough, and live obscurely 
 enough, not to disgrace them by their connexion with me." 
 
 Zilia wrung her hands as he spoke, and drew her muslin veil 
 closely around her head, as if to exclude the sounds which excited 
 her mental agony. 
 
 " Mr. Hartley was not particularly communicative about your 
 affairs," said the General ; " nor do I wish to give you the pain of 
 entering into them. What I desire to know is, if you are pleased 
 with your destination to Madras ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, please your Excellency — any where, so that there is 
 no chance of meeting the villain Hillary." 
 
 " Oh ! Hillary's services are too necessary in the purlieus of 
 Saint Giles's, the Lowhghts of Newcastle, and such like places, 
 where human carrion can be picked up, to be permitted to go to 
 India. However, to show you the knave has some grace, there are 
 the notes of which you were robbed. You will find them the very 
 same paper which you lost, except a small sum which the rogue 
 had spent, but which a friend has made up, in compassion for your 
 sufferings." Richard Middlemas sunk on one knee, and kissed 
 the hand which restored him to independence. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said the General, " you are a silly young man ;" but 
 he withdrew not his hand from his caresses. This was one of the 
 occasions on which Dick Middlemas could be oratorical. 
 
 " O, my more than father," he said, " how much greater a debt 
 do I owe to you than to the unnatural parents, who brought me 
 into this world by their sin, and deserted me through their cruelty !" 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 Zilia, as she heard these cutting words, flung back her veil, 
 raising it on both hands till it floated behind her like a mist, and 
 then giving a faint groan, sunk down in a swoon. Pushing Middle- 
 mas from him with a hasty movement, General Witherington flew 
 to his lady's assistance, and carried her in his arms, as if she had 
 been a child, into the intercom, where an old servant waited with 
 the means of restoring suspended animation, which the unhappy 
 husband too truly anticipated might be useful. These were hastily 
 employed, and succeeded in calling the sufferer to life, but in a 
 state of mental emotion that was terrible. 
 
 Her mind was obviously impressed by the last words which her 
 son had uttered. — " Did you hear him, Richard!" she exclaimed, 
 in accents terribly loud, considering the exhausted state of her 
 strength — "Did you hear the words? It was Heaven speaking 
 our condemnation by the voice of our own child. But do not fear, 
 my Richard, do not weep ! I will answer the thunder of Heaven 
 with its own music." 
 
 She flew to a harpsichord which stood in the room, and, while 
 the servant and master gazed on each other, as if doubting whether 
 her senses were about to leave her entirely, she wandered over the 
 keys, producing a wilderness of harmony, composed of passages 
 recalled by memory, or combined by her own musical talent, until 
 at length her voice and instrument united in one of those magnifi- 
 cent hymns in which her youth had praised her Maker, with voice 
 and harp, like the Royal Hebrew who composed it. The tear 
 ebbed insensibly from the eyes which she turned upwards — her 
 vocal tones, combining with those of the instrument, rose to a pitch 
 of brilliancy seldom attained by the most distinguished performers, 
 and then sunk into a dying cadence, which fell, never again to rise, 
 — for the songstress had died with her strain. 
 
 The horror of the distracted husband may be conceived, when 
 all efforts to restore life proved totally ineffectual. Servants were 
 despatched for medical men — Hartley, and every other who could 
 be found. The General precipitated himself into the apartment 
 they had so lately left, and in his haste ran against Middlemas, 
 who, at the sound of the music from the adjoining apartment, had 
 naturally approached nearer to the door, and, surprised and startled 
 by the sort of clamour, hasty steps, and confused voices which 
 ensued, had remained standing there, endeavouring to ascertain 
 the cause of so much disorder. 
 
 The sight of the unfortunate young man wakened the General's 
 stormy passions to frenzy. He seemed to recognise his son only as 
 the cause of his wife's death. He seized him by the collar, and shook 
 him violently as he dragged him into the chamber of mortality. 
 
 H 
 
98 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Come hither," he said, " thou for whom a life of lowest obscurity 
 was too mean a fate — come hither, and look on the parents whom 
 thou hast so much envied — whom thou hast so often cursed. 
 Look at that pale emaciated form, a figure of wax, rather than flesh 
 and blood — that is thy mother — that is the unhappy Zilia Mongada, 
 to whom thy birth was the source of shame and misery, and to 
 whom thy ill-omened presence has now brought death itself. And 
 behold me " — he pushed the lad from him, and stood up erect, 
 looking wellnigh in gesture and figure the apostate spirit he de- 
 scribed—" Behold me 'Whe said ; " see you not my hair streaming 
 with sulphur, my brow scathed with lightning ? — I am the Arch- 
 Fiend — I am the father whom you seek — I am the accursed 
 Richard Tresham, the seducer of Zilia, and the father of her 
 murderer ! " 
 
 Hartley entered while this horrid scene was passing. All atten- 
 tion to the deceased, he instantly saw, would be thrown away ; and 
 understanding, partly from Winter, partly from the tenor of the 
 General's frantic discourse, the nature of the disclosure which had 
 occurred, he hastened to put an end, if possible, to the frightful 
 and scandalous scene which had taken place. Aware how deli- 
 cately the General felt on the subject of reputation, he assailed him 
 with remonstrances on such conduct, in presence of so many 
 witnesses. But the mind had ceased to answer to that once power- 
 ful key-note. 
 
 " I care not if the whole world hear my sin and my punishment," 
 said Witherington. " It shall not be again said of me, that I fear 
 shame more than I repent sin. I feared shame only for ZiUa, and 
 Zilia is dead ! " 
 
 " But her memory. General— spare the memory of your wife, in 
 which the character of your children is involved." 
 
 " I have no children ! " said the desperate and violent man. 
 " My Reuben is gone to Heaven, to prepare a lodging for the angel 
 who has now escaped from earth in a flood of harmony, which can 
 only be equalled where she is gone. The other two cherubs will 
 not survive their mother. I shall be, nay, I already feel myself, a 
 childless man." 
 
 " Yet I am your son," replied Middlemas, in a tone sori'owful, 
 but at the same time tinged with sullen resentment — " Your son by 
 your wedded wife. Pale as she lies there, I call upon you both to 
 acknowledge my rights, and all who are present to bear witness to 
 them." 
 
 " Wretch ! " exclaimed the maniac father, " canst thou think of 
 thine own sordid rights in the midst of death and frenzy ? My 
 son ! — thou art the fiend who hast occasioned my wretchedness in 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 this world, and who will share my eternal misery in the next. 
 Hence from my sight, and my curse go with thee ! " 
 
 His eyes fixed on the ground, his arms folded on his breast, the 
 haughty and dogged spirit of Middlemas yet seemed to meditate 
 reply. But Hartley, Winter, and other bystanders interfered, and 
 forced him from the apartment. As they endeavoured to remon- 
 strate with him, he twisted himself out of their grasp, ran to the' 
 stables, and seizing the first saddled horse that he found, out of 
 many that had been in haste got ready to seek for assistance, he 
 threw himself on its back, and rode furiously off. Hartley was 
 about to mount and follow him ; but Winter and the other 
 domestics threw themselves around him, and implored him not to 
 desert their unfortunate master, at a time when the influence which 
 he had acquired over him might be the only restraint on the 
 violence of his passions. 
 
 " He had a coup de soleil in India," whispered Winter, " and is 
 capable of any thing in his fits. These cowards cannot control 
 him, and I am old and feeble." 
 
 Satisfied that General Witherington was a greater object of 
 compassion than Middlemas, whom besides he had no hope of 
 overtaking, and who he believed was safe in his own keeping, how- 
 ever violent might be his present emotions, Hartley returned where 
 the greater emergency demanded his immediate care. 
 
 He found the unfortunate General contending with the domestics, 
 who endeavoured to prevent his making his way to the apartment 
 where his children slept, and exclaiming furiously — " Rejoice, my 
 treasures — rejoice ! — He has fled who would proclaim your father's 
 crime, and your mother's dishonour ! — He has fled, never to return, 
 whose life has been the death of one parent, and the ruin of 
 another I — Courage, my children, your father is with you — he will 
 make his way to you through a hundred obstacles ! " 
 
 The domestics, intimidated and undecided, were giving way to 
 him, when Adam Hartley approached, and placing himself before 
 the unhappy man, fixed his eye firmly on the General's while he 
 said in a low but stern voice — " Madman, would you kill your 
 children?" 
 
 The General seemed staggered in his resolution, but still at- 
 tempted to rush past him. But Hartley, seizing him by the collar 
 of his coat on each side, " You are my prisoner," he said ; " I com- 
 mand you to follow me." 
 
 " Ha ! prisoner, and for high treason ? Dog, thou hast met thy 
 death ! " 
 
 The distracted man drew a poniard from his bosom, and 
 Hartley's strength and resolution might not perhaps have saved 
 
 H 3 
 
100 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 his life, had not Winter mastered the General's right hand, and 
 contrived to disarm him. 
 
 " I am your prisoner, then," he said ; " use me civilly— and let 
 me see my wife and children." 
 
 " You shall see them to-morrow," said Hartley ; " follow us 
 instantly, and without the least resistance." 
 
 General Witherington followed like a child, with the air of one 
 who is suffering for a cause in which he glories. 
 
 " I am not ashamed of my principles," he said—" I am willing to 
 die for my king." 
 
 Without exciting his frenzy, by contradicting the fantastic idea 
 which occupied his imagination. Hartley continued to maintain 
 over his patient the ascendency he had acquired. He caused him 
 to be led to his apartment, and beheld him suffer himself to be put 
 to bed. Administering then a strong composing draught, and 
 causing a servant to sleep in the room, he watched the unfortunate 
 man till dawn of morning. 
 
 General Witherington awoke in his full senses, and apparently 
 conscious of his real situation, which he testified by low groans, 
 sobs, and tears. When Hartley drew near his bedside, he knew 
 him perfectly, and said, " Do not fear me — the fit is over — leave 
 me now, and see after yonder unfortunate. Let him leave Britain 
 as soon as possible, and go where his fate calls him, and where we 
 can never meet more. Winter knows my ways, and will take care 
 of me." 
 
 Winter gave the same advice. " I can answer," he said, " for 
 my master's security at present ; but in Heaven's name, prevent his 
 ever meeting again with that obdurate young man ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Well, then, the world's mine oyster. 
 Which I with sword will open. 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 When Adam Hartley arrived at his lodgings in the sweet little 
 town of Ryde, his first enquiries were after his comrade. He had 
 arrived last night late, man and horse all in a foam. He made no 
 reply to any questions about supper or the like, but snatching a 
 candle, ran upstairs into his apartment, and shut and double-locked 
 the door. The servants only supposed, that, being something in- 
 toxicated, he had ridden hard, and was unwilling to expose 
 himself. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. loi 
 
 Hartley went to the door of his chamber, not without some ap- 
 prehensions ; and after knocking and calling more than once, 
 received at length the welcome return, " Who is there ? " 
 
 On Hartley announcing himself, the door opened, and Middle- 
 mas appeared, well dressed, and with his hair arranged and 
 powdered ; although, from the appearance of the bed, it had not 
 been slept in on the preceding night, and Richard's countenance, 
 haggard and ghastly, seemed to bear witness to the same fact. It 
 was, however, with an affectation of indifference that he spoke. 
 
 " I congratulate you on your improvement in worldly knowledge, 
 Adam. It is just the time to desert the poor heir, and stick by 
 him that is in immediate possession of the wealth." 
 
 " I staid last night at General Witherington's," answered 
 Hartley, " because he is extremely ill." 
 
 " Tell him to repent of his sins, then," said Richard. " Old 
 Gray used to say, a doctor had as good a title to give ghostly 
 advice as a parson. Do you remember Doctor Dulberry, the 
 minister, calling him an interloper ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " I am surprised at this style of language from one in your 
 circumstances." 
 
 " Why, ay," said Middlemas, with a bitter smile, — " it would be 
 difficult to most men to keep up their spirits, after gaining and 
 losing father, mother, and a good inheritance, all in the same day. 
 But I had always a turn for philosophy." 
 
 " I really do not understand you, Mr. Middlemas." 
 
 " Why, I found my parents yesterday, did I not .' " answered the 
 young man. " My mother, as you know, had waited but that 
 moment to die, and my father to become distracted ; and I conclude 
 both were contrived purposely to cheat me of my inheritance, as he 
 has taken up such a prejudice against me." 
 
 " Inheritance ? " repeated Hartley, bewildered by Richard's calm- 
 ness, and half suspecting that the insanity of the father was here- 
 ditary in the family. " In' Heaven's name, recollect yourself, and 
 get rid of these hallucinations. What inheritance are you dreaming 
 of?" 
 
 " That of my mother, to be sure, who must have inherited old 
 Mongada's wealth — and to whom should it descend, save to her 
 children .' — I am the eldest of them— that fact cannot be denied." 
 
 " But consider, Richard — recollect yourself." 
 
 " I do," said Richard ; " and what then ? " 
 
 " Then you cannot but remeinber," said Hartley, " that unless 
 there was a will in your favour, your birth prevents you from 
 inheriting." 
 
 " You are mistaken, sir, I am legitimate. — Yonder sickly brats, 
 
ro2 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 whom you rescued from the grave, are not more legitimate than I 
 am. — Yes ! our parents could not allow the air of Heaven to 
 breathe on them — me they committed to the winds and the waves 
 —I am nevertheless their lawful child, as well as their puling off- 
 spring of advanced age and decayed health. I saw them, Adam — 
 Winter showed the nursery to me while they were gathering 
 courage to receive me in the drawing-room. There they lay, the 
 children of predilection, the riches of the East expended that they 
 might sleep soft, and wake in magnificence. I, the eldest brother 
 — the heir — I stood beside their bed in the borrowed dress which I 
 had so lately exchanged for the rags of an hospital. Their couches 
 breathed the richest perfumes, while I was reeking from a pest- 
 house ; and I — I repeat it — the heir, the produce of their earliest 
 and best love, was thus treated. No wonder that my look was that 
 of a basilisk." 
 
 " You speak as if you were possessed with an evil spirit,'' said 
 Hartley ; " or else you labour under a strange delusion." 
 
 " You think those only are legally married over whom a drowsy 
 parson has read the ceremony from a dog's-eared prayer-book ? 
 It may be so in your English law — but Scotland makes Love 
 himself the priest. A vow betwixt a fond couple, the blue heaven 
 alone witnessing, will protect a confiding girl against the perjury of 
 a fickle swain, as much as if a Dean had performed the rites in the 
 loftiest cathedral in England. Nay, more ; if the child of love be 
 acknowledged by the father at the time when he is baptized — if he 
 present the mother to strangers of respectability as his wife, the 
 laws of Scotland will not allow him to retract the justice which has, 
 in these actions, been done to the female whom he has wronged, or 
 the offspring of their mutual love. This General Tresham, or 
 Witherington, treated my unhappy mother as his wife before Gray 
 and others, quartered her as such in the family of a respectable 
 man, gave her the same name by which he himself chose to pass 
 for the time. He presented me to the priest as his lawful offspring ; 
 and the law of Scotland, benevolent to the helpless child, will not 
 allow him now to disown what he so formally admitted. I know 
 my rights, and am determined to claim them." 
 
 " You do not then intend to go on board the Middlesex ? Think 
 a little — You will lose your voyage and your commission." 
 
 " I will save my birth-right," answered Middlemas. " When I 
 thought of going to India, I knew not my parents, or how to make 
 good the rights which I had through them. That riddle is solved. 
 I am entitled to at least a third of Mongada's estate, which, by 
 Winter's account, is considerable. But for you, and your mode of 
 treating the small-pox, I should have had the whole. Little did I 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 think, when old Gray was likely to have his wig pulled off, for putting 
 out fires, throwing open windows, and exploding whisky and water, 
 that the new system of treating the small-pox was to cost me so 
 many thousand pounds." 
 
 " You are determined, then," said Hartley, " on this wild course ? " 
 
 " I know my rights, and am determined to make them available," 
 answered the obstinate youth." 
 
 " Mr. Richard Middlemas, I am sorry for you.'' 
 
 " Mr. Adam Hartley, I beg to know why I am honoured by your 
 sorrow." 
 
 " I pity you," answered Hartley, " both for the obstinacy of selfish- 
 ness, which can think of wealth after the scene you saw last night, 
 and for the idle vision which leads you to believe that you can 
 obtain possession of it." 
 
 " Selfish ! " cried Middlemas ; " why, I am a dutiful son, labour- 
 ing to clear the njemory of a calumniated mother — And am I 
 a visionary ? — Why, it was to this hope that I awakened, when old 
 Mon^ada's letter to Gray, devoting me to perpetual obscurity, first 
 roused me to a sense of my situation, and dispelled the dreams of 
 my childhood. Do you think that I would ever have submitted to 
 the drudgery which I shared with you, but that, by doing so, I kept 
 in view the only traces of these unnatural parents, by means of 
 which I proposed to introduce myself to their notice, and, if neces- 
 sary, enforce the rights of a legitimate child ? The silence and death 
 of Mongada broke my plans, and it was then only I reconciled 
 myself to the thoughts of India." 
 
 " You were very young to have known so much of the Scottish 
 law, at the time when we were first acquainted," said Hartley. " But 
 I can guess your instructor." 
 
 " No less authority than Tom Hillary's," replied Middlemas. 
 " His good counsel on that head is a reason why I do not now 
 prosecute him to the gallows." 
 
 " I judged as much," replied Hartley ; " for I heard him, before 
 I left Middlemas, debating the point with Mr. Lawford ; and I re- 
 collect perfectly, that he stated the law to be such as you now lay 
 down." 
 
 " And what said Lawford in answer ? " demanded Middlemas. 
 
 " He admitted," replied Hartley, " that in circumstances where 
 the case was doubtful, such presumptions of legitimacy might be 
 admitted. But he said they were liable to be controlled by positive 
 and precise testimony, as, for instance, the evidence of the mother 
 declaring the illegitimacy of the child." 
 
 " But there can exist none such in my case," gaid Middlemas 
 hastily, and with marks of alarm, 
 
104 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I will not deceive you, Mr. Middlemas, though I fear I cannot 
 help giving you pain. I had yesterday a long conference with your 
 mother, Mrs. Witherington, in which she acknowledged you as her 
 son, but a son born before marriage. This express declaration will, 
 therefore, put an end to the suppositions on which you ground your 
 hopes. If you please, you may hear the contents of her declaration, 
 which I have in her own handwriting." 
 
 " Confusion ! is the cup to be for ever dashed from my lips ? " 
 muttered Richard ; but recovering his composure, by exertion of 
 the self-command of which he possessed so large a portion, he 
 desired Hartley to proceed with his communication. Hartley ac- 
 cordingly proceeded to inform him of the particulars preceding his 
 birth, and those which followed after it ; while Middlemas seated 
 on a sea-chest, listened with inimitable composure to a tale which 
 went to root up the flourishing hopes of wealth which he had lately 
 so fondly entertained. 
 
 Zilia Mongada was the only child of a Portuguese Jew of great 
 wealth, who had come to London, in prosecution of his commerce. 
 Among the few Christians who frequented his house, and occasion- 
 ally his table, was Richard Tresham, a gentleman of a high North- 
 umbrian family, deeply engaged in the service of Charles Edward 
 during his short invasion, and though holding a commission in the 
 Portuguese service, still an object of suspicion to the British 
 government, on account of his well-known courage and Jacobitical 
 principles. The high-bred elegance of this gentleman, together 
 with his complete acquaintance with the Portuguese language and 
 manners, had won the intimacy of old Mongada, and, alas ! the 
 heart of the inexperienced Zilia, who, beautiful as an angel, had as 
 little knowledge of the world and its wickedness as the lamb that is 
 but a week old. 
 
 Tresham made his proposals to Mongada, perhaps^ in a manner 
 which too evidently showed that he conceived the high-born 
 Christian was degrading himself in asking an alliance with the 
 wealthy Jew. Mongada rejected his proposals, forbade him his 
 house, but could not prevent the lovers from meeting in private. 
 Tresham made a dishonourable use of the opportunities which the 
 poor Zilia so incautiously afforded, and the consequence was her 
 ruin. The lover, however, had every purpose of righting the injury 
 which he had inflicted, and, after various plans of secret marriage, 
 which were rendered abortive by the difference of religion, and 
 other circumstances, flight for Scotland was determined on. The 
 hurry of the journey, the fear and anxiety to which Zilia was sub- 
 ject, brought on her confinement several weeks before the usual 
 time, so that they were compelled to accept of the assistance and 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 105 
 
 ^accommodation offered by Mr. Gray. They had not been there 
 many hours ere Tresham heard, by the medium of some sharp- 
 sighted or keen-eared friend, that there were warrants out against 
 him for treasonable practices. His correspondence with Charles 
 Edward had become known to Mongada during the period of 
 their friendship ; he betrayed it in vengeance to the British cabinet, 
 and warrants were issued, in which, at Mongada's request, his 
 daughter's name was included. This might be of use, he appre- 
 hended, to enable him to separate his daughter from Tresham, 
 should he find the fugitives actually married. How far he suc- 
 ceeded, the reader already knows, as well as the precautions which 
 he took to prevent the living evidence of his child's frailty from 
 being known to exist. His daughter he carried with him, and 
 subjected her to severe restraint, which her own reflections rendered 
 doubly bitter. It would have completed his revenge, had the 
 author of Zilia's misfortunes been brought to the scaffold for his 
 political offences. But Tresham skulked among friends in the 
 Highlands, and escaped until the affair blew over. 
 
 He afterwards entered into the East India Company's service, 
 under his mother's name of Witherington, which concealed the 
 Jacobite and rebel, until these terms were forgotten. His skill in 
 military affairs soon raised him to riches and eminence. When he 
 returned to Britain, his first enquiries were after the family of 
 Mongada. His fame, his wealth, and the late conviction that his 
 daughter never would marry any but him who had her first love, 
 induced the old man to give that encouragement to General 
 Witherington, which he had always denied to the poor and out- 
 lawed Major Tresham ; and the lovers, after having been fourteen 
 years separated, were at length united in wedlock. 
 
 General Witherington eagerly concurred in the earnest wish of 
 his father-in-law, that every remembrance of former events should 
 be buried, by leaving the fruit of the early and unhappy intrigue 
 suitably provided for, but in a distant and obscure situation. Zilia 
 thought far otherwise. Her heart longed, with a mother's longing, 
 towards the object of her first maternal tenderness, but she dared 
 not place herself in opposition at once to the will of her father, 
 and the decision of her husband. The former, his religious pre- 
 judices much effaced by his long residence in England, had given 
 consent that she should conform to the established religion of her 
 husband and her country, — the latter, haughty as we have described 
 him, made it his pride to introduce the beautiful convert among 
 his high-born kindred. The discovery of her former frailty would 
 have proved a blow to her respectability, which he dreaded like 
 death ; and it could not long remain a secret from his wife, that 
 
io6 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 in consequence of a severe illness in India, even his reason became 
 occasionally shaken by any thing which violently agitated his 
 feelings. She had, therefore, acquiesced in patience and silence in 
 the course of policy which Mongada had devised, and which her 
 husband anxiously and warmly approved. Yet her thoughts, even 
 when their marriage was blessed with other offspring, anxiously 
 reverted to the banished and outcast child, who had first been 
 clasped to the maternal bosom. 
 
 All these feelings, " subdued and cherished long," were set afloat 
 in full tide by the unexpected discovery of this son, redeemed from 
 a lot of extreme misery, and placed before his mother's imagination 
 in circumstances so disastrous. 
 
 It was in vain that her husband had assured her that he would 
 secure the young man's prosperity, by his purse and his interest. 
 She could not be satisfied, until she had herself done something to 
 alleviate the doom of banishment to which her eldest-born was 
 thus condemned. She was the more eager to do so, as she felt the 
 extreme delicacy of her health, which was undermined by so many 
 years of secret suffering. 
 
 Mrs. Witherington was, in conferring her maternal bounty, 
 naturally led to employ the agency of Hartley, the companion of 
 her son, and to whom, since the recovery of her younger children, 
 she almost looked up as to a tutelar deity. She placed in his 
 hands a sum of L.2000, which she had at her own unchallenged 
 disposal, with a request, uttered in the fondest and most affec- 
 tionate terms, that it might be applied to the service of Richard 
 Middlemas in the way Hartley should think most useful to him. 
 She assured him of further support, as it should be needed ; and 
 a note to the following purport was also intrusted to him, to be 
 delivered when and where the prudence of Hartley should judge 
 it proper to confide to him the secret of his birth. 
 
 " Oh, Benoni ! Oh, child of my sorrow ! " said this interesting 
 document, " why should the eyes of thy unhappy mother be about 
 to obtain permission to look on thee, since her arms were denied 
 the right to fold thee to her bosom ? May the God of Jews and 
 of Gentiles watch over thee, and guard thee ! May he remove, 
 in his good time, the darkness which rolls between me and the 
 beloved of my heart — the first fruit of my unhappy, nay, unhal- 
 lowed affection. Do not — do not, my beloved !— think thyself a 
 lonely exile, while thy mother's prayers arise for thee at sunrise 
 and at sunset, to call down every blessing on thy head — to in- 
 voke every power in thy protection and defence. Seek not to 
 see me — Oh, why must I say so !— But let me humble myself in 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 the dust, since it is my own sin, my own folly, which I must 
 blame ; — but seek not to see or speak with me — it might be the 
 death of both. Confide thy thoughts to the excellent Hartley, 
 who hath been the guardian angel of us all — even as the tribes 
 of Israel had each their guardian angel. What thou shalt wish, 
 and he shall advise in thy behalf, shall be done, if in the power 
 of a mother — And the love of a mother ! Is it bounded by seas, 
 or can deserts and distance measure its limits ? Oh, child of my 
 sorrow ! Oh, Benoni ! let thy spirit be with mine, as mine is 
 with thee. "Z. M." 
 
 All these arrangements being completed, the unfortunate lady 
 next insisted with her husband that she should be permitted to see 
 her son in that parting interview which terminated so fatally. 
 Hartley, therefore, now discharged as her executor, the duty 
 intrusted to him as her confidential agent. 
 
 " Surely," he thought, as, having finished his communication, he 
 was about to leave the apartment, " surely the demons of Ambition 
 and Avarice will unclose the talons which they have fixed upon this 
 man, at a charm like this." 
 
 And indeed Richard's heart had been formed of the nether mill- 
 stone, had he not been duly affected by these first and last tokens 
 of his mother's affection. He leant his head upon a table, and his 
 tears flowed plentifully. Hartley left him undisturbed for more than 
 an hour, and on his return found him in nearly the same attitude in 
 which he had left him. 
 
 " I regret to disturb you at this moment," he said, " but I have 
 still a part of my duty to discharge. I must place in your possession 
 the deposit which your mother made in my hands — and I must also 
 remind you that time flies fast, and that you have scarce an hour or 
 two to determine whether you will prosecute your Indian voyage, 
 under the new view of circumstances which I have opened to you." 
 
 Middlemas took the bills which his mother had bequeathed him. 
 As he raised his head. Hartley could observe that his face was 
 stained with tears. Yet he counted over the money with mercantile 
 accuracy ; and though he assumed the pen for the purpose of writ- 
 ing a discharge with an air of inconsolable dejection, yet he drew it 
 up in good set terms, like one who had his senses much at his com- 
 mand. 
 
 " And now," he said, in a mournful voice, " give me my mother's 
 narrative." 
 
 Hartley almost started, and answered hastily, " You have the 
 poor lady's letter, which was addressed to yourself — the narrative is 
 addressed to me. It is my warrant for disposing of a large sum of 
 
io8 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 money — it concerns the rights of third parties, and I cannot part 
 with it." 
 
 " Surely, surely it were better to deliver it into my hands, were it 
 but to weep over it," answered Middlemas. " My fortune, Hartley, 
 has been very cruel. You see that my parents purposed to have 
 made me their undoubted heir ; yet their purpose was disappointed 
 by accident. And now my mother comes with well-intended fond- 
 ness, and while she means to advance my fortune, furnishes 
 evidence to destroy it. — Come, come, Hartley — you must be con- 
 scious that my mother wrote those details entirely for my informa- 
 tion. I am the rightful owner, and insist on having them." 
 
 " I am sorry I must insist on refusing your demand," answered 
 Hartley, putting the papers in his pocket. " You ought to consider, 
 that if this communication has destroyed the idle and groundless 
 hopes which you have indulged in, it has, at the same time, more 
 than trebled your capital ; and that if there are some hundreds or 
 thousands in the world richer than yourself, there are many millions 
 not half so well provided. Set a brave spirit, then, against your 
 fortune, and do not doubt your success in life." 
 
 His words seemed to sink into the gloomy mind of Middlemas. 
 He stood silent for a moment, and then answered with a reluctant 
 and insinuating voice, — 
 
 " My dear Haitley, we have long been companions — you can 
 have neither pleasure nor interest in ruining my hopes — you may 
 find some in forwarding them. Mongada's fortune will enable me 
 to allow five thousand pounds to the friend who should aid me in 
 my difficulties." 
 
 " Good morning to you, Mr. Middlemas," said Hartley, endea- 
 vouring to withdraw. 
 
 " One moment — one moment," said Middlemas, holding his 
 friend by the button at the same time, " I meant to say ten thou- 
 sand — and— and — marry whomsoever you like — I will not be your 
 hinderance." 
 
 "You are a villain !" said Hartley, breaking from him, "and I 
 always thought you so." 
 
 " And you," answered Middlemas, " are a fool, and I never 
 thought you better. Off he goes— Let him— the game has been 
 played and lost— I must hedge my bets : India must be my back- 
 play." 
 
 All was in readiness for his departure. A small vessel and a 
 favouring gale conveyed him and several other military gentlemen 
 to the Downs, where the Indiaman which was to transport them 
 from Europe, lay ready for their reception. 
 
 His first feelings were sufficiently disconsolate. But accustomed 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 109 
 
 from his infancy to conceal his internal thoughts, he appeared in 
 the course of a week the gayest and best bred passenger who ever 
 dared the long and weary space betwixt Old England and her Indian 
 possessions. At Madras, where the sociable feelings of the resident 
 inhabitants give ready way to enthusiasm in behalf of any stranger 
 of agreeable qualities, he experienced that warm hospitality which 
 distinguishes the British character in the East. 
 
 Middlemas was well received in company, and in the way of 
 becoming an indispensable guest at every entertainment in the 
 place, when the vessel, on board of which Hartley acted as surgeon's 
 mate, arrived at the same settlement. The latter would not, from 
 his situation, have been entitled to expect much civility and atten- 
 tion ; but this disadvantage was made up by his possessing the most 
 powerful introductions from General Witherington, and from other 
 persons of weight in Leadenhall Street, the General's friends, to the 
 principal inhabitants in the settlement. He found himself once 
 more, therefore, moving in the same sphere with Middlemas, and 
 under the alternative of living with him on decent and distant 
 terms, or of breaking off with him altogether. 
 
 The first of these courses might perhaps have been the wisest ; 
 but the other was most congenial to the blunt and plain character 
 of Hartley, who saw neither propriety nor comfort in maintaining a 
 show of friendly intercourse, to conceal hate, contempt, and mutual 
 dislike. 
 
 The circle at Fort Saint George was much more restricted at that 
 time than it has been since. The coldness of the young men did 
 not escapenotice; it transpiredthat they had been once intimates and 
 fellow-students ; yet it was now found that they hesitated at accepting 
 invitations to the same parties. Rumour assigned many different 
 and incompatible reasons for this deadly breach, to which Hartley 
 gave no attention whatever, while Lieutenant Middlemas took care 
 to countenance those which represented the cause of the quarrel 
 most favourably to himself. 
 
 " A little bit of rivalry had taken place," he said, when pressed 
 by gentlemen for an explanation ; " he had only had the good luck 
 to get further in the good graces of a fair lady than his friend Hart- 
 ley, who had made a quarrel of it, as they saw. He thought it very 
 silly to keep up spleen, at such a distance of time and space. He 
 was sorry, more for the sake of the strangeness of the appearance 
 of the thing than any thing else, although his friend had really some 
 very good points about him." 
 
 While these whispers were working their effect in society, they 
 did not prevent Hartley from receiving the most flattering assur- 
 ances of encouragement and official promotion from the Madras 
 
no THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 government as opportunity should arise. Soon after, it was intimated 
 to him that a medical appointment of a lucrative nature in a remote 
 settlement was conferred on him, which removed him for some time 
 from Madras and its neighbourhood. 
 
 Hartley accordingly sailed on his distant expedition ; and it was 
 observed, that after his departure, the character of Middlemas, as if 
 some check had been removed, began to display itself in disagree- 
 able colours. It was noticed that this young man, whose manners 
 were so agreeable and so courteous during the first months after his 
 arrival in India, began now to show symptoms of a haughty and 
 overbearing spirit. He had adopted, for reasons which the reader 
 may conjecture, but which appeared to be mere whim at Fort St. 
 George, the name of Tresham, in addition to that by which he had 
 hitherto been distinguished, and in this he persisted with an 
 obstinacy, which belonged more to the pride than the craft of his 
 character. The Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment, an old cross- 
 tempered martinet, did not choose to indulge the Captain (such was 
 now the rank of Middlemas) in this humour. 
 
 "He knew no officer," he said, " by any name save that which he 
 bore in his commission,'' and he Middlemass'd the Captain on all 
 occasions. 
 
 One fatal evening, the Captain was so much provoked, as to 
 intimate peremptorily, " that he knew his own name best." 
 
 " Why, Captain Middlemas," replied the Colonel, " it is not every 
 child that knows its own father, so how can every man be so sure 
 of his own name ?" 
 
 The bow was drawn at a venture, but the shaft found the rent in 
 the armour, and stung deeply. In spite of all the interposition 
 which could be attempted, Middlemas insisted on challenging the 
 Colonel, who could be persuaded to no apology. 
 
 "If Captain Middlemas," he said, "thought the cap fitted, he 
 was welcome to wear it." 
 
 The result was a meeting, in which, after the parties had ex- 
 changed shots, the seconds tendered their mediation. It was 
 rejected by Middlemas, who, at the second fire, had the misfortune 
 to kill his commanding officer. In consequence, he was obliged to 
 fly from the British settlements ; for, being universally blamed for 
 having pushed the quarrel to extremity, th?re was little doubt that 
 the whole severity of military discipline would be exercised upon 
 the delinquent. Middlemas, therefore, vanished from Fort St. 
 George, and, though the affair had made much noise at the time, 
 was soon no longer talked of. It was understood, in general, that 
 he had gone to seek that fortune at the court of some native prince, 
 which he could no longer hope for in the British settlements. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Three years passed away after the fatal rencounter mentioned 
 in the last Chapter, and Doctor Hartley returning from his ap- 
 pointed mission, which was only temporary, received encourage- 
 ment to settle in Madras in a medical capacity ; and, upon having 
 done so, soon had reason to think he had chosen a line in which 
 he might rise to wealth and reputation. His practice was not con- 
 fined to his countrymen, but much sought after among the natives, 
 who, whatever may be their prejudices against the Europeans in 
 other respects, universally esteem their superior powers in the 
 medical profession. This lucrative branch of practice rendered 
 it necessary that Hartley should make the Oriental languages his 
 study, in order to hold communication with his patients without 
 the intervention of an interpreter. He had enough of opportuni- 
 ties to practise as a linguist, for, in acknowledgment, as he used 
 jocularly to say, of the large fees of the wealthy Moslemah and 
 Hindoos, he attended the poor of all nations gratis, whenever he 
 was called upon. 
 
 It so chanced, that one evening he was hastily summoned by a 
 message from the Secretary of the Government, to attend a patient 
 of consequence. " Yet he is, after all, only a Fakir," said the 
 message. "You will find him at the tomb of Cara Razi, the 
 Mahomedan saint and doctor, about one coss from the fort. 
 Enquire for him by the name of Barak El Hadgi. Such a patient 
 promises no fees ; but we know how little you care about the 
 pagodas ; and, besides, the Government is your paymaster on this 
 occasion." 
 
 "That is the last matter to be thought on," said Hartley, 
 and instantly repaired in his palanquin to the place pointed 
 out to him. 
 
 The tomb of the Owliah, or Mahomedan Saint, Cara Razi, was 
 a place held in much reverence by every good Mussulman. It was 
 situated in the centre of a grove of mangos and tamarind-trees, 
 and was built of red stone, having three domes, and minarets at 
 every corner. There was a court in front, as usual, around which 
 were cells constructed for the accommodation of the Fakirs who 
 visited the tomb from motives of devotion, and made a longer or 
 shorter residence there as they thought proper, subsisting upon the 
 alms which the Faithful never fail to bestow on them in exchange 
 for the benefit of their prayers. These devotees were engaged day 
 
H2 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and night in reading verses of the Koran before the tomb, which 
 was constructed of white marble, inscribed with sentences from 
 the book of the Prophet, and with the various titles conferred by 
 the Koran upon the Supreme Being. Such a sepulchre, of which 
 there are many, is, with its appendages and attendants, respected 
 during wars and revolutions, and no less by Feringis, (Franks, that 
 is,) and Hindoos, than by Mahomedans themselves. The Fakirs, 
 in return, act as spies for all parties, and are often employed in 
 secret missions of importance. 
 
 Complying with the Mahomedan custom, our friend Hartley laid 
 aside his shoes at the gates of the holy precincts, and avoiding to 
 give offence by approaching near to the tomb, he went up to the 
 principal MouUah, or priest, who was distinguishable by the length 
 of his beard, and the size of the large wooden beads, with which 
 the Mahomedans, like the Catholics, keep register of their prayers. 
 Such a person, venerable by his age, sanctity of character, and his 
 real or supposed contempt of worldly pursuits and enjoyments, is 
 regarded as the head of an establishment of this kind. 
 
 The MouUah is permitted by his situation to be more communi- 
 cative with strangers than his younger brethren, who in the present 
 instance remained with their eyes fixed on the Koran, muttering 
 their recitations without noticing the European, or attending to 
 what he said, as he enquired at their superior for Barak el Hadgi. 
 
 The Moullah was seated on the earth, from which he did not 
 arise, or show any mark of reverence ; nor did he interrupt the 
 tale of his beads, which he continued to count assiduously while 
 Hartley was speaking. When he finished, the old man raised 
 his eyes, and looking at him with an air of distraction, as if he 
 was endeavouring to recollect what he had been saying, he at 
 length pointed to one of the cells, and resumed his devotions 
 like one who felt impatient of whatever withdrew his attention 
 from his sacred duties, were it but for an instant. 
 
 Hartley entered the cell indicated, with the usual salutation 
 of Salam Alaikum. His patient lay on a little carpet in a corner 
 of the small white-washed cell. He was a man of about forty, 
 dressed in the black robe of his order, very much torn and patched. 
 He wore a high conical cap of Tartarian felt, and had round 
 his neck the string of black beads belonging to his order. His 
 eyes and posture indicated suffering, which he was enduring with 
 stoical patience. 
 
 " Salam Alaikum," said Hartley ; " you are in pain, my father?" 
 — a title which he gave rather to the profession than to the years 
 of the person he addressed. 
 
 " Salam Alaikum bema sabasUm" answered the Fakir ; " Well 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 113 
 
 is it for you that you have suffered patiently. The Book saith, 
 such shall be the greeting of the angels to those who enter para- 
 dise." 
 
 The conversation being thus opened, the physician proceeded to 
 enquire into the complaints of the patient, and to prescribe what 
 he thought advisable. Having done this, he was about to retire, 
 when, to his great surprise, the Fakir tendered him a ring of some 
 value. 
 
 " The wise," said Hartley, declining the present, and at the same 
 time paying a suitable compliment to the Fakir's cap and robe, — 
 " the wise of every country are brethren. My left hand takes no 
 guerdon of my right." 
 
 " A Feringi can then refuse gold ! " said the Fakir. " I thought 
 they took it from every hand, whether pure as that of an Houri, or 
 leprous like Gehazi's — even as the hungry dog recketh not whether 
 the flesh he eateth be of the camel of the prophet Saleth, or of 
 the ass of Degial — on whose head be curses ! " 
 
 " The Book says," replied Hartley, " that it is Allah who closes 
 and who enlarges the heart. Frank and Mussulman are all alike 
 moulded by his pleasure." 
 
 " My brother hath spoken wisely," answered the patient. " Wel- 
 come the disease, if it bring thee acquainted with a wise physician. 
 For what saith the poet— ' It is well to have fallen to the earth, if 
 while grovelling there thou shall discover a diamond.' " 
 
 The physician made repeated visits to his patient, and con- 
 tinued to do so even after the health of El Hadgi was entirely 
 restored. He had no difficulty in discerning in him one of those 
 secret agents frequently employed by Asiatic Sovereigns. His 
 intelligence, his learning, above all, his versatility and freedom 
 from prejudices of every kind, left no doubt of Barak's possess- 
 ing the necessary qualifications for conducting such delicate 
 negotiations ; while his gravity of habit and profession could not 
 prevent his features from expressing occasionally a perception of 
 humour, not usually seen in devotees of his class. 
 
 Barak El Hadgi talked often, amidst their private conversations, 
 of the power and dignity of the Nawaub of Mysore ; and Hartley 
 had little doubt that he came from the Court of Hyder Ali, on 
 some secret mission, perhaps for achieving a more solid peace 
 betwixt that able and sagacious Prince and the East India 
 Company's Government, — that which existed for the time being 
 regarded on both parts as little more than a hollow and insincere 
 truce. He told many stories to the advantage of this Prince, who 
 certainly was one of the wisest that Hindostan could boast ; and 
 amidst great crimes, perpetrated to gratify his ambition, displayed 
 
 I 
 
114 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 many instances of princely generosity, and, what was a little more 
 surprising, of even-handed justice. 
 
 On one occasion, shortly before Barak El Hadgi left Madras, he 
 visited the Doctor, and partook of his sherbet, which he preferred 
 to his own, perhaps because a few glasses of rum or brandy were 
 usually added to enrich the compound. It might be owing to 
 repeated applications to the jar which contained this generous fluid, 
 that the Pilgrim became more than usually frank in his communi- 
 cations, and not contented with praising his Nawaub with the most 
 hyperbolic eloquence, he began to insinuate the influence which 
 he himself enjoyed with the Invincible, the Lord and Shield of the 
 Faith of the Prophet. 
 
 " Brother of my soul," he said, " do but think if thou needest 
 aught that the all-powerful Hyder Ali Khan Bahauder can give ; 
 and then use not the intercession of those who dwell in palaces, 
 and wear jewels in their turbans, but seek the cell of thy brother at 
 the Great City, which is Seringapatam. And the poor Fakir, in 
 his torn cloak, shall better advance thy suit with the Nawaub [for 
 Hyder did not assume the title of Sultaun] than they who sit upon 
 seats of honour in the Divan." 
 
 With these and sundry other expressions of regard, he exhorted 
 Hartley to come into the Mysore, and look upon the face of the 
 Great Prince, whose glance inspired wisdom, and whose nod con- 
 ferred wealth, so that Folly or Poverty could not appear before 
 him. He offered at the same time to requite the kindness which 
 Hartley had evinced to him, by showing him whatever was worthy 
 the attention of a sage in the land of Mysore. 
 
 Hartley was not reluctant to promise to undertake the proposed 
 journey, if the continuance of good understanding betwixt their 
 governments should render it practicable, and in reality looked 
 forward to the possibility of such an event with a good deal of 
 interest. The friends parted with mutual good wishes, after ex- 
 changing, in the Oriental fashion, such gifts as became sages, to 
 whom knowledge was to be supposed dearer than wealth. Barak 
 el Hadgi presented Hartley with a small quantity of the balsam of 
 Mecca, very hard to be procured in an unadulterated form, and 
 gave him at the same time a passport in a peculiar character, 
 which he assured him would be respected by every officer of the 
 Nawaub, should his friend be disposed to accomplish his visit to 
 the Mysore. " The head of him who should disrespect this safe- 
 conduct," he said, " shall not be more safe than that of the barley- 
 stalk which the reaper has grasped in his hand." 
 
 Hartley requited these civilities by the present of a few medicines 
 little used in the East, but such as he thought might, with suitable 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 directions, be safely intrusted to a man so intelligent as his Moslem 
 friend. 
 
 It was several months after Barak had returned to the interior 
 of India, that Hartley was astonished by an unexpected ren- 
 counter. 
 
 The ships from Europe had but lately arrived, and had brought 
 over their usual cargo of boys longing to be commanders, and 
 young women without any purpose of being married, but whom a 
 pious duty to some brother, some uncle, or other male relative, 
 brought to India to keep his house, until they should find them- 
 selves unexpectedly in one of their own. Doctor Hartley happened 
 to attend a public breakfast given on this occasion by a gentleman 
 high in the service. The roof of his friend had been recently en- 
 riched by a consignment of three nieces, whom the old gentleman, 
 justly attached to his quiet hookah, and, it was said, to a pretty 
 girl of colour, desired to offer to the public, that he might have the 
 fairest chance to get rid of his new guests as soon as possible. 
 Hartley, who was thought a fish worth casting a fly for, was con- 
 templating this fair investment with very little interest, when he 
 heard one of the company say to another in a low voice, 
 
 " Angels and ministers ! there is our old acquaintance, the 
 Queen of Sheba, returned upon our hands like unsaleable goods." 
 
 Hartley looked in the same direction with the two who were 
 speaking, and his eye was caught by a Semiramis-looking person, 
 of unusual stature and amplitude, arrayed in a sort of riding habit, 
 but so formed, and so looped and gallooned with lace, as made it 
 resemble the upper tunic of a native chief. Her robe was composed 
 of crimson silk, rich with flowers of gold. She wore wide trowsers 
 of light blue silk, a fine scarlet shawl around her waist, in which 
 was stuck a creeze, with a richly ornamented handle. Her throat 
 and arms were loaded with chains and bracelets, and her turban, 
 formed of a shawl similar to that worn around her waist, was 
 decorated by a magnificent aigrette, from which a blue ostrich 
 plume flowed in one direction, and a red one in another. The 
 brow, of European complexion, on which this tiara rested, was too 
 lofty for beauty, but seemed made for command ; the aquiline 
 nose retained its form, but the cheeks were a little sunken, and 
 the complexion so very brilliant, as to give strong evidence that 
 the whole countenance had undergone a thorough repair since the 
 lady had left her couch. A black female slave, richly dressed, 
 stood behind her -with a chowry, or cow's tail, having a silver 
 handle, which she used to keep off the flies. From the mode in 
 which she was addressed by those who spoke to her, this lady 
 appeared a person of too much importance to be affronted or 
 
 I 2 
 
u6 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 neglected, and yet one with whom none desired further communi- 
 cation than the occasion seemed in propriety to demand. 
 
 She did not, however, stand in need of attention. The well- 
 known captain of an East Indian vessel lately arrived from Britain 
 was sedulously polite to her ; and two or three gentlemen, whom 
 Hartley knew to be engaged in trade, tended upon her as they 
 would have done upon the safety of a rich argosy. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, what is that for a Zenobia ? " said Hartley, 
 to the gentleman whose whisper had first attracted his attention to 
 this lofty dame. 
 
 " Is it possible you do not know the Queen of Sheba ? " said the 
 person of whom he enquired, no way loath to communicate the 
 information demanded. " You must know, then, that she is the 
 daughter of a Scotch emigrant, who lived and died at Pondicherry, 
 a sergeant in Lally's regiment. She managed to marry a partisan 
 officer named Montreville, a Swiss or Frenchman, I cannot tell 
 which. After the surrender of Pondicherry, this hero and heroine 
 — But hey — what the devil are you thinking of? — If you stare at 
 her that way, you will make a scene ; for she will think nothing of 
 scolding you across the table." 
 
 But without attending to his friend's remonstrances, Hartley 
 bolted from the table at which he sat, and made his way, with 
 something less than the decorum which the rules of society enjoin, 
 towards the place where the lady in question was seated. 
 
 " The Doctor is surely mad this morning — " said his friend 
 Major Mercer to old Quartermaster Calder. 
 
 Indeed Hartley was not perhaps strictly in his senses ; for look- 
 ing at the Queen of Sheba as he Ustened to Major Mercer, his eye 
 fell on a light female form beside her, so placed as if she desired 
 to be eclipsed by the bulky form and flowing robes we have 
 described, and to his extreme astonishment, he recognised the 
 friend of his childhood, the love of his youth — Menie Gray 
 herself ! 
 
 To see her in India was in itself astonishing. To see her 
 apparently under such strange patronage, greatly increased his 
 surprise. To make his way to her, and address her, seemed the 
 natural and direct mode of satisfying the feelings which her ap- 
 pearance excited. 
 
 His impetuosity was however checked, when, advancing close 
 upon Miss Gray and her companion, he observed that the former, 
 though she looked at him, exhibited not the sHghtest token of 
 recognition, unless he could interpret as such, that she shghtly 
 touched her upper-lip with her fore-finger, which, if it happened 
 otherwise than by mere accident, might be construed to mean, " Do 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 117 
 
 not speak to me just now." Hartley, adopting such an interpreta- 
 tion, stood stock still, blushing deeply ; for he was aware that he 
 made for the moment but a silly figure. 
 
 He was the rather convinced of this, when, with a voice which in 
 the force of its accents corresponded with her commanding air, 
 Mrs. Montreville addressed him in English, which savoured 
 slightly of a Swiss patois, — " You haave come to us very fast, sir, to 
 say nothing at all. Are you sure you did not get your tongue 
 stolen by de way ? " 
 
 " I thought I had seen an old friend in that lady, madam," stam- 
 mered Hartley, " but it seems I am mistaken." 
 
 " The good people do tell me that you are one Doctors Hartley, 
 sir. Now, my friend and I do not know Doctors Hartley at all." 
 
 " I have not the presumption to pretend to your acquaintance, 
 madam, but him" 
 
 Here Menie repeated the sign in such a manner, that though it 
 was only momentary, Hartley could not misunderstand its pur- 
 pose ; he therefore changed the end of his sentence, and added, 
 " But I have only to make my bow, and ask pardon for my 
 mistake." 
 
 He retired back accordingly among the company, unable to quit 
 the room, and enquiring of those whom he considered as the best 
 newsmongers for such information as — " Who is that stately-look- 
 ing woman, Mr. Butler ? " 
 
 " Oh, the Queen of Sheba, to be sure." 
 
 " And who is that pretty girl, who sits beside her ? " 
 
 " Or rather behind her," answered Butler, a mihtary chaplain ; 
 " faith, I cannot say — Pretty did you call her ? " turning his opera- 
 glass that way — " Yes, faith, she is pretty — very pretty — Gad, she 
 shoots her glances as smartly from behind the old pile yonder, as 
 Teucer from behind Ajax Telamon's shield." 
 
 " But who is she, can you tell me ? " 
 
 " Some fair-skinned speculation of old Montreville's, I suppose, 
 that she has got either to toady herself, or take in some of her 
 black friends with. — Is it possible you have never heard of old 
 Mother Montreville ? " 
 
 " You know I have been so long absent from Madras" 
 
 " Well," continued Butler, " this lady is the widow of a Swiss 
 officer in the French service, who, after the surrender of Pondi- 
 cherry, went off into the interior, and commenced soldier on his 
 own account. He got possession of a fort, tinder pretence of keep- 
 ing it for some simple Rajah or other ; assembled around him a 
 parcel of desperate vagabonds, of every colour in the rainbow ; 
 occupied a considerable territory, of which he raised the duties in 
 
Ii8 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 his own name, and declared for independence. But Hyder Naig 
 understood no such interloping proceedings, and down he came, 
 besieged the fort and took it, though some pretend it was betrayed 
 to him by this very woman. Be that as it may, the poor Swiss was 
 found dead on the ramparts. Certain it is, she received large sums 
 of money, under pretence of paying off her troops, surrendering of 
 hill-forts, and Heaven knows what besides. She was permitted 
 also to retain some insignia of royalty ; and, as she was wont to 
 talk of Hyder as the Eastern Solomon, she generally became 
 known by the title of Queen of Sheba. She leaves her court when 
 she pleases, and has been as far as Fort St. George before now. 
 In a word, she does pretty much as she likes. The great folks 
 here are civil to her, though they look on her as little better than a 
 spy. As to Hyder, it is supposed he has ensured her fidelity by 
 borrowing the greater part of her treasures, which prevents her 
 from daring to break with him, — besides other causes that smack 
 of scandal of another sort." 
 
 " A singular story," replied Hartley to his companion, while his 
 heart dwelt on the question, How it was possible that the gentle 
 and simple Menie Gray .should be in the train of such a character 
 as this adventuress ? 
 
 " But Butler has not told you the best of it," said Major Mercer, 
 who by this time came round to finish his own story. " Your old 
 acquaintance, Mr. Tresham, or Mr. Middlemas, or whatever else 
 he chooses to be called, has been complimented by a report, that 
 he stood very high in the good graces of this same Boadicea. He 
 certainly commanded some troops which she still keeps on foot, 
 and acted at their head in the Nawaub's service, who craftily em- 
 ployed him in whatever could render him odious to his countrymen. 
 The British prisoners were intrusted to his charge, and, to judge 
 by what I felt myself, the devil might take a lesson from him in 
 severity." 
 
 " And was he attached to, or connected with, this woman?" 
 
 " So Mrs. Rumour told us in our dungeon. Poor Jack Ward 
 had the bastinado for celebrating their merits in a parody on the 
 playhouse song, 
 
 ' Sure such a pair were never seen, 
 So aptly formed to meet by nature.' " 
 
 Hartley could listen no longer. The fate of Menie Gray, con- 
 nected with such a man and such a woman, rushed on his fancy in 
 the most horrid colours, and he was struggling through the throng 
 to get to some place where he might collect his ideas, and consider 
 what could be done for her protection, when a black attendant 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 119 
 
 touched his arm, and at the same time slipt a card into his hand. 
 It bore, " Miss Gray, Mrs. Montreville's, at the house of Ram 
 Sing Cottah, in the Black Town." On the reverse was written 
 with a pencil, " Eight in the morning." 
 
 This intimation of her residence implied, of course, a permission, 
 nay, an invitation, to wait upon her at the hour specified. Hartley's 
 heart beat at the idea of seeing her once more, and still more 
 highly at the thought of being able to serve her. At least, he 
 thought, if there is danger near her, as is much to be suspected, 
 she shall not want a counsellor, or, if necessary, a protector. Yet, 
 at the same time, he felt the necessity of making himself better 
 acquainted with the circumstances of her case, and the persons 
 with whom she seemed connected. Butler and Mercer had both 
 spoke to their disparagement ; but Butler was a little of a coxcomb, 
 and Mercer a great deal of a gossip. While he was considering 
 what credit was due to their testimony, he was unexpectedly 
 encountered by a gentleman of his own profession, a military 
 surgeon, who had had the misfortune to have been in Hyder's 
 prison, till set at freedom by the late pacification. Mr. Esdale, for 
 so he was called, was generally esteemed a rising man, calm, steady, 
 and deliberate in forming his opinions. Hartley found it easy to 
 turn the subject on the Queen of Sheba, by asking whether her 
 Majesty was not somewhat of an adventuress. 
 
 " On my word, I cannot say," answered Esdale, smiling ; " we are 
 all upon the adventure in India, more or less ; but I do not see that 
 the Begum Montreville is more so than the rest." 
 
 "Why, that Amazonian dress and manner," said Hartley, 
 " savour a little of t\i& fizcaresca." 
 
 " You must not," said Esdale, " expect a woman who has com- 
 manded soldiers, and may again, to dress and look entirely like an 
 ordinary person ; but I assure you, that even at this time of day, if 
 she wished to marry, she might easily find a respectable match." 
 
 "Why, I heard that she had betrayed her husband's fort to 
 Hyder." 
 
 " Ay, that is a specimen of Madras gossip. The fact is, that she 
 defended the place long after her husband fell, and afterwards sur- 
 rendered it by capitulation. Hyder, who piques himself on 
 observing the rules of justice, would not otherwise have admitted 
 her to such intimacy." 
 
 " Yes, I have heard," replied Hartley, " that their intimacy was 
 rather of the closest." 
 
 " Another calumny, if you mean any scandal," answered Esdale. 
 " Hyder is too zealous a Mahomedan to entertain a Christian 
 mistress : and besides, to enjoy the sort of rank which is yielded to 
 
120 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 a woman in her condition, she must'refrain, in appearance at least, 
 from all correspondence in the way of gallantry. Just so they said 
 that the poor woman had a connexion with poor Middlemas of the 
 regiment. 
 
 "And was that also a false report ?" said Hartley, in breathless 
 anxiety. 
 
 " On my soul, I believe it was," answered Mr. Esdale. " They 
 were friends, Europeans in an Indian court, and therefore intimate ; 
 but I believe nothing more. By the by, though, I believe there was 
 some quarrel between Middlemas, poor fellow, and you ; yet I am 
 sure that you will be glad to hear there is a chance of his affair 
 being made up." 
 
 " Indeed ! " was again the only word which Hartley could utter. 
 
 " Ay, indeed," answered Esdale. " The duel is an old story 
 now ; and it must be allowed that poor Middlemas, though he was 
 rash in that business, had provocation." 
 
 " But his desertion — his accepting of command under Hyder — 
 his treatment of our prisoners — How can all these be passed over ? " 
 replied Hartley. 
 
 " Why, it is possible — I speak to you as a cautious man, and in 
 confidence — that he may do us better service in Hyder's capital, or 
 Tippoo's camp, than he could have done if serving with his own 
 regiment. And then, for his treatment of prisoners, I am sure I 
 can speak nothing but good of him in that particular. He was 
 obliged to take the office, because those that serve Hyder Naig, 
 must do or die. But he told me himself— and I believe him — that 
 he accepted the office chiefly because, while he made a great 
 bullying at us before the black fellows, he could privately be of 
 assistance to us. Some fools could not understand this, and 
 answered him with abuse and lampoons ; and he was obliged to 
 punish them, to avoid suspicion. Yes, yes, I and others can prove 
 he was willing to be kind, if men would give him leave. I hope to 
 thank him at Madras one day soon. — All this in confidence — Good 
 morrow to you." 
 
 Distracted by the contradictory intelligence he had received. 
 Hartley went next to question old Captain Capstern, the Captain of 
 the Indiaman, whom he had observed in attendance upon the 
 Begum Montreville. On enquiring after that commander's female 
 passengers, he heard a pretty long catalogue of names, in which 
 that he was so much interested in did not occur. On closer enquiry, 
 Capstern recollected that Menie Gray, a young Scotchwoman, had 
 come out under charge of Mrs. Duffer, the master's wife. " A good 
 decent girl," Capstern said, " and kept the mates and guinea-pigs 
 at a respectable distance. She came out," he believed, " to be a 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. I2t 
 
 sort of female companion, or upper-servant, in Madame Montre- 
 ville's family. Snug berth enough," he concluded, " if she can find 
 the length of the old girl's foot." 
 
 This was all that could be made of Capstern ; so Hartley was 
 compelled to remain in a state of uncertainty until the next morning, 
 when an explanation might be expected with Menie Gray in 
 person. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The exact hour assigned, found Hartley at the door of the rich 
 native merchant, who, having some reasons for wishing to oblige 
 the Begum Montreville, had relinquished, for her accommodation 
 and that of her numerous retinue, almost the whole of his large and 
 sumptuous residence in the Black Town of Madras, as that district 
 of the city is called which the natives occupy. 
 
 A domestic, at the first summons, ushered the visitor into an 
 apartment, where he expected to be joined by Miss Gray. The 
 room opened on one side into a small garden or parterre, filled with 
 the brilliant-coloured flowers of eastern climates ; in the midst of 
 which the waters of a fountain rose upwards in a sparkling jet, and 
 fell back again into a white marble cistern. 
 
 A thousand dizzy recollections thronged on the mind of Hartley, 
 whose early feelings towards the companion of his youth, if they had 
 slumbered during distance and the various casualties of a busy life, 
 were revived when he found himself placed so near her, and in 
 circumstances which interested from their unexpected occurrence 
 and mysterious character. A step was heard — the door opened — ■ 
 a female appeared — but it was the portly form of Madame de 
 Montreville. 
 
 " What do you please to want, sir?" said the lady; "that is, if 
 you have found your tongue this morning, which you had lost 
 yesterday." 
 
 " I proposed myself the honour of waiting upon the young person, 
 whom I saw in your excellency's company yesterday morning," 
 answered Hartley, with assumed respect. " I have had long the 
 honour of being known to her in Europe, and I desire to offer my 
 services to her in India." 
 
 " Much obliged — much obliged ; but Miss Gray is gone out, and 
 does not not return for one or two days. You may leave your 
 commands with me." 
 
 "Pardon me, madam,'' rephed Hartley; "but I have some 
 reason to hope you may be mistaken in this matter — And here 
 comes the lady herself." 
 
122 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " How is this, my dear ? " said Mrs. Montreville, with unruffled 
 front, to Menie, as she entered ; " are you not gone out for two or 
 three days, as I tell this gentleman ? — niais c'esi dgal — it is all one 
 thing. You will say, How d'ye do, and good-by, to Monsieur, who 
 is so polite as to come to ask after our healths, and as he sees us 
 both very well, he will go away home again." 
 
 " I believe, madam," said Miss Gray, with appearance of effort, 
 " that I must speak with this gentleman for a few minutes in 
 private, if you will permit us." 
 
 " That is to say, get you gone ? but I do not allow that — I do not 
 like private conversation between young man and pretty young 
 woman ; cela n'est pas hoimete. It cannot be in my house." 
 
 " It may be out of it, then, madam," answered Miss Gray, not 
 pettishly nor pertly, but with the utmost simplicity. — " Mr. Hartley, 
 will you step into that garden ? — and you, madam, may observe us 
 from the window, if it be the fashion of the country to watch so 
 closely." 
 
 As she spoke this she stepped through a lattice-door into the 
 garden, and with an air so simple, that she seemed as if she wished 
 to comply with her patroness's ideas of decorum, though they ap- 
 peared strange to her. The Queen of Sheba, notwithstanding her 
 natural assurance, was disconcerted by the composure of Miss 
 Gray's manner, and left the room, apparently in displeasure. 
 Menie turned back to the door which opened into the garden, 
 and said, in the same manner as before, but with less non- 
 chalance, — 
 
 " I am sure I would not willingly break through the rules of a 
 foreign country ; but I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of speak- 
 ing to so old a friend, — if, indeed," she added, pausing and looking 
 at Hartley, who was much embarrassed, " it be as much pleasure to 
 Mr. Hartley as it is to me." 
 
 " It would have been," said Hartley, scarce knowing what he 
 said — " it must be, a pleasure to me in every circumstance — But 
 this extraordinary meeting — But your father " 
 
 Menie Gray's handkerchief was at her eyes. — " He is gone, Mr. 
 Hartley. After he was left unassisted, his toilsome business became 
 too much for him — he caught a cold, which hung about him, as you 
 know he was the last to attend to his own complaints, till it 
 assumed a dangerous, and, finally, a fatal character. I distress 
 you, Mr. Hartley, but it becomes you well to be affected. My 
 father loved you dearly." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Gray !" said Hartley, "it should not have been thus 
 with my excellent friend at the close of his useful and virtuous life 
 — Alas, wherefore — the question bursts from me involuntarily — 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 123 
 
 wherefore could you not have' complied with his wishes ? where- 
 fore " 
 
 " Do not ask me," said she, stopping the question which was on 
 his lips ; "we are not the formers of our own destiny. It is painful 
 to talk on such a subject ; but for once and for ever, let me tell 
 you that I should have done Mr. Hartley wrong, if, even to secure 
 his assistance to my father, I had accepted his hand, while my 
 wayward affections did not accompany the act." 
 
 "But wherefore do I see you here, Menie? — Forgive me, Miss 
 Gray, my tongue as well as my heart turns back to long-forgotten 
 scenes — But why here ? — why with this woman ? " 
 
 " She is not, indeed, everything that I expected," answered 
 Menie ; " but I must not be prejudiced by foreign manners, after 
 the step I have taken — She is, besides, attentive, and generous in 
 her way, and I shall soon " — she paused a moment, and then added, 
 " be under better protection." 
 
 " That of Richard Middlemas ? " said Hartley, with a faltering 
 voice. 
 
 " I ought not, perhaps, to answer the question," said Menie ; 
 "but I am a bad . dissembler, and those whom I trust, I trust 
 entirely. You have guessed right Mr. Hartley," she added, 
 colouring a good deal, " I have come hither to unite my fate to 
 that of your old comrade." 
 
 " It is, then, just as I feared ! " exclaimed Hartley. 
 
 " And why should Mr. Hartley fear ? " said Menie Gray. " I 
 used to think you too generous — surely the quarrel which occurred 
 long since ought not to perpetuate suspicion and resentment." 
 
 " At least, if the feeling of resentment remained in my own 
 bosom, it would be the last I should intrude upon you. Miss Gray," - 
 answered Hartley. " But it is for you, and for you alone, that I am 
 watchful. — This person — this gentleman whom you mean to intrust 
 with your happiness — do you know where he is — and in what 
 service ? " 
 
 " I know both, more distinctly perhaps than Mr. Hartley can do. 
 Mr. Middlemas has erred greatly, and has been severely punished. 
 But it was not in the time of his exile and sorrow, that she who 
 has plighted her faith to him should, with the flattering world, turn 
 her back upon him. Besides, you have, doubtless, not heard of his 
 hopes of being restored to his country and his rank ? " 
 
 " I have, "5 answered Hartley, thrown off his guard ; " but I see 
 not how he can deserve it, otherwise than by becoming a traitor to 
 his new master, and thus rendering himself even more unworthy of 
 confidence than I hold him to be at this moment." 
 
 " It is well that he hears you not," answered Menie Gray, resent- 
 
124 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing, with natural feeling, the imputation on her lover. Then in- 
 stantly softening her tone, she added, " My voice ought not to 
 aggravate, but to soothe your quarrel. Mr. Hartley, I plight my 
 vi-ord to you that you do Richard wrong." 
 
 She said these words with affecting calmness, suppressing all 
 appearance of that displeasure, of which she was evidently sensible, 
 upon this depreciation of a beloved 'object. 
 
 Hartley compelled himself to answer in the same strain. 
 
 " Miss Gray," he said, " your actions and motives will always be 
 those of an angel ; but let me entreat you to view this important 
 matter with the eyes of worldly wisdom and prudence. Have you 
 well weighed the risks attending the course which you are taking in 
 favour of a man, who, — nay, I will not again offend you — who may, 
 I hope, deserve your favour ? " 
 
 " When I wished to see you in this manner, Mr. Hartley, and 
 declined a communication in public, where we could have had less 
 freedom of conversation, it was with the view of telling you every- 
 thing. Some pain I thought old recollections might give, but I 
 trusted it would be momentary ; and, as I desire to retain your 
 friendship, it is proper I should show that I still deserve it. I 
 must then first tell you my situation after my father's death. In 
 the world's opinion, we were always poor, you know ; but in the 
 proper sense I had not known what real poverty was, until I was 
 placed in dependence upon a distant relation of my poor father, 
 who made our relationship a reason for casting upon me all the 
 drudgery of her household, while she would not allow that it gave 
 me a claim to countenance, kindness, or anything but the relief of 
 my most pressing wants. In these circumstances I received from 
 Mr. Middlemas a letter, in which he related his fatal duel, and 
 its consequence. He had not dared to write to me to share his 
 misery — Now, when he was in a lucrative situation, under the 
 patronage of a powerful prince, whose wisdom knew how to prize 
 and protect such Europeans as entered his service — now, when he 
 had every prospect of rendering our government such essential 
 service by his interest with Hyder Ali, and might eventually nourish 
 hopes of being permitted to return and stand his trial for the death 
 of his commanding officer — now, he pressed me to come to India, 
 and share his reviving fortunes, by accomplishing the engagement 
 into which he had long ago entered. A considerable sum of money 
 accompanied this letter. Mrs. Duffer was pointed out as a re- 
 spectable woman, who would protect me during the passage. Mrs. 
 Montreville, a lady of rank, having large possessions and high 
 interest in the Mysore, would receive me on my arrival at Fort 
 St. George, and conduct me safely to the dominions of Hyder. It 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 125 
 
 was further recommended, that, considering the peculiar situation 
 of Mr. Middlemas, his name should be concealed in the trans- 
 action, and that the ostensible cause of my voyage should be to fill 
 an office in that lady's family. — What was I to do ? — My duty to 
 my poor father was ended, and my other friends considered the 
 proposal as too advantageous to be rejected. The references 
 given, the sum of money lodged, were considered as putting all 
 scruples out of the question, and my immediate protectress and 
 kinswoman was so earnest that I should accept of the offer made 
 me, as to intimate that she would not encourage me to stand in my 
 own light, by continuing to give me shelter and food, (she gave me 
 little more,) if I was foolish enough to refuse compliance." 
 
 " Sordid wretch ! " said Hartley, " how little did she deserve such 
 a charge ! " 
 
 " Let me speak a proud word, Mr. Hartley, and then you will 
 not perhaps blame my relations so much. All their persuasions, 
 and even their threats, would have failed in inducing me to take 
 a step, which has an appearance, at least, to which I found it diffi- 
 cult to reconcile myself. But I had loved Middlemas — I love him 
 still — why should I deny it ? — and I have not hesitated to trust 
 him. Had it not been for the small still voice which reminded me 
 of my engagements, I had maintained more stubbornly the pride of 
 womanhood, and, as you would perhaps have recommended, I 
 might have expected, at least, that my lover should have come to 
 Britain in person, and might have had the vanity to think," she 
 added, smiling faintly, " that if I were worth having, I was worth 
 fetching." 
 
 " Yet now — even now," answered Hartley, " be just to yourself 
 while you are generous to your lover. — Nay, do not look angrily, 
 but hear me. I doubt the propriety of your being under the charge 
 of this unsexed woman, who can no longer be termed a European. 
 I have interest enough with females of the highest rank in the settle- 
 ment — this climate is that of generosity and hospitality — there is 
 not one of them, who, knowing your character and history, will not 
 desire to have you in her society, and under her protection, until 
 your lover shall be able to vindicate his title to your hand in the 
 face of the world. — I myself will be no cause of suspicion to him, 
 or of inconvenience to you, Menie. Let me but have your consent 
 to the arrangement I propose, and the same moment that sees you 
 under honourable and unsuspected protection, I will leave Madras, 
 not to return till your destiny is in one way or other permanently 
 fixed." 
 
 " No, Hartley," said Miss Gray. " It may, it must be, friendly 
 in you thus to advise me ; but it would be most base in me to 
 
126 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 advance my own affairs at the expense of your prospects. Besides, 
 what would this be but taking the chance of contingencies, with the 
 view of sharing poor Middlemas's fortunes, should they prove 
 prosperous, and casting him off, should they be otherwise ? Tell 
 me only, do you, of your own positive knowledge, aver that you con- 
 sider this woman as an unworthy and unfit protectress for so young 
 a person as I am ?" 
 
 " Of my own knowledge I can say nothing ; nay, I must own, 
 that reports differ even concerning Mrs. Montreville's character. 
 But surely the mere suspicion " 
 
 " The mere suspicion, Mr. Hartley, can have no weight with me, 
 considering that I can oppose to it the testimony of the man with 
 whom I am willing to share my future fortunes. You acknowledge 
 the question is but doubtful, and should not the assertion of him of 
 whom I think so highly decide my belief in a doubtful matter ? 
 What, indeed, must he be, should this Madam Montreville be other 
 than he represented her?" 
 
 "What must he be, indeed !" thought Hartley internally, but his 
 lips uttered not the words. He looked down in a deep reverie, and 
 at length started from it at the words of Miss Gray. 
 
 " It is time to remind you, Mr. Hartley, that we must needs part. 
 God bless and preserve you." 
 
 " And you, dearest Menie," exclaimed Hartley, as he sunk on 
 one knee, and pressed to his lips the hand which she held out to 
 him, " God bless you ! — you must deserve blessing. God protect 
 you ! — you must need protection. — Oh, should things prove different 
 from what you hope, send for me instantly, and if man can aid you, 
 Adam Hartley will !" 
 
 He placed in her hand a card containing his address. He then 
 rushed from the apartment. In the hall he met the lady of the 
 mansion, who made him a haughty reverence in token of adieu, 
 while a native servant of the upper class, by whom she was attended, 
 made a low and reverential salam. 
 
 Hartley hastened from the Black Town, more satisfied than before 
 that some deceit was about to be practised towards Menie Gray — 
 more determined than ever to exert himself for her preservation ; 
 yet more completely perplexed, when he began to consider the 
 doubtful character of the danger to which she might be exposed, 
 and the scanty means of protection which he had to oppose to it. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 As Hartley left the apartment in the house of Ram Sing Cottah 
 by one mode of exit, Miss Gray retired by another, to an apartment 
 destined for her private use. She, too, had reason for secret and 
 anxious reflection, since all her love for Middlemas, and her full 
 confidence in his honour, could not entirely conquer her doubts con- 
 cerning the character of the person whom he had chosen for her 
 temporary protectress. And yet she could not rest these doubts 
 upon any thing distinctly conclusive ; it was rather a dislike of her 
 patroness's general manners, and a disgust at her masculine notions 
 and expressions, that displeased her, than anything else. 
 
 Meantime, Madam Montreville, followed by her black domestic, 
 entered the apartment where Hartley and Menie had just parted. 
 It appeared from the conversation which follows, that they had from 
 some place of concealment overheard the dialogue we have narrated 
 in the former chapter. 
 
 " It is good luck, Sadoc," said the lady, " that there is in this 
 world the great fool." 
 
 " And the great villain,'' answered Sadoc, in good English, but 
 in a most sullen tone. 
 
 " This woman, now," continued the lady, " is what in Frangistan 
 you call an angel." 
 
 " Ay, and I have seen those in Hindostan you may well call 
 devil." 
 
 " I am sure that this — how you call him — Hartley, is a meddling 
 devil. For what has he to do ? She will not have any of him. 
 What is his business who has her ? I wish we were well up the 
 Ghauts again, my dear Sadoc." 
 
 " For my part," answered the slave, " I am half determined never 
 to ascend the Ghauts more. Hark you, Adela, I begin to sicken of 
 the plan we have laid. This creature's confiding purity— call her 
 angel or woman, as you will — makes my practices appear too vile, 
 even in my own eyes. I feel myself unfit to be your companion 
 farther in the daring paths which you pursue. Let us part, and 
 part friends." 
 
 " Amen, coward. But the woman remains with me,'' answered 
 the Queen of Sheba.* 
 
 " With thee ! " replied the seeming black — " never. No, Adela. 
 She is under the shadow of the British flag, and she shall experience 
 its protection." 
 
128 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Yes— and what protection will it afford to you yourself?" re- 
 torted the Amazon. " What if I should clap my hands, and com- 
 mand a score of my black servants to bind you like a sheep, and 
 then send word to the Governor of the Presidency that one Richard 
 Middlemas, who had been guilty of mutiny, murder, desertion, and 
 serving of the enemy against his countrymen, is here, at Ram Sing 
 Cottah's house, in the disguise of a black servant?" Middlemas 
 covered his face with his hands, while Madam Montreville pro- 
 ceeded to load him with reproaches. — " Yes," she said, " slave, and 
 son of a slave ! Since you wear the dress of my household, you 
 shall obey me as fully as the rest of them, otherwise, — whips, 
 fetters — the scaffold, renegade,— the gallows, murderer ! Dost thou 
 dare to reflect on the abyss of misery from which I raised thee, to 
 share my wealth and my affections ? Dost thou not remember, that 
 the picture of this pale, cold, unimpassioned girl was then so in- 
 different to thee, that thou didst sacrifice it as a tribute due to the 
 benevolence of her who relieved thee, to the affection of her who, 
 wretch as thou art, condescended to love thee ? " 
 
 "Yes, fell woman," answered Middlemas, "but was it I who 
 encouraged the young tyrant's outrageous passion for a portrait, or 
 who formed the abominable plan of placing the original within his 
 power?" 
 
 " No — for to do so required brain and wit. But it was thine, 
 flimsy villain, to execute the device which a bolder genius planned ; 
 it was thine to entice the woman to this foreign shore, under pre- 
 tence of a love, -which, on thy part, cold-blooded miscreant, never 
 had existed." 
 
 "Peace, screech-owl!" answered Middlemas, "nor drive me to 
 such madness as may lead me to forget thou art a woman." 
 
 " A woman, dastard ! Is this thy pretext for sparing me .' — what, 
 then, art thou, who tremblest at a woman's looks, a woman's words? 
 — I am a woman, renegade, but one who wears a dagger, and 
 despises alike thy strength and thy courage. I am a woman who 
 has looked on more dying men than thou hast killed deer and 
 antelopes. Thou must traffic for greatness? — thou hast thrust 
 thyself like a five-years' child, into the rough sports of men, and 
 wilt only be borne down and crushed for thy pains. Thou wilt be 
 a double traitor, forsooth — betray thy betrothed to the Prince, in 
 order to obtain the means of betraying the Prince to the English, 
 and thus gain thy pardon from thy countrymen. But me thou 
 shalt not betray. I will not be made the tool of thy ambition — I 
 will not give thee the aid of my treasures and my soldiers, to be 
 sacrificed at last to this northern icicle. No, I will watch thee as 
 the fiend watches the wizard. Show but a symptom of betraying 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 129 
 
 me while we are here, and I denounce thee to the English, who 
 might pardon the successful villain, but not him who can only offer 
 prayers for his life, in place of useful services. Let me see thee 
 flinch when we are beyond the Ghauts, and the Nawaub shall 
 know thy intrigues with the Nizam and the Mahrattas, and thy re- 
 solution to deliver up Bangalore to the English, when the impru- 
 dence of Tippoo shall have made thee Killedar. Go where thou 
 wilt, slave, thou shalt find me thy mistress." 
 
 '' And a fair, though an unkind one," said the counterfeit Sadoc, 
 suddenly changing his tone to an affectation of tenderness. " It is 
 true I pity this unhappy woman ; true I would save her if I could — 
 but most unjust to suppose I would in any circumstances prefer her 
 to my Nourjehan, my light of the world, my Mootee Mahul, my 
 pearl of the palace " 
 
 " All false coin and empty compliment," said the Begum. " Let 
 me hear, in two brief words, that you leave this woman to my 
 disposal." 
 
 " But not to be interred alive under your seat, like the Circassian 
 of whom you were jealous," said Middlemas, shuddering. 
 
 " No, fool ; her lot shall not be worse than that of being the 
 favourite of a prince. Hast thou, fugitive and criminal as thou art, 
 a better fate to offer her ?" 
 
 " But," replied Middlemas, blushing even through his base dis- 
 guise at the consciousness of his abject conduct, " I will have no 
 force on her inclinations." 
 
 " Such truce she shall have as the laws of the Zenana allow," 
 replied the female tyrant. " A week is long enough for her to 
 determine whether she will be the willing mistress of a princely and 
 generous lover." 
 
 " Ay," said Richard, " and before that week expires '' He 
 
 stopped short. 
 
 " What will happen before the week expires ? " said the Begum 
 Montreville. 
 
 " No matter — nothing of consequence. I leave the woman's fate 
 with you." 
 
 " 'Tis well— we march to-night on our return, so soon as the 
 moon rises. Give orders to our retinue." 
 
 " To hear is to obey," rephed the seeming slave, and left the 
 apartment. 
 
 The eyes of the Begum remained fixed on the door through which 
 he had passed. " Villain— double-dyed villain !" she said, " I see 
 thy drift ; thou wouldst betray Tippoo, in policy alike and in love. 
 But me thou canst not betray. — Ho, there, who waits ? Let a rusty 
 messenger be ready to set off instantly with letters, which I will 
 
 K. 
 
130 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 presently make ready. His departure must be a secret to every 
 one.— And now shall this pale phantom soon know her destiny, 
 and learn what it is to have rivalled Adela Montreville." 
 
 While the Amazonian Princess meditated plans of vengeance 
 against her innocent rival and the guilty lover, the latter plotted as 
 deeply for his own purposes. He had waited until such brief 
 twilight as India enjoys rendered his disguise complete, then set out 
 in haste for the part of Madras inhabited by the Europeans, or, as 
 it is termed, Fort St. George. 
 
 " I will save her yet," he said ; " ere Tippoo can seize his prize, 
 we will raise around his ears a storm which would drive the God of 
 War from the arms of the Goddess of Beauty. The trap shall close 
 its fangs upon this Indian tiger, ere he has time to devour the bait 
 which enticed him into the snare." 
 
 While Middlemas cherished these hopes, he approached the 
 Residency. The sentinel on duty stopped him, as of course, but he 
 was in possession of the counter-sign, and entered without op- 
 position. He rounded the building in which the President of the 
 Council resided, an able and active, but unconscientious man, who, 
 neither in his own affairs, nor in those of the Company, was sup- 
 posed to embarrass himself much about the means which he used 
 to attain his object. A tap at a small postern-gate was answered 
 by a black slave, who admitted Middlemas to that necessary ap- 
 purtenance of every government, a back stair, which, in its turn, 
 conducted him to the office of the Bramin Paupiah, the Dubash, or 
 steward of the great man, and by whose means chiefly he com- 
 municated with the native courts, and carried on many mysterious 
 intrigues, which he did not communicate to his brethren at the 
 council-board. 
 
 It is perhaps justice to the guilty and unhappy Middlemas to 
 suppose, that if the agency of a British officer had been employed, 
 he might have been induced to throw himself on his mercy, might 
 have explained the whole of his nefarious bargain with Tippoo, and, 
 renouncing his guilty projects of ambition, might have turned his 
 whole thoughts upon saving Menie Gray, ere she was transported 
 beyond the reach of British protection. But the thin dusky form 
 which stood before him, wrapped in robes of muslin embroidered 
 with gold, was that of Paupiah, known as a master-counsellor of 
 dark projects, an Oriental Machiavel, whose premature wrinkles 
 were the result of many an intrigue, in which the existence of the poor, 
 the happiness of the ricli, the honour of men, and the chastity of 
 women, had been sacrificed without scruple, to attain some private 
 or political advantage. He did not even enquire by what means 
 the renegade Briton proposed to acquire that influence with Tippoo 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 131 
 
 which might enable him to betray him — he only desired to be 
 assured that the fact was real. 
 
 " You speak at the risk of your head, if you deceive Paupiah, or 
 make Paupiah the means of deceiving his master. I know, so does 
 all Madras, that the Nawaub has placed his young son, Tippoo, 
 as Vice-Regent of his newly-conquered territory of Bangalore, 
 which Hyder hath lately added to his dominions. But that Tippoo 
 should bestow the government of that important place on an 
 apostate Feringi, seems more doubtful." 
 
 " Tippoo is young," answered Middlemas, " and to youth the 
 temptation of the passions is what a lily on the surface of the lake 
 is to childhood— they will risk life to reach it, though, when 
 obtained, it is of little value. Tippoo has the cunning of his father 
 and his military talents, but he lacks his cautious wisdom." 
 
 " Thou speakest truth — but when thou art Governor of Bangalore, 
 hast thou forces to hold the place till thou art relieved by the 
 Mahrattas, or by the British ? " 
 
 " Doubt it not — the soldiers of the Begum Mootee Mahul, whom 
 the Europeans call Montreville, are less hers than mine. I am 
 myself her Bukshee, [General,] and her Sirdars are at my devotion. 
 With these I could keep Bangalore for two months, and the British 
 army may be before it in a week. What do you risk by advancing 
 General Smith's army nearer to the frontier ? " 
 
 "We risk a settled peace with Hyder," answered Paupiah, "for 
 which he has made advantageous offers. Yet I say not but thy 
 plan may be most advantageous. Thou sayest Tippoo's treasures 
 are in the fort ? " 
 
 "His treasures and his Zenana; T may even be able to secure 
 his person." 
 
 " That were a goodly pledge " — answered the Hindoo minister. 
 
 " And you consent that the treasures shall be divided to the last 
 rupee, as in this scroll ? " 
 
 " The share of Paupiah's master is too small," said the Bramin ; 
 " and the name of Paupiah is unnoticed." 
 
 " The share of the Begum may be divided between Paupiah and 
 his master," answered Middlemas. 
 
 " But the Begum will expect her proportion," replied Paupiah. 
 
 " Let me alone to deal with her," said Middlemas. " Before the 
 blow is struck, she shall not know of our private treaty, and after- 
 wards her disappointment will be of little consequence. And now, 
 remember my stipulations— my rank to be restored — my full pardon 
 to be granted." 
 
 " Ay," replied Paupiah, cautiously, " should you succeed. But 
 were you to betray what has here passed, I will find the dagger of 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 a Lootie which shall reach thee, wert thou sheltered under the folds 
 of the Nawaub's garment. In the meantime, take this missive, and 
 when you are in possession of Bangalore, dispatch it to General 
 Smith, whose division shall have orders to approach as near the 
 frontiers of Mysore as may be, without causing suspicion." 
 
 Thus parted this worthy pair ; Paupiah to report to his principal 
 the progress of these dark machinations, Middlemas to join the 
 Begum on her return to the Mysore. The gold and diamonds of 
 Tippoo, the importance which he was about to acquire, the ridding 
 himself at once of the capricious authority of the irritable Tippoo, 
 and the troublesome claims of the Begum, were such agreeable 
 subjects of contemplation, that he scarcely thought of the fate of 
 his European victim, unless to salve his conscience with the hope 
 that the sole injury she could sustain might be the alarm of a few 
 days, during the course of which he would acquire the means of 
 delivering her from the tyrant, in whose Zenana she was to remain 
 a temporary prisoner. He resolved, at the same time, to abstain 
 from seeing her till the moment he could afford her protection, 
 justly considering the danger which his whole plan might incur, if 
 he again awakened the jealousy of the Begum. This he trusted 
 was now asleep ; and, in the course of their return to Tippoo's 
 camp, near Bangalore, it was his study to soothe this ambitious 
 and crafty female by blandishments, intermingled with the more 
 splendid prospects of wealth and power to be opened to them both, 
 as he pretended, by the success of his present enterprise.* 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 It appears that the jealous and tyrannical Begum did not long 
 suspend her purpose of agonizing her rival by acquainting her with 
 her intended fate. By prayers or rewards, Menie Gray prevailed 
 on a servant of Ram Sing Cottah, to deliver to Hartley the follow- 
 ing distracted note : — 
 
 " All is true your fears foretold— He has delivered me up to a 
 cruel woman, who threatens to sell me to the tyrant Tippoo. — Save 
 me if you can — if you have not pity, or cannot give me aid, there is 
 none left upon earth. — M. G." 
 
 The haste with which Dr. Hartley sped to the Fort, and de- 
 manded an audience of the Governor, was defeated by the delays 
 interposed by Paupiah. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 133 
 
 It did not suit the plans of this artful Hindhu, that any interrup- 
 tion should be opposed to the departure of the Begum and her 
 favourite, considering how much the plans of the last corresponded 
 with his own. He affected incredulity on the charge, when Hartley 
 complained of an Englishwoman being detained in the train of the 
 Begum against her consent, treated the complaint of Miss Gray as 
 the result of some female quarrel unworthy of particular attention, 
 and when at length he took some steps for examining further into 
 the matter, he contrived they should be so tardy, that the Begum 
 and her retinue were far beyond the reach of interruption. 
 
 Hartley let his indignation betray him into reproaches against 
 Paupiah, in which his principal was not spared. This only served 
 to give the impassible Bramin a pretext for excluding him from the 
 Residency, with a hint, that if his language continued to be of such 
 an imprudent character, he might expect to be removed from 
 Madras, and stationed at some hill-fort or village among the 
 mountains, where his medical knowledge would find full exercise 
 in protecting himself and others from the unhealthiness of the 
 climate. 
 
 As he retired, bursting with ineffectual indignation, Esdale was 
 the first person whom Hartley chanced to meet with, and to him, 
 stung with impatience, he communicated what he termed the in- 
 famous conduct of the Governor's Dubash, connived at, as he had 
 but too much reason to suppose, by the Governor himself ; ex- 
 claiming against the want of spirit which they betrayed, in aban- 
 doning a British subject to the fraud of renegades, and the force of 
 a tyrant. 
 
 Esdale listened with that sort of anxiety which prudent men 
 betray when they feel themselves like to be drawn into trouble by 
 the discourse of an imprudent friend. 
 
 " If you desire to be personally righted in this matter,'' said he 
 at length, " you must apply to Leadenhall Street, where, I suspect 
 — betwixt ourselves — complaints are accumulating fast, both against 
 Paupiah and his master." 
 
 " I care for neither of them," said Hartley ; " I need no personal 
 redress — I desire none — I only want succour for Menie Gray." 
 
 " In that case," said Esdale, " you have only one resource — you 
 must apply to Hyder himself" 
 
 " To Hyder — to the usurper — the tyrant ? " 
 
 " Yes, to this usurper and tyrant," answered Esdale, " you must 
 be contented to apply. His pride is, to be thought a strict ad- 
 ministrator of justice ; and perhaps he may on this, as on other 
 occasions, choose to display himself in the light of an impartial 
 magistrate." 
 
134 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Then I go to demand justice at his footstool," said Hartley. 
 
 "Not so fast, my dear Hartley," answered his friend; "first 
 consider the risk. Hyder is just by reflection, and perhaps from 
 political considerations ; but by temperament, his blood is as 
 unruly as ever beat under a black skin, and if you do not find him 
 in the vein of judging, he is likely enough to be in that of killing. 
 Stakes and bowstrings are as frequently in his head as the adjust- 
 ment of the scales of justice." 
 
 " No matter — I will instantly present myself at his Durbar. The 
 Governor cannot for very shame refuse me letters of credence." 
 
 " Never think of asking them," said his more experienced friend ; 
 " it would cost Paupiah little to have them so worded as to induce 
 Hyder to rid our sable Dubash, at once and for ever, of the sturdy 
 free-spoken Dr. Adam Hartley. A Vakeel, or messenger of govern- 
 ment, sets out to-morrow for Seringapatam ; contrive to join him 
 on the road, his passport will protect you both. Do you know 
 none of the chiefs about Ryder's person ?" 
 
 " None, excepting his late emissary to this place, Barak el 
 Hadgi," answered Hartley. 
 
 " His support," said Esdale, "although only a Fakir, may be as 
 effectual as that of persons of more essential consequence. And, 
 to say the truth, where the caprice of a despot is the question in 
 debate, there is no knowing upon what it is best to reckon. — Take 
 my advice, my dear Hartley, leave this poor girl to her fate. After 
 all, by placing yourself in an attitude of endeavouring to save 
 her, it is a hundred to one that you only ensure your own de- 
 struction." 
 
 Hartley shook his head, and bade Esdale hastily farewell ; 
 leaving him in the happy and self-applauding state of mind proper 
 to one who has given the best advice possible to a friend, and may 
 conscientiously wash his hands of all consequences. 
 
 Having furnished himself with money, and with the attendance 
 of three trusty native servants, mounted like himself on Arab horses, 
 and carrying with them no tent, and very little baggage, the 
 anxious Hartley lost not a moment in taking the road to Mysore, 
 endeavouring, in the meantime, by recollecting every story he had 
 ever heard of Hyder's justice and forbearance, to assure himself 
 that he should find the Nawaub disposed to protect a helpless 
 female, even against the future heir of his empire. 
 
 Before he crossed the Madras territory, he overtook the Vakeel, 
 or messenger of the British Government, of whom Esdale had 
 spoken. This man, accustomed for a sum of money to permit ad- 
 venturous European traders who desired to visit Hyder's capital, 
 to share his protection, passport, and escort, was not disposed to 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 135 
 
 refuse the same good office to a gentleman of credit at Madras ; 
 and, propitiated by an additional gratuity, undertook to travel as 
 speedily as possible. It was a journey which was not- prosecuted 
 without much fatigue and considerable danger, as they had to 
 traverse a country frequently exposed to all the evils of war, more 
 especially when they approached the Ghauts, those tremendous 
 mountain-passes which descend from the table-land of Mysore, and 
 through which the mighty streams that arise in the centre of the 
 Indian peninsula, find their way to the ocean. 
 
 The sun had set ere the party reached the foot of one of these 
 perilous passes, up which lay the road to Seringapatam. A narrow 
 path, which in summer resembled an empty water-course, winding 
 upwards among immense rocks and precipices, was at one time 
 completely overshadowed by dark groves of teak-trees, and at 
 another, found its way beside impenetrable jungles, the habitation 
 of jackals and tigers. 
 
 By means of this unsocial path the travellers threaded their way 
 in silence, — Hartley, whose impatience kept him before the Vakeel, 
 eagerly enquiring when the moon would enlighten the darkness, 
 which, after the sun's disappearance, closed fast around them. He 
 was answered by the natives according to their usual mode of ex- 
 pression, that the moon was in her dark side, and that he was not 
 to hope to behold her bursting through a cloud to illuminate the 
 thickets and strata of black and slaty rocks, amongst which they 
 were winding. Hartley had therefore no resource, save to keep his 
 eye steadily fixed on the lighted match of the Sowar, or horseman, 
 who rode before him, which, for sufficient reasons, was always kept 
 in readiness to be applied to the priming of the matchlock. The 
 vidette, on his part, kept a watchful eye on the Dowrah, a guide 
 supplied at the last village, who, having got more than half way 
 from his own house, was much to be suspected of meditating how 
 to escape the trouble of going further.* The Dowrah, on the other 
 hand, conscious of the lighted match and loaded gun behind him, 
 holloed from time to time to show that he was on his duty, and 
 to accelerate the march of the travellers. His cries were answered 
 by an occasional ejaculation of UUa from the black soldiers, who 
 closed the rear, and who were meditating on former adventures, 
 the plundering oiz-Kaffila, (party of travelling merchants,) or some 
 such exploit, or perhaps reflecting that a tiger, in the neighbouring 
 jungle, might be watching patiently for the last of the party, in order 
 to spring upon him, according to his usual practice. 
 
 The sun, which appeared almost as suddenly as it had left them, 
 served to light the travellers in the remainder of the ascent, and 
 called forth from the Mahomedans belonging to the party the 
 
136 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 morning prayer of Alia Akber, which resounded in long notes 
 among the rocks and ravines, and they continued with better ad- 
 vantage their forced march until the pass opened upon a boundless 
 extent of jungle, with a single high mud fort rising through the 
 midst of it. Upon this plain rapine and war had suspended the 
 labours of industry, and the rich vegetation of the soil had in a few 
 years converted a fertile champaign country into an almost im- 
 penetrable thicket. Accordingly, the banks of a small nullah, or 
 brook, were covered with the footmarks of tigers and other animals 
 of prey. 
 
 Here the travellers stopped to drink, and to refresh themselves 
 and their horses ; and it was near this spot that Hartley saw a 
 sight which forced him to compare the subject which engrossed his 
 own thoughts, with the distress that had afflicted another. 
 
 At a spot not far distant from the brook, the guide called their 
 attention to a most wretched-looking man, overgrown with hair, 
 who was seated on the skin of a tiger. His body was covered 
 with mud and ashes, his skin sun-burnt, his dress a few wretched 
 tatters. He appeared not to observe the approach of the strangers, 
 neither moving nor speaking a word, but remaining with his eyes 
 fixed on a small and rude tomb, formed of the black slate-stones 
 which lay around, and exhibiting a small recess for a lamp. As 
 they approached the man, and placed before him a rupee or two, 
 and some rice, they observed that a tiger's skull and bones lay 
 beside him, with a sabre almost consumed by rust. 
 
 While they gazed on this miserable object, the guide acquainted 
 them with his tragical history. Sadhu Sing had been a Sipahee, or 
 soldier, and freebooter of course, the native and the pride of a half- 
 ruined village which they had passed on the preceding day. He was 
 betrothed to the daughter of a Sipahee, who served in the mud fort 
 which they saw at a distance rising above the jungle. In due time, 
 Sadhu, with his friends, came for the purpose of the marriage, and 
 to bring home the bride. She was mounted on a Tatoo, a small 
 horse belonging to the country, and Sadhu and his friends pre- 
 ceded her on foot, in all their joy and pride. As they approached 
 the nullah near which the travellers were resting, there was heard a 
 dreadful roar, accompanied by a shriek of agony. Sadhu Sing, 
 who instantly turned, saw no trace of his bride, save that her horse 
 ran wild in one direction, whilst in the other the long grass and 
 reeds of the jungle were moving like the ripple of the ocean, when 
 distorted by the course of a shark holding its way near the surface. 
 Sadhu drew his sabre and rushed forward in that direction ; the 
 rest of the party remained motionless until roused by a short roar 
 of agony. They then plunged into the jungle with their drawn 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 137 
 
 weapons, where they speedily found Sadhu Sing holding in his 
 arms the lifeless corpse of his bride, where a little farther lay the 
 body of the tiger, slain by such a blow over the neck as desperation 
 itself could alone have discharged. — The brideless bridegroom 
 would permit none to interfere with his sorrow. He dug a grave 
 for his Mora, and erected over it the rude tomb they saw, and 
 never afterwards left the spot. The beasts of prey themselves 
 seemed to respect or dread the extremity of his sorrow. His 
 friends brought him food and water from the nullah, but he neither 
 smiled nor showed any mark of acknowledgment unless when they 
 brought him flowers to deck the grave of Mora. Four or five years, 
 according to the guide, had passed away, and there Sadhu Sing 
 still remained among the trophies of his grief and his vengeance, 
 exhibiting all the symptoms of advanced age, though still in the 
 prime of youth. The tale hastened the travellers from their rest-' 
 ing-place ; the Vakeel because it reminded him of the dangers of 
 the jungle, and Hartley because it coincided too well with the pro- 
 bable fate of his beloved, almost within the grasp of a more formid- 
 able tiger than that whose skeleton lay beside Sadhu Sing. 
 
 It was at the mud fort already mentioned that the travellers re- 
 ceived the first accounts of the progress of the Begum and her 
 party, by a Peon (or foot-soldier) who had been in their company, 
 but was now on his return to the coast. They had travelled, he 
 said, with great speed, until they ascended the Ghauts, where they 
 were joined by a party of the Begum's own forces ; and he and 
 others, who had been brought from Madras as a temporary escort, 
 were paid and dismissed to their homes. After this, he understood 
 it was the purpose of the Begum Mootee Mahul, to proceed by slow 
 marches and frequent halts, to Bangalore, the vicinity of which 
 place she did not desire to reach until Prince Tippoo, with whom 
 she desired an interview, should have returned from an expedition 
 towards Vandicotta, in which he had lately been engaged. 
 
 From the result of his anxious enquiries, Hartley had reason to 
 hope, that though Seringapatam was seventy-five miles more to the 
 eastward than Bangalore, yet, by using diligence, he might have 
 time to throw himself at the feet of Hyder, and beseech his inter- 
 position, before the meeting betwixt Tippoo and the Begum should 
 decide the fate of Menie Gray. On the other hand, he trembled 
 as the Peon told him that the Begum's Bukshee, or General, who 
 had travelled to Madras with her in disguise, had now assumed 
 the dress and character belonging to his rank, and it was expected 
 he was to be honoured by the Mahomedan Prince with some high 
 office of dignity. With still deeper anxiety, he learned that a pa- 
 lanquin, watched with sedulous care by the slaves of Oriental 
 
133 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 jealousy, contained, it was whispered, a Feringi, or Frankish woman, 
 beautiful as a Houri, who had been brought from England by the 
 Begum, as a present to Tippoo. The deed of villainy was therefore 
 in full train to be accomplished; it remained to see whether, by 
 diligence on Hartley's side, its course could be interrupted. 
 
 When this eager vindicator of betrayed innocence arrived in the 
 capital of Hyder, it may be believed that he consumed no time in 
 viewing the temple of the celebrated Vishnoo, or in surveying the 
 splendid Gardens called Loll-bang, which were the monument of 
 Ryder's magnificence, and now hold his mortal remains. On the 
 "contrary, he was no sooner arrived in the city, than he hastened to 
 the principal Mosque, having no doubt that he was there most likely 
 to learn some tidings of Barak el Hadgi. He approached accord- 
 ingly the sacred spot, and as to enter it would have cost a Feringi 
 his life, he employed the agency of a devout Mussulman to obtain 
 information concerning the person whom he sought. He was not 
 long in learning that the Fakir Barak was within the Mosque, as 
 he had anticipated, busied with his holy office of reading passages 
 from the Koran, and its most approved commentators. To inter- 
 rupt him in his devout task was impossible, and it was only by a 
 high bribe that he could prevail on the same Moslem whom he had 
 before employed, to slip into the sleeve of the holy man's robe a 
 paper containing his name, and that of the Khan in which the 
 Vakeel had taken up his residence. The agent brought back for 
 answer, that the Fakir, immersed, as was to be expected, in the 
 holy service which he was in the act of discharging, had paid no 
 visible attention to the symbol of intimation which the Feringi 
 Sahib (European gentleman) had sent to him. Distracted with the 
 loss of time, of which each moment was precious. Hartley next 
 endeavoured to prevail on the Mussulman to interrupt the Fakir's 
 devotions with a verbal message ; but the man was indignant at 
 the very proposal. 
 
 " Dog of a Christian ! " he said, " what art thou and thy whole 
 generation, that Barak el Hadgi should lose a divine thought for 
 the sake of an infidel like thee ? " 
 
 Exasperated beyond self-possession, the unfortunate Hartley was 
 now about to intrude upon the precincts of the Mosque in person, 
 in hopes of interrupting the formal prolonged recitation which 
 issued from its recesses, when an old man laid his hand on his 
 shoulder, and prevented him from a rashness which might have 
 cost him his life, saying, at the same time, " You are a Sahib Angre- 
 zie, [English gentleman ;] I have been a Telinga, [a private soldier,] 
 in the Company's service, and I have eaten their salt, I will do your 
 errand for you to the Fakir Barak el Hadgi," 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 139 
 
 So saying, he entered the Mosque, and presently returned with 
 the Fakir's answer, in these enigmatical words : — " He who would 
 see the sun rise must watch till tjie dawn." 
 
 With this poor subject of consolation, Hartley retired to his inn, 
 to meditate on the futility of the professions of the natives, and 
 to devise some other mode of finding access to Hyder than that 
 which he had hitherto trusted to. On this point, however, he lost 
 all hope, being informed by his late fellow-traveller, whom he 
 found at the Khan, that the Nawaub was absent from the city on 
 a secret expedition, which might detain him for two or three 
 days. This was the answer which the Vakeel himself had received' 
 from the Dewan, with a farther intimation, that he must hold him- 
 self ready, when he was required, to deliver his credentials to 
 Prince Tippoo, instead of the Nawaub ; his business being referred 
 to the former, in a way not very promising for the success of his 
 mission. 
 
 Hartley was now nearly thrown into despair. He applied to 
 more than one officer supposed to have credit with the Nawaub, 
 but the slightest hint of the nature of his business seemed to strike 
 all with terror. Not one of the persons he applied to would engage 
 in the affair, or even consent to give it a hearing ; and the Dewan 
 plainly told him, that to engage in opposition to Prince Tippoo's 
 wishes, was the ready way to destruction, and exhorted him to 
 return to the coast. Driven almost to distraction by his various 
 failures. Hartley betook himself in the evening to the Khan. The 
 call of the Muezzins thundering from the minarets, had invited the 
 faithful to prayers, when a black servant, about fifteen years old, 
 stood before Hartley, and pronounced these words, deliberately, 
 and twice over, — " Thus says Barak el Hadgi, the watcher in the 
 Mosque. He that would see the sun rise, let him turn towards the 
 east." He then left the caravanserai ; and it may be well supposed 
 that Hartley, starting from the carpet on which he had lain down 
 to repose himself, followed his youthful guide with renewed vigour 
 and palpitating hope. 
 
I40 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 'Twas the hour when rites unholy 
 Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer, 
 
 And the star that faded slowly, 
 Left to dews the freshen'd air. 
 
 Day his sultry fires had wasted, 
 Calm and cool the moonbeams shone ; 
 
 To the Vizier's lofty palace 
 
 One bold Christian came alone. 
 
 Thomas Campbell. Quoted from memory. 
 
 The twilight darkened into night so fast, that it was only by 
 his white dress that Hartley could discern his guide, as he tripped 
 along the splendid Bazaar of the city. But the obscurity was so 
 far favourable, that it prevented the inconvenient attention which 
 the natives might otherwise have bestowed upon the European 
 in his native dress, a sight at that time very rare in Seringa- 
 patam. 
 
 The various turnings and windings through which he was con- 
 ducted, ended at a small door in a wall, which, from the branches 
 that hung over it, seemed to surround a garden or grove. 
 
 The postern opened on a tap from his guide, and the slave having 
 entered, Hartley prepared to follow, but stepped back as a gigantic 
 African brandished at his head a scimitar three fingers broad. The 
 young slave touched his countryman with a rod which he held in 
 his hand, and it seemed as if the touch disabled the giant, whose 
 arm and weapon sunk instantly. Hartley entered without farther 
 opposition, and was now in a grove of mango-trees, through which 
 an infant moon was twinkling faintly amid the murmur of waters, 
 the sweet song of the nightingale, and the odours of the rose, 
 yellow jasmine, orange and citron flowers, and Persian Narcis- 
 sus. Huge domes and arches, which were seen imperfectly in the 
 quivering light, seemed to intimate the neighbourhood of some 
 sacred edifice, where the Fakir had doubtless taken up his resi- 
 dence. 
 
 Hartley pressed on with as much haste as he could, and entered 
 a side-door and narrow-vaulted passage, at the end of which was 
 another door. Here his guide stopped, but pointed and made in- 
 dications that the European should enter. Hartley did so, and 
 found himself in a small cell, such as we have formerly described, 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 141 
 
 wherein sate Barak el Hadgi, with another Fakir, who, to judge 
 from the extreme dignity of a white beard, which ascended up to 
 his eyes on each side, must be a man of great sanctity, as well as 
 importance. 
 
 Hartley pronounced the usual salutation of Salam Alaikum in 
 the most modest and deferential tone ; but his former friend was 
 so far from responding in their former strain of intimacy, that, 
 having consulted the eye of his older companion, he barely pointed 
 to a third carpet, upon which the stranger seated himself cross- 
 legged after the country fashion, and a profound silence prevailed 
 for the space of several minutes. Hartley knew the Oriental cus- 
 toms too well to endanger the success of his suit by precipitation. 
 He waited an intimation to speak. At length it came, and from 
 Barak. 
 
 " When the pilgrim Barak," he said, " dwelt at Madras, he had 
 eyes and a tongue ; but now he is guided by those of his father, the 
 holy Scheik Hali ben Khaledoun, the superior of his convent." 
 
 This extreme humility Hartley thought inconsistent with the 
 affectation of possessing superior influence, which Barak had shown 
 while at the Presidency ; but exaggeration of their own consequence 
 is a foible common to all who find themselves in a land of strangers. 
 Addressing the senior Fakir, therefore, he told him in, as few words 
 as possible the villainous plot which was laid to betray Menie Gray 
 into the hands of the Prince Tippoo. He made his suit for the 
 reverend father's intercession with the Prince himself, and with his 
 father the Nawaub, in the most persuasive terms. The Fakir 
 listened to him with an inflexible and immovable aspect, similar to 
 that with which a wooden saint regards his eager supplicants. 
 There was a second pause, when, after resurning his pleading more 
 than once, Hartley was at length compelled to end it for want of 
 matter. 
 
 The silence was broken by the elder Fakir, who, after shooting a 
 glance at his younger companion by a turn of the eye, without the 
 least alteration of the position of the head and body, said, " The 
 unbeliever has spoken like a poet. But does he think that the 
 Nawaub Khan Hyder Ali Behauder will contest with his son Tippoo 
 the Victorious, the possession of an infidel slave ?" 
 
 Hartley received at the same time a side glance from Barak, as 
 if encouraging him to plead his own cause. He suffered a minute 
 to elapse, and then replied, — 
 
 " The Nawaub is in the place of the Prophet, a judge over the 
 low as well as high. It is writlen, that when the Prophet decided 
 a controversy between the two sparrows concerning a grain of rice, 
 his wife Fatima said to him, ' Doth the Missionary of Allah well to 
 
142 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 bestow his time in distributing justice on a matter so slight, and 
 between such despicable litigants ?'— ' Know, woman,' answered the 
 Prophet, ' that the sparrows and the grain of rice are the creation 
 of Allah. They are not worth more than thou hast spoken ; but 
 justice is a treasure of inestimable price, and it must be imparted 
 by him who holdeth power to all who require it at his hand. The 
 Prince doth the will of Allah, who gives it alike in small mat- 
 ters as in great, and to the poor as well as the powerful. To the 
 hungry bird, a grain of rice is as a chaplet of pearls to a severeign.' 
 — I have spoken." 
 
 " Bismallah '—Praised be God ! he hath spoken like a MouUah," 
 said the elder Fakir, with a little more emotion, and some inclination 
 of his head towards Barak, for on Hartley he scarcely deigned 
 even to look. 
 
 " The lips have spoken it which cannot lie," replied Barak, and 
 there was again a pause. 
 
 It was once more broken by Scheik Hali, who, addressing him- 
 self directly to Hartley, demanded of him, " Hast thou heard, 
 Feringi, of aught of treason meditated by this Kafr [infidel] against 
 the Nawaub Behauder?" 
 
 " Out of a traitor cometh treason," said Hartley, " but, to speak 
 after my knowledge, I am not conscious of such design." 
 
 " There is truth in the words of him," said the Fakir, " who ac- 
 cuseth not his enemy save on his knowledge. The things thou hast 
 spoken shall be laid before the Nawaub ; and as Allah and he will, 
 so shall the issue be. Meantime, return to thy Khan, and prepare 
 to attend the Vakeel of thy government, who is to travel with dawn 
 to Bangalore, the strong, the happy, the holy city. Peace be with 
 thee ! — Is it not so, my' son ?" 
 
 Barak, to whom this appeal was made, replied, " Even as my 
 father hath spoken." 
 
 Hartley had no alternative but to arise and take his leave with 
 the usual phrase, " Salam — God's peace be with you !" 
 
 His youthful guide, who waited his return without, conducted him 
 once more to his Khan, through by-paths which he could not have 
 found out without pilotage. His thoughts were in the meantime 
 strongly engaged on his late interview. He knew the Moslem men 
 of religion were not implicitly to be trusted. The whole scene 
 might be a scheme of Barak, to get rid of the trouble of patronising 
 a European in a delicate affair ; and he determined to be guided 
 Ijy what should seem to confirm or discredit the intimation which 
 he had received. 
 
 On his arrival at the Khan, he found the Vakeel of the British 
 government in a great bustle, preparing to obey directions trans- 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 143 
 
 mitted to him by the Nawaub's Dewan, or treasurer, directing him 
 to depart the next morning with break of day for Bangalore. 
 
 He expressed great discontent at the order, and when Hartley 
 intimated his purpose of accompanying him, seemed to think him 
 a fool for his pains, hinting the probability that Hyder meant to get 
 rid of them both by means of the freebooters, through whose coun- 
 tries they were to pass with such a feeble escort. This fear gave 
 way to another, when the time of departure came, at which moment 
 there rode up about two hundred of the Nawaub's native cavalry. 
 The Sirdar who commanded these troops behaved with civility, and 
 stated that he was directed to attend upon the travellers, and to 
 provide for their safety and convenience on the journey ; but his 
 manner was reserved and distant, and the Vakeel insisted that the 
 force was intended to prevent their escape, rather than for their 
 protection. Under such unpleasant auspices, the journey between 
 Seringapatam and Bangalore was accomplished in two days and 
 part of a third, the distance being nearly eighty miles. 
 
 On arriving in view of this fine and populous city, they found an 
 encampment already established within a mile of its walls. It oc- 
 cupied a tope or knoll, covered with trees, and looked full on the 
 gardens which Tippoo had created in one quarter of the city. The 
 rich pavilions of the principal persons flamed with silk and gold ; 
 and spears with gilded points, or poles supporting gold knobs, dis- 
 played numerous little banners, inscribed with the name of the 
 Prophet. This was the camp of the Begum Mootee Mahul, who, 
 with a small body of her troops, about two hundred men, was wait- 
 ing the return of Tippoo under the walls of Bangalore. Their 
 private motives for desiring a meeting the reader is acquainted with ; 
 to the public the visit of the Begum had only the appearance of an 
 act of deference, frequently paid by inferior and subordinate princes 
 to the patrons whom they depend upon. 
 
 These facts ascertained, the Sirdar of the Nawaub took up his 
 own encampment within sight of that of the Begum, but at about 
 half a mile's distance, dispatching to the city a messenger to announce 
 to the Prince Tippoo, so soon as he should arrive, that he had come 
 hither with the English Vakeel. 
 
 The bustle of pitching a few tents was soon over, and Hartley, 
 solitary and sad, was left to walk under the shade of two or three 
 mango-trees, and looking to the displayed streamers of the Begum's 
 encampment, to reflect that amid these insignia of Mahomedanism 
 Menie Gray remained, destined by a profligate and treacherous 
 lover to the fate of slavery to a heathen tyrant. The consciousness 
 of being in her vicinity added to the bitter pangs with which Hartley 
 contemplated her situation, and reflected how little chance there 
 
144 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 appeared of his being able to rescue her from it by the mere force 
 of reason and justice, which was all he could oppose to the selfish 
 passions of a voluptuous tyrant. A lover of romance, might have 
 meditated some means of effecting her release by force or address ; 
 but Hartley, though a man of courage, had no spirit of adventure, 
 and would have regarded as desperate any attempt of the kind. 
 
 His sole gleam of comfort arose from the impression which he - 
 had apparently made upon the elder Fakir, which he could not help 
 hoping might be of some avail to him. But on one thing he was 
 firmly resolved, and that was, not to relinquish the cause he had 
 engaged in whilst a grain of hope remained. He had seen in his 
 own profession a quickening and a revival of life in the patient's 
 eye, even when glazed apparently by the hand of Death ; and he 
 was taught confidence amidst moral evil by his success in relieving 
 that which was physical only. 
 
 While Hartley was thus meditating, he was roused to attention 
 by a heavy firing of artillery from the high bastions of the town ; 
 and turning his eyes in that direction, he could see advancing, on 
 the northern side of Bangalore, a tide of cavalry, riding tumultu- 
 ously forward, brandishing their spears in all different attitudes, 
 and pressing their horses to a gallop. The clouds of dust which 
 attended this vanguard, for such it was, combined with the smoke 
 of the guns, did not permit Hartley to see distinctly the main body 
 which followed ; but the appearance of howdahed elephants and 
 royal banners dimly seen through the haze, plainly intimated the 
 return of Tippoo to Bangalore ; while shouts, and irregular dis- 
 charges of musketry, announced the real or pretended rejoicing of 
 the inhabitants. The city gates received the living torrent, which 
 rolled towards them ; the clouds of smoke and dust were soon dis- 
 persed, and the horizon was restored to serenity and silence. 
 
 The meeting between persons of importance, more especially of 
 royal rank, is a matter of very great consequence in India, and gene- 
 rally much address is employed to induce the person receiving the 
 visit, to come as far as possible to meet the visitor. From merely 
 rising up, or going to the edge of the carpet, to advancing to the 
 gate of the palace, to that of the city, or, finally, to a mile or two 
 on the road, is all subject to negotiation. But Tippoo's impatience 
 to possess the fair European induced him to grant on this occasion 
 a much greater degree of courtesy than the Begum had dared to 
 expect, and he appointed his garden, adjacent to the city walls, and 
 indeed included within the precincts of the fortifications, as the 
 place of their meeting ; the hour noon, on the day succeeding his 
 arrival ; for the natives seldom move early in the morning, or 
 before having broken their fast. This was intimated to the Begum's 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 145 
 
 messenger by the Prince in person, as, kneeling before him, he 
 presented the mtzzur, (a tribute consisting of three, five, or seven 
 gold Mohurs, always an odd number,) and received in exchange a 
 Khelaut, or dress of honour. The messenger, in return, was 
 eloquent in describing the importance'of his mistress, her devoted 
 veneration for the Prince, the pleasure which she experienced on 
 the prospect of their motakul, or meeting, and concluded with a 
 more modest compliment to his own extraordinary talents, and the 
 confidence which the Begum reposed in him. He then departed ; 
 and orders were given that on the next day all should be in readi- 
 ness for the Sowarree, a grand procession, when the Prince was to 
 receive the Begum as his honoured guest at his pleasure-house in 
 the gardens. 
 
 Long before the appointed hour, the rendezvous of Fakirs, 
 beggars, and idlers, before the gate of the palace, intimated the 
 excited expectations of those who usually attend processions ; 
 while a more urgent set of mendicants, the courtiers, were hasten- 
 ing thither, on horses or elephants, as their means afforded, always 
 in a hurry to show their zeal, and with a speed proportioned to 
 what they hoped or feared. 
 
 At noon precisely, a discharge of cannon, placed in the outer 
 courts, as also of matchlocks and of small swivels, carried by 
 camels, (the poor animals shaking their long ears at every dis- 
 charge,) announced that Tippoo had mounted his elephant. The 
 solemn and deep sound of the naggra, or state drum, borne upon 
 an elephant, was then heard like the distant discharge of artillery, 
 followed by a long roll of musketry, and was instantly answered 
 by that of numerous trumpets and tom-toms, (or common drums,) 
 making a discordant, but yet a martial din. The noise increased 
 as the procession traversed the outer courts of the palace in suc- 
 cession, and at length issued from the gates, having at their head 
 the Chobdars, bearing silver sticks and clubs, and shouting, at the 
 pitch of their voices, the titles and the virtues of Tippoo, the great, 
 the generous, the invincible — strong as Rustan, just as Noushirvan 
 — with a short prayer for his continued health. 
 
 After these came a confused body of men on foot, bearing spears, 
 matchlocks, and banners, and intermixed with horsemen, some in 
 complete shirts of mail, with caps of steel under their turbans, 
 some in a sort of defensive armour, consisting of rich silk dresses, 
 rendered sabre-proof by being stuffed with cotton. These cham- 
 pions preceded the Prince, as whose body-guards they acted. It 
 was not till after this time that Tippoo raised his celebrated Tiger- 
 regiment, disciplined and armed according to the European fashioni 
 Immediately before the Prince came, on a small eleph&nt,ta hard- 
 
 L 
 
J46 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 faced, severe-looking man, by office the distributor of alms, which 
 he flung in showers of small copper money among the Fakirs and 
 beggars, whose scrambles to collect them seemed to augment their 
 amount ; while the grim-looking agent of Mahomedan charity, 
 together with his elephant, which marched with half angry eyes, 
 and its trunk curled upwards, seemed both alike ready to chastise 
 those whom poverty should render too importunate. 
 
 Tippoo himself next appeared, richly apparelled, and seated on 
 an elephant, which, carrying its head above all the others in the 
 procession,, seemed proudly conscious of superior dignity. The 
 howdah, or seat, which the Prince occupied, was of silver, embossed 
 and gilt, having behind a place for a confidential servant, who 
 waved the great chowry, or cow-tail, to keep off the flies ; but who 
 could also occasionally perform the task of spokesman, being well 
 versed in all terms of flattery and compliment. The caparisons of 
 the royal elephant were of scarlet cloth, richly embroidered with 
 gold. Behind Tippoo came the various courtiers and officers of 
 the household, mounted chiefly on elephants, all arrayed in their 
 most splendid attire, and exhibiting the greatest pomp. 
 
 In this manner the procession advanced down the principal 
 street of the town, to the gate of the royal gardens. The houses 
 were ornamented by broad cloth, silk shawls, and embroidered 
 carpets of the richest colours, displayed from the verandahs and 
 windows ; even the meanest hut was adorned with some piece of 
 cloth, so that the whole street had a singularly rich and gorgeous 
 appearance. 
 
 This splendid procession having entered the royal gardens, 
 approached, through a long avenue of lofty trees, a chabootra, or 
 platform of white marble, canopied by arches of the same material, 
 which occupied the centre. It was raised four or five feet from the 
 ground, covered with white cloth and Persian carpets. In the 
 centre of the platform was the musnud, or state cushion of the 
 Prince, six feet square, composed of crimson velvet, richly embroi- 
 dered. By especial grace, a small low cushion was placed on the 
 right of the Prince, for the occupation of the Begum. In front of 
 this platform was a square tank, or pond of marble, four feet deep, 
 and filled to the brim with water as clear as crystal, having a large 
 jet or fountain in the middle, which threw up a column of it to the 
 height of twenty feet. 
 
 The Prince Tippoo had scarcely dismounted from his elephant, 
 and occupied the musnud, or throne of cushions, when the stately 
 form of the Begum was seen advancing to the place of rendezvous^ 
 The elephant being left at the gate of the gardens opening into the 
 country, opposite to that by which the procession of Tippoo had 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER, 147 
 
 entered, she was carried in an open litter, richly ornamented with 
 silver, and borne on the shoulders of six black slaves. Her person 
 was as richly attired as silks and gems could accomplish. 
 
 Richard Middlemas, as the Begum's general or Bukshee, walked 
 nearest to her litter, in a dress as magnificent in itself as it was 
 remote from all European costume, being that of a Banka, or 
 Indian courtier. His turban was of rich silk and gold, twisted 
 very hard, and placed on one side of his head, its ends hanging 
 down on the shoulder. His mustaches were turned and curled, 
 and his eyelids stained with antimony. The vest was of gold 
 brocade, with a cummerband, or sash, around his waist, corres- 
 ponding to his turban. He carried in his hand a large sword,' 
 sheathed in a scabbard of crimson velvet, and wore around his 
 middle a broad embroidered sword-belt. What thoughts he had 
 under this gay attire, and the bold bearing which corresponded to 
 it, it would be fearful to unfold. His least detestable hopes were 
 perhaps those which tended to save Menie Gray, by betraying the 
 Prince who was about to confide in him, and the Begum, at whose 
 intercession Tippoo's confidence was to be reposed. 
 
 The litter stopped as it approached the tank, on the opposite 
 side of which the Prince was seated on his musnud. Middlemas 
 assisted the Begum to descend, and led her, deeply veiled with 
 silver muslin, towards the platform of marble. The rest of the 
 retinue of the Begum followed in their richest and most gaudy 
 attire, all males, however ; nor was there a symptom of woman 
 being in her train, except that a close litter, guarded by twenty 
 black slaves, having their sabres drawn, remained at some 
 distance in a thicket of flowering shrubs. 
 
 When Tippoo Saib, through the dim haze which hung over 
 the Waterfall, discerned the splendid train of the Begum ad- 
 vancing, he arose from his musnud, so as to receive her near 
 the foot of his throne, and exchanged greetings with her upon 
 the pleasure of meeting, and enquiries after their mutual health. 
 He then conducted her to the cushion placed near to his own, 
 while his courtiers anxiously showed their politeness in accom- 
 modating those of the Begum with places upon the carpets 
 around, where they all sat down cross-legged — Richard Middle- 
 mas occupying a conspicuous situation. 
 
 The people of inferior note stood behind, and amongst them 
 was the Sirdar of Hyder Ali, with Hartley and the Madras Vakeel. 
 It would be impossible to describe the feelings with which Hartley 
 recognised the apostate Middlemas, and the Amazonian Mrs. 
 Montreville. The sight of them worked up his resolution to make 
 an appeal against them in full Durbar, to the justice which Tippoo 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 was obliged to render to all who should complain of injuries. In 
 the meanwhile, the Prince, who had hitherto spoken in a low voice, 
 while acknowledging, it is to be supposed, the services and the 
 fidelity of the Begum, now gave the sign to his attendant, who 
 said, in an elevated tone, " Wherefore, and to requite these services, 
 the mighty Prince, at the request of the mighty Begum, Mootee 
 Mahul, beautiful as the moon, and wise as the daughter of Giam- 
 schid, had decreed to take into his service the Bukshee of her 
 armies, and to invest him, as one worthy of all confidence, with 
 the keeping of his beloved capital of Bangalore." 
 
 The voice of the crier had scarce ceased, when it was answered 
 by one as loud, which sounded from the crowd of bystanders, 
 " Cursed is he who maketh the robber Leik his treasurer, or 
 trusteth the lives of Moslemah to the command of an apostate ! " 
 
 With unutterable satisfaction, yet with trembling doubt and 
 anxiety, Hartley traced the speech to the elder Fakir, the com- 
 panion of Barak. Tippoo seemed not to notice the interruption, 
 which passed for that of some mad devotee, to whom the Moslem 
 princes permit great freedoms. The Durbar, therefore, recovered 
 from their surprise ; and, in answer to the proclamation, united in the 
 shout of applause which is expected to attend every annunciation 
 of the royal pleasure. 
 
 Their acclamation had no sooner ceased, than Middlemas 
 arose, bent himself before the musnud, and, in a set speech, de- 
 clared his unworthiness of such high honour as had now been con- 
 ferred, and his zeal for the Prince's service. Something remained 
 to be added, but his speech faltered, his limbs shook, and his 
 tongue seemed to refuse its office. 
 
 The Begum started from her seat, though contrary to etiquette, 
 and said, as if to supply the deficiency in the speech of her officer, 
 " My slave would say, that in acknowledgment of so great an 
 honour conferred on my Bukshee, I am so void of means, that 
 I can only^pray your Highness will deign to accept a lily from 
 Frangistan, to plant within the recesses of the secret garden 
 of thy pleasures. Let my Lord's guards carry yonder Htter to the 
 Zenana." 
 
 A female scream was heard, as, at a signal from Tippoo, the 
 guards of his Seraglio advanced to receive the closed litter from 
 the attendants of the Begum. The voice of the old Fakir was heard 
 louder and sterner than before. — " Cursed is the prince who barters 
 justice for lust! He shall die in the gate by the sword of the 
 stranger." 
 
 " This is too insolent ! " said Tippoo. " Drag forward that Fakir 
 and cut his robe into tatters on his back with your chabouks." * 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 149 
 
 But a scene ensued like that in the hall of Seyd. All who at- 
 tempted to obey the command of the incensed despot fell back from 
 the Fakir, as they would from the Angel of Death. He flung his 
 cap and fictitious beard on the ground, and the incensed counte- 
 nance of Tippoo was subdued in an instant, when he encountered 
 the stern and awful eye of his father. A sign dismissed him from 
 the throne, which Hyder himself ascended, while the officious 
 menials hastily disrobed him of his tattered cloak, and flung on him 
 a robe of regal splendour, and placed on his head a jewelled turban. 
 The Durbar rung with acclamations to Hyder Ali Khan Behauder, 
 " the good, the wise, the discoverer of hidden things, who cometh 
 into the Divan like the sun bursting from the clouds." 
 
 The Nawaub at length signed for silence, and was promptly 
 obeyed. He looked majestically around him, and at length bent 
 his look upon Tippoo, whose downcast eyes, as he stood before the 
 throne with his arms folded on his bosom, were strongly contrasted 
 with the haughty air of authority which he had worn but a moment 
 before. "Thou has been willing," said the Nawaub, "to barter 
 the safety of thy capital for the possession of a white slave. But 
 the beauty of a fair woman caused Solomon ben David to stumble 
 in his path ; how much more, then, should the son of Hyder Naig 
 remain firm under temptation ! — That men may see clearly, M'e 
 must remove the light which dazzles them. Yonder Feringi woman 
 must be placed at my disposal." 
 
 " To hear is to obey," replied Tippoo, while the deep gloom on 
 his brow showed what his forced submission cost his proud 
 and passionate spirit. In the hearts of the courtiers present 
 reigned the most eager curiosity to see the de'nouemoii o{ the scene, 
 but not a trace of that wish was suffered to manifest itself on 
 features accustomed to conceal all internal sensations. The feel- 
 ings of the Begum were hidden under her veil ; while, in spite of a 
 bold attempt to conceal his alarm, the perspiration stood in large 
 drops on the brow of Richard Middlemas. The next words of the 
 Nawaub sounded like music in the ear of Hartley. 
 
 " Carry the Feringi woman to the tent of the Sirdar Belash 
 Cassim, [the chief to whom Hartley had been committed.] Let her 
 be tended in all honour, and let him prepare to escort her, with the 
 Vakeel and the Hakim Hartley, to the Payeen-Ghaut, [the country 
 beneath the passes,] answering for their safety with his head." The 
 litter was on its road to the Sirdar's tents ere the Nawaub had done 
 speaking. " For thee, Tipoo," continued Hyder, " I am not come 
 hither to deprive thee of authority, or to disgrace thee before the 
 Durbar. Such things as thou has promised to this Feringi, proceed 
 to make them good. The sun calleth not back the splendour 
 
ISO THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 which he lends to the moon; and the father obscures not the 
 dignity which he has conferred on the son. What thou hast 
 promised, that do thou proceed to make good." 
 
 The ceremony of investiture was therefore recommenced, by which 
 the Prince Tippoo conferred on Middlemas the important govern- 
 ment of the city of Bangalore, probably with the internal resolution, 
 that since he was himself deprived of the fair European, he would 
 take an early opportunity to remove the new Killedar from his 
 charge ; while Middlemas accepted it with the throbbing hope that 
 he might yet outwit both father and son. The deed of investiture 
 was read aloud — the robe of honour was put upon the newly- 
 created Killedar, and a hundred voices, while they blessed the 
 prudent choice of Tippoo, wished the governor good fortune, and 
 victory over his enemies. 
 
 A horse was led forward, as the Prince's gift. It ivas a fine steed 
 of the Cuttyawar breed, high-crested, with broad hind-quarters ; 
 he was of a white colour, but had the extremity of his tail and 
 mane stained red. His saddle was red velvet, the bridle and 
 crupper studded with gilded knobs. Two attendants on lesser 
 horses led this prancing animal, one holding the lance, and the 
 other the long spear of their patron. The horse was shown to the 
 applauding courtiers, and withdrawn, in order to be led in state 
 through the streets, while the new Killedar should follow on the 
 elephant, another present usual on such an occasion, which was 
 next made to advance, that the world might admire the muni- 
 ficence of the Prince. 
 
 The huge animal approached the platform, shaking his large 
 wrinkled head, which he raised and sunk, as if impatient, and 
 curling upwards his trunk from time to time, as if to show the 
 gulf of his tongueless mouth. Gratefully retiring with the deepest 
 obeisance, the Killedar, well pleased the audience was finished, 
 stood by the neck of the elephant, expecting the conductor of the 
 animal would make him kneel down, that he might ascend the 
 gilded howdah, which awaited his occupancy. 
 
 " Hold, Feringi," said Hyder. " Thou hast received all that was 
 promised thee by the bounty of Tippoo. Accept now what is the 
 fruit of the justice of Hyder." 
 
 As he spoke, he signed with his finger, and the driver of the 
 elephant instantly conveyed to the animal the pleasure of the 
 Nawaub. Curling his long trunk around the neck of the ill-fated 
 European, the monster suddenly threw the wretch prostrate before 
 him, and stamping his huge shapeless foot upon his breast, put an 
 end at once to his life and to his crimes. The cry which the victim 
 uttered was mimicked by the roar of the monster, and a sound 
 
TME SURfifeON'S bAUGHTEii. isl 
 
 like an hysterical laugh mingling with a scream, which rung from 
 under the veil of the Begum. The elephant once more raised his 
 trunk aloft, and gaped fearfully. 
 
 The courtiers preserved a profound silence ; but Tippoo, upon 
 whose muslin robe a part of the victim's blood had spirted, held it 
 up to the Nawaub, exclaiming, in a sorrowful, yet resentful 
 tone, — " Father — father — was it thus my promise should have been 
 kept ? " 
 
 " Know, foolish boy," said Hayder Ali, " that the carrion which 
 lies there was in a plot to deliver Bangalore to the Feringis and the 
 Mahrattas. This Begum [she started when she heard herself 
 named] has given us warning of the plot, and has so merited her 
 pardon for having originally concurred in it, — whether altogether 
 out of love to us we will not too curiously enquire. — Hence with 
 that lump of bloody clay, and let the Hakim Hartley and the 
 English Vakeel come before me." 
 
 They were brought forward, while some of the attendants 
 flung sand upon the bloody traces, and others removed the crushed 
 corpse. 
 
 " Hakim,'' said Hyder, " thou shalt return with the Feringi 
 woman, and with gold to compensate her injuries, wherein the 
 Begum, as is fitting, shall contribute a share. Do thou say to thy 
 nation, Hyder Ali acts justly." The Nawaub then inclined himself 
 graciously to Hartley, and then turning to the Vakeel, who ap- 
 peared much discomposed, " You have brought to me," he said, 
 " words of peace, while your masters meditated a treacherous war. 
 It is not upon such as you that my vengeance ought to alight. 
 But tell the Kafr [or infidel] Paupiah and his unworthy master, 
 that Hyder Ali sees too clearly to suffer to be lost by treason the 
 advantages he has gained by war. Hitherto I have been in the 
 Carnatic as a mild prince — in future I will be a destroying tempest ! 
 Hitherto I have made inroads as a compassionate and merciful 
 conqueror — hereafter I will be the messenger whom Allah sends to 
 the kingdoms which he visits in judgment ! " 
 
 It is well known how dreadfully the Nawaub kept this promise, 
 and how he and his son afterwards sunk before the discipline and 
 bravery of the Europeans. The scene of just punishment which 
 he so faithfully exhibited might be owing to his policy, his internal 
 sense of right, and to the ostentation of displaying it before an 
 Englishman of sense and intelligence, or to all of these motives 
 mingled together — but in what proportions it is not for us to 
 distinguish. 
 
 Hartley reached the coast in safety with his precious charge, 
 rescued from a dreadful fate when she was almost beyond hope. 
 
154 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 But the nerves and constitution of Menie Gray had received a shock 
 from which she long suffered severely, and never entirely recovered. 
 The principal ladies of the settlement, moved by the singular tale 
 of her distress, received her vi'ith the utmost kindness, and 
 exercised towards her the most attentive and affectionate hospi- 
 tality. The Nawaub, faithful to his promise, remitted to her a sum 
 of no less than ten thousand gold Mohurs, extorted, as was 
 surmised, almost entirely from the hoards of the Begum Mootee 
 Mahul, or Montreville. Of the fate of that adventuress nothing 
 was known for certainty ; but her forts and government were taken 
 into Ryder's custody, and report said, that, her power being 
 abolished and her consequence lost, she died by poison, either 
 taken by herself, or administered by some other person. 
 
 It might be thought a natural conclusion of the history of Menie 
 Gray, that she should have married Hartley, to whom she stood 
 much indebted for his heroic interference in her behalf. But her 
 feelings were too much and too painfully agitated, her health too 
 much shattered, to permit her to entertain thoughts of a matrimo- 
 nial connexion, even with the acquaintance of her youth, and the 
 champion of her freedom. Time might have removed these obsta- 
 cles, but not two years after their adventures in Mysore, the gallant 
 and disinterested Hartley fell a victim to his professional courage, 
 in withstanding the progress of a contagious distemper, which he 
 at length caught, and under which he sunk. He left a considerable 
 part of the moderate fortune which he had acquired to Menie 
 Gra)', who, of course, did not want many advantageous offers of a 
 matrimonial character. But she respected the memory of Hartley 
 too much, to subdue in behalf of another the reasons which induced 
 her to refuse the hand which he had so well deserved — nay, it may 
 be thought, had so fairly won. 
 
 She returned to Britain — what seldom occurs — unmarried though 
 wealthy ; and, settling in her native village, appeared to find her 
 only pleasure in acts of benevolence which seemed to exceed the 
 extent of her fortune, had not her very retired life been taken into 
 consideration. Two or three persons with whom she was intimate, 
 could trace in her character that generous and disinterested sim- 
 plicity and affection, which were the groundwork of her character. 
 To the world at large her habits seemed those of the ancient Roman 
 matron, which is recorded on her tomb in these four words, 
 
 DOMUM MANSIT — LANAM FECIT. 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. IS3 
 
 Mx, (UtoftaiiBrg'si eronclitston. 
 
 If you tell a good jest, 
 And please all the rest, 
 
 Comes Dingley, and asks you, "What was it?" 
 And before she can know, 
 Away she will go 
 
 To seek an_old rag in the closet. 
 
 Dean Swift. 
 
 While I was inditing the goodly matter which my readers have 
 just perused, I might be said to go through a course of breaking-in 
 to stand criticism, like a shooting-pony to stand fire. By some of 
 those venial breaches of confidence, which always take place on the 
 like occasions, my private flirtations with the Muse of Fiction 
 became a matter whispered in Miss Fairscribe's circle, some orna- 
 ments of which were, I suppose, highly interested in the progress 
 of the affair, while others " really thought Mr. Chrystal Croftangry 
 might have had more wit at his time of day." Then came the sly 
 intimation, the oblique remark, all that sugar-lipped raillery which 
 is fitted for the situation of a man about to do a foolish thing, 
 whether it be to publish or to marry, and that accompanied with 
 the discreet nods and winks of sudh friends as are in the secret, 
 and the obliging eagerness of others to know all about it. 
 
 At length the affair became so far public, that I was induced to 
 face a tea-party with my manuscript in my pocket, looking as 
 simple and modest as any gentleman of a certain age need to do 
 upon such an occasion. When tea had been carried round, handker- 
 chiefs and smelling bottles prepared, I had the honour of reading 
 the Surgeon's Daughter, for the entertainment of the evening. It 
 went off excellently; my friend Mr. Fairscribe, who had been 
 seduced from his desk to join the literary circle, only fell asleep 
 twice, and readily recovered his attention by help of his snuff-box. 
 The ladies were politely attentive, and when the cat, or the dog, or 
 a next neighbour, tempted an individual to relax, Katie Fairscribe 
 was on the alert, like an active whipper-in, with look, touch, or 
 whisper, to recall them to a sense of what was going on. Whether 
 Miss Katie was thus active merely to enforce the literary disci- 
 pline of her coterie, or whether she was really interested by the 
 beauties of the piece, and desirous to enforce them on others, I 
 will not venture to ask, in case I should end in liking the girl — 
 and she is really a pretty one — better than wisdom would waiTant, 
 either for my sake or hers. 
 
IS4 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 I must own, my story here and there flagged a good deal ; per- 
 haps there were faults in my reading, for while I should have been 
 attending to nothing but how to give the words effect as they 
 existed, I was feeling the chilling consciousness, that they might 
 have been, and ought to have been, a great deal better. However, 
 we kindled up at last when we got to the East Indies, although on 
 the mention of tigers, an old lady, whose tongue had been impa- 
 tient for an hour, broke in with, " I wonder if Mr. Croftangry ever 
 heard the story of Tiger Tullideph?" and had nearly inserted the 
 whole narrative as an episode in :ny tale, She was, however, 
 brought to reason, and the subsequent mention of shawls, dia- 
 monds, turbans, and cummerbands, had their usual effect in 
 awakening the imaginations of the fair auditors. At the extinc- 
 tion of the faithless lover in a way so horribly new, I had, as 
 indeed I expected, the good fortune to excite that expression of 
 painful interest, which is produced by drawing in the breath 
 through the compressed lips ; nay, one Miss of fourteen actually 
 screamed. 
 
 At length my task was ended, and the fair circle rained odours 
 upon me, as they pelt beaux at the Carnival with sugar-plums, 
 and drench them with scented spices. There was " Beautiful," 
 and " Sweetly interesting," and " O Mr. Croftangry,'' and " How 
 much obliged," and " What a delightful evening," and " O Miss 
 Katie, how could you keep such a secret so long ! " While the 
 dear souls were thus smothering me with rose-leaves, ^he merci- 
 less old lady carried them all off by a disquisition Upon 
 shawls, which she had the impudence to say, arose entirely out 
 of my story. Miss Katie endeavoured to stop the flow of her 
 eloquence in vain ; she threw all other topics out of the field, 
 and from the genuine Indian, she made a digression to the imita- 
 tion shaAvls now made at Paisley, out of real Thibet wool, 
 not to be known from the actual Country shawl, except by some 
 inimitable cross-stitch in the border. " It is well," said the old 
 lady, wrapping herself up in a rich Kashmire, " that there is some 
 way of knowing a thing that cost fifty guineas from an article that 
 is sold for five ; but I venture to say there are not one out of ten 
 thousand that would understand the difference." 
 
 The politeness of some of the fair ladies would now have brought 
 back the conversation to the forgotten subject of our meeting. 
 " How could you, Mr. Croftangry, collect all these hard words 
 about India ? — you were never there ? " — " No, madam, I have not 
 had that advantage ; but, like the imitative operatives of Paisley, I 
 have composed my shawl by incorporating into the woof a little 
 Thibet wool, which my excellent friend and neighbour. Colonel 
 
THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 155 
 
 Mackerris, one of the best fellows who ever trode a Highland 
 moor, or dived into an Indian jungle, had the goodness to supply 
 me with." 
 
 My rehearsal, however, though not absolutely and altogether to 
 my taste, has prepared me in some measure for the less tempered 
 and guarded sentence of the world. So a man must learn to en- 
 counter a foil before he confronts a sword ; and to take up my 
 original simile, a horse must be accustomed to ^.feii de joie before 
 you can ride him against a volley of balls. Well, Corporal Nym's 
 philosophy is not the worst that has been preached, " Things must 
 be as they may." If my lucubrations give pleasure, I may again 
 require the attention of the courteous reader ; if not, here end the 
 
 Chronicles of the Canongate. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 As I stood by yon roofless tower, 
 
 Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air, 
 Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower. 
 
 And tells the midnight moon her care : 
 The winds were laid, the air was still. 
 
 The stars they shot along the sky ; 
 The fox was howling on the hill. 
 
 And the distant echoing glens reply. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 \The following Introduction to ^'■Castle Dangerous" was forwarded 
 by Sir Walter Scott from Naples in February 1 832, together with 
 some corrections of the text and notes on localities mentioned in the 
 Novel. 
 
 The materials for the Introduction mtist have been collected before 
 he left Scotland, in September 1831/ but in the hurry of preparing 
 for his voyage, he had not been able to arrange them so as to accom- 
 pany the first edition of this Romance. 
 
 A few Notes, supplied by the Editor, are placed withiii brackets.^ 
 
 The incidents on which the ensuing novel mainly turns, are derived 
 from the ancient Metrical Chronicle of "the Bruce," by Archdeacon 
 Barbour, and from the " History of the Houses of Douglas and 
 Angus," by David Hume of Godscroft ; and are sustained by the 
 immemorial tradition of the western parts of Scotland. They are 
 so much in consonance with the spirit and manners of the troubled 
 age to which they are referred, that I can see no reason for doubt- 
 ing their being founded in fact : the names, indeed, of numberless 
 localities in the vicinity of Douglas Castle, appear to attest, beyond 
 suspicion, many even of the smallest circumstances embraced in 
 the story of Godscroft. 
 
 Among all the associates of Robert the Bruce, in his great enterprise 
 of rescuing Scotland from the power of Edward, the first place is 
 universally conceded to James, the eighth Lord Douglas, to this 
 day venerated by his countrymen as "the Good Sir James ; " 
 
 " The Gud Schyr James of Douglas, 
 That in his time sa worthy was. 
 That off his price and his bountd, 
 In far landis renownyt was he." 
 
 Barbour. 
 
i6o INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 " The Good Sir James, the dreadful blacke Douglas, 
 That in his dayes so wise and worthie was, 
 Wha here, and on the infidels of Spain, 
 Such honour, praise, and triumphs did obtain." 
 
 Gordon. 
 
 From the time when the King of England refused to reinstate 
 him, on his return from France, where he had received the educa- 
 tion of chivalry, in the extensive possessions of his family, — which 
 had been held forfeited by the exertions of his father, William the 
 Hardy — the young knight of Douglas appears to have embraced 
 the cause of Bruce with enthusiastic ardour, and to have adhered 
 to the fortunes of his sovereign with unwearied fidelity and devotion. 
 " The Douglasse," says HoUinshed, " was right joyfully received of 
 King Robert, in whose service he faithfully continued, both in 
 peace and war, to his life's end. Though the surname and familie 
 of the Douglasses was in some estimation of nobilitie before those 
 dales, yet the rising thereof to honour chanced through this James 
 Douglasse ; for, by meanes of his advancement, others of that 
 lineage tooke occasion, by their singular manhood and noble 
 prowess, shewed at sundrie times in defence of the realme, to grow 
 to such height in authoritie and estimation, that their mightie 
 puissance in mainrent,* lands, and great possessions, at length was 
 (through suspicion conceived by the kings that succeeded) the 
 cause in part of their ruinous decay." 
 
 In every narrative of the Scottish war of independence, a con- 
 siderable space is devoted to those years of perilous adventure and 
 suflfering which were spent by the illustrious friend of Bruce, in 
 harassing the English detachments successively occupying his 
 paternal territory, and in repeated and successful attempts to wrest 
 the formidable fortress of Douglas Castle itself from their possession. 
 In the English, as well as Scotch Chronicles, and in Rymer's 
 Fcedera, occur frequent notices of the different officers intrusted by 
 Edward with the keeping of this renowned stronghold ; especially 
 Sir Robert de Clifford, ancestor of the heroic race of the Cliffords, 
 Earls of Cumberland ; his lieutenant. Sir Richard de Thurlewalle, 
 (written sometimes Thruswall,) of Thirwall Castle, on the Tippal, 
 in Northumberland ; and Sir John de Walton, the romantic story 
 of whose love-pledge, to hold the Castle of Douglas for a year and a 
 day, or surrender all hope of obtaining his mistress's- favour, with 
 the tragic consequences, softened in the Novel, is given at length 
 in Godscroft, and has often been pointed out as one of the affecting 
 passages in the chronicles of chivalry.* 
 The Author, before he had made much progress in this, probably 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS, i6i 
 
 the last of his Novels, undertook a journey to Douglasdale, for the 
 purpose of examining the remains of the famous Castle, the Kirk of 
 St. Bride of Douglas, the patron saint of that great family, and the 
 various localities alluded to by Godscroft, in his account of the 
 early adventures of Good Sir James ; but though he was fortunate 
 enough to find a zealous and well-informed cicerone in Mr. Thomas 
 Haddow, and had every assistance from the kindness of Mr, 
 Alexander Finlay, the resident Chamberlain of his friend. Lord 
 Douglas, the state of his health at the time was so feeble, that he 
 found himself incapable of pursuing his researches, as in better 
 days he would have delighted to do, and was obliged to be contented 
 with such a cursory view of scenes, in themselves most interesting, 
 as could be snatched in a single morning, when any bodily exertion 
 was painful. Mr. Haddow was attentive enough to forward sub- 
 sequently some notes on the points which the Author had seemed 
 desirous of investigating ; but these did not reach him until, being 
 obliged to prepare matters for a foreign excursion in quest of health 
 and strength, he had been compelled to bring his work, such as it 
 is, to a conclusion. 
 
 The remains of the old Castle of Douglas are inconsiderable. 
 They consist indeed of but one ruined tower, standing at a short 
 distance from the modem mansion, which itself is only a fragment 
 of the design on which the Duke of Douglas meant to reconstruct 
 the edifice, after its last accidental destruction by fire.* His Grace 
 had kept in view the ancient prophecy, that as often as Douglas 
 Castle might be destroyed, it should rise again in enlarged dimen- 
 sions and improved splendour, and projected a pile of building, 
 which, if it had been completed, would have much exceeded any 
 nobleman's residence then existing in Scotland — as, indeed, what 
 has been finished, amounting to about one-eighth part of the plan, 
 is sufficiently extensive for the accommodation of a large establish- 
 ment, and contains some apartments the dimensions of which are 
 magnificent. The situation is commanding ; and though the Duke's 
 successors have allowed the mansion to continue as he left it, 
 great expense has been lavished on the environs, which now 
 present a vast sweep of richly undulated woodland, stretching to 
 the borders of the Cairntable mountains, repeatedly mentioned as 
 the favourite retreat of the great ancestor of the family in the days 
 of his hardship and persecution. There remains at the head of the 
 adjoining bourg, the choir of the ancient church of St. Bride, 
 having beneath it the vault which was used till lately as the burial- 
 place of this princely race, and only abandoned when their sto 
 and leaden coffins had accumulated, in the course of five or six 
 hundred years, in such a way that it could accommodate no more 
 
 M 
 
i62 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Here a silver case, containing the dust of what was once the brave 
 heart of Good Sir James, is still pointed out ; and in the dilapidated 
 choir above appears, though in a sorely ruinous state, the once 
 magnificent tomb of the warrior himself. After detailing the well- 
 known circumstances of Sir James's death in Spain, 20th August, 
 1330, where he fell, assisting the King of Arragon in an expedi- 
 tion against the Moors, when on his way back to Scotland from 
 Jerusalem, to which he had conveyed the heart of Bruce, — the old 
 poet Barbour tells us that — 
 
 " Quhen his men lang had mad murnyn. 
 Thai debowalyt hjm, and syne 
 Gert scher him swa, that mycht be tane 
 The flesch all haly fra the bane. 
 And the carioune thar in haly place 
 Erdyt, with rycht gret worschip, was. 
 
 " The banys haue thai with thaim tane ; ' 
 And syne ar to thair schippis gane ; 
 Syne towart Scotland held thair way. 
 And thar ar cummyn in full gret hy. 
 And the banys honorabilly 
 In till the Kyrk off Douglas war 
 Erdyt, with dule and mekill car. 
 Schyr Archebald his sone gert syn 
 Off alabastre, bath fair and fyne, 
 Ordane a tumbe sa richly 
 As it behowyt to swa worthy." 
 
 The monument is supposed to have been wantonly mutilated 
 and defaced by a detachment of Cromwell's troops, who, as was 
 their custom, converted the kirk of St. Bride of Douglas into a 
 stable for their horses. Enough, however, remains to identify the 
 resting-place of the great Sir James. The effigy, of dark stone, is 
 cross-legged, marking his character as one who had died after 
 performing the pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and in actual 
 conflict with the infidels of Spain ; and the introduction of the 
 HEART, adopted as an addition to the old arms of Douglas, in 
 consequence of the knight's fulfilment of Bruce's dying injunction, 
 appears, when taken in connexion with the posture of the figure, to 
 set the question at rest. The monument, in its original state, must 
 have been not inferior in any respect to the best of the same period 
 in Westminster Abbey ; and the curious reader is referred for farther 
 particulars of it to " The Sepulchral Antiquities of Great Britain, 
 by Edward Blore, F.S.A." London, 4to, 1826 ; where may also be 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 163 
 
 found interesting details of some of the other tombs and efSgies in 
 the cemetery of the first house of Douglas. 
 
 As considerable liberties have been taken with the historical 
 incidents on which this novel is founded, it is due to the reader to 
 place before him such extracts from Godscroft and Barbour as 
 may enable him to correct any mis-impression. The passages in- 
 troduced in the Appendix, from the ancient poem of " The Bruce," 
 will moreover gratify those who have not in their possession a copy 
 of the text of Barbour, as given in the valuable quarto edition of 
 my learned friend Dr. Jamieson, as furnishing on the whole a 
 favourable specimen of the style and manner of a venerable classic, 
 who wrote when Scotland was still full of the fame and glory of her 
 liberators from the yoke of Plantagenet, and especially of Sir James 
 Douglas, " of whom," says Godscroft, " we will not omit here, (to 
 shut up all,) the judgment of those times concerning him, in a rude 
 verse indeed, yet such as beareth witness of his true magnanimity 
 and invincible mind in either fortune : — 
 
 " Good Sir James Douglas (who wise, and wight, and worthy was,) 
 Was never ov'erglad in no winning, nor yet oversad for no tineing ; 
 Good fortune and evil chance he weighed both in one balance." 
 
 W. S. 
 
 M 2 
 
ifi4 APPENDIX TO 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 Extracts from " The History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus. 
 By Master V>K^iVi 'RXSMR of Godscroft." Fol. Edit. 
 
 * * * And here indeed the course of the King's'misfortunes begins 
 to make some halt and stay by thus much prosperous successe in 
 his own person ; but more in the person of Sir James, by the re- 
 conquests of his owne castles and countries. From hence he went 
 into Douglasdale, where, by the means of his father's old servant, 
 Thomas Dickson, he took in the Castle of Douglas, and not being 
 able to keep it, he caused burn it, contenting himself with this, 
 that his enemies had one strength fewer in that country than before. 
 The manner of his taking of it is said to have beene thus : — Sir 
 James taking only with him two of his servants, went to Thomas 
 Dickson, of whom he was received with tears, after he had revealed 
 himself to him, for the good old man knew him not at first, being 
 in mean and homely apparell. There he kept him secretly in a 
 quiet chamber, and brought unto him such as had been trusty 
 servants to his father, not all at once, but apart by one and one, 
 for fear of discoverie. Their advice was, that on Palmsunday, 
 when the English would come forth to the church, and his partners 
 were conveened, that then he should give the word, and cry the 
 Douglas slogan, and presently set upon them that should happen 
 to be there, who being dispatched, the Castle might be taken 
 easily. This being concluded, and they come, so soon as the 
 English were entered into the church with palms in their hands, 
 (according to the costume of that day,) little suspecting or fearing 
 any such thing. Sir James, according to their appointment, cryed 
 too soon (a Douglas, a Douglas !) which being heard in the church, 
 (this was Saint Bride's church of Douglas,) Thomas Dickson, sup- 
 posing he had beene hard at hand, drew out his sword, and ran 
 upon them, having none to second him but another man, so that, 
 oppressed by the number of his enemies, he was beaten downe 
 and slaine. In the mean time. Sir James being come, the English 
 
INTRODUCTION. 165 
 
 that were in the chancel kept off the Scots, and having the advan- 
 tage of the strait and narrow entrie, defended themselves manfully. 
 But Sir James encouraging his men, not so much by words, as by 
 deeds and good example, and having slain the boldest resisters, 
 prevailed at last, and entring the place, slew some twenty-six of 
 their number, and tooke the rest, about ten or twelve persons, 
 intending by them to get the Castle upon composition, or to enter 
 with them when the gates should be opened to let them in : but it 
 needed not, for they of the Castle were so secure, that there was 
 none left to keep it save the porter and the cooke, who knowing 
 nothing of what had hapned at the church, which stood a large 
 quarter of a mile from thence, had left the gate wide open, the 
 porter standing without, and the cooke dressing the dinner within. 
 They entred without resistance, and meat being ready, and the 
 cloth laid, they shut the gates, and tooke their refection at good 
 leasure. 
 
 Now that he had gotten the Castle into his hands, considering 
 with himselfe (as he was a man no lesse advised than valiant) that 
 it was hard for him to keep it, the English being as yet the stronger 
 in that countrey, who if they should besiege him, he knewe of no 
 reliefe, he thought better to carry away such things as be most 
 easily transported, gold, silver, and apparell, with ammunition and 
 armour, whereof he had greatest use and need, and to destroy the 
 rest of the provision, together with the Castle itselfe, then to 
 diminish the number of his followers for a garrison there where it 
 could do no good. And so he caused carrie the meale and malt, 
 and other comes and graine, into the cellar, and laid all together 
 in one heape : then he took the prisoners and slew them, to 
 revenge the death of his trastie and valiant servant, Thomas 
 Dickson, mingling the victuals with their bloud, and burying their 
 carkasses in the heap of corne : after that he struck out the heads 
 of the barrells and puncheons, and let the drink runn through all ; 
 and then he cast the carkasses of dead horses and other carrion 
 amongst it, throwing the salt above all, so to make all together 
 unusefuU to the enemie ; and this cellar is called yet the Douglas 
 Lairder. Last of all, he set the house on fire, and burnt all the 
 timber, and what else the fire could overcome, leaving nothing but 
 the scorched walls behind him. And this seemes to be the first 
 taking of the Castle of Douglas, for it is supposed that he took it 
 twice. For this service, and others done to Lord William his 
 father. Sir James gave unto Thomas Dickson the lands of Hisle- 
 side, which hath beene given him before the Castle was taken as 
 an encouragement to whet him on, and not after, or he was slain 
 in the church : which was both liberally and wisely done of him. 
 
166 APPENDIX TO 
 
 thus to hearten and draw men to his service by such a noble 
 beginning. The Castle being burnt, Sir James retired, and parting 
 his men into divers companies, so as they might be most secret, he 
 caused cure such as were wounded in the fight, and he himselfe 
 kept as close as he could, waiting ever for an occasion to enterprise 
 something against the enemie. So soone as he was gone, the 
 Lord Clifford being advertised of what had happened, came him- 
 selfe in person to Douglas, and caused re-edifie and repair the 
 Castle in a very short time, unto which he also added a Tower, 
 which is yet called Harries Tower from him, and so returned into 
 England, leaving one Thurswall to be Captain thereof. — Pp. 
 26—28. 
 
 He (Sir James Douglas) getting him again into Douglasdale, did 
 use this stratagem against Thurswall, Captain of the Castle, under 
 the said Lord Clifford. He caused some of his folk drive away the 
 cattle that fed near unto the Castle, and when the Captain of the 
 garrison followed to rescue, gave orders to his men to leave them 
 and to flee away. Thus he did often to make the Captain slight 
 such frays, and to make him secure, that he might not suspect any 
 further end to be on it ; which when he had wrought sufficiently 
 (as he thought), he laid some men in ambuscado, and sent others 
 away to drive such beasts as they should find in the view of the 
 Castle, as if they had been thieves and robbers, as they had done 
 often before. The Captain hearing of it, and supposing there was 
 no greater danger now than had been before, issued forth of the 
 Castle, and followed after them with such haste that his men 
 (running who should be first) were disordered and out of their 
 ranks. The drivers also fled as fast as they could till they had 
 drawn the Captain a little way beyond the place of ambuscado, 
 which when they perceived, rising quickly out of their covert, they 
 set fiercely upon him and his company, and so slew himself and 
 chased his men back to the Castle, some of whom were overtaken 
 and slain, others got into the Castle, and so were saved. Sir 
 James, not being able to force the house, took what booty he could 
 get without in the fields, and so departed. By this means, and 
 such other exploits, he so affrighted the enemy, that it was counted 
 a matter of such great jeopardy to keep this Castle, that it began 
 to be called the adventurous (or hazardous) Castle of Douglas : 
 Whereupon Sir John Walton being in suit of an English lady, she 
 wrote to him that when he had kept the adventurous Castle of 
 Douglas seven years, then he might think himself worthy to be a 
 suitor to her. Upon this occasion, Walton took upon him the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 167 
 
 keeping of it, and succeeded to Thurswall ; but he ran the same 
 fortune with the rest that were before him. 
 
 For, Sir James having first dressed an ambuscado near unto the 
 place, he made fourteen of his men talie so many sacks, and fill 
 them with grass, as though it had been corn, which they carried in 
 the way toward Lanark, the chief market town in that county : so 
 hoping to draw forth the Captain by that bait, and either to take 
 him or the Castle, or both. 
 
 Neither was this expectation frustrate, for the Captain did bite, 
 and came forth to have taken this victual (as he supposed). But 
 ere he could reach these carriers, Sir James, with his company, had 
 gotten between the Castle and him ; and these disguised carriers, 
 seeing the Captain following after them, did quickly cast off their 
 upper garments, wherein they had masked themselves, and throw- 
 ing off their sacks, mounted themselves on horseback, and met the 
 Captain with a sharp encounter, he being so much the more 
 amazed that it was unlooked for : wherefore, when he saw these 
 carriers metamorphosed into warriors, and ready to assault him, 
 fearing (that which was) that there was some train laid for them, 
 he turned about to have retired into the Castle ; but there also he 
 met with his enemies ; between which two companies he and his 
 followers were slain, so that none escaped ; the Captain afterwards 
 being searched, they found (as it is reported) his mistress's letters 
 about him. Then he went and took in the Castle, but it is uncer- 
 tain (say our writers) whether by force or composition ; but it 
 seems that the Constable, and those that were within, have yielded 
 it up without force ; in regard that he used them so gently, which 
 he would not have done if he had taken it at utterance. For he 
 sent them all safe home to the Lord Clifford, and gave them also 
 provision and money for their entertainment by the way. The 
 Castle, which he had burnt only before, now he razeth, and casts 
 down the walls thereof to the ground. By these and the like pro- 
 ceedings, within a short while he freed Douglasdale,Attrick Forest, 
 and Jedward Forest, of the English garrisons and subjection. — 
 Ibid., page 29. 
 
168 APPENDIX TO 
 
 No. II. 
 
 [Extracts from The Bruce. — " Liber compositus per Magistrum 
 Johannem Barber, Archidiaconnum Abyrdonensem, de gestis, 
 bellis, et virtutibus, Domini Roberti Brwyss, Regis Scocie illus- 
 trissimi, et de conquestu regni Scocie per eundem, et de Domino 
 Jacobo de Douglas." — Edited by John Jamieson, D.D., F.R.S.E., 
 &c. &c. Edinburgh, 1820.] 
 
 Now takis James his wiage 
 Towart Dowglas, his heretage, 
 With twa yemen, for owtyn ma ; 
 That wes a symple stuff to ta, 
 A land or a castell to win. 
 The quhethir he yarnyt to begyn 
 Till bring purposs till ending ; 
 P"or gud help is in gud begynnyng, 
 For gud begynnyng, and hardy, 
 Gyff it be folowit wittily. 
 May ger oftsyss unlikly thing 
 Cum to full conabill ending. 
 Swa did it here : but he wes wyss 
 And saw he mycht, on nakyn wyss, 
 Werray his fa with evyn mycht ; 
 Tharfor he thocht to wyrk with slycht. 
 And in Dowglas daile, his countrd. 
 Upon an evynnyng entryt he. 
 And than a man wonnyt tharby. 
 That was off freyndis weill mychty. 
 And ryche of moble, and off cateill ; 
 And had bene till his fadyr leyll ; 
 And till him selff, in his yowthed. 
 He haid done mony a thankfull deid. 
 Thom Dicson wes his name perfay. 
 Till him he send ; and gan him pray. 
 That he wald cum all anerly 
 For to spek with him priuely. 
 And he but daunger till him gais, 
 Bot fra he tauld him quhat he wais, 
 He gret for joy, and for pitd ; 
 And him rycht till his houss had he : 
 Quhar in a chambre priuely 
 He held him, and his cumpany. 
 That nane had off him persavitig. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 169 
 
 Off mete, and drynk, and othyr thing, 
 That mycht thaim eyss, thai had plentd. 
 Sa wrocht he thorow suteltd. 
 That all the lele men off that land. 
 That with his fadyr war duelland. 
 This gud man gert cum, ane and ana, 
 And mak him manrent euir ilkane ; 
 And he him selfif fyrst homage maid. 
 Dowglas in part gret glaidschip haid, 
 That the gud men off his cuntr^ 
 Wald swagate till him bundyn be. 
 He speryt the conwyne off the land, 
 And quha the castell had in hand. 
 And thai him tauld all halily ; 
 And syne amang them priuely 
 Thai ordanyt, that he still suld be 
 In hiddillis, and in priwetd, 
 Till Palme Sonday, that wes ner hand, 
 The thrid day eftyr folowand. 
 For than the folk off that countrd 
 Assemblyt at the kyrk wald be ; 
 And thai, that in the castell wer, 
 Wald als be thar, thar palmys to ber, 
 As folk that had na dreid off ill ; 
 For thai thoucht all wes at thair will. 
 Than suld he cum with his twa men. 
 Bot, for that men suld nocht him ken. 
 He suld ane mantill haiff auld and bar. 
 And a flaill, as he a thresscher war. 
 Undyr the mantill nocht for thi 
 He suld be armyt priuely. 
 And quhen the men off his country, 
 That suld all boune befor him be. 
 His ensenye mycht her hym cry. 
 Then suld thai, full enforcely, 
 Rycht ymyddys the kyrk assaill 
 The Ingliss men with hard bataill 
 Swa that nane mycht eschap tham fra ; 
 For thar throwch trowyt thai to ta 
 The castell, that besid wes ner. 
 And quhen this, that I tell you her, 
 Wes diuisyt, and undertane, 
 Ilkane till his howss hanie is gane ; 
 And held this spek in priuetd, 
 Till the day off thar assembly. 
 
 The folk upon the Sonounday 
 Held to Saynct Bridis kyrk thair way ; 
 And tha that in the castell war 
 Ischyt owt, bath les and mar, 
 
170 APPENDIX TO 
 
 And went thair palmys for to ber ; 
 
 Owtane a cuk and a porter. 
 
 James off Dowglas off thair cummyng, 
 
 And quhat thai war, had witting ; 
 
 And sped him till the kyrk in hy. 
 
 Bot or he come, too hastily 
 
 Ane off his criyt, " Dowglas! Dowglas!" 
 
 Thomas Dikson, that nerrest was 
 
 Till thaim that war off the castell, 
 
 That war all innouth the chancell, 
 
 Quhen he " Dowglas !" swa hey herd cry, 
 
 Drew owt his swerd ; and fellely 
 
 Ruschyt amang thaim to and fra. 
 
 Bot ane or twa, for owtyn ma. 
 
 Than in hy war left lyand, 
 
 Quhill Dowglas come rycht at hand, 
 
 And then enforcyt on thaim the cry. 
 
 Bot thai the chansell sturdely 
 
 Held, and thaim defendyt v/ele, 
 
 Till off thair men war slayne sumdell. 
 
 Bot the Dowglace sa weill him bar. 
 
 That all the men, that with him war, 
 
 Had comfort off his wele doyng ; 
 
 And he him sparyt nakyn thing, 
 
 Bot provyt swa his force in fycht. 
 
 That throw his worschip, and his mycht. 
 
 His men sa keynly helpyt than. 
 
 That thai the chansell on thaim wan. 
 
 Than dang thai on swa hardyly. 
 
 That in schort tyme men mycht se ly 
 
 The twa part dede, or then deand. 
 
 The lave war sesyt sone in hand, 
 
 Swa that off thretty levyt nane, 
 
 That thai ne war iayne ilkan, or tane. 
 
 James off Dowglas, quhen this wes done. 
 The presoneris has he tane alsone ; 
 And, with thaim off his cumpany, 
 Towart the castell went in hy, 
 Or noyiss, or cry, suld ryss. 
 And for he wald thaim some suppriss, 
 That levyt in the castell war, 
 That war but twa for owtyn mar, 
 Fyve men or sex befor send he, 
 That fand all opyn the entrd ; 
 And entryt, and the porter tuk 
 Rycht at the gate, and syne the cuk. 
 With that Dowglas come to the gat, 
 And entryt in for owtyn debate ; 
 And fand the mete all redy grathit, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 171 
 
 With burdys set, and clathis layit. 
 
 The gaitis then he gert spar, 
 
 And sat, and eyt all at layser. 
 
 Syne all the gudis turssyt thai 
 
 That thaim thocht thai mycht haiff away ; 
 
 And namly wapnys, and armyng, 
 
 Siluer, and tresour, and clethyng. 
 
 Vyctallis, that mycht nocht tursyt be, 
 
 Gn this maner destroyit he. 
 
 All the victalis, owtane salt, 
 
 Als quheyt, and flour, and meill, and malt 
 
 In the wyne sellar gert he bring ; 
 
 And samyn on the flur all flyng. 
 
 And the presoneris that he had tane 
 
 Rycht thar in gert he heid ilkane ; 
 
 Syne off the townnys he hedis outstrak : 
 
 A foule melld thar gane he mak. 
 
 For meile, and malt, and blud, and wyne. 
 
 Ran all to gidder in a mellyne. 
 
 That was unsemly for to se. 
 
 Tharfor the men off that country 
 
 For swa fele thar mellyt wer, 
 
 Callit it the " Dowglas Lardner." 
 
 Syne tuk he salt, as Ic hard tell, 
 
 And ded horss, and sordid the well ; 
 
 And brynt all, owtakyn stane ; 
 
 And is forth, with his menye, gayne 
 
 Till his resett ; for him thoucht weill, 
 
 Giff he had haldyn the castell. 
 
 It had bene assegyt raith ; 
 
 And that him thoucht to mekill waith. 
 
 For he ne had hop off reskewyng. 
 
 And it is to peralous thing 
 
 In castell assegyt to be, 
 
 Quhar want is off thir thingis thre ; 
 
 Victaill, or men with thair armyng. 
 
 Or than gud hop off rescuyng. 
 
 And for he dred thir thingis suld faile, 
 
 He chesyt furthwart to trawaill, 
 
 Quhar he mycht at his larges be ; 
 
 And swa dryve furth his destand. 
 
 On this wise wes the castell tan, 
 And slayne that war tharin ilkan. 
 The Dowglas syne all his menye 
 Gert in ser placis depertyt be ; 
 For men suld wyt quhar thai war, 
 That yeid depertyt her and thar. 
 Thaim that war woundyt gert he ly 
 In till hiddillis, all priuely ; 
 
172 APPENDIX TO 
 
 And gert gud leechis till thaim bring 
 Quhill that thai war in till heling. 
 And him selff, with a few menye, 
 Quhile ane, quhile twa, and quhile thre, 
 And umquhill all him allane, 
 In hiddillis throw the land is gane. 
 Sa dred he Inglis men his mycht, 
 That he durst nocht wele cum in sycht. 
 For thai war that tyme all weldand 
 As maist lordis, our all the land. 
 
 Bot tythandis, that scalis sone, 
 Off this deid that Dowglas has done, 
 Come to the Cliffurd his ere, in hy, 
 That for his tynsaill wes sary ; 
 And menyt his men that thai had slayne, 
 And syne has to purpos tane. 
 To big the castell up agayne. 
 Thar for, as man of mekill mayne. 
 He assemblit gret cumpany. 
 And till Dowglas he went in hy. 
 And biggyt wp the castell swyth ; 
 And maid it rycht stalwart and styth 
 And put tharin victallis and men. 
 Ane ofif the Thyrwallys then 
 He left behind him Capitane, 
 And syne till Ingland went agayne. 
 
 Book IV. V. 255 — 460. 
 
 Box yeit than James of Dowglas 
 In Dowglas Daile travailland was ; 
 Or ellys weill ner hand tharby, 
 In hyddillys sumdeill priuely. 
 For he wald se his gouernyng. 
 That had the castell in keping : 
 And gert mak mony juperty. 
 To se quhethyr he wald ische blythly. 
 And quhen he persavyt that he 
 Wald blythly ische with his menye, 
 He maid a gadring priuely 
 Off thaim that war on his party ; 
 That war sa fele, that thai durst fycht 
 With Thyrwall, and all the mycht 
 Off thaim that in the castell war. 
 He schupe him in the nycht to far 
 To Sandylandis : and thar ner by 
 He him enbuschyt priuely. 
 And send a few a trane to ma ; 
 That sone in the mornyng gan ga, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 173 
 
 And tuk catell, that wes the cast ell by, 
 And syne withdrew thaim hastely 
 Towart thaim that enbuschit war. 
 Than Thyrwall, for owtyn mar, 
 Gert arme his men, forowtyn baid ; 
 And ischyt with all the men he haid : 
 And folowyt fast eftir the cry. 
 He wes armyt at paynt clenly, 
 Owtane [that] his hede wes bar. 
 Than, with the men that with him war. 
 The catell folowit he gud speid, 
 Rycht as a man that had na dreid. 
 Till that he gat off thaim a sycht. 
 Than prekyt thai with all thar mycht, 
 Folowand thaim owt off aray ; 
 And thai sped thaim fleand, quhill thai 
 Fer by thair buschement war past : 
 And Thyrwall ay chassyt fast. 
 And than thai that enbuschyt war 
 Ischyt till him, bath les and' mar, 
 And rayssyt sudanly the cry. 
 And thai that saw sa sudanly 
 That folk come egyrly prikand 
 Rycht betuix thaim and thair warand. 
 Thai war in to full gret effray. 
 And, for thai war owt off aray. 
 Sum off thaim fled, and sum abad. 
 And Dowglas, that thar with him had 
 A gret mengye, full egrely 
 Assaylyt, and scalyt thaim hastyly : 
 And in schort tyme ourraid thaim swa, 
 That weile nane eschapyt thaim fra. 
 Thyrwall, that wes thair capitane, 
 Wes thar in the bargane slane : 
 And off his men the mast party. 
 The lave fled full effraytly. 
 
 Book V. V. 10—60. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 Hosts have been known at that dread sound to yield, 
 And, Douglas dead, his name hath won the field. 
 
 John Home. 
 
 It was at the close of an early spring day, when nature, in a 
 cold province of Scotland, was reviving from her winter's sleep, 
 and the air at least, though not the vegetation, gave promise of an 
 abatement of the rigour of the season, that two travellers, whose 
 appearance at that early period sufficiently announced their wan- 
 dering character, which, in general, secured a free passage even 
 through a dangerous country, were seen coming from the south- 
 westward, within a few miles of the Castle of Douglas, and seemed 
 to be holding their course in the direction of the river of that name, 
 whose dale afforded a species of approach to that memorable feudal 
 fortress. The stream, small in comparison to the extent of its fame, 
 served as a kind of drain to the country in its neighbourhood, and 
 at" the same time afforded the means of a rough road to the castle 
 and village. The high lords to whom the castle had for ages be- 
 longed, might, had they chosen, have made this access a great deal 
 smoother and more convenient ; but there had been as yet little or 
 no exercise for those geniuses, who have taught all the world that 
 it is better to take the more circuitous road round the base of a hill, 
 than the direct course of ascending it on the one side, and descend- 
 ing it directly on the other, without yielding a single step to render 
 the passage more easy to the traveller ; still less were those myste- 
 ries dreamed of, which M'Adam has of late days expounded. But, 
 indeed, to what purpose should the ancient Douglasses have 
 employed his principles, even if they had known them in ever so 
 much perfection? Wheel-carriages, except of the most clumsy 
 description, and for the most simple operations of agriculture, were 
 totally unknown. Even the most delicate female had no resource 
 
175 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 save a horse, or, in case of sore infirmity, a litter. The men used 
 their own sturdy limbs, or hardy horses, to transport themselves 
 from place to place ; and travellers, females in particular, expe- 
 rienced no small inconvenience from the rugged nature of the 
 country. A swollen torrent sometimes crossed their path, and 
 compelled them to wait until the waters had abated their frenzy. 
 The banli of a small river was occasionally torn away by the effects 
 of a thunder-storm, a recent inundation, or the like convulsions of 
 nature ; and the wayfarer relied upon his knowledge of the district, 
 or obtained the best local information in his power, how to direct 
 his path so as to surmount such untoward obstacles. 
 
 The Douglas issues from an amphitheatre of mountains which 
 bounds the valley to the south-west, from whose contributions, and 
 the aid of sudden storms, it receives its scanty supplies. The 
 general aspect of the country is that of the pastoral hills of the 
 south of Scotland, forming, as is usual, bleak and wild farms, many 
 of which had, at no great length of time from the date of the story, 
 been covered with trees ; as some of them still attest by bearing 
 the name of shaw, that is, wild natural wood. The neighbourhood 
 of the Douglas water itself was flat land, capable of bearing strong 
 crops of oats and rye, supplying the inhabitants with what they 
 required of these productions. At no great distance from the edge 
 of the river, a few special spots excepted, the soil capable of agri- 
 culture was more and more mixed with the pastoral and woodland 
 country, till both terminated in desolate and partly inaccessible 
 moorlands. 
 
 Above all, it was war-time, and of necessity all circumstances of 
 mere convenience were obliged to give way to a paramount sense 
 of danger ; the inhabitants, therefore, instead of trying to amend 
 the paths which connected them with other districts, were thankful 
 that the natural difficulties which surrounded them rendered it un- 
 necessary to break up or to fortify the access from more open coun- 
 tries. Their wants, with a very few exceptions, were completely 
 supplied, as we have already said, by the rude and scanty produce 
 of their own mountains and holms* the last of which served for 
 the exercise of their limited agriculture, while the better part of the 
 mountains and forest glens, produced pasture for their herds and 
 flocks. The recesses of the unexplored depths of these sylvan re- 
 treats being seldom disturbed, especially since the lords of the 
 district had laid aside, during this time of strife, their constant 
 occupation of hunting, the various kinds of game had increased of 
 late very considerably ; so that not only in crossing the rougher 
 parts of the hilly and desolate country we are describing, dif- 
 ferent varieties of deer were occasionally seen, but even the wild 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 177 
 
 cattle peculiar to Scotland sometimes showed themselves, and 
 other animals, which indicated the irregular and disordered state of 
 the period. The wild cat was frequently surprised in the dark 
 ravines or the swampy thickets ; and the wolf, already a stranger 
 to the more populous districts of the Lothians, here maintained his 
 ground against the encroachments of man, and was still himself a 
 terror to those by whom he was finally to be extirpated. In winter 
 especially, and winter was hardly yet past, these savage animals 
 were wont to be driven to extremity for lack of food, and iised to 
 frequent, in dangerous numbers, the battle-field, the deserted 
 churchyard — nay, sometimes the abodes of living men, there to 
 watch for children, their defenceless prey, with as much familiarity 
 as the fox now-a-days will venture to prowl near the mistress's * 
 poultry-yard. 
 
 From what we have said, our readers, if they have made — as who 
 in these days has not — the Scottish tour, will be able to form a 
 tolerably just idea of the wilder and upper part of Douglas Dale, 
 during the earlier period of the fourteenth century. The setting 
 sun cast his gleams along a moorland country, which to the west- 
 ward broke into larger swells, terminating in the mountains called 
 the Larger and Lesser Cairntable. The first of these is, as it were, 
 the father of the hills in the neighbourhood, the source of an hun- 
 dred streams, and by far the largest of the ridge, still holding in his 
 dark bosom, and in the ravines with which his sides are ploughed, 
 considerable remnants of those ancient forests with which all the 
 high grounds of that quarter were once covered, and particularly 
 the hills, in which the rivers — both those which run to the east, 
 and those which seek the west to discharge themselves into the 
 Solway — hide, like so many hermits, their original and scanty 
 sources. 
 
 The landscape was still illuminated by the reflection of the even- 
 ing sun, sometimes thrown back from pool or stream ; sometimes 
 resting on grey rocks, huge cumberers of the soil, which labour 
 and agriculture have since removed, and sometimes contenting 
 itself with gilding the banks of the stream, tinged alternately grey, 
 green, or ruddy, as the ground itself consisted of rock, or grassy 
 turf, or bare earthen mound, or looked at a distance like a rampart 
 of dark red porphyry. Occasionally, too, the eye rested on the 
 steep brown extent of moorland, as the sunbeam glanced back 
 from the little tarn or mountain pool, whose lustre, like that of the 
 eye in the human countenance, gives a life and vivacity to every 
 feature around. 
 
 The elder and stouter of the two travellers whom we have men- 
 tioned, was a person well, and even showily dressed, according to 
 
 N 
 
178 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 the finery of the times, and bore at his back, as wandering min- 
 strels were wont, a case, containing a small harp, rote, or viol, or 
 some such species of musical instrument for accompanying the 
 voice. The leathern case announced so much, although it pro- 
 claimed not the exact nature of the instrument. The colour of the 
 traveller's doublet was blue, and that of his hose violet, with 
 slashes which showed a lining of the same colour with the jerkin. 
 A mantle ought, according to ordinary custom, to have covered 
 this dress ; but the heat of the sun, though the season was so early, 
 had induced the wearer to fold up his cloak in small compass, and 
 form it into a bundle, attached to the shoulders like the military 
 great-coat of the infantry soldier of the present day. The neatness 
 with which it was made up, argued the precision of a practised 
 traveller, who had been long accustomed to every resource which 
 change of weather required. A great profusion of narrow ribands 
 or points, constituting the loops with which our ancestors connected 
 their doublet and hose, formed a kind of cordon, composed of knots 
 of blue or violet, which surrounded the traveller's person, and thus 
 assimilated in colour with the two garments which it was the office 
 of these strings to combine. The bonnet usually worn with this 
 showy dress, was of that kind with which Henry the Eighth and 
 his son, Edward the Sixth, are usually represented. It was more 
 fitted, from the gay stuff of which it was composed, to appear in a 
 public place, than to encounter a storm of rain. It was party- 
 coloured, being made of different stripes of blue and violet ; and 
 the wearer arrogated a certain degree of gentility to himself, by 
 wearing a plume of considerable dimensions of the same favourite 
 colours. The features over which this feather drooped were in no 
 degree remarkable for peculiarity of expression. Yet in so desolate 
 a country as the west of Scotland, it would not have been easy to 
 pass the man without more minute attention than he would have 
 met with where there was more in the character of the scenery to 
 arrest the gaze of the passengers. 
 
 A quick eye, a sociable look, seeming to say, " Aye, look at me, 
 I am a man worth noticing, and not unworthy your attention," car- 
 ried with it, nevertheless, an interpretation which might be thought 
 favourable or otherwise, according to the character of the person 
 whom the traveller met. A knight or soldier would merely have 
 thought that he had met a merry fellow, who could sing a wild song) 
 or tell a wild tale, and help to empty a flagon, with all the accom- 
 plishments necessary for a boon companion at an hostelry, except 
 perhaps an alacrity at defraying his share of the reckoning. A 
 churchman, on the other hand, might have thought he of the blue 
 and violet was of too loose habits, and accustomed too little to 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 179 
 
 limit himself within the boundaries of beseeming mirth, to be fit 
 society for one of his sacred calling. Yet the Man of Song had a 
 certain steadiness of countenance, which seemed fitted to hold place 
 in scenes of serious business as well as of gayety. A wayfaring 
 passenger of wealth (not at that time a numerous class) might have 
 feared in him a professional robber, or one whom opportunity was 
 very likely to convert into such ; a female might have been appre- 
 hensive of uncivil treatment ; and a youth, or timid person, might 
 have thought of murder, or such direful doings. Unless privately 
 armed, however, the minstrel was ill accoutred for any dangerous 
 occupation. His only visible weapon was a small crooked sword, 
 like what we now call a hanger ; and the state of the times would 
 have justified any man, however peaceful his intentions, in being so 
 far armed against the perils of the road. 
 
 If a glance at this man had in any respect prejudiced him in the 
 opinion of those whom he met on his journey, a look at his com- 
 panion would, so far as his character could be guessed at — for he 
 was closely muffled up — have passed for an apology and warrant 
 for his associate. The younger traveller was apparently in early 
 youth, a soft and gentle boy, whose Sclavonic gown, the appropriate 
 dress of the pilgrim, he wore more closely drawn about him than 
 the coldness of the weather seemed to authorize or recommend. 
 His features, imperfectly seen under the hood of his pilgrim's dress, 
 were prepossessing in a high degree ; and though he wore a walk- 
 ing sword, it seemed rather to be in compliance with general fashion 
 than from any violent purpose he did so. There were traces of 
 sadness upon his brow, and of tears upon his cheeks ; and his 
 weariness was such, as even his rougher companion seemed to 
 sympathise with, while he privately participated also in the sorrow 
 which left its marks upon a countenance so lovely. They spoke 
 together, and the elder of the two, while he assumed the deferen- 
 tial air proper to a man of inferior rank addressing a superior, 
 showed, in tone and gesture, something that amounted to interest 
 and affection. 
 
 " Bertram, my friend," said the younger of the two, " how far are 
 we still from Douglas Castle ? We have already come farther than 
 the twenty miles, which thou didst say was the distance from Cam- 
 mock— or how didst thou call the last hostelry which we left by 
 daybreak ? " 
 
 " Cumnock, my dearest lady — I begten thousand excuses— my 
 gracious young lord." 
 
 " Call me Augustine," replied his comrade, " if you mean to speak 
 as is fittest for the time." 
 " Nay, as for that," said Bertram, " if your ladyship can con- 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 descend to lay aside your quality, my own good-breeding is not so 
 firmly sewed to me but that I can doff it, and resume it again with- 
 out its losing a stitch ; and since your ladyship, to wliom I am 
 sworn in obedience, is pleased to command that I should treat you 
 as my own son, shame it were to me if I were not to show you the 
 affection of a father, more especially as I may well swear my great 
 oath, that I owe you the duty of such, though well I wot it has, in 
 our case, been the lot of the parent to be maintained by the kind- 
 ness and liberality of the child ; for when was it that I hungered 
 or thirsted, and the black stock * of Berkley did not relieve my 
 wants ? " 
 
 " I would have it so," answered the young pilgrim ; " I would 
 have it so. What use of the mountains of beef, and the oceans of 
 beer, which they say our domains produce , if there is a hungry 
 heart among our vassalage, or especially if thou, Bertram, who hast 
 served as the minstrel of our house for more than twenty years, 
 shouldst experience such a feeling ? " 
 
 " Certes, lady," answered Bertram, " it would be like the catas- 
 trophe which is told of the Baron of Fastenough, when his last 
 mouse was starved to death in the very pantry ; and if I escape 
 this journey without such a calamity, I shall think myself out of 
 reach of thirst or famine for the whole of my life." 
 
 " Thou hast suffered already once or twice by these attacks, my 
 poor friend," said the lady. 
 
 " It is little," answered Bertram, " any thing that I have suffered ; 
 and I were ungrateful to give the inconvenience of missing a 
 breakfast, or making an untimely dinner, so serious a name. But 
 then I hardly see how your ladyship can endure this gear much 
 longer. You must yourself feel, that the plodding along these high 
 lands, of which the Scots give us such good measure in their miles, 
 is no jesting matter ; and as for Douglas Castle, why it is still three 
 good miles off." 
 
 " The question then is," quoth the lady, heaving a sigh, '' what 
 we are to do when we have so far to travel, and when the castle 
 gates must be locked long before we arrive there ? " 
 
 " For that I will pledge my word," answered Bertram. " The 
 gates of Douglas, under the keeping of Sir John de Walton, do not 
 open so easily as those of the buttery hatch at our own castle, when 
 it is well oiled ; and if your ladyship take my advice, you will turn 
 southward oh ! and in two days at farthest, we shall be in a land 
 where men's wants are provided for, as the inns proclaim it, with the 
 least possible delay, and the secret of this little journey shall never 
 be known to living mortal but ourselves, as sure as I am sworn 
 minstrel and man of faith." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. i8i 
 
 " I thank thee for thy advice, mine honest Bertram," said the 
 lady, " but I cannot profit by it. Should thy knowledge of these 
 parts possess thee with an acquaintance with any decent house, 
 whether it belong to rich or poor, I would willingly take quarters 
 there, if I could obtain them from this time until to-morrow morn- 
 ing. The gates of Douglas Castle will then be open to guests of so 
 peaceful an appearance as we carry with us, and — and — it will out — 
 we might have time to make such applications to our toilet as 
 might ensure us a good reception, by drawing a comb through our 
 locks, or such like foppery." 
 
 " Ah, madam ! " said Bertram, " were not Sir John de Walton in 
 question, methinks I should venture to reply, that an unwashed 
 brow, an unkempt head of hair, and a look far more' saucy than 
 your ladyship ever wears, or can wear, were the proper disguise to 
 trick out that minstrel's boy, whom you wish to represent in the 
 present pageant." 
 
 " Do you suffer your youthful pupils to be indeed so slovenly and 
 so saucy, Bertram ? " answered the lady. " I for one will not imi- 
 tate them in that particular ; and whether Sir John be now in the 
 Castle of Douglas or not, I will treat the soldiers who hold so 
 honourable a charge with a washed brow, and a head of hair 
 somewhat ordered. As for going back without seeing a castle 
 which has mingled even with my very dreams — at a word, Bertram, 
 thou mayst go that way, but I will not." 
 
 " And if I part with your ladyship on such terms," responded 
 the minstrel, " now your frolic is so nearly accomplished, it shall be 
 the foul fiend himself, and nothing more comely or less dangerous, 
 that shall tear me from your side ; and for lodging, there is not far 
 from hence the house of one Tom Dickson of Hazelside, one of the 
 most honest fellows of the dale, and who, although a labouring 
 man, ranked as high as a warrior, when I was in this country, 
 as any noble gentleman that rode in the band of the Douglas." 
 " He is, then, a soldier? " said the lady. 
 
 " When his country or his lord need his sword," replied Bertram 
 —"and, to say the truth, they are seldom at peace ; but otherwise, 
 he is no enemy, save to the wolf which plunders his herds." 
 
 " But forget not, my trusty guide," replied the lady, " that the 
 blood in our veins is English, and consequently, that we are in 
 danger from all who call themselves foes to the ruddy Cross." 
 
 " Do not fear this man's faith," answered Bertram. " You may 
 trust to him as to the best knight or gentleman of the land. We 
 may make good our lodging by a tune or a song ; and it may re- 
 member you that I undertook (provided it pleased your ladyship) 
 to temporize a little with the Scots, who, poor souls, love minstrelsy 
 
183 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 and when they have but a silver penny, will willingly bestow it to 
 encourage the gay science — I promised you, I say, that we should 
 be as welcome to them as if we had been born amidst their own 
 wild hills ; and for the best that such a house as Dickson's affords, 
 the gleeman's son, fair lady, shall not breathe a wish in vain. And 
 now, will you speak your mind to your devoted friend and adopted 
 father, or rather your sworn servant and guide, Bertram the Min- 
 strel, what it is your pleasure to do in this matter ?" 
 
 " O, we will certainly accept of the Scot's hospitality," said the 
 lady, " your minstrel word being plighted that he is a true man. — 
 Tom Dickson, call you him ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Bertram, " such is his name ; and by looking on 
 these sheep, I am assured that we are now upon his land." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the lady, with some surprise ; " and how is your 
 wisdom aware of that ? " 
 
 " I see the first letter of his name marked upon this flock," 
 answered the guide. " Ah, learning is what carries a man through 
 the world, as well as if he had the ring by virtue of which old 
 minstrels tell that Adam understood the language of the beasts in 
 Paradise. Ah, madam ! there is more wit taught in the shepherd's 
 shieling than the lady thinks of, who sews her painted seam in 
 her summer bower." 
 
 " Be it so, good Bertram. And although not so deeply skilled in 
 the knowledge of written language as you are, it is impossible for 
 me to esteem its value more than I actually do ; so hold we on the 
 nearest road to this Tom Dickson's, whose very sheep tell of his 
 whereabout. I trust we have not very far to go, although the 
 knowledge that our journey is shortened by a few miles has so 
 much recovered my fatigue, that methinks I could dance all the 
 rest of the way." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Rosalind. Well, this is the Forest of Arden. 
 
 Touchstone. Aye, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I. When 
 I was at home I was in a better place ; but travellers must be 
 content. 
 
 Ros. Aye, be so, good Touchstone. — Look you, who comes 
 here ; a young man and an old, in solemn talk. 
 
 As You Like It.—Scene IV. Act II. 
 
 As the travellers spoke together, they reached a turn of the path 
 which presented a more extensive prospect than the broken face of 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 183 
 
 the country had yet shown them. A valley, through which flowed 
 a small tributary stream, exhibited the wild, but not unpleasant, 
 features of " a lone vale of green braken ; " here and there be- 
 sprinkled with groups of alder-trees, of hazels, and of copse oak- 
 wood, which had maintained their stations in the recesses of the 
 valley, although they had vanished from the loftier and more 
 exposed sides of the hills. The farm-house, or mansion-house, 
 (for, from its size and appearance, it might have been the one or 
 the other,) was a large but low building, and the walls of the out- 
 houses were sufficiently strong to resist any band of casual depre- 
 dators. There was nothing, however, which could withstand a 
 more powerful force ; for, in a country laid waste by war, the 
 farmer was then, as now, obhged to take his chance of the great 
 evils attendant upon that state of things ; and his condition, 
 never a very eligible one, was rendered considerably worse by the 
 insecurity attending it. About half a mile farther was seen a 
 Gothic building of very small extent, having a half-dismantled 
 chapel, which the minstrel pronounced to be the Abbey of Saint 
 Bride. " The place," he said, " I understand, is allowed to sub- 
 sist, as two or three old monks and as many nuns, whom it con- 
 tains, are permitted by the English to serve God there, and some- 
 times to give reUef to Scottish travellers ; and who have accord- 
 ingly taken assurance with Sir John de Walton, and accepted as 
 their superior a churchman on whom he thinks he can depend. 
 But if these guests happen to reveal any secrets, they are, by some 
 means or other, believed to fly towards the English governor ; and 
 therefore, unless your ladyship's commands be positive, I think 
 we had best not trust ourselves to their hospitality." 
 
 " Of a surety, no," said the lady, " if thou canst provide me 
 with lodgings where we shall have more prudent hosts." 
 
 At this moment, two human forms were seen to approach the 
 farm-house in a different direction from the travellers, and speak- 
 ing so high, in a tone apparently of dispute, that the minstrel and 
 his companion could distinguish their voices though the distance 
 was considerable. Having screened his eyes with his hand for 
 some minutes, Bertram at length exclaimed, " By our Lady, it is 
 my old friend, Tom Dickson, sure enough ! — What can make 
 him in such bad humour with the lad, who, I think, may be the 
 little wild boy, his son Charles, who used to run about and plait 
 rushes some twenty years ago ? It is lucky, however, we have 
 found our friends astir ; for, I warrant, Tom hath a hearty piece 
 of beef in the pot ere he goes to bed, and he must have changed 
 his wont if an old friend hath not his share ; and who knows, had 
 we come later, at what hoyr they niay no^y find it convenient tg 
 
i84 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 drop latch and draw bolt so near a hostile garrison ; for if we call 
 things by their right names, such is the proper term for an English 
 garrison in the castle of a Scottish nobleman." 
 
 " Foolish man," answered the lady, " thou judgest of Sir John de 
 Walton as thou wouldst of some rude boor, to whom the oppor- 
 tunity of doing what he wills is a temptation and license to exercise 
 cruelty and oppression. Now, I could plight you my word, that, 
 setting apart the quarrel of the kingdoms, which, of course, will be 
 fought out in fair battle on both sides, you will find that English 
 and Scottish, within this domain, and within the reach of Sir 
 John de Walton's influence, live together as that same flock of 
 sheep and goats do with the shepherd's dog ; a foe from whom 
 they fly upon certain occasions, but around whom they neverthe- 
 less eagerly gather for protection should a wolf happen to show 
 himself." 
 
 " It is not to your ladyship," answered Bertram, " that I should 
 venture to state my opinion of such matters ; but the young 
 knight, when he is sheathed in armour, is a different being from 
 him who feasts in halls among press of ladies ; and he that feeds 
 by another man's fireside, and when his landlord, of all men in 
 the world, chances to be the Black Douglas, has reason to keep 
 his eyes about him as he makes his meal :— but it were better I 
 looked after our own evening refreshment, than that I stood here 
 gaping and talking about other folk's matters.'' So saying, he 
 called out in a thundering tone of voice, " Dickson ! — what ho, 
 Thomas Dickson ! — will you not acknowledge an old friend, who 
 is much disposed to trust his supper and night's lodging to your 
 hospitality ? " 
 
 The Scotchman, attracted by the call, looked first along the 
 banks of the river, then upwards to the bare side of the hill, and 
 at length cast his eyes upon the two figures who were descending 
 from it. 
 
 As if he felt the night colder while he advanced from the more 
 sheltered part of the valley to meet them, the Douglas Dale 
 farmer wrapped closer around him the grey plaid, which, from an 
 early period, has been used by the shepherds of the south of 
 Scotland, and the appearance of which gives a romantic air to the 
 peasantry and middle classes ; and which, although less brilliant 
 and gaudy in its colours, is as picturesque in its arrangement as 
 the more military tartan mantle of the Highlands. When they 
 approached near to each other, the lady might observe that this 
 friend of her guide was a stout athletic man, somewhat past the 
 middle of life, and already showing marks of the approach, but 
 none of the infirmities, of age, upon a countenance which had been 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 185 
 
 exposed to many a stonn. Sharp eyes, too, and a quick observa- 
 tion, exhibited signs of vigilance, acquired by one who had lived 
 long in a country where he had constant occasion for looking 
 around him with caution. His features were still swollen with dis- 
 pleasure ; and the handsome young man who attended him seemed 
 to be discontented, like one who had undergone no gentle marks 
 of his father's indignation, and who, from the sullen expression 
 which mingled with an appearance of shame on his countenance, 
 seemed at once affected by anger and remorse. 
 
 " Do you not remember me, old friend .■"' said Bertram, as they 
 approached within a distance for communing ; " or have the 
 twenty years which have marched over us since we met, carried along 
 with them all remembrance of Bertram, the English minstrel ? " 
 
 " In troth," answered the Scot, "it is not for want of plenty of 
 your countrymen to keep you in my remembrance, and I have 
 hardly heard one of them so much as whistle 
 
 ' Hey, now the day dawns,' 
 
 but it has recalled some note of your blythe rebeck ; and yet such 
 animals are we, that I had forgot the mien of my old friend, and 
 scarcdy knew him at a distance. But we have had trouble lately ; 
 there are a thousand of your countrymen that keep garrison in the 
 Perilous Castle of Douglas yonder, as well as in other places 
 through the vale, and that is but a woful sight for a true Scotch- 
 man—even my own poor house has not escaped the dignity of a 
 garrison of a man-at-arms, besides two or three archer knaves, and 
 one or two slips of mischievous boys called pages, and so forth 
 who will not let a man say, ' this is my own,' by his own fireside.' 
 Do not, therefore, think hardly of me, old comrade, if I show you a 
 welcome something colder than you might expect from a friend of 
 other days ; for, by Saint Bride of Douglas, I have scarcely any 
 thing left to which I can say welcome." 
 
 " Small welcome will serve," said Bertram. " My son, make thy 
 reverence to thy father's old friend. Augustine is learnin<^ my 
 joyous trade, but he will need some practice ere he can endure its 
 fatigues. If you could give him some little matter of food, and a 
 quiet bed for the night, there's no fear but that we shall both do 
 well enough ; for I dare say when you travel with my friend 
 Charles there,-if that tall youth chance to be my old acquaintance 
 Charles,-you will find yourself accommodated when his wants ar 
 once well provided for." 
 
 "Nay, the foul fiend take me if I do," answered the Scottish 
 husbandman. « I know not what the lads of this day are made of 
 -not of the same clay as their fathers to be sure-not sprung from 
 
i86 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 the heather, which fears neither wind nor rain, but from some 
 delicate plant of a foreign country, which will not thrive unless it 
 be nourished under glass, with a murrain to it. The good Lord of 
 Douglas— I have been his henchman, and can vouch for it— did 
 not in his pagehood desire such food and lodging as, in the present 
 day, will hardly satisfy such a lad as your friend Charles." 
 
 " Nay," said Bertram, " it is not that my Augustine is over nice ; 
 but, for other reasons, I must request of you a bed to himself ; he 
 hath of late been unwell." 
 
 "Ay, I understand," said Dickson, ''your son hath had a touch 
 of that illness which terminates so frequently in the black death 
 you English folk die of? We hear much of the havoc it has made 
 to the southward. Comes it hitherward ? " 
 
 Bertram nodded. 
 
 " Well, my father's house," continued the farmer, " hath more 
 rooms than one, and your son shall have one well-aired and com- 
 fortable ; and for supper, ye shall have a part of what is prepared 
 for your countrymen, though I would rather have their room than 
 their company. Since I am bound to feed a score of them, they 
 will not dispute the claim of such a skilful minstrel as thou art to a 
 night's hospitality. I am ashamed to say that I must do their bid- 
 ding even in my own house. Well-a-day, if my good lord were in 
 possession of his own, I have heart and hand enough to turn the 
 whole of them out of my house, like — like " ' 
 
 " To speak plainly," said Bertram, " like a southron strolling gang 
 from Redesdale, whom I have seen you fling out of your house like 
 a litter of blind puppies, when not one of them looked behind to 
 see who had done him the courtesy until he was half-way to 
 Cairntable." 
 
 " Ay," answered the Scotchman, drawing himself up at least six 
 inches taller than before ; " then I had a house of my own, and a 
 cause and an arm to keep it. Now I am — what signifies it what I 
 am ? — the noblest lord in Scotland is little better." 
 
 "Truly, friend," said Bertram, "now you view this matter in a 
 rational light. I do not say that the wisest, the richest, or the 
 strongest man in this world has any right to tyrannize over his 
 neighbour, because he is the more weak, ignorant, and the poorer ; 
 but yet if he does enter into such a controversy, he must submit to 
 the course of nature, and that will always give the advantage in the 
 tide of battle to wealth, strength, and health." 
 
 "With permission, however," answered Dickson, "the weaker 
 party, if he use his faculties to the utmost, may, in the long run, 
 obtain revenge upon Ihe author of his sufferings, which would be at 
 least compensation for his temporary submission ; and he acts 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 187 
 
 simply as a man, and most foolishly as a Scotchman, whether he 
 sustain these wrongs with the insensibility of an idiot, or whether 
 he endeavour to revenge them before Heaven's appointed time has 
 arrived. — But if I talk thus, I shall scare you, as I have scared some 
 of your countrymen, from accepting a meal of meat, and a night's 
 lodging, in a house where you might be called with the morning to 
 a bloody settlement of a national quarrel." 
 
 " Never mind," said Bertram, " we have been known to each 
 other of old ; and I am no more afraid of meeting unkindness in 
 your house, than you expect me to come here for the purpose of 
 adding to the injuries of which you complain." 
 
 " So be it," said Dickson ; " and you, my old friend, are as wel- 
 come to my abode as when it never held any guest save of my own 
 inviting. — And you, my young friend. Master Augustine, shall be 
 looked after[as well as if you came with a gay brow and a light cheek, 
 such as best becomes the gay science." 
 
 " But wherefore, may I ask," said Bertram, " so much displeased 
 but now at my young friend Charles ? " 
 
 The youth answered before his father had time to speak. " My 
 father, good sir, may put what show upon it he will, but shrewd and 
 wise men wax weak in the brain in these troublous times. He 
 saw two or three wolves seize upon three of our choicest wethers ; 
 and because I shouted to give the alarm to the EngUsh garrison, 
 he was angry as if he could have murdered me — just for saving the 
 sheep from the jaws that would have devoured them." 
 
 "This is a strange account of thee, old friend," said Bertram. 
 " Dost thou connive with the wolves in robbing thine own fold ?" 
 
 "Why, let it pass if thou lovest me," answered the countryman ; 
 " Charles could tell thee something nearer the truth if he had a 
 mind ; but for the present let it pass." 
 
 The minstrel, perceiving that the Scotchman was fretted and 
 embarrassed with the subject, pressed it no farther. 
 
 At this moment, in crossing the threshold of Thomas Dickson's 
 house, they were greeted with sounds from two English soldiers 
 within, " Quiet, Anthony," said one voice,—" quiet, man !— for the 
 sake of common sense, if not common manners ;— Robin Hood 
 himself never sat down to his board ere the roast was ready." 
 
 " Ready ! " quoth another rough voice ; " it is roasting to rags, 
 and small had been the knave Dickson's share, even of these rags, 
 had it not been the express orders of the worshipful Sir John de 
 Walton, that the soldiers who lie at outposts should afford to the 
 inmates such provisions as are not necessary for their own sub- 
 sistence." 
 
 "Hush, Anthony,— hush, for shame ! " replied his fellow soldier, 
 
i88 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " if ever I heard our host's step, I heard it this instant ; so give over 
 thy grumbling, since our captain, as we all know, hath prohibited 
 under strict penalties, all quarrels between his follower? and the 
 people of the country." 
 
 " I am sure," replied Anthony, " that I have ministered occasion 
 to none ; but I would I were equally certain of the good meaning 
 of this sullen-browed Thomas Dickson towards the English soldiers, 
 for I seldom go to bed in this dungeon of a house, but I expect my 
 throat will gape as wide as a thirsty oyster before 1 awaken. Here 
 he comes, however," added Anthony, sinking his sharp tones as he 
 spoke ; " and I hope to be excommunicated if he has not brought 
 with him that mad animal, his son Charles, and two other strangers, 
 hungry enough, I'll be sworn, to eat up the whole supper, if they do 
 us no other injury." 
 
 " Shame of thyself, Anthony," repeated his comrade ; " a good 
 archer thou as ever wore Kendal green, and yet affect to be 
 frightened for two tired travellers, and alarmed for the inroad their 
 hunger may make on the night's meal. There are four or five of us 
 here — we have our bows and our bills within reach, and scorn to be 
 chased from our supper, or cheated out of our share of it by a 
 dozen Scotchmen, whether stationary or strollers. How say'st 
 thou?" he added, turning 'to Dickson — "How say ye, quarter- 
 master ? it is no secret, that by the directions given to our post, we 
 must enquire into the occupations of such guests as you may receive 
 besides ourselves, your unwilling inmates ; you are as ready for 
 supper, I warrant, as supper is for you, and I will only delay you 
 and my friend Anthony, who becomes dreadfully impatient, until 
 you answer two or three questions which you wot of." 
 
 " Bend-the-Bow," answered Dickson, " thou art a civil fellow ; 
 and although it is something hard to be constrained to give an 
 account of one's friends, because they chance to quarter in one's 
 own house for a night or two, yet I must submit to the times, and 
 make no vain opposition. You may mark down in your breviary 
 there, that upon the fourteenth day before Palm Sunday, Thomas 
 Dickson brought to his house of Hazelside, in which you hold 
 garrison, by orders from the English governor. Sir John de Walton, 
 two strangers, to whom the said Thomas Dickson had promised re- 
 freshment, and a bed for the evening, if it be lawful at this time 
 and place." 
 
 " But what are they these strangers ? " said Anthony, somewhat 
 sharply. 
 
 " A fine world the while," murmured Thomas Dickson, " that an 
 honest man should be forced to answer the questions of every 
 paltry companion ! "—But he mitigated his voice and proceeded, 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 189 
 
 " The eldest of my guests is Bertram, an ancient English minstrel, 
 who is bound on his own errand to the Castle of Douglas, and will 
 communicate what he has to say of news to Sir John de Walton 
 himself. I have known him for twenty years, and never heard 
 anything of him save that he was good man and true. The younger 
 stranger is his son, a lad recovering from the English disorder, 
 which has been raging far and wide in Westmoreland and Cumber- 
 land." 
 
 " Tell me," said Bend-the-Bow, " this same Bertram, was he not 
 about a year since in the service of some noble lady in our own 
 country ? " 
 
 " I have heard so," answered Dickson. 
 
 " We shall, in that case, I think, incur little danger,'' replied 
 Bend-the-Bow, " by allowing this old man and his son to proceed 
 on their journey to the castle." 
 
 " You are my elder and my better," answered Anthony ; "but I 
 may remind you that it is not so clearly our duty to give free 
 passage, into a garrison of a thousand men of all ranks, to a youth 
 who has been so lately attacked by a contagious disorder ; and I 
 question if our commander would not rather hear that the Black 
 Douglas, with a hundred devils as black as himself, since such is 
 his colour, had taken possession of the outpost of Hazelside with 
 sword and battle-axe, than that one person suffering under this fell 
 sickness had entered peaceably, and by the opened wicket of the 
 castle." 
 
 "There is something in what thou sayest, Anthony," replied his 
 comrade ; " and considering that our governor, since he has under- 
 taken the troublesome job of keeping a castle which is esteemed so 
 much more dangerous than any other within Scotland, has become 
 one of the most cautious and jealous men in the world, we had 
 better, I think, inform' him of the circumstance, and take his com- 
 mands how the stripling is to be dealt with." 
 
 "Content am I," said the archer; "and first, methinks, I would 
 just, in order to show that we know what belongs to such a case, 
 ask the striphng a few questions, as how long he has been ill, by 
 what physicians he has been attended, when he was cured, and how 
 his cure is certified, &c." 
 
 " True, brother," said Bend-the-Bow. " Thou hearest, minstrel, 
 we would ask thy son some questions — What has become of him ? 
 —he was in this apartment but now." 
 
 " So please you," answered Bertram, " he did but pass through 
 the apartment. Mr. Thomas Dickson, at my entreaty, as well as 
 in respectful reverence to your honour's health, carried him through 
 the room without tarriance, judging his own bed-chamber the fittest 
 
igo CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 place for a young man recovering from a severe illness, and after a 
 day of no small fatigue." 
 
 " Well," answered the elder archer, " though it is uncommon for 
 men who, like us, live by bowstring and quiver, to meddle with 
 interrogations and examinations ; yet, as the case stands, we must 
 make some enquiries of your son, ere we permit him to set forth to 
 the Castle of Douglas, where you say his errand leads him." 
 
 " Rather my errand, noble sir," said the minstrel, " than that of 
 the young man himself" 
 
 " If such be the case," answered Bend-the-Bow, " we may 
 sufficiently' do our duty by sending yourself, with the first grey 
 light of dawn, to the castle, and letting your son remain in bed, 
 which I warrant is the fittest place for him, until we shall receive 
 Sir John de Walton's commands whether he is to be brought on- 
 ward or not." 
 
 " And we may as well," said Anthony, " since we are to have this 
 man's company at supper, make him acquainted with the rules of 
 the out garrison stationed here for the time." So saying, he pulled 
 a scroll from his leathern pouch, and said, " minstrel, canst thou 
 read?" 
 
 " It becomes my calling," said the minstrel. 
 
 " It has nothing to do with mine, though," answered the archer, 
 " and therefore do thou read these regulations aloud ; for since I 
 do not comprehend these characters by sight, I lose no chance of 
 having them read over to me as often as I can, that I may fix their 
 sense in my memory. So beware that thou readest the words 
 letter for letter as they are set down ; for thou dost so at thy peril. 
 Sir Minstrel, if thou readest not like a true man." 
 
 " On my minstrel word," said Bertram, and began to read ex- 
 cessively slow ; for he wished to gain a little time for consideration, 
 which he foresaw would be necessary to prevent his being separated 
 from his mistress, which was likely to occasion her much anxiety 
 and distress. He therefore began thus : — " ' Outpost at Hazelside, 
 the steading of Goodman Thomas Dickson' — Ay, Thomas, and is 
 thy house so called ? " 
 
 " It is the ancient name of the steading," said the Scot, " being 
 surrounded by a hazel-shaw, or thicket." 
 
 " Hold your chattering tongue, minstrel," said Anthony, " and 
 proceed, as you value that or your ears, which you seem disposed 
 to make less use of." 
 
 " ' His garrison,' " proceeded the minstrel, reading, " ' consists of 
 a lance with its furniture.' What, then, a lance, in other words, a 
 belted knight, commands this party ? " 
 
 " 'Tis no concern of thine," said the archer. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 191 
 
 " But it is," answered the minstrel ; " we have a right to be 
 examined by the highest person in presence." 
 
 " I will show thee, thou rascal," said the archer, starting up, 
 " that I am lance enough for thee to reply to, and I will break thy 
 head if thou say'st a word more." 
 
 " Take care, brother Anthony," said his comrade, " we are to use 
 travellers courteously — and, with your leave, those travellers best 
 who come from our native land." 
 
 " It is even so stated here," said the minstrel, and he proceeded 
 to read : — " ' The watch at this outpost of Hazelside* shall stop and 
 examine all travellers passing by the said station, suffering such to 
 pass onwards to the town of Douglas, or to Douglas Castle, always 
 interrogating them with civility, and detaining and turning them 
 back if there arise matter of suspicion ; but conducting themselves 
 in all matters civilly and courteously to the people of the country, 
 and to those who travel in it.' You see, most excellent and valiant 
 archer," added the commentator Bertram, " that courtesy and 
 civiUty are, above all, recommended to your worship in your con- 
 duct towards the inhabitants, and those passengers who, like us, 
 may chance to fall under your rules in such matters." 
 
 " I am not to be told at this time of day," said the archer, " how 
 to conduct myself in the discharge of my duties. Let me advise 
 you, Sir Minstrel, to be frank and open in your answers to our 
 enquiries, and you shall have no reason to complain." 
 
 " I hope, at all events," said the minstrel, " to have your favour 
 for my son, who is a delicate stripling, and not accustomed to play 
 his part among the crew which inhabit this wild world." 
 
 " Well," continued the elder and more civil of the two archers, 
 " if thy son be a novice in this terrestrial navigation, I warrant that 
 thou, my friend, from thy look and manner of speech, hast enough 
 of skill to use thy compass. To comfort thee, although thou must 
 thyself answer the questions of our governor or deputy-governor, in 
 order that he may see there is no offence in thee, I think there may 
 be permission granted for thy son's residing here in the convent 
 hard by, (where the nuns, by the way, are as old as the monks, and 
 have nearly as long beards, so thou mayst be easy about thy son's 
 morals,) until thou hast done thy business at Douglas Castle, and 
 art ready to resume thy journey." 
 
 " If such permission," said the minstrel, " can be obtained, I 
 should be better pleased to leave him at the abbey, and go myself, 
 in the first place, to take the directions of your commanding officer." 
 
 "Certainly," answered the archer, "that will be the safest and 
 best way ; and with a piece or two of money, thou mayst secure the 
 protection of the abbot." 
 
192 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " Thou say'st well," answered the minstrel ; " I have known' life, 
 I have known every stile, gap, pathway, and pass of this wilderness 
 of ours for some thirty years ; and he that cannot steer his course 
 fairly through it Uke an able seaman, after having served such an 
 apprenticeship, can hardly ever be taught, were a century to be 
 given him to learn it in." 
 
 " Since thou art so expert a mariner," answered the archer 
 Anthony, " thou hast, I warrant me, met in thy wanderings a pota- 
 tion called a morning's draught, which they who are conducted by 
 others, where they themselves lack experience, are used to bestow 
 upon those who undertake the task of guide upon such an 
 occasion ?" 
 
 " I understand you, sir," quoth the minstrel ; " and although 
 money, or drink-geld, as the Fleming calls it, is rather a scarce 
 commodity in the purse of one of my calling, yet, according to my 
 feeble ability, thou shalt have no cause to complain that thine eyes 
 or those of thy comrades have been damaged by a Scottish mist, 
 while we can find an English coin to pay for the good liquor which 
 should wash them clear." 
 
 " Content," said the archer ; " we now understand each other ; 
 and if difficulties arise on the road, thou shalt not want the counte- 
 nance of Anthony to sail triumphantly through them. But thou 
 hadst better let thy son know soon of the early visit to the abbot to- 
 morrow, for thou mayst guess that we cannot and dare not delay 
 our departure for the convent a minute after the eastern sky is ruddy ; 
 and, with other infirmities, young men often are prone to laziness 
 and a love of ease." 
 
 " Thou shalt have no reason to think so," answered the minstrel ; 
 " not the lark himself, when waked by the first ray peeping over the 
 black cloud, springs more lightly to the sky, than will my Augustine 
 answer the same brilliant summons. And now we understand each 
 other, I would only further pray you to forbear light talk while my 
 son is in your company, — a boy of innocent life, and timid in con- 
 versation." 
 
 " Nay, jolly minstrel," said the elder archer, " thou givest us here 
 too gross an example of Satan reproving sin. If thou hast followed 
 thy craft for twenty years, as thou pretendest, thy son, having kept 
 thee company since childhood, must by this time be fit to open a 
 school to teach even devils the practice of the seven deadly sins, 
 of which none know the theory if those of the gay science are 
 lacking." 
 
 " Truly, comrade, thou speakest well," answered Bertram, " and 
 I acknowledge that we minstrels are too much to blame in this 
 matter. Nevertheless, in good sooth, the fault is not one of which 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. I93 
 
 I myself am particularly guilty ; on the contrary, I think that he 
 who would wish to have his own hair honoured when time has 
 strewed it with silver, should so rein his mirth when in the presence 
 off the young, as may show in what respect he holds innocence. I 
 will, therefore, with your permission, speak a word to Augustine, 
 that to-morrow we must be on foot early." 
 
 " Do so, my friend," said the English soldier ; " and do the same 
 the more speedily that our poor supper is still awaiting until thou 
 art ready to partake of it." 
 
 "To which, I promise thee," said Bertram, "I am disposed to 
 entertain no delay." 
 
 " Follow me, then," said Dickson, " and I will show thee where 
 this young bird of thine has his nest." 
 
 Their host accordingly tripped up the wooden stair, and tapped 
 at a door, which he thus indicated was that of his younger guest. 
 
 " Your father," continued he, as the door opened, " would speak 
 with you. Master Augustine." 
 
 " Excuse me, my host," answered Augustine ; " the truth is, that 
 this room being directly above your eating-chamber, and the flooring 
 not in the best possible repair, I have been compelled to the un- 
 handsome practice of eavesdropping, and not a word has escaped 
 me that passed concerning my proposed residence at the abbey, our 
 journey to-morrow, and the somewhat early hour at v.-hich I must 
 shake off sloth, and, according to thy expression, fly down from the 
 roost." 
 
 " And how dost thou relish," said Dickson, " being left with the 
 Abbot of Saint Bride's little flock here ?" 
 
 " Why, well," said the youth, " if the abbot is a man of respec- 
 tability becoming his vocation, and not one of those swaggering 
 churchmen, who stretch out the sword, and bear themselves like 
 rank soldiers in these troublous times." 
 
 " For that, young master," said Dickson, " if you let him put his 
 hand deep enough into your purse, he will hardly quarrel with any 
 thing." 
 
 " Then I will leave him to my father," replied Augustine, " who 
 will not grudge him any thing he asks in reason." 
 
 " In that case," replied the Scotchman, " you may trust to our 
 abbot for good accommodation— and so both sides are pleased." 
 
 " It is well, my son," said Bertram, who now joined in the con- 
 versation ; " and that thou mayst be ready for thy early travelling, 
 I shall presently get our host to send thee some food, after partak- 
 ing of which thou shouldst go to bed and sleep off the fatigue of 
 to-day, since to-morrow will bring work for itself." 
 
 " And as for thy engagement to these honest archers," answered 
 
 o 
 
194 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 Augustine, " I hope you will be able to do what will give pleasure 
 to our guides, if they are disposed to be civil and true men." 
 
 " God bless thee, my child !" answered Bertram ; "thou knowest 
 already what would drag after thy beck all the English archers that 
 were ever on this side of the Solway. There is no fear of a grey 
 goose shaft, if you sing a riveilkz like to that which chimed even 
 now from that silken nest of dainty young goldfinches." 
 
 " Hold me as in readiness, then," said the seeming youth, "when 
 you depart to-morrow morning. I am within hearing, I suppose, 
 of the bells of Saint Bride's chapel, and have no fear, through my 
 sloth, of keeping you or your company waiting." 
 
 "Good-night, and God bless thee, my child!" again said the 
 minstrel ; " remember that your father sleeps not far distant, and 
 on the slightest alarm will not fail to be with you. I need scarce 
 bid thee recommend thyself, meantime, to the great Being, who is 
 the friend and father of us all." 
 
 The pilgrim thanked his supposed father for his evening blessing, 
 and the visitors withdrew without farther speech at the time, leav- 
 ing the young lady to those engrossing fears, which, the novelty of 
 her situation, and the native delicacy of her sex being considered, 
 naturally thronged upon her. 
 
 The tramp of a horse's foot was not long after heard at the house 
 of Hazelside, and the rider was welcomed by its garrison with marks 
 of respect. Bertram understood so much as to discover from the 
 conversation of the warders that this late arrival was Aymer de 
 Valence, the knight who commanded the little party, and to the 
 furniture of whose lance, as it was technically called, belonged the 
 archers with whom we have already been acquainted, a man-at- 
 arms or two, a certain proportion of pages or grooms, and, in short, 
 the command and guidance of the garrison at Thomas Dickson's, 
 while in rank he was deputy-governor of Douglas Castle. 
 
 To prevent all suspicion respecting himself and his companion, 
 as well as the risk of the latter being disturbed, the minstrel thought 
 it proper to present himself to the inspection of this knight, the great 
 authority of the little place. He found him, with as little scruple 
 as the archers heretofore, making a supper of the relics of the roast 
 beef. 
 
 Before this young knight Bertram underwent an examination, 
 while an old soldier took down in writing such items of information 
 as the examinate thought proper to express in his replies, both with 
 regard to the minuti?e of his present journey, his business at Castle 
 Douglas, and his route when that business should be accomplished ; 
 a much more minute examination, in a word, than he had hitherto 
 undergone by the archers, or perhaps than was quite agreeable to 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 195 
 
 him, being encumbered with at least the knowledge of one secret, 
 whatever more. Not that this new examinator had anything stern 
 or severe in his looks or his questions. As to the first, he was mild, 
 gentle, and "meek as a maid," and possessed exactly of the courteous 
 manners ascribed by our father Chaucer to the pattern of chivalry 
 whom he describes upon his pilgrimage to Canterbury. But with 
 all his gentleness, De Valence showed a great degree of acuteness 
 and accuracy in his queries ; and well pleased was Bertram that the 
 young knight did not insist upon seeing his supposed son, although 
 even in that case his ready wit had resolved, like a seaman in a 
 tempest, to sacrifice one part to preserve the rest. He was not, 
 however, driven to this extremity, being treated by Sir Aymer with 
 that degree of courtesy which in that age men of song were in general 
 thought entitled to. The knight kindly and liberally consented to 
 the lad's remaining in the convent, as a fit and quiet residence for 
 a stripling and an invalid, until Sir John de Walton should express 
 his pleasure on the subject ; and Sir Aymer consented to this 
 arrangement the more willingly, as it averted all possible danger of 
 bringing disease into the English garrison. 
 
 Bytheyoungknight's order, all in Dickson's house were despatched 
 earlier to rest than usual ; the matin bell of the neighbouring chapel 
 being the signal for their assembly by daybreak. They rendezvoused 
 accordingly, and proceeded to Saint Bride's, where they heard mass, 
 after which an interview took place between the Abbot Jerome and 
 the Minstrel, in which the former undertook, with the permission of 
 Ve Valence, to receive Augustine into his abbey as a guest for a 
 few days, less or more, and for which Bertram promised an acknow- 
 ledgment in name of alms, which was amply satisfactory. 
 
 " So be it," said Bertram, taking leave of his supposed son ; 
 " rely on it I will not tarry a day longer at Douglas Castle than shall 
 suffice for transacting my business there, which is to look after the 
 old books you wot of, and I will speedily return for thee to the 
 Abbey of Saint Bride, to resume in company our journey home- 
 ward." 
 
 " O father,'' replied the youth, with a smile, " I fear, if you get 
 among romances and chronicles, you will be so earnest in your 
 researches, that you will forget poor Augustine and his concerns." 
 
 " Never fear me, Augustine," said the old man, making the motion 
 of throwing a kiss towards the boy ; " thou art good and virtuous, 
 and Heaven will not neglect thee were thy father unnatural enough 
 to do so. Believe me, all the old songs since Merlin's day shall not 
 make me forget thee." 
 
 Thus they separated, the minstrel, with the English knight and 
 his retinue, to move towards the castle, and the youth in dutiful 
 
 O 2 
 
196 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 attendance on the venerable abbot, who was delighted to find that 
 his guest's thoughts turned rather upon spiritual things than on the 
 morning repast, of the approach of which he could not help being 
 himself sensible. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " The night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, 
 It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day 
 Sunk as the day is when the sun is hid." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 To facilitate the progress of the party on its way to Douglas 
 Castle, the Knight of Valence offered the minstrel the convenience 
 of a horse, which the fatigues of yesterday made him gladly accept. 
 Any one acquainted with equestrian exercise, is aware that no means 
 of refreshment carries away the sense of fatigue from over walking 
 so easily, as the exchange to riding, which calls into play another 
 set of muscles, and leaves those which have been over exerted an 
 opportunity of resting through change of motion, more completely 
 than they could in absolute repose. Sir Aymer de Valence was 
 sheathed in armour, and mounted on his charger ; two of the archers, 
 a groom of mean rank, and a squire, who looked in his day for the 
 honour of knighthood, completed the detachment, which seemed so 
 disposed as to secure the minstrel from escape, and to protect him 
 against violence. " Not," said the young knight, addressing himself 
 to Bertram, " that there is usually danger in travelling in this coun- 
 try, any more than in the most quiet districts of England ; but some 
 disturbances, as you may have learnt, have broken out here within 
 this last year, and have caused the garrison of Castle Douglas to 
 maintain a stricter watch. But let us move on, for the complexion 
 of the day is congenial with the original derivation of the name of 
 the country, and the description of the chiefs to whom it belonged — 
 Sholto Dhu Glass — (see yon dark grey man), and dark grey will our 
 route prove this morning, though by good luck it is not long." ' 
 
 The morning was indeed what the original Gaelic words implied, 
 a drizzly, dark, moist day ; the mist had settled upon the hills, 
 and unrolled itself upon brook, glade, and tarn, and the spring 
 breeze was not powerful enough to raise the veil, though, from the 
 wild sounds which were heard occasionally on the ridges,'and through 
 the glens, it might be supposed to wail at a sense of its own inability. 
 The route of the travellers was directed by the course which the 
 
CASTLE DAXGEROUS. 197 
 
 river had ploughed for itself down the valley, the banks of which 
 bore in general that dark grey livery which Sir Aymer de Valence 
 had intimated to be the prevalent tint of the country. Some in- 
 effectual struggles of the sun shot a ray here and there to salute the 
 peaks of the hills ; yet these were unable to surmount the dulness 
 of a March morning, and, at so early an hour, produced a variety of 
 shades, rather than a gleam of brightness, upon the eastern horizon. 
 The view was monotonons and depressing, and apparently the good 
 knight Aymer sought some amusement in occasional talk with 
 Bertram, who, as was usual with his craft, possessed a fund of 
 knowledge, and a power of conversation, well suited to pass away 
 a dull morning. The minstrel, well pleased to pick up such in- 
 formation as he might be able concerning the present state of the 
 country, embraced every opportunity of sustaining the dialogue. 
 
 " I would speak with you, Sir Minstrel," said the young knight. 
 " If thou dost not find the air of this morning too harsh for thine 
 organs, heartily do I wish thou wouldst fairly tell me what can 
 have induced thee, being, as thou seemest, a man of sense, to thrust 
 thyself into a wild country like this, at such a time. — And you, my 
 masters," addressing the archers, and the rest of the party, " me- 
 thinks it would be as fitting and seeming if you reined back your 
 steeds for a horse's length or so, since I apprehend you can travel 
 on your way without the pastime of minstrelsy." The bowmen took 
 the hint, and fell back, but, as was expressed by their grumbling 
 observations, by no means pleased that there seemed little chance 
 of their overhearing what conversation should pass between the 
 young knight and the minstrel, which proceeded as follows : — 
 
 " I am, then, to understand, good minstrel," said the knight, 
 " that you, who have in your time borne arms, and even followed 
 Saint George's redcross banner to the Holy Sepulchre, are so little 
 tired of the danger attending our profession, that you feel yourself 
 attracted unnecessarily to regions where the sword, for ever loose 
 in its scabbard, is ready to start on the slightest provocation ? " 
 
 " It would be hard," replied the minstrel bluntly, " to answer 
 such a question in the affirmative ; and yet, when you consider how 
 nearly allied is his profession who celebrates deeds of arms with 
 that of the knight who performs them, your honour, I think, will 
 hold it advisable that a minstrel desirous of doing his devoir, 
 should, like a young knight, seek the truth of adventures where it 
 is to be found, and rather visit countries where the knowledge is 
 preserved of high and noble deeds, than those lazy and quiet 
 realms, in which men live indolently, and die ignobly in peace, or 
 by sentence of law. You yourself, sir, and those like you, who hold 
 life cheap in respect of glory, guide your course through this world 
 
igS CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 on the very same principle which brings your poor rhyming servant 
 Bertram from a far province of merry England, to this dark country 
 of rugged Scotland called Douglas Dale. You long to see ad- 
 ventures viforthy of notice, and I (under favour for naming us two 
 in the same breath) seek a scanty and precarious, but not a dis- 
 honourable living, by preparing for immortality, as well as I can, 
 the particulars of such exploits, especially the names of those who 
 were the heroes of these actions. Each, therefore, labours in iiis 
 vocation ; nor can the one be justly wondered at more than the 
 other, seeing that if there be any difference in the degrees of danger 
 to which both the hero and the poet are exposed, the courage, 
 strength, arms, and address of the valiant knight, render it safer 
 for him to venture into scenes of peril, than for the poor man of 
 rhyme." 
 
 " You say well," answered the warrior ; " and although it is 
 something of novelty to me to hear your craft represented as upon 
 a level with my own mode of life, yet shame were it to say that the 
 minstrel who toils so much to keep in memory the feats of gallant 
 knights, should not himself prefer fame to existence, and a single 
 achievement of valour to a whole "age without a name, or to affirm 
 that he follows a mean and unworthy profession." 
 
 " Your worship will then acknowledge," said the minstrel, " that 
 it is a legitimate object in such as myself, who, simple as I am, 
 have taken my regular degrees among the professors of the gay 
 science at the capital town of Aigues-Mortes, to struggle forward 
 into this northern district, where I am well assured many things 
 have happened which have been adapted to the harp by minstrels 
 of great fame in ancient days, and have become the subject of lays 
 which lie deposited in the library of Castle Douglas, where, unless 
 copied over by some one who understands the old British characters 
 and language, they must, with whatever they may contain, whether 
 of entertainment or edification, be speedily lost to posterity. If 
 these hidden treasures were preserved and recorded by the minstrel 
 art of my poor self and others, it might be held well to compensate 
 for the risk of a chance blow of a broadsword, or the sweep of a 
 brown bill, received while I am engaged in collecting them ; and I 
 were unworthy of the name of a man, much more of an inventor or 
 finder,* should I weigh the loss of life, a commodity always so 
 uncertain, against the chance of that immortality which will survive 
 in my lay after my broken voice and shivered harp shall no longer 
 be able either to express tune or accompany tale." 
 
 "Certainly," said Sir Aymer, "having a heart to feel such a 
 motive, you have an undoubted right to express it ; nor should I 
 have been in any degree disposed to question it had I found many 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. i99 
 
 minstrels prepared, like yourself, to prefer renown even to life 
 itself, which most men think of greatly more consequence." 
 
 " There are, indeed, noble sir," replied Bertram, " minstrels, and, 
 with your reverence, even belted knights themselves, who do not 
 sufficiently value that renown which is acquired at the risk of life. 
 To such ignoble men we must leave their own reward — let us 
 abandon to them earth, and the things of earth, since they cannot 
 aspire to that glory which is the best reward of others." 
 
 The minstrel uttered these last words with such enthusiasm, that 
 the knight drew his bridle, and stood fronting Bertram, with his 
 countenance kindling at the same theme, on which, after a short 
 silence, he expressed himself with a like vivacity. 
 
 " Well fare thy heart, gay companion ! I am happy to see there is 
 still so much enthusiasm surviving in the world. Thou hast fairly 
 won the minstrel groat ; and if I do not pay it in conformity to my 
 sense of thy merit, it shall be the fault of dame Fortune, who has 
 graced my labours in these Scottish wars with the niggard pay of 
 Scottish money. A gold piece or two there must be remaining of 
 the ransom of one French knight, whom chance threw into my 
 hands, and that, my friend, shall surely be thine own ; and hark 
 thee, I, Aymer de Valence, who now speak to thee, am born of the 
 noble House of Pembroke ; and though now landless, shall, by the 
 grace of Our Lady, have in time a fitting establishment, wherein I 
 will find room for a minstrel like thee, if thy talents have not by 
 that time found thee a better patron." 
 
 " Thank thee, noble knight," said the minstrel, " as well for thy 
 present intentions, as I hope I shall for thy future performance ; 
 but I may say with truth, that I have not the sordid inclination of 
 many of my brethren." 
 
 " He who partakes the true thirst of noble fame," said the young 
 knight, " can have little room in his heart for the love of gold. But 
 thou hast not yet told me, friend minstrel, what are the motives, in 
 particular, which have attracted thy wandering steps to this wild 
 country ? " 
 
 " Were I to do so," replied Bertram, rather desirous to avoid the 
 question, as in some respects too nearly bordering on the secret 
 purpose of his journey, " it might sound like a studied panegyric on 
 thine own bold deeds, Sir Knight, and those of your companions in 
 arms ; and such adulation, minstrel as I am, I hate like an empty 
 cup at a companion's lips. But let me say in few words, that 
 Douglas Castle, and the deeds of valour which it has witnessed, 
 have sounded wide through England ; nor is there a gallant knight 
 or trusty minstrel, whose heart does not throb at the name of the 
 stronghold, which, in former days, the foot of an Englishman never 
 
200 CASTLE DANGEROUS 
 
 entered, except in hospitality. There is a magic in the very names 
 of Sir John de Walton and Sir Aymer de Valence, the gallant 
 defenders of a place so often won back by its ancient lords, and 
 with such circumstances of valour and cruelty, that it bears, in 
 England, the name of the Dangerous Castle." 
 
 "Yet I would fain hear," answered the knight, "your own 
 minstrel account of those legends which have induced you, for the 
 amusement of future times, to visit a country which, at this period, 
 is so distracted and perilous." 
 
 "If you can endure the length of a minstrel tale," said Bertram — 
 ' I for one am always amused by the exercise of my vocation, and 
 have no objection to tell my story, provided you do not prove an 
 impatient listener." 
 
 " Nay, for that matter," said the young knight, " a fair listener 
 thou shalt have of me ; and if my reward be not great, my attention 
 at least shall be remarkable." 
 
 " And he," said the minstrel, " must be a poor gleeman who does 
 not hold himself better paid with that, than with gold or silver, 
 were the pieces English rose-nobles. On this condition, then, I 
 begin a long story, which may, in one or other of its details, find 
 subject for better minstrels than myself, and be listened to by such 
 warriors as you hundreds of years hence." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 While many a merry lay and many a song 
 
 Cheer'd the rough road, we wish'd the rough road long ; 
 
 The rough road then returning in a round, 
 
 Mark'd their impatient steps, for all was fairy ground. 
 
 Dr. Johnson. 
 
 " It was about the year of redemption one thousand two hundred 
 and eighty-five years," began the minstrel, " when King Alexander 
 the Third of Scotland lost his daughter Margaret, whose only 
 child, of the same name, called the Maiden of Norway, (as her 
 father was king of that country,) became the heiress of this king- 
 dom of Scotland, as well as of her father's crown. An unhappy 
 death was this for Alexander, who had no nearer heirs left of his 
 own body than this grandchild. She indeed might claim his king- 
 dom by birthright ; but the difficulty of establishing such a claim 
 of inheritance must have been anticipated by all who bestowed a 
 thought upon the subject. The Scottish king, therefore, endeavoured 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 201 
 
 to make up for this loss by replacing his late Queen, who was an 
 English princess, sister of our Edward the First, with Juletta, 
 daughter of the Count de Dreux. The solemnities at the nuptial 
 ceremony, which took place in the town of Jedburgh, were very 
 great and remarkable, and particularly when, amidst the display of 
 a pageant which was exhibited on the occasion, a ghastly spectre 
 made its appearance in the form of a skeleton, as the King of 
 Terrors is said to be represented. — Your worship is free to laugh at 
 this, if you think it a proper subject for mirth ; but men are alive 
 who viewed it with their own eyes, and the event showed too well 
 of what misfortunes this Apparition was the singular prognostica- 
 tion. 
 
 " I have heard the story," said the knight ; " but the monk who 
 told it me, suggested that the figure, though unhappily chosen, was 
 perhaps purposely introduced as a part of the pageant." 
 
 " I know not that," said the minstrel dryly ; " but there is no 
 doubt that shortly after this apparition King Alexander died, to the 
 great sorrow of his people. The Maid of Norway, his heiress, 
 speedily followed her grandfather to the grave, and our English 
 king. Sir Knight, raked up a claim of dependency and homage due, 
 he said, by Scotland, which neither the lawyers, nobles, priests, nor 
 the very minstrels of Scotland, had ever before heard of." 
 
 " Now, beshrew me," interrupted Sir Aymer de Valence, " this 
 is beyond bargain. I agreed to hear your tale with patience, but I 
 did not pledge myself that it should contain matter to the repi'oach 
 of Edward the First, of blessed memory ; nor will I permit his name 
 to be mentioned in my hearing without the respect due to his high 
 rank and noble qualities." 
 
 " Nay," said the minstrel, " I am no Highland bagpiper or 
 genealogist, to carry respect for my art so far as to quarrel with a 
 man of worship who stops me at the beginning of a pibroch. I am 
 an Englishman, and wish dearly well to my country ; and, above 
 all, I must speak the truth. But I will avoid disputable topics. 
 Your age, sir, though none of the ripest, authorises me to suppose 
 you may have seen the battle of Falkirk, and other onslaughts in 
 which the conpetition of Bruce and Baliol has been fiercely 
 agitated, and you will permit me to say, that if the Scottish have 
 not had the right upon their side, they have at least defended the 
 wrong with the efforts of brave men and true." 
 
 " Of brave men, I grant you," said the knight, " for I have seen 
 no cowards amongst them ; but as for truth, they can best judge of 
 it who know how often they have sworn faith to England, and how 
 repeatedly they have broken their vow." 
 
 " I shall Pot stir the question," said the minstrel, " leaving it to 
 
202 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 your worship to determine which has most falsehood — ^he who 
 compels a weaker person to take an unjust oath, or he who, com- 
 pelled by necessity, takes the imposed oath without the intention 
 of keeping his word." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said De Valence, " let us keep our opinions, for we 
 are not likely to force each other from the faith we have adopted 
 on this subject. But take my advice, and whilst thou travellest 
 under an English pennon, take heed that thou keepest off this con- 
 versation in the hall and kitchen, where perhaps the soldier may 
 be less tolerant than the officer ; and now, in a word, what is thy 
 legend of this Dangerous Castle?" 
 
 " For that," replied Bertram, " methinks your worship is most 
 likely to have a better edition than I, who have not been in this 
 country for many years ; but it is not for me to bandy opinions 
 with your knightship. I will even proceed with the tale as I have 
 heard it. I need not, I presume, inform your worship that the 
 Lords of Douglas, who founded this castle, are second to no 
 lineage in Scotland in the antiquity of their dascent. Nay, they 
 have themselves boasted that their family is not to be seen or dis- 
 tinguished, like other great houses, until it is found at once in a 
 certain degree of eminence. ' You may see us in the tree,' they 
 say, ' you cannot discover us in the twig ; you may see us in the 
 stream, you cannot trace us to the fountain.' In a word, they deny 
 that historians or genealogists can point out the first mean man 
 named Douglas, who originally elevated the family ; and true it is, 
 that so far back as we have known this race, they have always 
 been renowned for valour and enterprise, accompanied with the 
 power which made that enterprise effectual." 
 
 " Enough," said the knight, " I have heard of the pride and 
 power of that great family, nor does it interest me in the least to 
 deny or detract from their bold claims to consideration in this 
 respect." 
 
 " Without doubt you must also have heard, noble sir," replied 
 the minstrel, " many things of James, the present heir of the house 
 of Douglas?" 
 
 " More than enough," answered the English knight ; " he is 
 known to have been a stout supporter of that outlawed traitor, 
 William Wallace ; and again, upon the first raising of the banner 
 by this Robert Bruce, who pretends to be King of Scotland, this 
 young springald, James Douglas, must needs start into rebellion 
 anew. He plunders his uncle, the Archbishop of St. Andrews, of 
 a considerable sum of money, to fill the Scottish Usurper's not 
 over-burdened treasury, debauches the servants of his relation, 
 takes arms, and though repeatedly chastised in the field, still keeps 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 203 
 
 his vaunt, and threatens mischief to those who, in the name of 
 his rightful sovereign, defend the Castle of Douglas Dale.'' 
 
 " It is your pleasure to' say so, Sir Knight," replied Bertram ; 
 " yet I am sure, were you a Scot, you would with patience hear me 
 tell over what has been said of this young man by those who have 
 known him, and whose account of his adventures shows how dif- 
 ferently the same tale may be told. These men talk of the present 
 heir of this ancient family as fully adequate to maintain and 
 augment its reputation ; ready, indeed, to undergo every peril in 
 the cause of Robert the Bruce, because the Bruce is esteemed by 
 him his lawful king ; and sworn and devoted, with such small 
 strength as he can muster, to revenge himself on those Southrons 
 who have, for several years, as he thinks, unjustly, possessed them- 
 selves of his father's abode." 
 
 " O," replied Sir Aymer de Valence, "we have heard much of 
 his achievements in this respect, and of his threats against our 
 governor and ourselves ; yet we think it scarce likely that Sir John 
 de Walton will move from Douglas Dale without the King's order, 
 although this James Douglas, a mere chicken, take upon himself to 
 crack his voice by crowing like a cock of the game." 
 
 " Sir," answered Bertram, " our acquaintance is but brief, and 
 yet I feel it has been so beneficial to me, that I trust there is no 
 harm in hoping that James Douglas and you may never meet in 
 bodily presence till the state of the two countries shall admit of 
 peace being between you." 
 
 " Thou art obliging, friend," answered Sir Aymer, " and, I doubt 
 not, sincere ; and truly thou seemest to have a wholesome sense of 
 the respect due to this young knight, when men talk of him in his 
 native valley of Douglas. For me, I am only poor Aymer of 
 Valence, without an acre of land, or much hope of acquiring any, 
 unless I cut something huge with my broadsword out of the middle 
 of these hills. Only this, good minstrel, if thou livest to tell my 
 story, may I pray thee to use thy scrupulous custom of searching 
 out the verity, and whether I live or die thou shalt not, I think, 
 discover that thy late acquaintance of a spring morning hath added 
 more to the laurels of James of Douglas, than any man's death 
 must give to him by whose stronger arm, or more lucky chance, it 
 is his lot to fall." 
 
 " I nothing fear you, Sir Knight," said the minstrel, " for yours 
 is that happy brain, which, bold in youth as beseems a young 
 knight, is in more advanced life the happy source of prudent 
 counsel, of which I would not, by an early death, wish thy country 
 to be deprived." 
 " Thou art so candid then, as to wish Old England the benefit of 
 
204 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 good advice," said Sir Aymer, " though thou leanest to the side of 
 Scotland in the controversy ? " 
 
 " Assuredly, Sir Knight," said the minstrel, " since in wishing 
 that Scotland and England each knew their own true interest, I 
 am bound to wish them both alike well ; and they should, I think, 
 desire to live in friendship together. Occupying each their own 
 portion of the same island, and living under the same laws, and 
 being at peace with each other, they might, without fear, face the 
 enmity of the whole world." 
 
 " If thy faith be so liberal," answered the knight, " as becomes a 
 gopd man, thou must certainly pray, Sir Minstrel, for the success 
 of England in the war, by which alone these murderous hostilities 
 of the northern nation can end in a solid peace. The rebellions of 
 this obstinate country are but the struggles of the stag when he is 
 mortally wounded; the animal grows weaker and- weaker with 
 every struggle, till his resistance is effectually tamed by the hand 
 of death." 
 
 " Not so. Sir Knight," said the minstrel ; "if my creed is well 
 taught me, we ought not so to pray. We may, without offence, 
 intimate in our prayers the end we wish to obtain ; but it is not for 
 us, poor mortals, to point out to an all-seeing Providence the 
 precise manner in which our petitions are to be accomplished, or 
 to wish the downfall of a country to end its commotions, as the 
 death-stab terminates the agonies of the wounded stag. Whether 
 1 appeal to my heart or to my understanding, the dictate would be 
 to petition Heaven for what is just and equal in the case ; and if I 
 should fear for thee. Sir Knight, in an encounter with James of 
 Douglas, it is only because he upholds, as I conceive, the better 
 side of the debate ; and powers more than earthly have presaged 
 to him success." 
 
 " Do you tell me so, Sir Minstrel," said De Valence in a threaten- 
 ing tone, " knowing me and my office ! " 
 
 " Your personal dignity and authority," said Bertram, "cannot 
 change the right into wrong, or avert what Providence has decreed 
 to take place. You know, I must presume, that the Douglas hath, 
 by various devices, already contrived to make himself master of 
 this Castle of Douglas three several times, and that Sir John de 
 Walton, the present governor, holds it with a garrison trebled in 
 force, and under the assurance that if, without surprise, he should 
 keep it from the Scottish power for a year and a day, he shall 
 obtain the barony of Douglas, with its extensive appendages, in 
 free property for his reward ; while, on the other hand, if he shall 
 suffer the fortress during this space to be taken, either by guile or 
 by open force, as has happened successively to the holders of the 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 203 
 
 Dangerous Castle, he will become liable to dishonour as a knight, 
 and to attainder as a subject ; and the chiefs who take share with 
 him, and serve under him, will participate also in his guilt and his 
 punishment ? " 
 
 " All this I know well," said Sir Aymer ; " and I only wonder 
 that, having become public, the conditions have, nevertheless, been 
 told with so much accuracy ; but what has this to do with the 
 issue of the combat, if the Douglas and I should chance to meet ? 
 I will not surely be disposed to fight with less animation because 
 I wear my fortune upon my sword, or become coward because I 
 fight for a portion of the Douglas's estate, as well as for fame and 
 for fatherland ? And after all" 
 
 " Hear me," said the minstrel ; " an ancient gleeman has said, 
 that in a false quarrel there is no true valour, and the los or praise 
 won therein, is, when balanced against honest fame, as valueless as 
 a wreath formed out of copper, compared to a chaplet of pure 
 gold ; but I bid you not take me for thy warrant in this important 
 question. Thou well knowest how James of Thirlwall, the last 
 English commander before Sir John de Walton, was surprised, 
 and the castle sacked with circumstances of great inhumanity." 
 
 " Truly," said Sir Aymer, " I think that Scotland and England 
 both have heard of that onslaught, and of the disgusting proceed- 
 ings of the Scottish chieftain, when he caused transport into the 
 wild forest gold, silver, ammunition, and armour, and all things 
 that could be easily removed, and destroyed a large quantity of 
 provisions, in a manner equally savage and unheard-of." 
 
 " Perhaps, Sir Knight," said Bertram, " you were yourself an 
 eye-witness of that transaction, which has been spoken of far and 
 wide, and is called the Douglas Larder ? " 
 
 " I saw not the actual accomplishment of the deed," said De 
 Valence ; " that is, I witnessed it not a-doing, but I beheld enough 
 of the sad relics to make the Douglas Larder never by me to he 
 forgotten as a record of horror and abomination. I would speak it 
 truly, by the hand of my father and by my honour as a knight ! 
 and I will leave it to thee to judge whether it was a deed calcu- 
 lated to secure the smiles of Heaven in favour of the actors. This 
 is my edition of the story : — 
 
 " A large quantity of provisions had during two years or there- 
 abouts been collected from different points, and the Castle of 
 Douglas, newly repaired, and, as was thought, carefully guarded, 
 was appointed as the place where the said provisions were to be 
 put in store for the service of the King of England, or of the Lord 
 Clifford, whichever should first enter the Western Marches with 
 an English army, and stand in need of such a supply. This army 
 
io6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 was also to relieve our wants, I mean those of my uncle the Earl 
 of Pembroke, who for some time before had lain with a considerable 
 force in the town called Ayr, near the old Caledonian Forest, and 
 where we had hot wars with the insurgent Scots. Well, sir, it 
 happened, as in similar cases, that Thirlwall, though a bold and 
 active soldier, was surprised in the Castle of Douglas, about Hal- 
 lowmass, by this same worthy, young James Douglas. In no very 
 good humour was he, as you may suppose ; for his father, called 
 William the Hardy, or William Longlegs, having refused, on any 
 terms, to become Anglicised, was made a lawful prisoner, and 
 died as such, closely confined in Berwick, or, as some say, in New- 
 castle. The news of his father's death had put young Douglas 
 into no small rage, and tended, I think, to suggest what he did in 
 his resentment. Embarrassed by the quantity of provisions which 
 he found in the castle, which, the English being superior in the 
 country, he had neither the means to remove, nor the leisure to 
 stay and consume, the fiend, as I think, inspired him with a con- 
 trivance to render them unfit for human use. You shall judge 
 yourself whether it was likely to be suggested by a good or an evil 
 spirit. 
 
 " According to this device, the gold, silver, and other transport- 
 able commodities being carried to secret places of safety, Douglas 
 caused the meat, the malt, and other corn or grain, to be brought 
 down into the castle cellar, where he emptied the contents of the 
 sacks into one loathsome heap, striking out the heads of the barrels 
 and puncheons, so as to let the mingled drink run through the 
 heap of meal, grain, and so forth. The bullocks provided for 
 slaughter were in like manner knocked on the head, and their 
 blood suffered to drain into the mass of edible substances ; and 
 lastly, the flesh of these oxen was buried in the same mass, in 
 which was also included the dead bodies of those in the castle, 
 who, receiving no quarter from the Douglas, paid dear enough for 
 having kept no better watch. This base and unworthy abuse of 
 provisions intended for the use of man, together with throwing into 
 the well of the castle carcasses of men and horses, and other filth 
 for polluting the same, has since that time been called the 
 Douglas Larder." 
 
 " I pretend not, good Sir Aymer,'' said the minstrel, " to vindi- 
 cate what you justly reprove, nor can I conceive any mode of 
 rendering provisions arranged after the form of the Douglas 
 Larder, proper for the use of any Christian ; yet this young gentle- 
 man might perhaps act under the sting of natural resentment, 
 rendering his singular exploit more excusable than it may seem at 
 first. Think, if your own noble father had just died in a lingering 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 207 
 
 captivity, his inheritance seized upon, and occupied as a garrison 
 by a foreign enemy, would not these things stir you to a mode of 
 resentment, which in cold blood, and judging of it as the action of 
 an enemy, your honour might hold in natural and laudable ab- 
 horrence ? — Would you pay respect to dead and senseless objects, 
 which no one could blame your appropriating to your own use, 
 or even scruple the refusal of quarter to prisoners, which is so 
 often practised even in wars which are otherwise termed fair and 
 humane ? " 
 
 " You press me close, minstrel," said Aymer de Valence. " I at 
 least have no great interest to excuse the Douglas in this matter, 
 since its consequences were, that I myself, and the rest of my 
 uncle's host, laboured with Clifford and his army to rebuild this 
 same Dangerous Castle ; and feeling no stomach for the cheer that 
 the Douglas had left us, we suffered hard commons, though I ac- 
 knowledge we did not hesitate to adopt for our own use such sheep 
 and oxen as the miserable Scots had still left around their farm- 
 houses ; and I jest not. Sir Minstrel, when I acknowledge in sad 
 earnest, that we martial men ought to make our petitions with 
 peculiar penitence to Heaven for mercy, when we reflect on the 
 various miseries which the nature of our profession compels us to 
 inflict upon each other," 
 
 " It seems to me," answered the minstrel, " that those who feel 
 the stings of their own conscience should be more lenient when 
 they speak of the offences of others ; nor do I greatly rely on a 
 sort of prophecy which was delivered, as the men of this hill district 
 say, to the young Douglas, by a man who in the course of nature 
 should have been long since dead, promising him a course of suc- 
 cess against the English for having sacrificed his own castle to 
 prevent their making it a garrison." 
 
 " We have time enough for the story," said Sir Aymer, " and 
 methinks it would suit a knight and a minstrel better than the 
 grave converse we have hitherto held, which would have beseemed 
 — so God save me — the mouths of two travelling friars." 
 
 " So be it," said the minstrel ; " the rote or the viol easily 
 changes its time and varies its note." 
 
CASTLE nANGEROUS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A tale of sorrow, for your eyes may weep ; 
 A tale of horror, for your flesh may tingle ; 
 A tale of wonder, for the eyebrows arch, 
 And the flesh curdles, if you read it rightly. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 " Your honour must be informed, gentle Sir Aymer de Valence, 
 that I have heard this story told at a great distance from the land 
 in which it happened, by a sworn minstrel, the ancient friend and 
 servant of the house of Douglas, one of the best, it is said, who 
 ever belonged to that noble family. This minstrel, Hugo Hugonet 
 by name, attended his young master when on this fierce exploit, as 
 was his wont. 
 
 " The castle was in total tumult ; in one corner the war-men 
 were busy breaking up and destroying provisions ; in another, they 
 were slaying men, horses, and cattle, and these actions were 
 accompanied with appropriate sounds. The cattle, particularly, 
 had become sensible of their impending fate, and with awkward 
 resistance and piteous cries, testified that reluctance with which 
 these poor creatures look instinctively on the shambles. The 
 groans and screams of men, undergoing, or about to undergo, the 
 stroke of death, and the screeches of the poor horses which were in 
 mortal agony, formed a fearful chorus. Hugonet was desirous to 
 remove himself from such unpleasant sights and sounds ; but his 
 master, the Douglas, had been a man of some reading, and his old 
 servant was anxious to secure a book of poetry, to which he had 
 been attached of old. This contained the Lays of an ancient 
 Scottish Bard, who, if an ordinary human creature while he was in 
 this life, cannot now perhaps be exactly termed such. 
 
 " He was, in short, that Thomas, distinguished by the name of 
 the Rhymer, and whose intimacy, it is said, became so great with 
 the gifted people, called the Faery folk, that he could, like them, 
 foretell the future deed before it came to pass, and united in his 
 own person the quality of bard and of soothsayer. But of late 
 years he had vanished almost entirely from this mortal scene ; and 
 although the time and manner of his death were never publicly 
 known, yet the general belief was, that he was not severed from 
 the land of the living, but removed to the land of Faery, from 
 whence he sometimes made excursionSj and concerned himself only 
 about matters which were to come hereafter. Hugonet was the 
 more earnest to prevent the loss of the works of this ancient bard, 
 as many of his poems and predictions were said to be preserved in 
 
CASTLE dangerous. 209 
 
 the castle, and were supposed to contain much especially connected 
 with the old house of Douglas, as well as other families of ancient 
 descent, who had been subjects of this old man's prophecy ; and 
 accordingly he determined to save this volume from destruction in 
 the general conflagration to which the building was about to be 
 consigned by the heir of its ancient proprietors. With this view he 
 hurried up into the little old vaulted room, called 'the Douglas's 
 study,' in which there might be some dozen old books written by 
 the ancient chaplains, in what the minstrels call the letter black. 
 He immediately discovered the celebrated lay, called Sir Tristrem, 
 which has been so often altered and abridged as to bear little 
 resemblance to the original. Hugonet, who well knew the value in 
 which this poem was held by the ancient lords of the castle, took 
 the parchment volume from the shelves of the library, and laid it 
 upon a small desk adjacent to the Baron's chair. Having made 
 such preparation for putting it in safety, he fell into a brief reverie, 
 in which the decay of light, and the preparations for the Douglas 
 Larder, but especially the last sight of objects which had been 
 familiar to his eyes, now on the eve of destruction, engaged him at 
 that moment. 
 
 "The bard, therefore, was thinking within himself upon the 
 uncommon mixture of the mystical scholar and warrior in his old 
 master, when, as he bent his eyes upon the book of the ancient 
 Rhymer, he was astonished to observe it slowly removed from the 
 desk on which it lay by an invisible hand. The old man looked 
 with horror at the spontaneous motion of the book, for the safety 
 of which he was interested, and had the courage to approach a 
 little nearer the table, in order to discover by what means it had 
 been withdrawn. 
 
 " I have said the room was already becoming dark, so as to 
 render it difficult to distinguish any person in the chair, though it 
 now appeared, on closer examination, that a kind of shadowy out- 
 line of a human form was seated in it, but neither precise enough 
 to convey its exact figure to the mind, nor so detailed as to intimate 
 distinctly its mode of action. The Bard of Douglas, therefore, 
 gazed upon the object of his fear, as if he had looked upon some- 
 thing not mortal ; nevertheless, as he gazed more intently, he 
 became more capable of discovering the object which offered itself 
 to his eyes, and they grew by degrees more keen to penetrate what 
 they witnessed. A tall thin form, attired in, or rather shaded with, 
 a long flowing dusky robe, having a face and physiognomy so wild 
 and overgrown with hair as to be hardly human, were the only 
 marked outlines of the phantom ; and, looking more attentively, 
 Hugonet was still sensible of two other forms, the outlines, it 
 
 P 
 
2iQ. CASTLE DAMGERoUS. 
 
 seemed, of a hart and a hind, which appeared half to shelter them- 
 selves behind the person and under the robe of this supernatural 
 figure." 
 
 "A probable tale," said the knight, " for you, Sir Minstrel, a man 
 of sense as you seem to be, to recite so gravely ! From what wise 
 authority have you had this tale, which, though it might pass well 
 enough amid clanging beakers, must be held quite apocryphal in 
 the sober hours of the morning ? " 
 
 " By my minstrel word. Sir Knight," answered Bertram, " I am 
 no propagator of the fable, if it be one ; Hugonet, the violer, when 
 he had retired into a cloister near the Lake of Pembelmere in 
 Wales, communicated the story to me as I now tell it. Therefore, 
 as it was upon the authority of an eye-witness, I apologize not for 
 relating it to you, since I could hardly discover a more direct 
 source of knowledge." 
 
 " Be it so, Sir Minstrel," said the knight ; " tell on thy tale, 
 and may thy legend escape criticism from others as well as from 
 me." 
 
 " Hugonet, Sir Knight," answered Bertram, "was a holy man, and 
 maintained a fair character during his whole life, notwithstanding 
 his trade may be esteemed a light one. The vision spoke to him 
 in an antique language, like that formerly used in the kingdom of 
 Strath-Clyde, being a species of Scots or Gaelic, which few would 
 have comprehended. 
 
 " ' Yon are a learned man,' said the apparition, ' and not unac- 
 quainted with the dialects used in your country formerly, although 
 they are now out of date, and you are obliged to translate them 
 into the vulgar Saxon of Deira or Northumberland ; but highly 
 must an ancient British bard prize one in this " remote term of 
 time," who sets upon the poetry of his native country a value which 
 invites him to think of its preservation at a moment of such terror 
 as influences the present evening.' 
 
 " ' It is, indeed,' said Hugonet, 'a night of terror, that calls even 
 the dead from the grave, and makes them the ghastly and fearful 
 companions of the living — Who or what art thou, in God's name, 
 who breakest the bounds which divide them, and revisitest thus 
 strangely the state thou hast so long bid adieu to ? " 
 
 " ' I am,' replied the vision, 'that celebrated Thomas the Rhymer, 
 by some called Thomas of Erceldoun, or Thomas the True 
 Speaker. Like other sages, I am permitted at times to revisit the 
 scenes of my former life, nor am I incapable of removing the 
 shadowy clouds and darkness which overhang futurity ; and know, 
 thou afflicted man, that what thou now seest in this woful country, 
 is not a general emblem of what shall therein befall hereafter, but 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 2it 
 
 in proportion as the Douglasses are now suffering the loss and 
 destruction of their home for their loyalty to the rightful heir of the 
 Scottish kingdom, so hath Heaven appointed for them a just 
 reward ; and as they have not spared to burn and destroy their 
 own house and that of their fathers in the Bruce's cause, so is it 
 the doom of Heaven, that as often as the walls of Douglas Castle 
 shall be burnt to the ground, they shall be again rebuilt still more 
 stately and more magnificent than before.' 
 
 " A cry was now heard like that of a multitude in the court-yard, 
 joining in a fierce shout of exultation ; at the same time a broad 
 and ruddy glow seemed to burst from the beams and rafters, and 
 sparks flew from them as from the smith's stithy, while the element 
 caught to its fuel, and the conflagration brolce its way through 
 every aperture. 
 
 "'See ye that?' said- the vision, casting his eye towards the 
 windows, and disappearing — ' Begone ! The fated hour fo re- 
 moving this book is not yet come, nor are thine the destined 
 hands. But it will be safe where I have placed it, and the time of 
 its removal shall come.' The voice was heard after the form had 
 vanished, and the brain of Hugonet almost turned round at the 
 wild scene which he beheld ; his utmost exertion was scarcely 
 sufficient to withdraw him from the terrible spot, and Douglas 
 Castle that night sunk into ashes and smoke, to arise, in no great 
 length of time, in a form stronger than ever." The minstrel stopt, 
 and his hearer, the English knight, remained silent for some 
 minutes, ere at length he replied. 
 
 " It is true, minstrel," answered Sir Aymer, " that your tale is so 
 far undeniable, that this castle — three times burned down by the 
 heir of the house and of the barony-^has hitherto been as often 
 reared again by Henry Lord Clifford, and other generals of the 
 English, who endeavoured on every occasion to build it up more 
 artificially and more strongly than it had formerly existed, since it 
 occupies a position too important to the safety of our Scottish 
 border to permit our yielding it up. This I myself have' partly 
 witnessed. But I cannot think, that because the castle has been 
 so destroyed, it is therefore decreed so to be repaired in future 
 considering that such cruelties, as surely cannot meet the appro- 
 bation of Heaven, have attended the feats of the Douglasses. But 
 I see thou art determined to keep thine own faith, nor can I blame 
 thee, since the wonderful turns of fate which have attended this 
 fortress, are sufficient to warrant any one to watch for what seem 
 the peculiar indications of the will of Heaven ; but thou mayst 
 believe, good minstrel, that the fault shall not be mine, if the young 
 Douglas shall have opportunity to exercise his cookery upon a, 
 
 P 2 
 
SIS CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 second edition of his family larder, or to profit by the predictions 
 of Thomas the Rhymer." 
 
 " I do not doubt due circumspection upon your own part and Sir 
 John de Walton's," said Bertram : " but there is no crime in my 
 saying that Heaven can accomplish its own purposes. I look upon 
 Douglas Castle as in some degree a fated place, and I long to see 
 what changes time may have made in it during the currency of 
 twenty years. Above all, I desire to secure, if possible, the volume 
 of this Thomas of Erceldoun, having in it such a fund of forgotten 
 minstrelsy, and of prophecies respecting the future fates of the 
 British kingdom, both northern and southern." 
 
 The knight made no answer, but rode a little space forward, 
 keeping the upper part of the ridge of the water, by which the road 
 down the vale seemed to be rather sharply conducted. [It at length 
 attained the summit of an acclivity of considerable length. From 
 this point, and behind a conspicuous rock, which appeared to have 
 been pushed aside, as it were, like the scene of a theatre, to admit 
 a view of the under part of the valley, the travellers beheld the 
 extensive vale, parts of which have been already shown in detail, 
 but which, as the river became narrower, was now entirely laid bare 
 in its height and depth as far as it extended, and displayed in its 
 precincts, at a little distance from the course of the stream, the 
 towering and lordly castle to which it gave the name. The mist 
 which continued to encumber the valley with its fleecy clouds, 
 showed imperfectly the rude fortifications which served to defend 
 the small town of Douglas, which was strong enough to repel a 
 desultory attack, but not to withstand what was called in those 
 days a formal siege. The most striking feature was its church, an 
 ancient Gothic pile raised on an eminence in the centre of the 
 town, and even then extremely ruinous. To the left, and lying in 
 the distance, might be seen other towers and battlements ; and, 
 divided from the town by a piece of artificial water, which extended 
 almost around it, arose the Dangerous Castle of Douglas. 
 
 Sternly was it fortified, after the fashion of the middle ages, with 
 donjon and battlements ; displaying, above others, the tall tower, 
 which bore the name of Lord Henry's, or the Clifford's Tower. 
 
 " Yonder is the castle," said Aymer de Valence, extending 
 his arm, with a smile of triumph upon his brow ; " thou mayst 
 judge thyself, whether the defences added to it under the Clifford 
 are likely to render its next capture a more easy deed than the 
 last." 
 
 The minstrel barely shook his head, and quoted from the Psalm- 
 ist — " Nisi Domimis custodiet." Nor did he prosecute the dis- 
 course, though De Valence answered eagerly, " My own edition of 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 213 
 
 the text is not very different from thine ; but, methinks, thou art 
 more spiritually-minded than can always be predicated of a wan- 
 dering minstrel." 
 
 " God knows," said Bertram, " that if I, or such as I, are forget- 
 ful of the finger of Providence in accomplishing its purposes in 
 this lower world, we have heavier blame than that of other people, 
 since we are perpetually called upon, in the exercise of our fanciful 
 profession, to admire the turns of fate which bring good out of 
 evil, and which render those who think only of their own passions 
 and purposes the executors of the will of Heaven." 
 
 " I do submit to what you say. Sir Minstrel," answered the 
 knight, " and it would be unlawful to express any doubt of the 
 truths which you speak so solemnly, any more than of your own 
 belief in them. Let me add, sir, that I think I have power enough 
 in this garrison to bid you welcome, and Sir John de Walton, I 
 hope, will not refuse access to hall, castle, or knight's bower, to a 
 person of your profession, and by whose conversation we shall, 
 perhaps, profit somewhat. I cannot, however, lead you to expect 
 such indulgence for your son, considering the present state of his 
 health ; but if I procure him the privilege to remain at the convent 
 of Saint Bride, he will be there unmolested and in safety, until you 
 have renewed your acquaintance with Douglas Dale and its history, 
 and are disposed to set forward on your journey." 
 
 " I embrace your honour's proposal the more willingly," said the 
 minstrel, " that I can recompense the Father Abbot." 
 
 " A main point with holy men or women," replied De Valence, 
 " who, in time of warfare, subsist by affording the visitors of their 
 shrine the means of maintenance in their cloisters for a passing 
 season." 
 
 The party now approached the sentinels on guard at the castle, 
 who were closely and thickly stationed, and who respectfully ad- 
 mitted .Sir Aymer de Valence, as next in command under Sir John 
 de Walton. Fabian — for so was the young squire named who 
 attended on De Valence — mentioned it as his master's pleasure 
 that the minstrel should also be admitted. 
 
 An old archer, however, looked hard at the minstrel as he fol- 
 lowed Sir Aymer. " It is not for us," said he, " or any of our 
 degree, to oppose the pleasure of Sir Aymer de Valence, nephew 
 to the Earl of Pembroke, in such a matter ; and for us. Master 
 Fabian, welcome are you to make the gleeman your companion 
 both at bed and board, as well as your visitant, a week or two at 
 the Castle of Douglas ; but your worship is well aware of the strict 
 order of watch laid upon us, and if Solomon, King of Israel, were 
 tQ coni? here a§ a travelling minstrel, by my faith I durst not givg 
 
214 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 him entrance, unless I had positive authority from Sir John de 
 Walton." 
 
 " Do you doubt, sirrah,'' said Sir Aymer de Valence, who re- 
 turned on hearing an altercation betwixt Fabian and the archer — 
 " do you doubt that I have good authority to entertain a guest, or 
 do you presume to contest it ? " 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said the old man, " that I should presume to 
 place my own desire in opposition to your worship, who has so 
 lately and so honourably acquired your spurs : but in this matter I 
 must think what will be the wish of Sir John de Walton, who is 
 your governor, Sir Knight, as well as mine ; and so far I hold it 
 worth while to detain your guest until Sir John return from a ride 
 to the outposts of the castle ; and this, I conceive, being my duty, 
 will be no matter of offence to your worship." 
 
 " Methinks," said the knight, " it is saucy in thee to suppose that 
 my commands can have any thing in them improper, or contradic- 
 tory to those of Sir John de Walton ; thou mayst trust to me at 
 least that thou shalt come to no harm. Keep this man in the 
 guard-room ; let him not want good cheer, and when Sir John de 
 Walton returns, report him as a person admitted by my invitation, 
 and if any thing more be wanted to make out your excuse, I shall 
 not be reluctant in stating it to the governor." 
 
 The archer made a signal of qbedience with the pike which he 
 held in his hand, and resumed the grave and solemn manner of a 
 sentinel upon his post. He first, however, ushered in the minstrel, 
 and furnished him with food and liquor, speaking at the same time 
 to Fabian, who remained behind. The smart young stripling had 
 become very proud of late, in consequence of obtaining the name 
 of Sir Aymer's squire, and advancing a step in chivalry, as Sir 
 Aymer himself, had, somewhat earlier than the usual period, been 
 advanced from squire to knight. 
 
 " I tell thee, Fabian," said the old archer, (whose gravity, saga- 
 city, and skill in his vocation, while they gained him the con- 
 fidence of all in the castle, subjected him, as he himself said, 
 occasionally to the ridicule of the young coxcombs ; and at the 
 same time, we may add, rendered him somewhat pragmatic and 
 punctiHous towards those who stood higher than himself in birth 
 and rank ;) " I tell thee, Fabian, thou wilt do thy master, Sir 
 Aymer, good service, if thou wilt give him a hint to suffer an 
 old archer, man-at-arms, or such like, to give him a fair and 
 civil answer respecting that which he commands ; for undoubtedly 
 it is not in the first score of a man's years that he learns the 
 various proper forms of military service ; and Sir John de Wal- 
 ton, a most excellent commander no doubt, is one earnestly bent 
 
CASTLE DAXGEROUS. Sig 
 
 on pursuing the strict line of his duty, and will be rigorously 
 severe, as well, believe me, with thy master as with a lesser 
 person. Nay, he also possesses that zeal for his duty which in- 
 duces him to throw blame, if there be the slightest ground for 
 it, upon Aymer de Valence himself, although his uncle, the Earl 
 of Pembroke, was Sir John de Walton's steady patron, and laid 
 the beginning of his good fortune ; for all which, by training up 
 his nephew in the true discipline of the French wars, Sir John 
 has taken the best way of showing himself gratJsful to the old 
 Earl." 
 
 " Be it as you will, old Gilbert Greenleaf," answered Fabian, 
 " thou knowest I never quarrel with thy sermonizing, and there- 
 fore give me credit for submitting to many a lecture from Sir 
 John de Walton and thyself; but thou drivest this a little too 
 far, if thou canst not let a day pass without giving me a ilogging. 
 Credit me, Sir John de Walton will not thank thee, if thou term 
 him one too old to remember that he himself had once some 
 green sap in his veins. Ay, thus it is, the old man will not 
 forget that he has once been young, nor the young that he must 
 some day be old ; and so the one changes his manners into the 
 lingering formality of advanced age, and the other remains like 
 a midsummer torrent swoln with rain, every drop of water in it 
 noise, froth, and overflow. There is a maxim for thee, Gilbert ! 
 — Heardest thou ever better? hang it up amidst thy axioms of 
 wisdom, and see if it will not pass among them like fifteen to 
 the dozen. It will serve to bring thee off, man, when the wine- 
 pot (thine only fault, good Gilbert) hath brought thee on occasion 
 into something of a scrape." 
 
 " Best keep it for thyself, good Sir Squire," said the old man ; 
 " methinks it is more like to stand thyself one day in good stead. 
 Who ever heard of a knight, or of the wood of which a knight is 
 made, and that is a squire, being punished corporally like a poor 
 old archer or horseboy ? Your worst fault will be mended by some 
 of these witty sayings, and your best service will scarce be 
 rewarded more thankfully than by giving thee the name of 
 Fabian the Fabler, or some such witty title." 
 
 Having unloosed his repartee to this extent, old Greenleaf re- 
 sumed a certain acidity of countenance, which may be said to 
 characterise those whose preferment hath become frozen under the 
 influence of the slowness of its progress, and who display a general 
 spleen against such as have obtained the advancement for which 
 all are struggling, earUer, and, as they suppose, with less merit than 
 their own. From time to time the eye of the old sentinel stole 
 from the top of his pike, and with an air of triumph rested upon 
 
Si6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 the young man Fabian, as if to see how deeply the wound had 
 galled him, while at the same time he held himself on the alert to 
 perform whatever mechanical duty his post might require. Both 
 Fabian and his master were at the happy period of life when such 
 discontent as that of the grave archer affected them lightly, and, 
 at the very worst, was considered as the jest of an old man and a 
 good soldier ; the more especially, as he was always willing to do 
 the duty of his companions, and was much trusted by Sir John de 
 Walton, who, though very much younger, had been bred up like 
 Greenleaf in the wars of Edward the First, and was tenacious in 
 upholding strict discipline, which, since the death of that great 
 monarch, had been considerably neglected by the young and warm- 
 blooded valour of England. 
 
 Meantime it occurred to Sir Aymer de Valence, that though in 
 displaying the usual degree of hospitality shown to such a man 
 as Bertram, he had merely done what was becoming his own rank, 
 as one possessed of the highest honours of chivalry — the self- 
 styled minstrel might not in reality be a man of that worth which 
 he assumed. There was certainly something in his conversation, 
 at least more grave, if not more austere, than was common to those 
 of his calling ; and when he recollected many points of Sir John 
 de Walton's minuteness, a doubt arose in his mind, that the gover- 
 nor might not approve of his having introduced into the castle a 
 person of Bertram's character, who was capable of making obser- 
 vations from which the garrison might afterwards feel much danger 
 and inconvenience. Secretly, therefore, he regretted that he had 
 not fairly intimated to the wandering minstrel, that his reception, 
 or that of any stranger, within the Dangerous Castle, was not at 
 present permitted by the circumstances of the times. In this case, 
 the express line of his duty would have been his vindication, and 
 instead, perhaps, of discountenance and blame, he would have had 
 praise and honour from his superior. 
 
 With these thoughts passing through his mind, some tacit 
 apprehension arose of a rebuke on the part of his commanding- 
 officer ; for this officer, notwithstanding his strictness, Sir Aymer 
 loved as well as feared. He went, therefore, towards the guard- 
 room of the castle, under the pretence of seeing that the rites 
 of hospitality had been duly observed towards his late travelling 
 companion. The minstrel arose respectfully, and from the manner 
 in which he paid his compliments, seemed, if he had not ex- 
 pected this call of enquiry, at least to be in no degree surprised 
 at it. Sir Aymer, on the other hand, assumed an air something 
 more distant than he had yet used towards Bertram, and in re- 
 verting to hig form?r invitation, he now so far c(ualified it ag tQ 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 217 
 
 say, that the minstrel knew that he was only second in command, 
 and that effectual permission to enter the castle ought to be sanc- 
 tioned by Sir John de Walton. 
 
 There is a civil way of seeming to believe any apology which 
 people are disposed to receive in payment, without alleging suspi- 
 cion of its currency. The minstrel, therefore, tendered his thanks 
 for the civility which had so far been shown to him. "It was a 
 mere wish of passing curiosity," he said, " which, if not granted, 
 could be attended with no consequences either inconvenient or 
 disagreeable to him. Thomas of Erceldoun was, according to the 
 Welsh triads, one of the three bards of Britain, who never stained 
 a spear with blood, or was guilty either of taking or retaking castles 
 and fortresses, and thus far not a person likely, after death, to be 
 suspected of such warlike feats. But I can easily conceive why Sir 
 John de Walton should have allowed the usual rites of hospitality 
 to fall into disuse, and why a man of public character like myself 
 ought not to desire food or lodging where it is accounted so dan- 
 gerous ; and it can surprise no one why the governor did not even 
 invest his worthy young lieutenant with the power of dispensing 
 with so strict and unusual a rule." 
 
 These words, very coolly spoken, had something of the effect of 
 affronting the young knight, as insinuating, that he was not held 
 sufficiently trustworthy by Sir John de Walton, with whom he had 
 lived on terms of affection and familiarity, though the governor 
 had attained his thirtieth year and upwards, and his lieutenant did 
 not yet write himself one-and-twenty, the full age of chivalry having 
 been in his case particularly dispensed with, owing to a feat of 
 early manhood. Ere he had fully composed the angry thoughts 
 which were chafing in his mind, the sound of a hunting-bugle was 
 heard at the gate, and from the sort of general stir which it spread 
 through the garrison, it was plain that the governor had returned 
 from his ride. Every sentinel, seemingly animated by his presence, 
 shouldered his pike more uprightly, gave the word of the post 
 more sharply, and seemed more fully awake and conscious of his 
 duty. Sir John de Walton having alighted from his horse, asked 
 Greenleaf what had passed during his absence ; the old archer 
 thought it his duty to say, that a minstrel, who seemed like a 
 Scotchman, or wandering borderer, had been admitted into the 
 castle, while his son, a lad sick of the pestilence so much talked 
 of, had been left for a time at the Abbey of Saint Bride. This he 
 said on Fabian's information. The archer added, that the father 
 was a man of tale and song, who could keep the whole garrison 
 amused, without giving them le^ve to attend to their own busis 
 pes§, 
 
2i8 CASTLK DAXGEROUS. 
 
 "We want no such devices to pass the time,'' answered the 
 governor ; " and we would have been better satisfied if our heuten- 
 ant had been pleased to find us other guests, and fitter for a direct 
 and frank communication, than one who, by his profession, is a 
 detractor of God and a deceiver of man." 
 
 " Yet," said the old soldier, who could hardly listen even to his 
 commander without indulging the humour of contradiction, " I 
 have heard your honour intimate that the trade of a minstrel, when 
 it is justly acted up to, is as worthy as even the degree of knight- 
 hood itself." 
 
 " Such it may have been in former days," answered the knight ; 
 " but in modern minstrelsy, the duty of rendering the art an in- 
 centive to virtue is forgotten, and it is well if the poetry which fired 
 our fathers to noble deeds, does not now push on their children to 
 such as are base and unworthy. But I will speak upon this to my 
 friend Aymer, than whom I do not know a more excellent, or a 
 more high-spirited young man." 
 
 While discoursing with the archer in this manner, Sir John de 
 Walton, of a tall and handsome figure, advanced and stood within 
 the ample arch of the guard-room chimney, and was listened to in 
 reverential silence by trusty Gilbert, who filled up with nods and 
 signs, as an attentive auditor, the pauses in the conversation. The 
 conduct of another hearer of what passed was not equally respect- 
 ful, but, from his position, he escaped observation. 
 
 This third person was no other than the squire Fabian, who was 
 concealed from observation by his position behind the hob, or pro- 
 jecting portion of the old-fashioned fireplace, and hid himself yet 
 more carefully when he heard the conversation between the governor 
 and the archer turn to the prejudice, as he thought, of his master. 
 The squire's employment at this time, was the servile task of 
 cleaning Sir Aymer's arms, which was conveniently performed by 
 heating, upon the projection already specified, the pieces of steel 
 armour for the usual thin coating of varnish. He could not, there- 
 fore, if he should be discovered, be considered as guilty of any 
 thing insolent or disrespectful. He was better screened from view, 
 as a thick smoke arose from a quantity of oak panelling, carved in 
 many cases with the crest and achievements of the Douglas family, 
 which being the fuel nearest at hand, lay smouldering in the 
 chimney, and gathering to a blaze. 
 
 The governor, unconscious of this addition to his audience, pur- 
 sued his conversation with Gilbert Greenleaf: "I need not tell 
 you," he said, " that 1 am interested in the speedy termination of 
 this siege or blockade, with which Douglas continues to threaten 
 us j my own hqnQur eind affectigns ^re engaged in keeping thig 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 219 
 
 Dangerous Castle safe in England's behalf, but I am troubled at the 
 admission of this stranger ; and young De Valence would have 
 acted more strictly in the line of his duty, if he had refused to 
 this wanderer any communication with this garrison without my 
 permission." 
 
 " Pity it is," replied old Greenleaf, shaking his head, " that this 
 good-natured and gallant young knight is somewhat drawn aside 
 by the rash advices of his squire, the boy Fabian, who has 
 bravery, but as little steadiness in him as a bottle of fermented 
 small beer." 
 
 " Now hang thee," thought Fabian to himself, " for an old relic 
 of the wars, stuffed full of conceit and warlike terms, like the 
 soldier who, to keep himself from the cold, has lapped himself so 
 close in a tattered ensign for a shelter, that his very outside may 
 show nothing but rags and blazonry." 
 
 " I would not think twice of the matter, were the party less dear 
 to me," said Sir John de Walton. "But I would fain be of use to 
 this young man, even although I should purchase his improvement 
 in military knowledge at the expense of giving him a little pain. 
 Experience should, as it were, be burnt in upon the mind of a 
 young man, and not merely impressed by marking the lines of 
 his chart out for him with chalk ; I will remember the hint you, 
 Greenleaf, have given, and take an opportunity of severing these 
 two young men ; and though I most dearly love the one, and am 
 far from wishing ill to the other, yet at present, as you well hint, 
 the blind is leading the blind, and the young knight has for his 
 assistant and counsellor too young a squire, and that must be 
 amended." 
 
 " Marry ! out upon thee, old palmer- worm ! " said the page within 
 himself ; " have I found thee in the very fact of maligning myself 
 and my master, as it is thy nature to do towards all the hopeful 
 young buds of chivalry ? If it were not to dirty the arms of an 
 eleve of chivalry, by measuring them with one of thy rank, I might 
 honour thee with a knightly invitation to the field, while the scandal 
 which thou hast spoken is still foul upon thy tongue ; as it is, thou 
 shalt not carry one kind of language publicly in the castle, and 
 another before the governor, upon the footing of having served 
 with him under the banner of Longshanks. I will carry to my master 
 this tale of thine evil intentions ; and when we have concerted 
 together, it shall appear whether the youthful spirits of the garrison ' 
 or the grey beards are most likely to be the hope and protection of 
 this same Castle of Douglas." 
 
 It is enough to say that Fabian pursued his purpose, in carrying 
 to his master, and in no verj^ good humour, the report of what had 
 
220 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 passed between Sir John de Walton and the old soldier. He suc- 
 ceeded in representing the whole as a formal offence intended to 
 Sir Aymer de Valence ; while all that the governor did to remove 
 the suspicions entertained by the young knight, could not in any 
 respect bring him to take a kindly view of the feelings of his com- 
 mander towards him. He retained the impression which he had 
 formed from Fabian's recital of what he had heard, and did not 
 think he was doing Sir John de Walton any injustice, in supposing 
 him desirous to engross the greatest share of the fame acquired in 
 the defence of the castle, and thrusting back his companions, who 
 might reasonably pretend to a fair portion of it. 
 
 The mother of mischief, says a Scottish proverb, is no bigger 
 than a midge's wing.* In this matter of quarrel, neither the young 
 man nor the older knight had afforded each other any just cause oi 
 offence. De Walton was a strict observer of military discipline, 
 in which he had been educated from his extreme youth, and by 
 which he was almost as completely ruled as by his natural dispo- 
 sition ; and his present situation added force to his original 
 education. 
 
 Common report had even exaggerated the military skill, the love 
 of adventure, and the great variety of enterprise, ascribed to 
 James, the young Lord of Douglas. He had, in the eyes of this 
 Southern garrison, the faculties of a fiend, rather than those of a 
 mere mortal ; for if the English soldiers cursed the tedium of the 
 perpetual watch and ward upon the Dangerous Castle, which 
 admitted of no relaxation from the severity of extreme duty, they 
 agreed that a tall form was sure to appear to them with a battle-axe 
 in his hand, and entering into conversation in the most insinuating 
 manner, never failed, with an ingenuity and eloquence equal to that 
 of a fallen spirit, to recommend to the discontented sentinel some 
 mode in which, by giving his assistance to betray the English, he 
 might set himself at liberty. The variety of these devices, and the 
 frequency of their recurrence, kept Sir John de Walton's anxiety so 
 perpetually upon the stretch, that he at no time thought himself 
 exactly out of the Black Douglas's reach, any more than the good 
 Christian supposes himself out of reach of the wiles of the Devil ; 
 while every new temptation, instead of confirming his hope, seems 
 to announce that the immediate retreat of the Evil One will be 
 followed by some new attack yet more cunningly devised. Under 
 this general state of anxiety and apprehension, the temper of the 
 governor changed somewhat for the worse, and they who loved him 
 best, regretted most that he became addicted to complain of the 
 want of diligence on the part of those, who, neither invested with 
 responsibility like his, nor animated by the hope of such splendid 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. sat 
 
 rewards, did not entertain the same degree of watchful and inces- 
 sant suspicion as himself. The soldiers muttered that the vigilance 
 of their governor was marked with severity ; the officers and men 
 of rank, of whom there were several, as the castle was a renowned 
 school of arms, and there was a certain merit attained even by 
 serving within its walls, complained, at the same time, that Sir John 
 de Walton no longer made parties for hunting, for hawking, or for 
 any purpose which might soften the rigours of warfare, and suffered 
 nothing to go forward but the precise discipline of the castle. On 
 the other hand, it may be usually granted, that the castle is well 
 kept where the governor is a disciplinarian ; and where feuds and 
 personal quarrels are found in the garrison, the young men are 
 usually more in fault than those whose greater experience has 
 convinced them of the necessity of using the strictest precau- 
 tions. 
 
 A generous mind — and such was Sir John de Walton's — is often 
 in this way changed and corrupted by the habit of over-vigilance, 
 and pushed beyond its natural limits of candour. Neither was Sir 
 Aymer de Valence free from a similar change ; suspicion, though 
 from a different cause, seemed also to threaten to bias his open and 
 noble disposition, in those qualities which had hitherto been proper 
 to him. It was in vain that Sir John de Walton studiously sought 
 opportunities to give his younger friend indulgences, which at times 
 were as far extended as the duty of the garrison permitted. The 
 blow was struck ; the alarm had been given to a proud and fiery 
 temper on both sides ; and while de Valence entertained an opinion 
 that he was unjustly suspected by a friend, who was in several 
 respects bound to him, De Walton, on the other hand, was led to 
 conceive that a young man, of whom he took a charge as affec- 
 tionate as if he had been a son of his own, and who owed to his 
 lessons what he knew of warfare, and what success he had obtained 
 in life, had taken offence at trifles, and considered himself ill treated 
 on very inadequate grounds. The seeds of disagreement, thus sown 
 between them, failed not, like the tares sown by the Enemy among 
 the wheat, to pass from one class of the garrison to another ; the 
 soldiers, though without any better reason than merely to pass the 
 time, took different sides between their governor and his young 
 lieutenant ; and so the ball of contention being once thrown up 
 between them, never lacked some arm or other to keep it in 
 motion. 
 
CASTLE DAXGER0U9. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; 
 But whispering tongues can poison truth 
 And constancy lives in realms above ; 
 
 And life, is thorny, and youth is vain ; 
 And to be wroth with one we love, 
 
 Doth work like madness in the brain. 
 * * * * * 
 
 Each spoke words of high disdain, 
 And insult to his heart's dear brother. 
 But never either found another 
 To free the hollow heart from paining — 
 They stood aloof, the scars remaining. 
 
 Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ; 
 A dreary sea now flows between, 
 
 But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, 
 Shall wholly do away, I ween, 
 The marks of that which once hath been. 
 
 Christabelle of Coleridge. 
 
 In prosecution of the intention which, when his blood was cool, 
 seemed to him wisest. Sir John de Walton resolved that he would 
 go to the verge of indulgence with his lieutenant and his young 
 officers, furnish them with every species of amusement which the 
 place rendered possible, and make them ashamed of their discon- 
 tent, by overloading them with courtesy. The first time, therefore, 
 that he saw Aymer de Valence after his return to the castle, he 
 addressed him in high spirits, whether real or assumed. 
 
 '■ What thinkest thou, my young friend," said De Walton, " if we 
 try some of the woodland sports proper, they say, to this country ? 
 There are still in our neighbourhood some herds of the Caledonian 
 breed of wild cattle, which are nowhere to be found except among 
 the moorlands — the black and rugged frontier of what was an- 
 ciently called the Kingdom of Strath-Clyde. There are some 
 hunters, too, who have been accustomed to the sport, and who 
 vouch that these animals are by far the most bold and fierce sub- 
 jects of chase in the island of Britain." 
 
 " You will do as you please," replied Sir Aymer, coldly ; " but it 
 is not I, Sir John, who would recommend, for the sake of a hunting 
 match, that you should involve the whole garrison in danger ; you 
 know best the responsibilities incurred by your office here, and no 
 doubt must have heedfuUy attended to them before making a pro- 
 posal of such a nature." 
 
 " I do indeed know my own duty," replied De Walton, ofifendeti 
 
CASTLl'-, bAXGEROUS. s-j 
 
 in turn, " and might be allowed to think of yours also, without 
 assuming more than my own share of responsibility ; but it seems 
 to me as if the commander of this Dangerous Castle, among other 
 inabilities, were, as old people in this country say, subjected to a 
 spell — and one which renders it impossible for him to guide his 
 conduct so as to afford pleasure to those whom he is most desirous 
 to oblige. Not a great many weeks since, whose eyes would have 
 sparkled like those of Sir Aymer de Valence at the proposal of a 
 general hunting-match after a new object of game ; and now what 
 is his bearing when such sport is proposed, merely, I think, to dis- 
 appoint my purpose of obliging him ? — a cold acquiescence drops 
 half frozen from his lips, and he proposes to go to rouse the wild 
 cattle with an air of gravity, as if he were undertaking a pilgrimage 
 to the tomb of a martyr." 
 
 " Not so, Sir John," answered the young knight. " In our present 
 situation we stand conjoined in more charges than one, and although 
 the greater and controlling trust, is no doubt laid upon you as the 
 elder and abler knight, yet still I feel that I myself have my own 
 share of a serious responsibility. I trust, therefore, you will in- 
 dulgently hear my opinion, and bear with it, even though it should 
 appear to have relation to that part of our common charge which is 
 more especially intrusted to your keeping. The dignity of knight- 
 hood which I have the honour to share with you, the accolade laid 
 on my shoulder by the royal Plantagenet, entitles me, methinks, to 
 so much grace." 
 
 " I cry you mercy," said the elder cavalier ; " I forgot how im- 
 portant a person I had before me, dubbed by King Edward him- 
 self, who was moved no doubt by special reasons to confer such an 
 early honour ; and I certainly feel that I overstep my duty when I 
 propose anything that savours like idle sport to a person of such 
 grave pretensions." 
 
 " Sir John de Walton," retorted De Valence, " we have had 
 something too much of this — let it stop here. All that I mean to 
 say is, that in this wardship of Douglas Castle, it will not be by my 
 consent, if any amusement, which distinctly infers a relaxation of 
 discipline, be unnecessarily engaged in, and especially such as 
 compels us to summon to our assistance a number of the Scots, 
 whose evil disposition towards us we well know ; nor will I, though 
 my years have rendered me liable to such suspicion, suffer anything 
 of this kind to be imputed to me ; and if unfortunately — though I 
 am- sure I know not why — we are in future to lay aside those bonds 
 of familiar friendship which formerly linked us to each other, yet I 
 see no reason why we should not bear ourselves in our necessary 
 communications like knights and gentlemen, and put the best con- 
 
234 cas'jle dangerous, 
 
 struction on each other's motives, since there can be no feason iot 
 imputing the worst to anything that comes from either of us." 
 
 " You may be right, Sir Aymer de Valence," said the governor, 
 bending stiffly ; " and since you say we are no longer bound to 
 each other as friends, you may be certain, nevertheless, that I will 
 never permit a hostile feeling, of which you are the object, to occupy 
 my bosom. You have been long, and I hope not uselessly, my 
 pupil in the duties of chivalry. You are the near relation of the 
 Earl of Pembroke, my kind and constant patron, and if these 
 circumstances are well weighed, they form a connexion which it 
 would be difficult, at least for me, to break through. If you feel 
 yourself, as you seem to intimate, less strictly tied by former obli- 
 gations, you must take your own choice in fixing our relations 
 towards each other." 
 
 " I can only say," replied De Valence, " that my conduct will 
 naturally be regulated by your own ; and you, Sir John, cannot 
 hope more devoutly than I do, that our military duties may be 
 fairly discharged, without interfering with our friendly inter- 
 course." 
 
 The knights here parted, after a conference which once or twice 
 had very nearly terminated in a full and cordial explanation ; but 
 still there was wanting one kind heartfelt word from either, to break, 
 as it were, the ice which was fast freezing upon their intercourse, 
 and neither chose to be the first in making the necessary advances 
 with sufficient cordiality, though each would have gladly done so, 
 had the other appeared desirous of meeting it with the same ardour 
 but their pride was too high, and prevented either from saying 
 what might at once have put them upon an open and manly foot- 
 ing. They parted, therefore, without again returning to the subject 
 of the proposed diversion ; until it was afterwards resumed in a 
 formal note, praying Sir Aymer de Valence to accompany the com- 
 mandant of Douglas Castle upon a solemn hunting-match, which 
 had for its object the wild cattle' of the neighbouring dale. 
 
 The time of meeting was appointed at six in the morning, 
 beyond the gate of the outer barricade ; and the chase was declared 
 to be ended in the afternoon, when the recheat should be blown 
 beneath the great oak, known by the name of Sholto's Club, which 
 stood a remarkable object, where Douglas Dale was bounded by 
 several scattered trees, the outskirts of the forest and hill country. 
 The usual warning was sent out to the common people, or vassals 
 of the district, which they, notwithstanding their feeling of antipathy, 
 received in general with delight, upon the great Epicurean principle 
 of carpe diem, that is to say, in whatever circumstances it happens 
 to present itself, be sure you lose no recreation which life affords, 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 225 
 
 A hunting-match has still its attractions, even though an English 
 knight take his pleasure in the woods of the Douglas. 
 
 It was no doubt afflicting to these faithful vassals, to acknowledge 
 another lord than the redoubted Douglas, and to wait by wood and 
 river at the command of English officers, and in the company of 
 their archers, whom they accounted their natural enemies. Still it 
 was the only species of amusement which had been permitted them 
 for a long time, and they were not disposed to omit the rare op- 
 portunity of joining in it. The chase of the wolf, the wild boar, or 
 even the timid stag, required sylvan arms ; the wild cattle still more 
 demanded this equipment of war-bows and shafts, boar-spears and 
 sharp swords, and other tools of the chase similar to those used in 
 actual war. Considering this, the Scottish inhabitants were seldom 
 allowed to join in the chase, except under regulations as to number 
 and arms, and especially in preserving a balance of force on the 
 side of the English soldiers, which was very offensive to them. 
 The greater part of the garrison was upon such occasions kept on 
 foot, and several detachments, formed according to the governor's 
 direction, were stationed in different positions, in case any quarrel 
 should suddenly break out. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The drivers thorough the wood Vveiit, 
 
 For to raise the deer ; 
 Bowmen bickered upon the bent, 
 
 With their broad arrows clear. 
 
 The wylde thorough the woods went, 
 
 On every side shear ; 
 Grehounds thorough the groves glent, 
 
 For to kill thir deer. 
 
 Ballad of Chevy Chass, Old Edit. 
 
 The appointed morning came in cold and raw, after the manner 
 of the Scottish March weather. Dogs yelped, yawned) and 
 shivered, and the huntsmen, though hardy and cheerful in ex- 
 pectation of the day's sport, twitched their mawds, or Lowland 
 plaids, close to their throats, and looked with some dismay at the 
 mists which floated about the horizon, now threatening to sink 
 down on the peaks and ridges of prominent mountains, and now to 
 shift their position under the influence of some of the uncertain 
 
226 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 gales, which rose and fell alternately, as they swept along the 
 valley. 
 
 Nevertheless the appearance of the whole formed, as is usual in 
 almost all departments of the chase, a gay and a jovial spectacle. 
 A brief truce seemed to have taken place between the nations, and 
 the Scottish people appeared for the time rather as exhibiting the 
 sports of their mountains in a friendly manner to the accomplished 
 knights and bonny archers of Old England, than as performing a 
 feudal service, neither easy nor dignified in itself, at the instigation 
 of usurping neighbours. The figures of the cavahers, now half 
 seen, now exhibited fully, and at the height of strenuous exertion, 
 according to the character of the dangerous and broken ground, 
 particularly attracted the attention of the pedestrians, who, leading 
 the dogs or beating the thickets, dislodged such objects of chase as 
 they found in the dingles, and kept their eyes fixed upon their com- 
 panions, rendered more remarkable from being mounted, and the 
 speed at which they urged their horses ; the disregard of all 
 accidents being as perfect as Melton Mowbray itself, or any other 
 noted field of hunters of the present day, can exhibit. 
 
 The principles on which modern and ancient hunting were con- 
 ducted, are, however, as different as possible. A fox, or even a 
 hare is, in our own day, considered as a sufficient apology for a 
 day's exercise to forty or fifty dogs, and nearly as many men and 
 horses ; but the ancient chase, even thoughfnot terminating, as it 
 often did, in battle, carried with it objects more important, and an 
 interest immeasurably more stirring. If indeed one species of 
 exercise can be pointed out as more universally exhilarating and 
 engrossing than others, it is certainly that of the chase. The poor 
 overlaboured drudge, who has served out his day of life, and 
 wearied all his energies in the service of his fellow-mortals — he who 
 has been for many years the slave of agriculture, or (still worse), of 
 manufactures — engaged in raising a single peck of corn from year 
 to year, or in the monotonous labours of the desk — can hardly 
 remain dead to the general happiness when the chase sweeps past 
 him with hound and horn, and for a moment feels all the exultation 
 of the proudest cavalier who pai-takes the amusement. Let any 
 one who has witnessed the sight, recall to his imagination the 
 vigour and lively interest which he has seen inspired into a village, 
 including the oldest and feeblest of its inhabitants. In the words 
 of Wordsworth, it is, on such occasions, 
 
 " Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away, 
 Not a soul will remain in the village to-day j 
 The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds, 
 And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 227 
 
 But compare these inspiring sounds to the burst of a whole 
 feudal population enjoying the sport, whose lives, instead of being 
 spent in the monotonous toil of modern avocations, have been 
 agitated by the hazards of war, and of the chase, its near resem- 
 blance, and you must necessarily suppose that the excitation is ex- 
 tended, like a fire which catches to dry heath. To use the common 
 expression, borrowed from another amusement, all is fish that 
 comes in the net on such occasions. An ancient hunting-match 
 (the nature of the carnage excepted) was almost equal to a modern 
 battle, when the strife took place on the surface of a varied and un- 
 equal country. A whole district poured forth its inhabitants, who 
 formed a ring of great extent, called technically a tinchel, and, 
 advancing and narrowing their circle by degrees, drove before them 
 the alarmed animals of every kind ; all and each of which, as they 
 burst from the thicket or the moorland, were objects of the bow, 
 the javelin, or whatever missile weapons the hunters possessed ; 
 while others were run down and worried by large greyhounds, or 
 more frequently brought to bay, when the more important persons 
 present claimed for themselves the pleasure of putting them to death 
 with their chivalrous hands, incurring individually such danger as 
 is inferred from a mortal contest even with the timid buck, when he 
 is brought to the death-struggle, and has no choice but yielding his 
 life or putting himself upon the defensive, by the aid of his splendid 
 antlers, and with all the courage of despair. 
 
 The quantity of game found in Douglas Dale on this occasion 
 was very considerable, for, as already noticed, it was a long time 
 since a hunting up on a great scale had been attempted under the 
 Douglasses themselves, whose misfortunes had commenced, several 
 years before, with those of their country. The English garrison 
 too, had not sooner judged themselves strong or numerous enough 
 to exercise these valued feudal privileges. In the meantime the 
 game increased considerably. The deer, the wild cattle, and the 
 wild boars, lay near the foot of the mountains, and made frequent 
 irruptions into the lower part of the valley, which in Douglas Dale 
 bears no small resemblance to an oasis, surrounded by tangled 
 woods, and broken moors, occasionally rocky, and showing large 
 tracts of that bleak dominion to which wild creatures gladly escape 
 when pressed by the neighbourhood of man. 
 
 As the hunters traversed the spots which separated the field from 
 the wood, there was always a stimulating uncertainty what sort of 
 game was to be found, and the marksman, with his bow ready bent, 
 or his javelin poised, and his good and well-bitted horse thrown 
 upon its haunches, ready for a sudden start, observed watchfully 
 what should rush from the covert, so that, were it deer, boar, 
 
 Q 3 
 
228 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 wolf, wild cattle, or any other species of game, he might be in 
 readiness. 
 
 The wolf, which, on account of its ravages, was the most ob- 
 noxious of the beasts of prey, did not, however, supply the degree of 
 diversion which his name promised ; he usually fled far — in some 
 instances many miles — before he took courage to turn to bay, and 
 though formidable at such moments, destroying both dogs and men 
 by his terrible bite, yet at other times was rather despised for his 
 cowardice. The boar, on the other hand, was a much more 
 irascible and courageous animal. 
 
 The wild cattle, the most formidable of all the tenants of the 
 ancient Caledonian forest, were, however, to the English cavaliers, 
 by far the most interesting objects of pursuit.* Altogether, the 
 ringing of bugles, the clattering of horses' hoofs, the lowing and 
 bellowing of the enraged mountain cattle, the sobs of deer mangled 
 by throttling dogs, the wild shouts of exultation of the men, — made 
 a chorus which extended far through the scene in which it arose, 
 and seemed to threaten the inhabitants of the valley even in its 
 inmost recesses. 
 
 During the course of the hunting, when a stag or a boar was 
 expected, one of the wild cattle often came rushing forward, bear- 
 ing down the young trees, crashing the branches in its progress, 
 and in general dispersing whatever opposition was presented to it 
 by the hunters. Sir John de Walton was the only one of the 
 chivalry of the party who individually succeeded in mastering one 
 of these powerful animals. Like a Spanish tauridor, he bore down 
 and killed with his lance a ferocious bull ; two well-grown calves 
 and three kine were also slain, being unable to carry off the quan- 
 tity of arrows, javelins, and other missiles, directed against them by 
 the archers and drivers ; but many others, in spite of every en- 
 deavour to intercept them, escaped to their gloomy haunts in the 
 remote skirts of the mountain called Cairntable, with their hides 
 well feathered with those marks of human enmity. 
 
 A large portion of the morning was spent in this way, until a 
 particular blast from the master of the hunt announced that he 
 had not forgot the discreet custom of the repast, which, on such 
 occasions, was provided for upon a scale proportioned to the 
 multitude who had been convened to attend the sport. 
 
 The blast peculiar to the time, assembled the whole party in 
 an open space in a wood, where their numbers had room and 
 accommodation to sit down upon the green turf, the slain game 
 affording a plentiful supply for roasting or broiling, an employ- 
 ment in which the lower class were all immediately engaged ; 
 while puncheons and pipes, placed in readiness, and scientifically 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 229 
 
 opened, supplied Gascoigne wine, and mighty ale, at the pleasure 
 of those who chose to appeal to them. 
 
 The knights, whose rank did not admit of interference, were 
 seated by themselves, and ministered to by their squires and pages, 
 to whom such menial services were not accounted disgraceful, but, 
 on the contrary, a proper step of their education. The number of 
 those distinguished persons seated upon the present occasion at the 
 table of dais, as it was called, (in virtue of a canopy of green bough s 
 with which it was overshadowed,) comprehended Sir John de 
 Walton, Sir Aymer de Valence, and some reverend brethren dedi- 
 cated to the service of Saint Bride, who, though Scottish ecclesi- 
 astics, were treated with becoming respect by the English soldiers. 
 One or two Scottish retainers or vavasours, maintaining, perhaps 
 in prudence, a suitable deference to the English knights, sat at the 
 bottom of the table, and as many Enghsh archers, peculiarly re- 
 spected by their superiors, were invited, according to the modern 
 phrase, to the honours of the sitting. 
 
 Sir John de Walton sat at the head of the table ; his eye, though 
 it seemed to have no certain object, yet never for a moment re- 
 mained stationary, but glanced from one countenance to another of 
 the ring formed by his guests, for such they all were, no doubt, 
 though he himself could hardly have told upon what principle he 
 had issued the invitations ; and even apparently was at a loss to 
 think what, in one or two cases, had procured him the honour of 
 their presence. 
 
 One person in particular caught De Walton's eye, as having the 
 air of a redoubted man-at-arms, although it seemed as if fortune 
 had not of late smiled upon his enterprises. He was a tall raw- 
 boned man, of an extremely rugged countenance, and his skin, 
 which showed itself through many a loophole in his dress, ex- 
 hibited a complexion which must have endured all the varieties of 
 an outlawed life ; and akin to one who had, according to the 
 customary phrase, " ta'en the bent with Robin Bruce," in other 
 words, occupied the moors with him as an insurgent. Some 
 such idea certainly crossed De Walton's mind. Yet the apparent 
 coolness, and absence of alarm, with which the stranger sat at the 
 board of an English officer, at the same time being wholly in his 
 power, had much in it which was irreconcilable with any such 
 suggestion. De Walton, and several of those about him, had in 
 the course of the day observed that this tattered cavalier, the most 
 remarkable parts of whose garb and equipments consisted of an 
 old coat-of-mail and a rusted yet massive partisan about eight feet 
 long, was possessed of superior skill in the art of hunting to any 
 individual of their numerous party. The governor having looked 
 
230 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 at this suspicious figure until he had rendered the stranger aware of 
 the special interest which he attracted, at length filled a goblet of 
 choice wine, and requested him, as one of the best pupils of Sir 
 Tristrem who had attended upon the day's chase, to pledge him 
 in a vintage superior to that supplied to the general company. 
 
 " I suppose, however, sir," said Da Walton, " you will have no 
 objections to put off my challenge of a brimmer, until you can 
 answer my pledge in Gascoigne wine, which grew in the king's own 
 demesne, was pressed for his own lip, and is therefore fittest to be 
 emptied to his majesty's health and prosperity." 
 
 " One half of the island of Britain," said the woodsman, with 
 great composure, " will be of your honour's opinion ; but as I 
 belong to the other half, even the choicest liquor in Gascony cannot 
 render that health acceptable to me." 
 
 A murmur of disapprobation ran through the warriors present ; 
 the priests hung their heads, looked deadly grave, and muttered 
 their paternosters. 
 
 " You see, stranger," said De Walton sternly, " that your speech 
 discomposes the company." 
 
 " It may be so," replied the man, in the same blunt tone ; " and 
 it may happen that there is no harm in the speech notwith- 
 standing." 
 
 " Do you consider that it is made in my presence ? " answered 
 De Walton. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Governor.'' 
 
 " And have you thought what must be the necessary inference ? " 
 continued De Walton. 
 
 " I may form, a round guess," answered the stranger, " what I 
 might have to fear, if your safe conduct and word of honour, when 
 inviting me to this hunting, were less trustworthy than I know full 
 well it really is. But I am your guest — your meat is even now 
 passing my throat — your cup, filled with right good wine, I have 
 just now quaffed off — and I would not fear the rankest Paynim in- 
 fidel, if we stood in such relation together, much less an English 
 knight. I tell you, besides. Sir Knight, you undervalue the wine 
 we have quaffed. The high flavour and contents of your cup, grow 
 where it will, give me spirit to tell you one or two circumstances, 
 which cold cautious sobriety would, in a moment like this, have 
 left unsaid. You wish, I doubt not, to know who I am .■' My 
 christian name is Michael — my surname is that of Turnbull, a re- 
 doubted clan, to whose honours, even in the field of hunting or of 
 battle, I have added something. My abode is beneath the moun- 
 tain of Rubieslaw, by the fair streams of Teviot. You are surprised 
 that I know how to hunt the wild cattle, — I, who have made them 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 231 
 
 my sport from infancy in the lonely forests of Jed and Southdean, 
 and have killed more of them than you or any Englishman in your 
 host ever saw, even if you include the doughty deeds of this 
 day." 
 
 The bold borderer made this declaration with the same provok- 
 ing degree of coolness which predominated in his whole demeanour, 
 and was indeed his principal attribute. His effrontery did not fail 
 to produce its effect upon Sir John de Walton, who instantly called 
 out, " To arms ! to arms ! — Secure the spy and traitor ! Ho ! 
 pages and yeomen — William, Anthony, Bend-the-bow, and Green- 
 leaf — seize the traitor, and bind him with your bowstrings and dog- 
 leashes — bind him, I say, until the blood start from beneath his 
 nails ! " 
 
 " Here is a goodly summons ! " said TumbuU, with a sort of 
 horse-laugh. " Were I as sure of being answered by twenty men 
 I could name, there would be small doubt of the upshot of this 
 day." 
 
 The archers thickened around the hunter, yet laid no hold on 
 him, none of them being willing to be the first who broke the 
 peace proper to the occasion. 
 
 " Tell me," said De Walton, " thou traitor, for what waitest thou 
 here ? " 
 
 " Simply and solely," said] the Jed forester, " that I may deliver 
 up to the Douglas the castle of his ancestors, and that I may 
 ensure thee, Sir Englishman, the payment of thy deserts, by 
 cutting that very throat which thou makest such a bawling use 
 of." 
 
 At the same time, perceiving that the yeomen were crowding 
 behind him to carry their lord's commands into execution so 
 soon as they should be reiterated, the huntsman turned himself 
 short round upon those who appeared about to surprise him, and 
 having, by the suddenness of the action, induced them to step back 
 a pace, he proceeded — " Yes, John de Walton, my purpose was ere 
 now to have put thee to death, as one whom I find in possession 
 of that castle and territory which belong to my master, a knight 
 much more worthy than thyself; but I know not why I have 
 paused — thou hast given me food when I have hungered for twenty-, 
 four hours, I have not therefore had the heart to pay theSiat advan- 
 tage as thou hast deserved. Begone from this place and country, 
 and take the fair warning of a foe ; thou hast constituted thyself 
 the mortal enemy of this people, and there are those among them 
 who have seldom been injured or defied with impunity. Take 
 no care in searching after me, — it will be in vain, — until I meet 
 thee at a time which will come at my pleasure, not thine Push 
 
232 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 not your inquisition into cruelty, to discover by what means I have 
 deceived you, for it is impossible for you to learn ; and with this 
 friendly advice, look at me and take your leave, for although we 
 shall one day meet, it may be long ere I see you again." 
 
 De Walton remained silent, hoping that his prisoner, (for he saw 
 no chance of his escaping,) might, in his communicative humour, 
 drop some more information, and was not desirous to precipitate 
 a fray with which the scene was likely to conclude, unconscious 
 at the same time of the advantage which he thereby gave the 
 daring hunter. 
 
 As TurnbuU concluded his sentence, he made a sudden spring 
 backwards, which carried him out of the circle formed around him, 
 and before they were aware of his intentions, at once disappeared 
 among the underwood. 
 
 "Seize him — seize him!" repeated De Walton; "let us have 
 him at least at our discretion, unless the earth has actually 
 swallowed him." 
 
 This indeed appeared not unlikely, for near the place where 
 Turnbull had made the spring, there yawned a steep ravine, into 
 which he plunged, and descended by the assistance of branches, 
 bushes, and copsewood, until he reached the bottom, where he 
 found some road to the outskirts of the forest, through which he 
 made his escape, leaving the most expert woodsmen among the 
 pursuers totally at fault, and unable to trace his footsteps. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 This interlude carried some confusion into the proceedings of 
 the hunt, thus suddenly surprised by the apparition of Michael 
 Turnbull, an armed and avowed follower of the House of Douglas, 
 a sight so little to be expected in the territory where his master 
 was held a rebel and a bandit, and where he himself must have 
 been well known to most of the peasantry present. The circum- 
 stance madean obvious impression on the English chivalry. Sir 
 John de Walton looked grave and thoughtful, ordered the hunters 
 to be assembled on the spot, and directed his soldiers to commence 
 a strict search among the persons who had attended the chase, so 
 as to discover whether Turnbull had any companions among them ; 
 but it was too late to make that enquiry in the strict fashion which 
 De Walton directed. 
 
 The Scottish attendants on the chase, when they beheld that the 
 hunting, under pretence of which they were] called together, was 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 1233 
 
 interrupted for the purpose of laying hands upon their persons, and 
 subjecting them to examination, took care to suit their answers to 
 the questions put to them ; in a word, they kept their own secret, 
 if they had any. Many of them, conscious of being the weaker 
 party, became afraid of foul play, slipt away from the places to 
 which they had been appointed, and left the hunting match like 
 men who conceived they had been invited with no friendly intent. 
 Sir John de Walton became aware of the decreasing numbers of 
 the Scottish — their gradual disappearance awakening in the English 
 knight that degree of suspicion which had of late become his 
 peculiar characteristic. 
 
 " Take, I pray thee," said he to Sir Aymer de Valence, "as many 
 men-at-arms as thou canst get together in five minutes' space, and 
 at least a hundred of the mounted archers, and ride as fast as thou 
 canst, without permitting them to straggle from thy standard, to 
 reinforce the garrison of Douglas ; for I have my own thoughts 
 what may have been attempted on the castle, when we observe with 
 our own eyes such a nest of traitors here assembled." 
 
 " With reverence. Sir John," replied Aymer, " you shoot in this 
 matter rather beyond the mark. That the Scottish peasants have 
 bad thoughts against us, I will be the last to deny ; but, long de- 
 barred from any sylvan sport, you cannot wonder at their crowding 
 to any diversion by wood or river, and still less at their being easily 
 alarmed as to the certainty of the safe footing on which they stand 
 with us. The least rough usage is likely to strike them with fear, 
 and with the desire of escape, and so" 
 
 "And so," said Sir John de Walton, who had listened with a 
 degree of impatience scarce consistent with the grave and formal 
 politeness which one knight was accustomed to bestow upon 
 another, " and so I would rather see Sir Aymer de Valence busy his 
 horse's heels to execute my orders, than give his tongue the trouble 
 of impugning them." 
 
 At this sharp reprimand, all present looked at each other with 
 indications of marked displeasure. Sir Aymer was highly offended, 
 but saw it was no time to indulge in reprisal. He bowed until the 
 feather which was in his barret-cap mingled with his horse's mane, 
 and without reply — for he did not even choose to trust his voice in 
 reply at the moment — headed a considerable body of cavalry by the 
 straightest road back to the Castle of Douglas. 
 
 When he came to one of those eminences from which he could 
 observe the massive and complicated towers and walls of the old 
 fortress, with the glitter of the broad lake which surrounded it on 
 three sides, he felt much pleasure at the sight of the great banner 
 of England, which streamed from the highest part of the building. 
 
234 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " I knew it," he internally said ; " I was certain that Sir John de 
 Walton had become a very woman in the indulgence of his fears 
 and suspicions. Alas ! that a situation of responsibility should so 
 much have altered a disposition which I have known so noble and 
 so knightly ! By this good day, I scarce know in what manner I 
 should demean me when thus publicly rebuked before the garrison. 
 Certainly he deserves that I should, at some time or other, let him 
 understand, that, however he may triumph in the exercise of his 
 short-lived command, yet, when man is to meet with man, it will 
 puzzle Sir John de Walton to show himself the superior of Aymer de 
 Valence, or perhaps to establish himself as his equal. But if, on 
 the contrary, his fears, however fantastic, are sincere at the moment 
 he expresses them, it becomes me to obey punctually commands 
 which, however absurd, are imposed in consequence of the governor's 
 belief that they are rendered necessary by the times, and not inven- 
 tions designed to vex and domineer over his officers in the indulgence 
 of his official powers. I would I knew which is the true statement 
 of the case, and whether the once famed De Walton is become afraid 
 of his enemies more than fits a knight, or makes imaginary doubts 
 the pretext of tyrannizing over his friend. I cannot say it would 
 make much difference to me, but I would rather have it that the 
 man I once loved had turned a petty tyrant than a weak-spirited 
 coward ; and I would be content that he should study to vex me, 
 rather than be afraid of his own shadow." 
 
 With these ideas passing in his mind, the young knight crossed 
 the causeway which traversed the piece of water that fed the moat, 
 and, passing under the strongly fortified gateway, gave strict orders 
 for letting down the portcullis, and elevating the drawbridge, even 
 at the appearance of De Walton's own standard before it. 
 
 A slow and guarded movement from the hunting ground to the 
 Castle of Douglas, gave the governor ample time to recover his 
 temper, and to forget that his young friend had shown less alacrity 
 than usual in obeying his commands. He was even disposed to 
 treat as a jest the length of time and extreme degree of ceremony 
 with which every point of martial discipline was observed on his 
 own re-admission to the castle, though the raw air of a wet spring 
 evening whistled around his own unsheltered person, and those of 
 his followers, as they waited before the castle gate for the exchange 
 of pass-words, the delivery of keys, and all the slow minutia 
 attendant upon the movements of a garrison in a well-guarded 
 fortress. 
 
 " Come," said he, to an old knight, who was peevishly blaming 
 the lieutenant-governor, " it was my own fault ; I spoke but now to 
 Aymer de Valence with more authoritative emphasis than his newly 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 235 
 
 dubbed dignity was pleased with, and this precise style of obedience 
 is a piece of not unnatural and very pardonable revenge. Well, we 
 will owe him a return, Sir Philip— shall we not ? This is not a 
 night to keep a man at the gate." 
 
 This dialogue, overheard by some of the squires and pages, was 
 bandied about from one to another, until it entirely lost the tone of 
 good-humour in which it was spoken, and the offence was one for 
 which Sir John de Walton and old Sir Philip were to meditate re- 
 venge, and was said to have been represented by the governor as a 
 piece of mortal and intentional offence on the part of his subordinate 
 officer. 
 
 Thus an increasing feud went on from day to day between two 
 warriors, who, with no just cause of quarrel, had at heart every 
 reason to esteem and love each other. It became visible in the 
 fortress even to those of the lower rank, who hoped to gain some 
 consequence, by intermingling in the species of emulation produced 
 by the jealousy of the commanding officers — an emulation which 
 may take place, indeed, in the present day, but can hardly have the 
 same sense of wounded pride and jealous dignity attached to it, 
 which existed in times when the personal honour of knighthood 
 rendered those who possessed it jealous of every punctilio. 
 
 So many little debates took place between the two knights, that 
 Sir Aymer de Valence thought himself under the necessity of writing 
 to his uncle and namesake, the earl of Pembroke, stating that his 
 ofScer, Sir John de Walton, had unfortunately of late taken some 
 degree of prejudice against him, and that, after having borne with 
 many provoking instances of his displeasure, he was now compelled 
 to request that his place of service should be changed from the Castle 
 of Douglas, to wherever honour could be acquired, and time might 
 be given to put an end to his present cause of complaint against his 
 commanding officer. Through the whole letter, young Sir Aymer 
 was particularly cautious how he expressed his sense of Sir John de 
 Walton's jealousy or severe usage ; but such sentiments are not 
 easily concealed, and in spite of him an air of displeasure glanced 
 out from several passages, and indicated his discontent with his 
 uncle's old friend and companion in arms, and with the sphere of 
 military duty which his uncle had himself assigned him. 
 
 An accidental movement among the English troops brought Sir 
 Aymer an answer to his letter sooner than he could have hoped for 
 at that time of day, in the ordinary course of correspondence, which 
 was then extremely slow and interrupted. 
 
 Pembroke, a rigid old warrior, entertained the most partial opinion 
 of Sir John de Walton, who was a work as it were of his own hands, 
 and was indignant to find that his nephew, whom he considered as 
 
236 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 a mere boy, elated by having had the dignity of knighthood con- 
 ferred upon him at an age unusually early, did not absolutely coincide 
 with him in this opinion. He replied to him, accordingly, in a tone 
 of high displeasure, and expressed himself as a person of rank would 
 write to a young and dependent kinsman upon the duties of his pro- 
 fession ; and, as he gathered his nephew's cause of complaint from 
 his own letter, he conceived that he did him no injustice in making 
 it slighter than it really was. He reminded the young man that the 
 study of chivalry consisted in the faithful and patient discharge of 
 military service, whether of high or low degree, according to the 
 circumstances in which war placed the champion. That above all, 
 the post of danger, which Douglas Castle had been termed by com- 
 mon consent, was also the post of honour; and that a young man 
 should be cautious how he incurred the supposition of being desirous 
 of quitting his present honourable command, because he was tired 
 of the discipline of a military director so renowned as Sir John de 
 Walton. Much also there was, as was natural in a letter of that 
 time, concerning the duty of young men, whether in conncil or in 
 anus, to be guided implicitly by their elders ; and it was observed, 
 with justice, that the commanding officer, who had put himself into 
 the situation of being responsible with his honour, if not his life, for 
 the event of the siege or blockade, might justly, and in a degree more 
 than common, claim the implicit direction of the whole defence. 
 Lastly, Pembroke reminded his nephew that he was, in a great 
 measure, dependent upon the report of Sir John de Walton for the 
 character which he was to sustain in after life ; and reminded him, 
 that a few actions of headlong and inconsiderate valour would not 
 so firmly found his military reputation, as months and years spent 
 in regular, humble, and steady obedience to the commands which 
 the governor of Douglas Castle might think necessary in so danger- 
 ous a conjuncture. 
 
 This missive arrived within so short a time after the despatch of 
 the letter to which it was a reply, that Sir Aymer was almost tempted 
 to suppose that his uncle had some mode of corresponding with De 
 Walton, unknown to the young knight himself, and to the rest of 
 the garrison. And as the earl alluded to some particular displea- 
 sure which had been exhibited by De Valence on a late trivial 
 occasion, his uncle's knowledge of this, and other minutiEe, seemed 
 to confirm his idea that his own conduct was watched in a man- 
 ner which he did not feel honourable to himself, or dignified on 
 the part of his relative ; in a word, he conceived himself exposed to 
 that sort of surveillance of which, in all ages, the young have accused 
 the old. It hardly needs to say, that the admonition of the Earl of 
 Pembroke greatly chafed the fiery spirit of his nephew ; insomuch. 
 
CASTLE OAflGEROUSi iij^ 
 
 that if the earl had wished to write a letter purposely to increase the 
 prejudices which he desired to put an end to, he could not have 
 made use of terms better calculated for that effect. 
 
 The truth was; that the old archer, Gilbert Greenleaf, had, without 
 the knowledge of the young knight, gone to Pembroke's camp, in 
 Ayrshire, and was recommended by Sir John de Walton to the earl, 
 as a person who could give such minute information respecting 
 Aymer de Valence, as he might desire to receive. The old archer 
 was, as we have seen, a formalist, and when pressed on some points 
 of Sir Aymer de Valence's discipline, he did not hesitate to throw 
 out hints, which, connected with those in the knight's letter to his 
 uncle, made the severe old earl adopt too implicitly the idea that his 
 nephew was indulging a spirit of insubordination, and a sense of 
 impatience under authority, most dangerous to the character of a 
 young soldier. A little explanation might have produced a com- 
 plete agreement in the sentiments of both ; but for this, fate allowed 
 neither time nor opportunity ; and the old earl was unfortunately 
 induced to become a party, instead of a negotiator, in the quarrel, 
 
 " And by decision more embroil'd the fray." 
 
 Sir John de Walton soon perceived, that the receipt of Pembroke's 
 letter did not in any respect alter the cold ceremonious conduct of 
 his lieutenant towards him, which limited their intercourse to what 
 their situation rendered indispensable, and exhibited no advances 
 to any more frank or intimate connexion. Thus, as may sometimes 
 be the case between officers in their relative situations even at the 
 present day, they remained in that cold stiff degree of official com- 
 munication, in which their intercourse was limited to as few expres- 
 sions as the respective duties of their situation absolutely demanded. 
 Such a state of misunderstanding is, in fact, worse than a downright 
 quarrel ; — the latter may be explained or apologized for, or become 
 the subject of mediation ; but in such a case as the former, an 
 hlaircissement is as unlikely to take place as a general engagement ■ 
 between two armies which have taken up strong defensive positions 
 on both sides. Duty, however, obliged the two principal persons in 
 the garrison of Douglas Castle, to be often together, when they were 
 so far from seeking an opportunity of making up matters, that they 
 usually revived ancient subjects of debate. 
 
 It was upon such an occasion that De Walton, in a very formal 
 manner, asked De Valence in what capacity, and for how long time, 
 it was his pleasure that the minstrel, called Bertram, should remain 
 at the castle. 
 
 " A week," said the governor, " is certainly long enough, in this 
 time and place, to express the hospitality due to a minstrel." 
 
238 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the young man, " I have not interest enough 
 in the subject to form a single wish upon it." 
 
 " In that case," resumed De Walton, " I shall request of this 
 person to cut short his visit at the Castle of Douglas." 
 
 " I know no particular interest," replied Aymer de Valence, 
 " which I can possibly have in this man's motions. He is here 
 under pretence of making some researches after the writings of 
 Thomas of Erceldoun, called the Rhymer, which he says are 
 infinitely curious, and of which there is a volume in the old Baron's 
 study, saved somehow from the flames at the last conflagration. 
 This told, you know as much of his errand as I do ; and if you hold 
 the presence of a wandering old man, and the neighbourhood of a 
 boy, dangerous to the castle under your charge, you will no doubt 
 do well to dismiss them — it will cost but a word of your mouth." 
 
 " Pardon me," said De Walton ; " the minstrel came here as one 
 of your retinue, and I could not, in fitting courtesy, send him away 
 without your leave." 
 
 " I am sorry, then," answered Sir Aymer, " in my turn, that you 
 did not mention your purpose sooner. I never entertained a de- 
 pendent vassal or servant, whose residence in the castle I would 
 wish to have prolonged a moment beyond your honourable pleasure." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Sir John de Walton, " that we two have of 
 late grown so extremely courteous that it is difficult for us to under- 
 stand each other. This minstrel and his son come from we know 
 not where, and are bound we know not whither. There is a report 
 among some of your escort, that this fellow Bertram upon the way 
 had the audacity to impugn, even to your face, the King of England's 
 right to the crown of Scotland, and that he debated the point with 
 you, while your other attendants were desired by you to keep behind 
 and out of hearing." 
 
 " Hah ! " said Sir Aymer, " do you mean to found on that cir- 
 cumstance any charge against my loyalty ? I pray you to observe, 
 that such an averment would touch mine honour, which I am ready 
 and willing to defend to the last gasp." 
 
 " No doubt of it. Sir Knight," answered the governor ; " but it is 
 the strolling minstrel, and not the high-bom English knight, 
 against whom the charge is brought. Well ! the minstrel comes 
 to this castle, and he intimates a wish that his son should be 
 allowed to take up his quarters at the little old convent of Saint 
 Bride, where two or three Scottish nuns and friars are still per- 
 mitted to reside, most of them rather out of respect to their order, 
 than for any good-will which they are supposed to bear the EngUsh 
 or their sovereign. It may also be noticed, that this leave was 
 purchased by a larger sum of money, if my information be correct, 
 
CASTLE DANGEROtrS. 239 
 
 than is usually to be found in the purses of travelling minstrels, a 
 class of wanderers alike remarkable for their poverty and for their 
 genius. What do you think of all this ? " 
 
 " I ? " — replied De Valence ; " I am happy that my situation, as 
 a soldier under command, altogether dispenses with my thinking 
 of it at all. My post, as lieutenant of your castle, is such, that if I 
 can manage matters so as to call my honour and my soul my own, 
 I must think that quite enough of free-will is left at my command ; 
 and I promise you shall not have again to reprove, or send a bad 
 report of me to my uncle, on that account." 
 
 " This is beyond sufferance ! " said Sir John de Walton half 
 aside, and then proceeded aloud — " Do not, for Heaven's sake, do 
 yourself and me the injustice of supposing that I am endeavouring 
 to gain an advantage over you by these questions. Recollect, 
 young knight, that when you evade giving your commanding officer 
 your advice when required, you fail as much in point of duty, as if 
 you declined aifording him the assistance of your sword and lance." 
 
 " Such being the case," answered De Valence, " let me know 
 plainly on what matter it is that you require my opinion ? I will 
 deliver it plainly, and stand by the result, even if I should have 
 the misfortune (a crime unpardonable in so young a man, and so 
 inferior an officer) to differ from that of Sir John de Walton." 
 
 " I would ask you then. Sir Knight of Valence," answered the 
 governor, " what is your opinion with respect to this minstrel, 
 Bertram, and whether the suspicions respecting him and his son 
 are not such as to call upon me, in performance of my duty, to put 
 them to a close examination, with the question ordinary and extra- 
 ordinary, as is usual in such cases, and to expel them not only 
 from the castle, but from the whole territory of Douglas Dale, 
 under pain of scourging, if they be again found wandering in these 
 parts ? " 
 
 " You ask me my opinion," said De Valence, " and you shall 
 have it. Sir Knight of Walton, as freely and fairly, as if matters 
 stood betwixt us on a footing as friendly as they ever did. I agree 
 with you, that most of those who in these days profess the science 
 of minstrelsy, are altogether unqualified to support the higher pre- 
 tensions of that noble order. Minstrels by right, are men who 
 have dedicated themselves to the noble occupation of celebrating 
 knightly deeds and generous principles ; it is in their verse that 
 the valiant knight is handed down to fame, and the poet has a 
 right, nay is bound, to emulate the virtues which he praises. The 
 looseness of the times has diminished the consequence, and im- 
 paired the morality of this class of wanderers ; their satire and 
 their praise are now too often distributed on no other principle 
 
i4a CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 than love of gain ; yet let us hope that there are still among them 
 some who know, and also willingly perform, their duty. My own 
 opinion is, that this Bertram holds himself as one who has not 
 shared in the degradation of his brethren, nor bent the knee to the 
 mammon of the times ; it must remain, with you, sir, to judge 
 whether such a person, honourably and morally disposed, can 
 cause any danger to the Castle of Douglas. But "believing, from 
 the sentiments he has manifested to me, that he is incapable of 
 playing the part of a traitor, I must strongly remonstrate against 
 his being punished as one, or subjected to the torture within the 
 walls of an English garrison. I should blush for my country, if it 
 required of us to inflict such wanton misery upon wanderers, whose 
 sole fault is poverty ; and your own knightly sentiments will 
 suggest more than would become me to state to Sir John de 
 Walton, unless in so far as is necessary to apologize for retaining 
 my own opinion." 
 
 Sir John de Walton's dark brow was stricken with red when he 
 heard an opinion delivered in opposition to his own, which plainly 
 went to stigmatize his advice as ungenerous, unfeeling, and un- 
 knightly. He made an effort to preserve his temper, while he thus 
 replied with a degree of calmness. " You have given your opinion, 
 Sir Aymer de Valence ; and that you have given it openly and 
 boldly, without regard to my own, I thank you. It is not quite so 
 clear that I am obliged to defer my own sentiments to yours, in 
 case the rules on which I hold my office — the commands of the 
 king — and the observations which I may personally have made, 
 shall recommend to me a different line of conduct from that which 
 you think it right to suggest." 
 
 De Walton bowed, in conclusion, with great gravity ; and the 
 young knight, returning the reverence with exactly the same degree 
 of stiff formality, asked whether there were any particular orders 
 respecting his duty in the castle ; and having received an answer 
 in the negative, took his departure. 
 
 Sir John de Walton, after an expression of impatience, as if dis" 
 appointed at finding that the advance which he had made towards 
 an explanation with his young friend had proved unexpectedly 
 abortive, composed his brow as if to deep thought, and walked 
 several times to and fro in the apartment, considering what course 
 he was to take in these circumstances. " It is hard to censure him 
 severely," he said, " when I recollect that, on first entering upon 
 life, my own thoughts and feelings would have been the same with 
 those of this giddy and hot-headed, but generous boy. Now pru- 
 dence teaches me to suspect mankind in a thousand instances 
 where perhaps there is not sufficient ground. If I am disposed tQ 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 241 
 
 venture my own honour and fortune, rather than an idle travelling 
 minstrel should suffer a little pain, which at all events I might 
 make up to him by money, still, have I a right to run the risk of a 
 conspiracy against the king, and thus advance the treasonable sur- 
 render of the Castle of Douglas, for which I know so many schemes 
 are formed ; for which, too, none can be imagined so desperate but 
 agents wiU be found bold enough to undertake the execution ? A 
 man who holds my situation, although the slave of conscience, 
 ought to learn to set aside those false scruples which assume the 
 appearance of flowing from our own moral feeling, whereas they 
 are in fact instilled by the suggestion of affected delicacy. I will 
 not, I swear by Heaven, be infected by the follies of a boy such as 
 Aymer ; I will not, that I may defer to his caprices, lose all that 
 love, honour, and ambition can propose, for the reward of twelve 
 months' service, of a nature the most watchful and unpleasant. I 
 will go straight to my point, and use the ordinary precautions in 
 Scotland, which I should employ in Normandy or Gascoigny. — 
 What ho ! page ! who waits there ? " 
 
 One of his attendants replied to his summons — " Seek me out 
 Gilbert Greenleaf the archer, and tell him I would speak with him 
 touching the two bows and the sheaf of arrows, concerning which 
 I gave him a commission to Ayr." 
 
 A few minutes intervened after the order was given, when the 
 archer entered, holding in his hand two bow-staves, not yet 
 fashioned, and a number of arrows secured together with a thong. 
 He bore the mysterious looks of one whose apparent business is 
 not of very great consequence, but is meant as a passport for other 
 affairs which are in themselves of a secret nature. Accordingly, as 
 the knight was silent, and afforded no other opening for Greenleaf, 
 that judicious negotiator proceeded to enter upon such as was 
 open to him. 
 
 " Here are the bow-staves, noble sir, which you desired me to 
 obtain while I was at Ayr with the Earl of Pembroke's army. 
 They are not so good as I could have wished, yet are perhaps of 
 better quality than could have been procured by any other than a 
 fair judge of the weapon. The Earl of Pembroke's whole camp are 
 frantic mad in order to procure real Spanish staves from the 
 Groyne, and other ports in Spain ; but though two vessels laden 
 with such came into the port of Ayr, said to be for the King's 
 army, yet I believe never one half of them have come into English 
 hands. These two grew in Sherwood, which having been seasoned 
 since the time of Robin Hood, are not likely to fail either in 
 strength or in aim, in so strong a hand, and with so just an eye, as 
 those of the men who wait on your worship." 
 
 R 
 
242 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " And who has got the rest, since two ships' cargoes of new bow- 
 staves are arrived at Ayr, and thou with difficulty hast only pro- 
 cured me two old ones ? " said the governor. 
 
 " Faith, I pretend not skill enough to know," answered Greenleaf, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " Talk there is of plots in that country 
 as well as here. It is said that their Bruce, and the rest of his 
 kinsmen, intend a new May-game, and that the outlawed king 
 proposes to land near Turnberry, early in summer, with a number 
 of stout kernes from Ireland ; and ho doubt the men of his mock 
 earldom of Carrick are getting them ready with bow and spear for 
 so hopeful an undertaking. I reckon that it will not cost us the 
 expense of more than a few score of sheaves of arrows to put all 
 that matter to rights." 
 
 " Do you talk then of conspiracies in this part of the country, 
 Greenleaf?" said De Walton. "I know you are a sagacious 
 fellow, well bred for many a day to the use of the bent stick and 
 string, and will not allow such a practice to go on under thy nose, 
 without taking notice of it." 
 
 " I am old enough. Heaven knows," said Greenleaf, " and have 
 had good experience of these Scottish wars, and know well whether 
 these native Scots are a people to be trusted to by knight or 
 yeoman. Say they are a false generation, and say a good archer 
 told you so, who, with a fair aim, seldom missed a handsbreadth , 
 of the white. Ah ! sir, your honour knows how to deal with them, 
 — ride them strongly, and rein them hard, — you are not like those 
 simple novices who imagine that all is to be done by gentleness, 
 and wish to parade themselves as courteous and generous to those 
 faithless mountaineers, who never, in the course of their lives, 
 knew any tincture either of courteousness or generosity." 
 
 " Thou alludest to some one," said the governor, " and I charge 
 thee, Gilbert, to be plain and sincere with me. Thou knowest, 
 methinks, that in trusting me thou wilt come to no harm ? " 
 
 " It is true, it is true, sir," said the old remnant of the wars, 
 carrying his hand to his brow, " but it were imprudent to communi- 
 cate all the remarks which float through an old man's brain in the 
 idle moments of such a garrison as this. One stumbles unawares 
 on fantasies, as well as realities, and thus one gets, not altogether 
 undeservedly, the character of a talebearer and mischief-maker 
 among his comrades, and methinks I would not willingly fall under 
 that accusation." 
 
 " Speak frankly to me," answered De Walton, " and have no 
 fear of being misconstrued, whosoever the conversation may 
 goncern." 
 ,_ fl i^z^f in j)lai,n truth," answered Gilbert, " I fear not the great- 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 243 
 
 ness of this young knight, being, as I am, the oldest soldier in the 
 garrison, and having drawn a bow-string long and many a day ere 
 he was weaned from his nurse's breast." 
 
 " It is then," said De Walton, " my lieutenant and friend, Aymer 
 de Valence, at whom your suspicions point ? " 
 
 "At nothing," replied the archer, " touching the honour of the 
 young knight himself, who is as brave as the sword he wears, and, 
 his youth considered, stands high in the roll of English chivalry ; 
 but he is young, as your worship knows, and I own that in the 
 choice of his company he disturbs and alarms me." 
 
 " Why, you know, Greenleaf," answered the governor, " that in 
 the leisure of a garrison a knight cannot always confine his sports 
 and pleasures among those of his own rank, who are not numerous, 
 and may not be so gamesome or fond of frolic, as he would desire 
 them to be." 
 
 " I know that well," answered the archer, " nor would I say a 
 word • concerning your honour's lieutenant for joining any honest 
 fellows, however inferior their rank, in the wrestling ring, or at a 
 bout of quarterstaff. But if Sir Aymer de Valence has a fondness 
 for martial tales of former days, methinks he had better learn them 
 from the ancient soldiers who have followed Edward the First, 
 whom God assoilzie, and who have known before his time the 
 Barons' wars and other onslaughts, in which the knights and 
 archers of merry England transmitted so many gallant actions to 
 be recorded by fame ; this truly, I say, were more beseeming the 
 Earl of Pembroke's nephew, than to see him closet himself day 
 after day with a strolling minstrel, who gains his livelihood by 
 reciting nonsense and lies to such young men as are fond enough 
 to believe him, of whom hardly any one knows whether he be 
 English or Scottish in his opinions, and still less can any one pre- 
 tend to say whether he is of English or Scottish birth, or with what 
 purpose he lies lounging about this castle, and is left free to com- 
 municate every thing which passes within it to those old mutterers 
 of matins at Saint Bride's, who say with their tongues God save 
 King Edward, but pray in their hearts God save King Robert the 
 Bruce. Such a communication he can easily carry on by means 
 of his son, who lies at Saint Bride's cell, as your worship knows, 
 under pretence of illness." 
 
 " How do you say ? " exclaimed the governor, "under pretence ? 
 — is he not then really indisposed ? " 
 
 " Nay, he may be sick to the death for aught I know," said the 
 archer ; " but if so, were it not then more natural that the father 
 should attend his son's sick-bed, than that he should be ranging 
 about this castle, where one eternally meets him in the old 
 
 R 2 
 
244 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 Baron's study, or in some corner, where you least expect to find 
 him?" 
 
 " If he has no lawful object," replied the knight, " it might be as 
 you say ; but he is said to be in quest of ancient poems or pro- 
 phecies of Merlin, of the Rhymer, or some other old bard ; and in 
 truth it is natural for him to wish to enlarge his stock of knowledge 
 and power of giving amusement, and where should he find the 
 means save in a study filled with ancient books ? " 
 
 " No doubt," rephed the archer, with a sort of dry civil sneer of 
 incredulity ; " I have seldom known an insurrection in Scotland 
 but that it was prophesied by some old forgotten rhyme, conjured 
 out of dust and cobwebs, for the sake of giving courage to those 
 North Country rebels who durst not otherwise have abidden the 
 whistling of the grey-goose shaft ; but curled heads are hasty, and, 
 with license, even your own train, Sir Knight, retains too much of 
 the fire of youth for such uncertain times as the present." 
 
 " Thou hast convinced me, Gilbert Greenleaf, and I will look 
 into this man's business and occupation more closely than hitherto. 
 This is no time to peril the safety of a royal castle for the sake of 
 affecting generosity towards a man of whom we know so little, and 
 to whom, till we receive a very full explanation, we may, without 
 doing him injustice, attach grave Suspicions. Is he now in the 
 apartment called the Baron's study ? " 
 
 " Your worship will be certain to find him there," replied Green- 
 leaf. 
 
 " Then follow me, with two or three of thy comrades, and keep 
 out of sight, but within hearing ; it may be necessary to arrest this 
 man." 
 " My assistance," said the old archer, " shall be at hand when 
 
 you call, but " 
 
 " But what ? " said the knight ; " I hope I am not to find doubts 
 and disobedience on all hands ? " 
 
 "Certainly not on mine," replied Greenleaf; " I would only 
 remind your worship that what I have said was a sincere opinion 
 expressed in answer to your worship's^ question ; and that, as Sir 
 Aymer de Valence has avowed himself the patron of this man, I 
 would not willingly be left to the hazard of his revenge." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " answered De Walton, " is Aymer de Valence governor 
 of this castle, or am I ? or to whom do you imagine you are re- 
 sponsible for answering such questions as I may put to you?" 
 
 " Nay," replied the archer, secretly not displeased at seeing De 
 Walton show some little jealousy of his own authority, " believe 
 me, Sir Knight, that I know my own station and your worship's, 
 and that I am not now to be told to whom I owe obedience." 
 
CASTLE ^DANGEROUS. 24s 
 
 " To the study then, and let us find the man," said the 
 governor. 
 
 "A fine matter indeed," subjoined Greenleaf, following him, 
 " that your worship should have to go in person to look after the 
 arrest of so mean an individual. But your honour is right ; these 
 minstrels are often jugglers, and possess the power of making 
 their escape by means which borrel * folk like myself are disposed 
 to attribute to necromancy." 
 
 Without attending to these last words, Sir John de Walton set 
 forth towards the study, walking at a quick pace, as if this con- 
 versation had augmented his desire to find himself in possession of 
 the person of the suspected minstrel. 
 
 Traversing the ancient passages of the castle, the governor had 
 no difficulty in reaching the study, which was strongly vaulted with 
 stone, and furnished with a sort of iron cabinet, intended for the 
 preservation of articles and papers of value, in case of fire. Here 
 he found the minstrel seated at a small table, sustaining before him 
 a manuscript, apparently of great antiquity, from which he seemed 
 engaged in making extracts. The windows of the room were very 
 small, and still showed some traces that they had originally been 
 glazed with a painted history of Saint Bride — another mark of 
 the devotion of the great family of Douglas to their tutelar 
 saint. 
 
 The minstrel, who had seemed deeply wrapt in the contempla- 
 tion of his task, on being disturbed by the unlooked-for entrance of 
 Sir John de Walton, rose with every mark of respect and humilit)', 
 and, remaining standing in the governor's presence, appeared to 
 wait for his interrogations, as if he had anticipated that the visit 
 concerned himself particularly. 
 
 " I am to suppose. Sir Minstrel," said Sir John de Walton, "that 
 you have been successful in your search, and have found the roll of 
 poetry or prophecies that you proposed to seek after amongst these 
 broken shelves and tattered volumes ? " 
 
 " More successful than I could have expected," replied the 
 minstrel, " considering the effects of the conflagration. This, Sir 
 Knight, is apparently the fatal volume for which I sought, and 
 strange it is, considering the heavy chance of other books contained 
 in this library, that I have been able to find a few though imperfect 
 fragments of it." 
 
 " Since, therefore, you have been permitted to indulge your 
 curiosity," said the governor, " I trust, minstrel, you will have no 
 objection to satisfy mine ? " 
 
 The minstrel replied with the same humility, " that if there was 
 anything within the poor compass of his skill which could gratify 
 
246 . CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 Sir John de Walton in any degree, he would but reach his lute, and 
 presently obey his commands." 
 
 " You mistake, sir," said Sir John, somewhat harshly. " I am 
 none of those who have hours to spend in listening to tales or 
 music of former days ; my life has hardly given me time enough 
 for learning the duties of my profession, far less has 'it allowed me 
 leisure for such twangling follies. I care not who knows it, but my 
 ear is so incapable of judging of your art, which you doubtless 
 think a noble one, that I can scarcely tell the modulation of one 
 tune from another." 
 
 " In that case," replied the minstrel composedly, " I can hardly 
 promise myself the pleasure of affording your worship the amuse- 
 ment which I might otherwise have done." 
 
 " Nor do I look for any at your hand," said the governor, ad- 
 vancing a step nearer to him, and speaking in a sterner tone. " I 
 want information, sir, which I am assured you can give me, if you 
 incline ; and it is my duty to tell you, that if you show unwilling- 
 ness to speak the truth, I know means by which it will become my 
 painful duty to extort it in a more disagreeable manner than I would 
 wish." 
 
 " If your questions. Sir Knight," answered Bertram, " be such as 
 I can or ought to answer, there shall be no occasion to put them 
 more than once. If they are such as I cannot or ought not to 
 reply to, believe me that no threats of violence will extort an answer 
 from me." 
 
 " You speak boldly," said Sir John de Walton ; " but take my 
 word for it, that your courage will be put to the test. I am as little 
 fond of proceeding to such extremities as you can be of undergoing 
 them,but such will be the natural consequence of your own obstinacy. 
 I therefore ask you, whether Bertram be your real name — whether 
 you have any other profession than that of a travelling minstrel — 
 and, lastly, whether you have any acquaintance or connexion with 
 any Englishman or Scottishman beyond the walls of this Castle of 
 Douglas ? " 
 
 " To these questions," replied the minstrel, " I have already 
 answered the worshipful knight. Sir Aymer de Valence, and, having 
 fully satisfied him, it is not, I conceive, necessary that I should 
 undergo a second examination ; nor is it consistent either with your 
 worship's honour, or that of the lieutenant-governor, that such a re- 
 examination should take place." 
 
 " You are very considerate," replied the governor, " of my honour 
 and of that of Sir Aymer de Valence. Take my word for it, they are 
 both in perfect safety in our own keeping, and may dispense with your 
 attention. I ask you, will you answer the enquiries which, it is my 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 247 
 
 duty to make, or am I to enforce obedience by putting you under the 
 penalties of" the question? I have already, it is my duty to say, 
 seen the answers you have returned to my lieutenant, and they do 
 not satisfy me." 
 
 He at the same time clapped his hands, and two or three archers 
 showed themselves, stripped of their tunics, and only attired in their 
 shirts and hose. 
 
 "I understand," said the minstrel, "that you intend to inflict 
 upon me a punishment which is foreign to the genius of the 
 English laws, in that no proof is adduced of my guilt. I have 
 already told that I am by birth an Englishman, by profession a 
 minstrel, and that I am totally unconnected with any person likely to 
 nourish any design against this Castle of Douglas, Sir John de 
 Walton, or his garrison. What answers you may extort from me 
 by bodily agony, I cannot, to speak as a plain-dealing Christian, 
 hold myself responsible for. I think that I can endure as much 
 pain as any one ; I am sure that I never yet felt a degree of agony, 
 that I would not willingly prefer to breaking my plighted word, or 
 becoming a false informer against innocent persons ; but I own I 
 do not know the extent to which the art of torture may be carried ; 
 and though I do not fear you, Sir John de Walton, yet I must ac- 
 knowledge that I fear myself, since I know not to what extremity 
 your cruelty may be capable of subjecting me, or how far I may be 
 enabled to bear it. I, therefore, in the first place, protest, that I 
 shall in no manner be liable for any words which I may utter in 
 the course of any examination enforced from me by torture ; and 
 you must therefore, under such circumstances, proceed to the 
 execution of an office, which, permit me to say, is hardly that which 
 I expected to have found thus administered by an accomplished 
 knight like yourself." 
 
 " Hark] you, sir," replied the governor, " you and I are at issue, 
 and in doing my duty, I ought instantly to proceed to the ex- 
 tremities I have threatened ; but perhaps you yourself feel less 
 reluctant to undergo the examination as proposed, than I shall do 
 in commanding it ; I will therefore consign you for the present to a 
 place of confinement, suitable to one who is suspected of beinj- 
 a spy upon ^this fortress. Until you are pleased to remove 
 such suspicions, your lodgings and nourishment are those of a 
 prisoner. In the meantime, before subjecting you to the question, 
 take notice, I will myself ride to the Abbey of Saint Bride, and 
 satisfy myself whether the young person whom you would pass as 
 your son, is possessed of the same determination as that which you 
 yourself seem to assert. It may so happen that his examination 
 and yours may throw such light upon each other as will decidedly 
 
248 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 prove either your guilt or innocence, without its being confirmed by 
 the use of the extraordinary question. If it be otherwise, tremble 
 for your son's sake, if not for your own. — Have I shaken you, sir.' 
 — or do you fear, for your boy's young sinews and joints, the engines 
 which, in your own case, you seem willing to defy ? " 
 
 " Sir," answered the minstrel, recovering from the momentary 
 emotion he had shown, " I leave it to yourself, as a man of honour 
 and candour, whether you ought, in common fairness, to form a 
 worse opinion of any man, because he is not unwilling to incur, in 
 his own person, severities which he would not desire to be inflicted 
 upon his child, a sickly youth, just recovering from a dangerous 
 disease." 
 
 " It is my duty," answered De Walton, after a short pause, " to 
 leave no stone unturned by which this business may be traced to 
 the source ; and if thou desirest mercy for thy son, thou wilt thyself 
 most easily attain it, by setting him the example of honesty and 
 plain -dealing." 
 
 The minstrel threw himself back on the seat, as if fully resolved 
 to bear every extremity that could be inflicted, rather than make 
 any farther answer than he had already offered. Sir John de Walton 
 himself seemed in some degree uncertain what might now be his 
 best course. He felt an invincible repugnance to proceed, without 
 due consideration, in what most people would have deemed the 
 direct line of his duty, by inflicting the torture both upon father and 
 son ; but deep as was his sense of devotion towards the King, and 
 numerous as were the hopes and expectations he had formed upon 
 the strict discharge of his present high trust, he could not resolve 
 upon having recourse at once to this cruel method of cutting the 
 knot. Bertram's appearance was venerable, and his power of words 
 not unworthy of his aspect and bearing. The governor remembered 
 that Aymerde Valence, whose judgment in general it was impossible 
 to deny, had described him as one of those rare individuals, who 
 vindicated the honour of a corrupted profession by their personal 
 good behaviour ; and he acknowledged to himself, that there was 
 gross cruelty and injustice in refusing to admit the prisoner to the 
 credit of being a true and honest man, until, by way of proving his 
 rectitude, he had strained every sinew, and crushed every joint in 
 his body, as well as those of his son. " I have no touchstone," he 
 said internally, " which can distinguish truth from falsehood ; the 
 Bruce and his followers are on the alert, — he has certainly equipped 
 the galleys which lay at Rachrin during winter. This story, 
 too, of Greenleaf, about arms being procured for a new insurrection, 
 tallies strangely with the appearance of that savage-looking forester 
 at the hunt ; and all tends to show, that something is upon the 
 
CASTLE dangerous 249 
 
 anvil which it is my duty to provide against. I vifill, therefore, 
 pass over no circumstance by which I can affect the mind through 
 hope or fear ; but, please God to give me light from any other 
 source, I will not think it lawful to torment these unfortunate, and, 
 it may yet be, honest men." He accordingly took his departure 
 from the library, whispering a word to Greenleaf respecting the 
 prisoner. 
 
 He had reached the outward door of the study, and his satellites 
 had already taken the minstrel into their grasp, when the voice of 
 the old man was heard calling upon De Walton to return for a 
 single moment. 
 
 " What hast thou to say, sir .' " said the governor ; " be speedy, 
 for I have already lost more time in listening to thee than I am 
 answerable for, and so I advise thee for thine own sake " 
 
 " I advise thee," said the minstrel, " for thine own sake. Sir John 
 de Walton, to beware how thou dost insist on thy present purpose, 
 by which thou thyself alone, of all men living, will most severely 
 suffer. If thou harmest a hair of that young man's head — nay, if 
 thou permittest him to undergo any privation which it is in thy 
 power to prevent, thou wilt, in doing so, prepare for thine own 
 suffering a degree of agony more acute than anything else in this 
 mortal world could cause thee. I swear by the most blessed objects 
 of our holy religion ; I call to witness that holy sepulchre, of which 
 I have been an unworthy visitor, that I speak nothing but the truth, 
 and that thou wilt one day testify thy gratitude for the part I am 
 now acting. It is my interest, as well as yours, to secure you in 
 the safe possession of this castle, although assuredly I know some 
 things respecting it, and respecting your worship, which I am not 
 at liberty to tell without the consent of that youth. Bring me but 
 a note under his hand, consenting to my taking you into our 
 mystery, and believe me, you will soon see those clouds charmed 
 away ; since there was never a doleful uncertainty which more 
 speedily changed to joy, or a thunder-cloud of adversity which 
 more instantly gave way to sunshine, than would then the suspicions 
 which appear now so formidable." 
 
 He spoke with so much earnestness as to make some impression 
 upon Sir John de Walton, who was once more wholly at a loss to 
 know what line his duty called upon him to pursue. 
 
 '■ I would most gladly," said the governor, " follow out my pur- 
 pose by the gentlest means in my power ; and I shall bring no 
 further distress upon this poor lad, than thine own obstinacy and 
 his shaU appear to deserve. In the meantime, think, Sir Minstrel, 
 that my duty has limits, and if I slack it for a day, it will become 
 thee to exert every effort in thy power to meet my condescension. 
 
iSo CASTLE bANGEkOUS. 
 
 I will give thee leave to address thy son by a line under thy hand, 
 and I will await his answer before I proceed farther in this matter, 
 which seems to be very mysterious. Meantime, if thou hast a soul 
 to be saved, I conjure thee to speak the truth, and tell me whether 
 the secrets of which thou seemest to be a too faithful treasurer 
 have regard to the pra,ctises of Douglas, of Bruce, or of any in 
 their names, against this Castle of Douglas ? " 
 
 The prisoner thought a moment, and then replied — "I am aware, 
 Sir Knight, of the severe charge under which this command is 
 intrusted to your hands, and were it in my power to assist you, as 
 a faithful minstrel and loyal subject, either with hand or tongue, I 
 should feel myself called upon so to do ; but so far am I from 
 being the character your suspicions have apprehended, that I 
 should have held it for certain that the Bruce and Douglas had 
 assembled their followers, for the purpose of renouncing their 
 rebellious attempts, and taking their departure for the Holy Land, 
 but for the apparition of the forester, who, I hear, bearded you 
 at the hunting, which impresses upon me the belief, that when 
 so resolute a follower and henchman of the Douglas was sitting 
 fearless among you, his master and comrades could be at no 
 great distance — how far his intentions could be friendly to you, 
 I must leave it to yourself to judge ; only believe me thus far, 
 that the rack, pulley, or pincers, would not have compelled me 
 to act the informer, or adviser, in a quarrel wherein I have little 
 or no share, if I had not been desirous of fixing the belief upon 
 you, that you are dealing with a true man, and one who has 
 your welfare at heart. — Meanwhile, permit me to have writing 
 materials, or let my own be restored, for I possess, in some 
 degree, the higher arts of my calling ; nor do I fear but that I 
 can procure for you an explanation of these marvels, without much 
 more loss of time." 
 
 "God grant it prove so,'' said the governor; "though I see 
 
 not well how I can hope for so favourable a termination, and I 
 
 may sustain great harm by trusting too much on the present 
 
 ' occasion. My duty, however, requires that, in the meantime, you 
 
 be removed into strict confinement." 
 
 He handed to the prisoner as he spoke the writing materials, 
 which had been seized upon by the archers on their first entrance, 
 and then commanded those satellites to unhand the minstrel. 
 
 " I must, then," said Bertram, " remain subjected to all the 
 severities of a strict captivity ? but I deprecate no hardship what- 
 ever in my own person, so I may secure you from acting with a 
 degree of rashness, of which you will all your life repent, without 
 the means of atoning." 
 
CASTLE bANGEROiJS. 251 
 
 " No more words, minstrel," said the governor ; " but since I 
 have made my choice, perhaps a very dangerous one for myself, 
 let us carry this spell into execution, which thou sayest is to sen'e 
 me, as mariners say that oil spread upon the raging billows will 
 assuage their furv." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 * * * * 4f- * 
 
 _ Beware ! beware ! of the Black Friar. 
 
 He still retains his sway, 
 For he is yet the church's heir by right, 
 
 Whoever may be the lay. 
 Amundeville is lord by day. 
 
 But the monk is lord by night. 
 Nor wine nor wassel could raise a vassal 
 To question that friar's right. 
 
 Don Juan, Canto xvii. 
 
 The minstrel made no vain boast of the skill which he possessed 
 in the use of pen and ink. In fact, no priest of the time could 
 have produced his little scroll more speedily, more neatly com- 
 posed, or more fairly written, than were the lines addressed " To 
 the youth called Augustine, son of Bertram the Minstrel." 
 
 " I have not folded this letter," said he, " nor tied it witlT silk, for 
 it is not expressed so as to explain the mystery to you ; nor, to 
 speak frankly, do I think that it can convey to you any intelligence ; 
 but it may be satisfactory to show you what the letter does contain, 
 and that it is written from and to a person who both mean kindly 
 towards you and your garrison." 
 
 " That," said the governor, " is a deception which is easily prac- 
 tised ; it tends, however, to show, though not with certainty, that, 
 you are disposed to act upon good faith ; and until the contrary 
 appear, I shall consider it a point of duty to treat you with as 
 much gentleness as the matter admits of. Meantime, I will, myself 
 ride to the Abbey of Saint Bride, and in person examine the young 
 prisoner ; and as you say he has the power, so I pray to Heaven 
 he may have the will, to read this riddle, which seems to throw us 
 all into confusion." So saying, he ordered his horse, and while it 
 was getting ready, he perused with great composure the minstrel's 
 letter. Its contents ran thus : — 
 
2s2 castle dangerous. 
 
 "Dear Augustine, 
 " Sir John de Walton, the governor of this castle, has conceived 
 those suspicions which I pointed out as likely to be the conse- 
 quence of our coming to this country without an avowed errand. 
 I at least am seized, and threatened with examination under tor- 
 ture, to force me to tell the purpose of our journey ; but they shall 
 tear my flesh from my bones, ere they force me to break the oath 
 which I have taken. And the purport of this letter is to apprize 
 you of the danger in which you stand of being placed in similar 
 circumstances, unless you are disposed to authorize me to make 
 the discovery to this knight ; but on this subject you have only to 
 express your own wishes, being assured they shall be in every 
 respect attended to by your devoted 
 
 " Bertram." 
 
 This letter did not throw the smallest light upon the mystery of 
 the writer. The governor read it more than once, and turned it 
 repeatedly in his hand, as if he had hoped by that mechanical 
 process to draw something from the missive, which at a first view 
 the words did not express ; but as no result of this sort appeared, 
 De Walton retired to the hall, where he informed Sir Aymer de 
 Valence, that he was going abroad as far as the Abbey of Saint 
 Bride, and that he would be obliged by his taking upon him the 
 duties of governor during his absence. Sir Aymer, of course, 
 intimated his acquiescence in the charge; and the state of disunion 
 in which they stood to each other, permitted no further explana- 
 tion. 
 
 Upon the arrival of Sir John de Walton, at the dilapidated 
 shrine, the abbot, with trembling haste, made it his business imme- 
 diately to attend the commander of the English garrison, upon 
 whom, for the present, their house depended for every indulgence 
 they experienced, as well as for the subsistence and protection 
 i^ecessary to them in so perilous a period. Having interrogated 
 this old man respecting the youth residing in the abbey, De Walton 
 was informed that he had been indisposed since left there by his 
 father, Bertram, a minstrel. It appeared to the abbot, that his in- 
 disposition might be of that contagious kind which, at that period, 
 ravaged the English Borders, and made some incursions into Scot- 
 land, where it afterwards worked a fearful progress. After some 
 farther conversation. Sir John de Walton put into the abbot's hand 
 the letter to the young person under his roof, on delivering which 
 to Augustine, the reverend father was charged with a message to 
 the English governor, so bold, that he was afraid to be the bearer 
 of it. It signified, that the youth could not, and would not, at that 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 253 
 
 moment, receive the English knight ; but that, if he came back on 
 the morrow after mass, it was probable he might learn something 
 of what was requested. 
 
 " This is not an answer," said Sir John de Walton, " to be sent 
 by a boy like this to a person in my charge ; and methinks. Father 
 Abbot, you consult your own safety but slenderly in delivering 
 such an insolent message." 
 
 The abbot trembled under the folds of his large coarse habit ; 
 and De Walton, imagining that his discomposure was the conse- 
 quence of guilty fear, called upon him to remember the duties 
 which he owed to England, the benefits which he had received 
 from himself, and the probable consequence of taking part in a 
 pert boy's insolent defiance af the power of the governor of the 
 province. 
 
 The abbot vindicated himself from these charges with the utmost 
 anxiety. He pledged his sacred word, that the inconsiderate cha- 
 racter of the boy's message was owing to the waywardness arising 
 from indisposition. He reminded the governor that, as a Christian 
 and an Englishman, he had dutiec to observe towards the commu- 
 nity of Saint Bride, which had never given the English government 
 the least subject of complaint. As he spoke, the churchman 
 seemed to gather courage from the immunities of his order. He 
 said he could not permit a sick boy, who had taken refuge within 
 the sanctuary of the church, to be seized or subjected to any 
 species of force, unless he was accused of a specific crime, capable 
 of being immediately proved. The Douglasses, a headstrong race, 
 had, in former days, uniformly respected the sanctuary of Saint 
 Bride, and it was not to be supposed that the King of England, the 
 dutiful and obedient child of the Church of Rome, would act with 
 less veneration for her rights, than the followers of a usurper, 
 homicide, and excommunicated person like Robert Bruce. 
 
 Walton was considerably shaken with this remonstrance. He 
 knew that, in the circumstances of the times, the Pope had great 
 power in every controversy in which it was his pleasure to inter- 
 fere. He knew that even in the dispute respecting the supremacy 
 of Scotland, his Holiness had set up a claim to the kingdom, which, 
 in the temper of the times, might perhaps have been deemed 
 superior both to that of Robert Bruce and that of Edward of 
 England, and he conceived his monarch would give him little 
 thanks for any fresh embroilment which might take place with the 
 Church. Moreover, it was easy to place a watch, so as to prevent 
 Augustine from escaping during the night ; and on the following 
 morning he would be still as effectually in the power of the English 
 governor as if he were seized on by open force at the present 
 
254 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 moment. Sir John de Walton, however, so far exerted his autho- 
 rity over the abbot, that he engaged, in consideration of the sanc- 
 tuary being respected for this space of time, that, when it expired, 
 he would be aiding and assisting with his spiritual authority to 
 surrender the youth, should he not allege a sufficient reason to the 
 contrary. This arrangement, which appeared still to flatter the 
 governor with the prospect of an easy termination of this trouble- 
 some dispute, induced him to grant the delay which Augustine 
 rather demanded than petitioned for. 
 
 " At your request, Father Abbot, whom I have hitherto found a 
 true man, I will indulge this youth with the grace he asks, before 
 taking him into custody, understanding that he shall not be per- 
 mitted to leave this place ; and thou art to be responsible to this 
 effect, giving thee, as is reasonable, power to command our little 
 garrison at Hazelside, to which 1 will send a reinforcement on my 
 return to the Castle, in case it should be necessary to use the 
 strong hand, or circumstances impose upon me other measures." 
 
 " Worthy Sir Knight," replied the abbot, " I have no idea that 
 the frowardness of this youth will render any course necessary, 
 saving that of persuasion ; and I venture to say, that you yourself 
 will in the highest degree approve of the method in which I shall 
 acquit myself of my present trust." 
 
 The abbot went through the duties of hospitality, enumerating 
 what simple cheer the cloister of the convent permitted him to offer 
 to the English knight. Sir John de Walton decUned the offer of 
 refreshment, however — took a courteous leave of the churchman, 
 and did not spare his horse until the noble animal had brought 
 him again before the Castle of Douglas. Sir Aymer de Valence 
 met him on the drawbridge, and reported the state of tlie garrison 
 to be the same in which he had left it, excepting that intimation 
 had been received that twelve or fifteen men were expected on their 
 way to the town of Lanark ; and being on march from the neigh- 
 bourhood of Ayr, would that night take up their quarters at the 
 outpost of Hazelside. 
 
 " I am glad of it," replied the governor ; " I was about to 
 strengthen that detachment. This stripling, the son of Bertram 
 the minstrel, or whoever he is, has engaged to deliver himself up 
 for examination in the morning. As this party of soldiers are 
 followers of your uncle. Lord Pembroke, may I request you will 
 ride to meet them, and command them to remain at Hazelside 
 until you make farther enquiries about this youth, who has still to 
 clear up the mystery which hangs about him, and reply to a letter 
 which I delivered with my own hand to the Abbot of Saint Bride. 
 I have shown too much forbearance in this matter, and I trust to 
 
CASTLF, DANGEROUS. 233 
 
 your looking to the security of this young man, and convey him 
 hither with all due care and attention, as being a prisoner of some 
 importance." 
 
 " Certainly, Sir John,'' answered Sir Aymer ; " your orders shall 
 be obeyed, since you have none of greater importance for one who 
 hath the honour to be second only to yourself in this place." 
 
 " I crave your mercy, Sir Aymer," returned the governor, " if 
 the commission be in any degree beneath your dignity ; but it is 
 our misfortune to misunderstand each other, when we endeavour 
 to be most intelligible." 
 
 " But what am I to do," said Sir Aymer — " no way disputing 
 your command, but only asking for information — what am 1 to do, 
 if the Abbot of Saint Bride offers opposition?" 
 
 "How!" answered Sir John de Walton; "with the reinforce- 
 ment from my Lord of Pembroke, you will command at least 
 twenty warmen, with bow and spear, against five or six timid old 
 monks, with only gown and hood." 
 
 " True," said Sir Aymer, " but ban and excommunication are 
 sometimes, in the present day, too hard for the mail coat, and I 
 would not willingly be thrown out of the pale of the Christian 
 church." 
 
 " Well, then, thou very suspicious and scrupulous young man,'' 
 replied De Walton, " know that if this youth does not deliver him- 
 self up to thee of his own accord, the abbot has promised to put 
 him into thy hands." 
 
 There was no farther answer to be made, and De Valence, 
 though still thinking himself unnecessarily harassed with the 
 charge of a petty commission, took the sort of half arms which 
 were always used when the knights stirred beyond the walls of the 
 garrison, and proceeded to execute the commands of De Walton. 
 A horseman or two, together with his squire Fabian, accompanied 
 him. 
 
 The evening closed in with one of those Scottish mists which 
 are commonly said to be equal to the showers of happier climates ; 
 the path became more and more dark, the hills more wreathed in 
 vapours, and more difficult to traverse ; and all the little petty 
 inconveniences which rendered travelling through the district slow 
 and uncertain, were augmented by the density of the fog which 
 overhung everything. 
 
 Sir Aymer, therefore, occasionally mended his pace, and often 
 incurred the fate of one who is over-late, delaying himself by his 
 efforts to make greater expedition. The knight bethought himself 
 that he would get into a straight road by passing through the 
 almost deserted town of Douglas, — the inhabitants of which had 
 
2S6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 been treated so severely by the English, in the course of those 
 fierce troubles, that most of them who were capable of bearing 
 arms had left it, and withdrawn themselves to different parts of the 
 country. This almost deserted place was defended by a rude 
 palisade, and a ruder drawbridge, which gave entrance into streets 
 so narrow, as to admit with difficulty three horses abreast, and 
 evincing with what strictness the ancient lords of the village ad- 
 hered to their prejudice against fortifications, and their opinion in 
 favour of keeping the field, so quaintly expressed in the well-known 
 proverb of the family,— " It is better to hear the lark sing than the 
 mouse cheep." The streets, or rather the lanes, were dark, but for 
 a shifting gleam of moonlight, which, as that planet began to rise, 
 was now and then visible upon some steep and narrow gable. No 
 sound of domestic industry, or domestic festivity, was heard, and 
 no ray of candle or firelight glanced from the windows of the 
 houses ; the ancient ordinance called the curfew, which the Con- 
 queror had introduced into England, was at this time in full force 
 in such parts of Scotland as were thought doubtful, and likely to 
 rebel ; under which description it need not be said the ancient pos- 
 sessions of the Douglas were most especially regarded. The 
 Church, whose Gothic monuments were of a magnificent character, 
 had been, as far as possible, destroyed by fire ; but the ruins, held 
 together by the weight of the massive stones of which they were 
 composed, still sufficiently evinced the greatness of the family at 
 whose cost it had been raised, and whose bones, from immemorial 
 time, had been entombed in its crypts. 
 
 Paying little attention to these relics of departed splendour, Sir 
 Aymer de Valence advanced with his small detachment, and had 
 passed the scattered fragments of the cemetery of the Douglasses 
 when, to his surprise, the noise of his horse's feet was seemingly 
 replied to by sounds which rung like those of another knightly 
 steed advancing heavily up the street, as if it were to meet him. 
 Valence was unable to conjecture what might be the cause of these 
 warlike sounds ; the ring and the clang of armour was distinct, 
 and the heavy tramp of a war-horse was not to be mistaken by the 
 ear of a warrior. The difficulty of keeping soldiers from straying 
 out of quarters by night, would have sufficiently accounted for the 
 appearance of a straggling foot-soldier ; but it was more difficult to 
 account for a mounted horseman, in full armour ; and such was 
 the apparition which a peculiarly bright glimpse of moonlight now 
 showed at the bottom of the causewayed hill. Perhaps the un- 
 known warrior obtained at the same time a glance of Aymer de 
 Valence and his armed followers — at least each of them shouted 
 "Who goes there?" — the alarm of the times ; and on the instant 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 257 
 
 the deep answers of " St. George ! " on the one side, and " The 
 Douglas ! " on the other, awakened the still echoes of the small and 
 ruinous street, and the silent arches of the dilapidated church. 
 Astonished at a war-cry with which so many recollections were 
 connected, the English knight spurred his horse at full gallop down 
 the steep and broken descent leading out at the south or south- 
 east gate of the town ; and it was the work of an instant to call 
 out, " Ho ! Saint George ! upon the insolent villain all of you ! — 
 To the gate, Fabian, and cut him off from flight ! — Saint George ! 
 I say, for England ! Bows and Bills ! — bows and bills ! " At the 
 same time Aymer de Valence laid in rest his own long lance, which 
 he snatched from the squire by whom it was carried. But the 
 light was seen and gone in an instant, and though De Valence 
 concluded tliat the hostile warrior had hardly room to avoid his 
 career, yet he could take no aim for the encounter, unless by mere 
 guess, and continued to plunge down the dark declivity, among 
 shattered stones and other encumbrances, without groping out 
 with his lance the object of his pursuit. He rode, in short, at a 
 broken gallop, a descent of about fifty or sixty yards, without 
 having any reason to suppose that he had met the figure which 
 had appeared to him, although the narrowness of the street scarcely 
 admitted his having passed him, unless both horse and horseman 
 could have melted at the moment of encounter like an air-bubble. 
 The riders of his suite, meanwhile, were struck with a feeling like 
 supernatural terror, which a number of singular adventures had 
 caused most of them to attach to the name of Douglas ; and when 
 he reached the gate by which the broken street was terminated, 
 there was none close behind him but Fabian, in whose head no 
 suggestions of a timorous nature could outlive the sound of his 
 dear master's voice. 
 
 Here there was a post of English archers, who were turning out 
 in considerable alarm, when De Valence and his page rode in 
 amongst them. " Villains ! " shouted De Valence, " why were ye 
 not upon your duty ? Who was it passed through your post even 
 now, with the traitorous cry of Douglas?" 
 
 " We know of no such," said the captain of the watch. 
 
 " That is to say, you besotted villains," answered the youn^ 
 knight, " you have been drinking, and have slept ? " 
 
 The men protested the contrary, but in a confused manner, 
 which was far from overcoming De Valence's suspicions He 
 called loudly to bring cressets, torches, and candles ; and a few 
 remaining inhabitants began to make their unwilling appearance, 
 with such various means of giving light as they chanced to possess. 
 They heard the storv of the young English knight with wonder ; 
 
 S 
 
258 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 nor, although it was confirmed by all his retinue, did they give 
 credit to the recital, more than that the Englishmen wished some- 
 how or other to pick a quarrel with the people of the place, under 
 the pretence of their having admitted a retainer of their ancient 
 lord by night into the town. They protested, therefore, their inno- 
 cence of the cause of tumult, and endeavoured to seem active in 
 hastening from house to house, and corner to corner, with their 
 torches, in order to discover the invisible cavalier. The English 
 suspected them no less of treachery, than the Scottish imagined 
 the whole matter a pretext for bringing an accusation, on the part 
 of the young knight, against the citizens. The women, however, 
 who now began to issue from the houses, had a key for the solu- 
 tion of the apparition, which at that time was believed of efficacy 
 sufficient to solve any mystery. "The devil," they said, "must 
 have appeared visibly amongst them," an explanation which had 
 already occurred to the followers of the young knight ; for that a 
 living man and horse, both, as it seemed, of a gigantic size, could 
 be conjured in the twinkling of an eye, and appear in a street 
 secured at one end by the best of the archers, and at the other by 
 the horsemen under Valence himself, was altogether, it seemed, a 
 thing impossible. The inhabitants did not venture to put their 
 thoughts on the subject into language, for fear of giving offence, 
 and only indicated by a passing word to each other the secret 
 degree of pleasure which they felt in the confusion and embar- 
 rassment of the English garrison. Still, however, they continued 
 to affect a great deal of interest in the alarm which De Valence 
 had received, and the anxiety which he expressed to discover the 
 cause. 
 
 At length a female voice spoke above the Babel of confused 
 sounds, saying, " Where is the Southern Knight ? I am sure that 
 I can tell him where he can find the only person who can help him 
 out of his present difficulty." 
 
 " And who is that, good woman ? " said Aymer de Valence, who 
 was growing every moment more impatient at the loss of time, 
 which was flying fast, in an investigation which had something in 
 it vexatious, and even ridiculous. At the same time, the sight of 
 an armed partisan of the Douglasses, in their own native town, 
 seemed to bode too serious consequences, if it should be suffered 
 to pass without being probed to the bottom. 
 
 " Come hither to me," said the female voice, " and I will name 
 to you the only person whp can explain all matters of this kind 
 that chance in this country." On this the knight snatched a torch 
 from some of those who were present, and holding it up, descried 
 the person who spoke, a tall woman, who evidently endeavoured to 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 259 
 
 render herself remarkable. When he approached her, she com- 
 municated her intelligence in a grave and sententious tone of 
 voice. 
 
 " We had once wise men, that could have answered any parables 
 which might have been put to them for explanation in this country- 
 side. Whether you yourselves, gentlemen, have not had some 
 hand in weeding them out, good troth, it is not for the like of me 
 to say ; at any rate, good counsel is not so easy come by as it was 
 in this Douglas country, nor, may be, is it a safe thing to pretend 
 to the power of giving it." 
 
 " Good woman," said De Valence, " if you will give me an 
 explanation of this mystery, I will owe you a kirtle of the best 
 raploch grey." 
 
 " It is not I," said the old woman, " that pretend to possess the 
 knowledge which may assist you ; but I would fain know that the 
 man whom I shall name to you shall be skaithless and harmless. 
 Upon your knighthood and your honour, will you promise to me so 
 much?" 
 
 " Assuredly," said De Valence, " such a person shall even have 
 thanks and reward, if he is a faithful informer ; ay, and pardon, 
 moreover, although he may have listened to any dangerous prac- 
 tices, or been concerned in any plots." 
 
 " Oh ! not he," replied the female ; " it is old Goodman Powheid, 
 who has the charge of the muniments," (meaning probably monu- 
 ments,) " that is, such part of them as you English have left stand- 
 ing ; I mean the old sexton of the kirk of Douglas, who can tell 
 more stories of these old folk, whom your honour is not very fond 
 of hearing named, than would last us from this day to Yule." 
 
 " Does any body," said the knight, " know whom it is that this 
 old woman means ?" 
 
 " I conjecture," replied Fabian, " that she speaks of an old 
 dotard, who is, I think, the general referee concerning the history 
 and antiquities of this old town, and of the savage family that lived 
 here, perhaps before the flood." 
 
 " And who, I dare say," said the knight, " knows as much about 
 the matter as she herself does. But where is this man ? a sexton 
 is he ? He may be acquainted with places of concealment, which 
 are often fabricated in Gothic buildings, and known to those whose 
 business calls them to frequent them. Come, my good old dame, 
 bring this man to me ; or, what may be better, I will go to him, for 
 we have already spent too much time." 
 
 " Time ! " replied the old woman, — " is time an object with your 
 honour ? I am sure I can hardly get so much for mine as will 
 hold soul and body together. You are not far from the old man's 
 house," S 3 
 
26o CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 She led the way accordingly, blundering over heaps of rubbish, 
 and encountering all the embarrassments of a ruinous street, in 
 lighting the way to Sir Aymer, who, giving his horse to one of his 
 attendants, and desiring Fabian to be ready at a call, scrambled 
 after as well as the slowness of his guide would permit. 
 
 Both were soon involved in the remains of the old church, much 
 dilapidated as it had been by wanton damage done to it by the sol- 
 diery, and so much impeded by rubbish, that the knight marvelled 
 how the old woman could find the way. She kept talking all the 
 while as she stumbled onward. Sometimes she called out in a 
 screeching tone, " Powheid ! Lazarus Powheid ! "—and then mut- 
 tered — " Ay, ay, the old man will be busy with some of his duties, 
 as he calls them ; I wonder he fashes wi' them in these times. But 
 never mind, I warrant they will last for his day, and for mine ; and 
 the times. Lord help us ! for all that I can see, are well enough for 
 those that are to live in them." 
 
 " Are you sure, good woman," replied the knight, " that there is 
 any inhabitant in these ruins? For my part, I should rather 
 suppose that you are taking me to the charnel-house of the dead." 
 
 " Maybe you are right," said the old woman, with a ghastly 
 laugh ; " carles and carlines agree weel with funeral vaults and 
 charnel-houses, and when an auld bedral dwells near the dead, he is 
 living, ye ken, among his customers — Halloo ! Powheid ! Lazarus 
 Powheid! there is a gentleman would speak with you;" and she 
 added, with some sort of emphasis, ," an English noble gentleman 
 — one of the honourable garrison." 
 
 An old man's step was now heard advancing, so slowly that the 
 glimmering light which he held in his hand was visible on the 
 ruined walls of the vault some time before it showed the person who 
 bore it. 
 
 The shadow of the old man was also projected upon the illumi- 
 nated wall ere his person came in view ; his dress was in consider- 
 able confusion, owing to his having been roused from his bed ; and 
 since artificial light was forbidden by the regulations of the garri- 
 son, the natives of Douglas Vale spent in sleep the time that they 
 could not very well get rid of by any other means. The sexton 
 was a tall thin man, emaciated by years and by privations ; his 
 body was bent habitually by his occupation of grave-digging, and 
 his eye naturally inclined downwards to the scene of his labours. 
 His hand sustained the cruise or little lamp, which he held so as to 
 throw light upon his visitant ; at the same time it displayed to the 
 young knight the features of the person with whom he was now 
 confronted, which, though neither handsome nor pleasing, were 
 strongly marked, sagacious, and venerable, indicating, at the same 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS, 261 
 
 time, a certain air of dignity, which age, even mere poverty, may 
 be found occasionally to bestow, as conferring that last melancholy 
 species of independence proper to those whose situation can hardly, 
 by any imaginable means, be rendered much worse than years and 
 fortune have already made it. The habit of a lay brother added 
 somewhat of religious importance to his appearance. 
 
 " What would you with me, young man ? " said the sexton. 
 "Your youthful features, and your gay dress, bespeak one who 
 stands in need of my ministry neither for himself nor for others." 
 
 " I am, indeed," replied the knight, " a living man, and therefore 
 need not either shovel or pick-axe for my own behoof. I am not, 
 as you see, attired in mourning, and therefore need not your 
 offices in behalf of any friend ; I would only ask you a few 
 questions." 
 
 "What you would have done must needs be done, you being at 
 present one of our rulers, and, as I think, a man of authority," 
 replied the sexton ; " follow me this way into my poor habitation ; 
 I have had a better in my day ; and yet. Heaven knows, it is good 
 enough for me, when many men of much greater consequence must 
 perforce content themselves with worse." 
 
 He opened a lowly door, which was fitted, though irregularly, to 
 serve as the entrance of a vaulted apartment, where it appeared 
 that the old man held, apart from the living world, his wretched 
 and solitary dwelling.* The floor, composed of paving stones, laid 
 together with some accuracy, and here and there inscribed with 
 letters and hieroglyphics, as if they had once upon a time served to 
 distinguish sepulchres, was indifferently well swept, and a fire at 
 the upper end directed its smoke into a hole which served for a 
 chimney. The spade and pick-axe (with other tools,) which the 
 chamberlain of mortality makes use of, lay scattered about the 
 apartment, and, with a rude stool or two, and a table, where some 
 inexperienced hand had unquestionably supplied the labours of the 
 joiner, were nearly the only furniture, if we include the old man's 
 bed of straw, lying in a corner, and discomposed, as if he had been 
 just raised from it. At the lower end of the apartment, the wall 
 was almost entirely covered by a; large escutcheon, such as is 
 usually hung over the graves of men of very high rank, having the 
 appropriate quarters, to the number of sixteen, each properly bla- 
 zoned and distinct, placed as ornaments around the principal 
 armorial coat itself. 
 
 " Let us sit," said the old man ; " the posture will better enable 
 my failing ears to apprehend your meaning, and the asthma will 
 deal with me more mercifully in permitting me to make you under- 
 stand mine," 
 
262 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 A peal of short asthmatic coughs attested the violence of the 
 disorder which he had last named, and the young knight followed 
 his host's example, in sitting down on one of the rickety stools by 
 the side of the fire. The old man brought from one corner of the 
 apartment an apron, which he occasionally wore, full of broken 
 boards in irregular pieces, some of which were covered with 
 black cloth, or driven full of nails, black, as it might happen, or 
 gilded. 
 
 " You will find this fresh fuel necessary," said the old man, " to 
 keep some degree of heat within this waste apartment ; nor are the 
 vapours of mortality, with which this vault is apt to be filled, if the 
 fire is permitted to become extinct, indifferent to the lungs of the 
 dainty and the healthy, like your worship, though to me they are 
 become habitual. The wood will catch fire, although it is some 
 time ere the damps of the grave are overcome by the drier air and 
 the warmth of the chimney." 
 
 Accordingly, the relics of mortality with which the old man had 
 heaped his fireplace, began by degrees to send forth a thick 
 unctuous vapour, which at length leaped to light, and blazing up 
 the aperture, gave a degree of liveliness to the gloomy scene. The 
 blazonry of the huge escutcheon met and returned the rays with as 
 brilliant a reflection as that lugubrious object was capable of, and 
 the whole apartment looked with a fantastic gaiety, strangely 
 mingled with the gloomy ideas which its ornaments were calcu- 
 lated to impress upon the imagination. 
 
 " You are astonished," said the old man, " and perhaps. Sir 
 Knight, you have never before seen these relics of the dead applied 
 to the purpose of rendering the living, in some degree, more com- 
 fortable than their condition would otherwise admit of." 
 
 " Comfortable ! " returned the Knight of Valence, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " I should be sorry, old man, to know that I had a dog 
 that was as indifferently quartered as thou art, whose grey hairs 
 have certainly seen better days." 
 
 " It may be," answered the sexton, "and it may be otherwise ; 
 but it was not, I presume, concerning my own history that your 
 worship seemed disposed to ask me some questions ; and I would 
 venture to enquire, therefore, to whom they have relation ? " 
 
 " I will speak plainly to you," replied Sir Aymer, " and you will 
 at once acknowledge the necessity of giving a short and distinct 
 reply. I have even now met in the streets of this village a person 
 only shown to me by a single flash of light, who had the audacity 
 to display the armorial insignia and utter the war-cry of the 
 Douglasses ; nay, if I could trust a transient glance, this daring 
 cavalier had the features and the dark complexion proper to the 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 263 
 
 Douglas. I am referred to thee as to one who possesses means of 
 explaining this extraordinary circumstance, which, as an English- 
 knight, and one holding a charge under King Edward, I am parti- 
 cularly called upon to make enquiry into." 
 
 " Let me make a distinction," said the old man. " The Dou- 
 glasses of former generations are my near neighbours, and, accord- 
 ing to my superstitious townsmen, my acquaintances and visitors ; 
 I can take it upon my conscience to be answerable for their good 
 behaviour, and to become bound that none of the old barons, to 
 whom the roots of that mighty tree may, it is said, be traced, will 
 again disturb with their war-cry the towns or villages of their native 
 country — not one will parade in moonshine the black armour which 
 has long rusted upon thetr tombs. 
 
 ' The knights are dust, 
 And their good swords are rust ; 
 Their souls are with the saints, we trust.'* 
 
 Look around. Sir Knight, you have above and around you the men 
 of whom we speak. Beneath us, in a little aisle, (which hath not 
 been opened since these thin grey locks were thick and brown,) 
 there lies the first man whom I can name as memorable among 
 those of this mighty line. It is he whom the Thane of Athol 
 pointed out to the King of Scotland as Sholto Dhuglass, or the 
 dark iron-coloured man, whose exertions had gained the battle for 
 his native prince ; and who, according to this legend, bequeathed 
 his name to our dale and town, though others say that the race 
 assumed the name of Douglas from the stream so called in unre- 
 corded times, before they had their fastness on its banks. Others, 
 his descendants, called Eachain, or Hector the first, and Orodh, or 
 Hugh, William, the first of that name, and Gilmour, the theme of 
 many a minstrel song, commemorating achievements done under 
 the oriflamme of Charles the Great, Emperor of France, have all 
 consigned themselves to their last sleep, nor has their memory been 
 sufficiently preserved from the waste of time. Something we know 
 concerning their great deeds, their great power, and, alas ! their 
 great crimes. Something we also know of a Lord of Douglas who 
 sat in a parliament at Forfar, held by King Malcolm the First, and 
 we are aware that from his attachment to hunting the wild hart, he 
 built himself a tower called Blackhouse, in the forest of Ettrick, 
 which perhaps still exists." 
 
 " I claim your forgiveness, old man," said the knight, "but I have 
 no time at present to bestow upon the recitation of the pedigree of 
 the House of Douglas. A less matter would hold a well-breathed 
 
264 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 minstrel in subject for recitation for a calendar month, Sundays 
 and holydays included." 
 
 " What other information can you expect from me," said the 
 sexton, " than that respecting those heroes, some of whom it has 
 been my lot to consign to that eternal rest, which will for ever 
 divide the dead from the duties of this world ? I have told you 
 where the race sleep, down to the reign of the royal Malcolm. I 
 can tell you also of another vault, in which lie Sir John of Douglas- 
 burn, with his son Lord Archibald, and a third William, known by 
 an indenture with Lord Abernethy. Lastly, I can tell you of him 
 to whom that escutcheon, with its appurtenances of splendour and 
 dignity, justly belong. Do you envy that nobleman, whom, if death 
 were in the sound, I would not hesitate to term my honourable 
 patron ? and have you any design of dishonouring his remains ? 
 It will be a poor victory ! nor does it become a knight and noble- 
 man to come in person to enjoy such a triumph over the dead, 
 against whom, when he lived, there were few knights dared spur 
 their horses. He fought in defence of his country, but he had not 
 the good fortune of most of his ancestors, to die on the field of 
 battle. Captivity, sickness, and regret for the misfortunes of his 
 native land, brought his head to the grave in his prison-house, in 
 the land of the stranger." 
 
 The old man's voice here became interrupted by emotion, and 
 the English knight found it difficult to continue his examination in 
 the stern fashion which his duty required. 
 
 " Old man," he said, " I do not require from thee this detail, 
 which must be useless to me, as well as painful to thyself. Thou 
 dost but thy duty in rendering justice to thy ancient lord ; but thou 
 hast not yet explained to me why I have met in this town, this very 
 night, and not half an hour since, a person in the arms, and bearing 
 the complexion, of one of the Black Douglasses, who cried his war- 
 cry as if in contempt of his conquerors." 
 
 " Surely," replied the sexton, " it is not my business to explain 
 such a fancy, otherwise than by supposing that the natural fears of 
 the Southron will raise the spectre of a Douglas at any time, when 
 he is within sight of the sepulchre. Methinks, in such a night as 
 this, the fairest cavalier would wear the complexion of this swarthy 
 race ; nor can I hold it wonderful that the war-cry which was once 
 in the throats of so many thousands in this country, should issue 
 upon occasion from the mouth of a single champion." 
 
 " You are bold, old man," returned the English knight ; " do you 
 consider that your life is in my power, and that it may, in certain 
 cases, be my duty to inflict death with that degree of pain at which 
 humanity shudders ? " 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 265 
 
 The old man rose up slowly in the light of the blazing fire, dis- 
 playing his emaciated features, which resembled those ascribed by 
 artists to Saint Anthony of the desert ; and pointing to the feeble 
 lamp, which he placed upon the coarse table, thus addressed his 
 interrogator, with an appearance of perfect firmness, and something 
 even resembling dignity : — 
 
 " Young knight of England, you see that utensil constructed for 
 the purpose of dispensing light amidst these fatal vaults, — it is as 
 frail as any thing can well be, whose flame is supplied by living 
 element, contained in a frame composed of iron. It is doubtless 
 in your power entirely to end its service, by destroying the frame, 
 or extinguishing the light. Threaten it with such annihilation, Sir 
 Knight, and see whether your menace will impress any sense of 
 fear either on the element or the iron. Know that you have no 
 more power over the frail mortal whom you threaten with similar 
 annihilation. You may tear from my body the skin in which it is 
 now swathed, but although my nerves might glow with agony 
 during the inhuman operation, it would produce no more impres- 
 sion on me than flaying on the stag which an arrow has previously 
 pierced through the heart. My age sets me beyond your cruelty : 
 if you think otherwise, call your agents, and commence your 
 operations ; neither threats nor inflictions will enable you to extort 
 from me any thing that I am not ready to tell you of my own 
 accord." 
 
 " You trifle with me, old man,'' said De Valence ; " you talk 
 as if you possessed some secret respecting the motions of these 
 Douglasses, who are to you as gods, yet you communicate no 
 intelligence to me whatever." 
 
 " You may soon know," replied the old man, " all that a poor 
 sexton has to communicate ; and it will not increase your knowledge 
 respecting the living, though it may throw some light upon my 
 proper domains, which are those of the dead. The spirits of the 
 deceased Douglasses do not rest in their graves during the dis- 
 honour of their monuments, and the downfall of their house. That, 
 upon death, the greater part of any line are consigned to the 
 regions of eternal bliss, or of never-ending misery, religion will not 
 suffer us to believe, and amidst a race who had so great a share of 
 worldly triumph and prosperity, we must suppose there have existed 
 many who have been justly subjected to the doom of an inter- 
 mediate space of punishment. You have destroyed the temples 
 which were built by their posterity to propitiate Heaven for the 
 welfare of their souls ; you have silenced the prayers and stopt the 
 choirs, by the mediation of which the piety of children had sought 
 to appease the wrath of H?av§n in b§half pf their ancestors, sub- 
 
266 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 jected to expiatory fires. Can you wonder that the tormented 
 spirits, thus deprived of the relief which had been proposed to them, 
 should not, according to the common phrase, rest in their graves ? 
 Can you wonder they should show themselves like discontented 
 loiterers near to the places which, but for the manner in which you 
 have prosecuted your remorseless warfare, might have ere now 
 afforded them rest ? Or do you marvel that these fleshless warriors 
 should interrupt your marches, and do what else their airy nature 
 may permit to disturb your councils, and meet as far as they may 
 the hostilities which you make it your boast to carry on, as well 
 against those who are deceased, as against any who may yet 
 survive your cruelty? " 
 
 " Old man," replied Aymer de Valence, " you cannot expect that 
 I am to take for answer a story like this, being a fiction too gross 
 to charm to sleep a schoolboy tormented with the toothache ; never- 
 theless, I thank God that thy doom does not remain in my hands. 
 My squire and two archers shall carry thee captive to the worship- 
 ful Sir John de Walton, Governor of the Castle and Valley, that he 
 may deal with thee as seems meet ; nor is he a person to believe in 
 your apparitions and ghosts from purgatory. — What ho ! Fabian ! 
 Come hither, and bring with thee two archers of the guard." 
 
 Fabian accordingly, who had waited at the entrance of the 
 ruined building, now found his way, by the light of the old sexton's 
 lamp, and the sound of his master's voice, into the singular apart- 
 ment of the old man, the strange decorations of which struck the 
 youth with great surprise, and some horror. 
 
 " Take the two archers with thee, Fabian,'' said the Knight of 
 Valence, " and, with their assistance, convey this old man, on 
 horseback, or in a litter, to the presence of the worshipful Sir John 
 de Walton. Tell him what we have seen, which thou didst witness 
 as well as I ; and tell him that this old sexton, whom I send to be 
 examined by his superior wisdom, seems to know more than he is 
 willing to disclose respecting our ghostly cavalier, though he will 
 give us no account of him, except intimating that he is a spirit of 
 the old Douglasses from purgatory, to which Sir John de Walton 
 will give what faith he pleases . You may say, that, for my part, 
 my belief is, either that the sexton is crazed by age, want, and en- 
 thusiasm, or that he is connected with some plot which the country 
 people are hatching. You may also say that I shall not use much 
 ceremony with the youth under the care of the Abbot of Saint 
 Bride ; there is something suspicious in all the occurrences that are 
 now passing around Us." 
 
 Fabian promised obedience ; and the knight, pulling him aside, 
 gave him an additional caution, to behave with attention in this 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS, 267 
 
 business, seeing he must recollect that neither the judgment of 
 himself, nor that of his master, were apparently held in very much 
 esteem by the governor ; and that it would ill become them to make 
 any mistake in a matter where the safety of the Castle was perhaps 
 concerned. 
 
 " Fear me not, worshipful sir," replied the youth ; " I am return- 
 ing to pure air in the first place, and a good fire in the second, both 
 acceptable exchanges for this dungeon of sufibcating vapours and 
 execrable smells. You may trust to my making no delay ; a very 
 short time will carry me back to Castle Douglas, even moving with 
 suitable attention to this old man's bones." 
 
 "Use him humanely," answered the knight. "And thou, old 
 man, if thou art insensible to threats of personal danger in this 
 matter, remember, that if thou art found paltering with us, thy 
 punishment will perhaps be more severe than any we can inflict 
 upon thy person." 
 
 " Can you administer the torture to the soul ? " said the sexton. 
 
 "As to thee," answered the knight, "we have that power; — we 
 will dissolve every monastery or religious establishment held for the 
 souls of these Douglasses, and will only allow the religious people 
 to hold their residence there, upon condition of their praying for the 
 soul of King Edward the First of glorious memory, the malleus 
 Scotortim; and if the Douglasses are deprived of the ghostly 
 benefit of the prayers and services of such shrines, they may term 
 thy obstinacy the cause." 
 
 " Such a species of vengeance," answered the old man, in the 
 same bold unsubdued tone which he had hitherto used, " were more 
 worthy of the infernal fiends than of Christian men." 
 
 The squire raised his hand. The knight interposed : " Forbear 
 him," he said, " Fabian, he is very old, and perhaps insane. — And 
 you, sexton, remember that the vengeance threatened is lawfully 
 directed towards a family which have been the obstinate supporters 
 of the excommunicated rebel, who murdered the Red Comyn at the 
 High Church in Dumfries." 
 
 So saying, Aymer strode cut of the ruins, picking his way with 
 some difficulty— took his horse, which he found at the entrance — 
 repeated a caution to Fabian, to conduct himself with prudence — ■ 
 and, passing on to the south-western gate, gave the strongest in- 
 junctions concerning the necessity of keeping a vigilant watch, both 
 by patrols and by sentinels, intimating at the same time, that it 
 must have been neglected during the preceding part of the evening. 
 The men murmured an apology, the confusion of which seemed to 
 express that there had existed some occasion for the reprimand. 
 
 Sir Aymer then proceeded on his journey to Hazelside, his train 
 
268 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 diminished by the absence of Fabian and his assistants. After a 
 hasty, but not a short journey, the knight ahghted at Thomas 
 Dickson's, where he found the detachment from Ayr had arrived 
 before him, and were snugly housed for the night. He sent one of 
 the archers to announce his approach to the Abbot of Saint Bride 
 and his young guest, intimating at the same time, that the archer 
 must keep sight of the latter until he himself arrived at the chapel, 
 which would be instantly. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When the nightengale singes the wodes waxen grene, 
 Lef, and gras, and blosme, springeth in 'April I wene. 
 And love is to myne herte gone with one speare so kene. 
 Night and day my blood hyt drynkes, mine herte deth me tene. 
 MSS. Hail. Quoted by Warton. 
 
 Sir Aymer de Valence had no sooner followed his archer to 
 the convent of Saint Bride, than he summoned the abbot to his 
 presence, who came with the air of a man who loves his ease, and 
 who is suddenly called from the couch where he has consigned him- 
 self to a comfortable repose, at the summons of one whom he does 
 not think it safe to disolaey, and to whom he would not disguise his 
 sense of peevishness, if he durst. 
 
 " It is a late ride," he said, " which has brought your worthy 
 honour hither from the castle. May I be informed of the cause, 
 after the arrangement so recently gone into with the governor ? " 
 
 " It is my hope," replied the knight, " that you. Father Abbot, 
 are not already conscious of it ; suspicions are afloat, and I myself 
 have this night seen something to confirm them, that some of the 
 obstinate rebels of this country are again setting afoot dangerous 
 practices, to the peril of the garrison ; and I come, father, to see 
 whether, in requital of many favours received from the English 
 monarch, you, will not merit his bounty and protection, by con- 
 tributing to the discovery of the designs of his enemies." 
 
 " Assuredly so," answered Father Jerome, in an agitated voice. 
 " Most unquestionably my information should stand at your com- 
 mand ; that is, if I knew anything the communication of which 
 could be of advantage to you." 
 
 " Father Abbot," replied the English knight, " although it is rash 
 to make myself responsible for a North-countryman in these times, 
 yet I own I do consider you as one who hjis ever been faithfully 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 269 
 
 subject to the King of England, and I willingly hope that you will 
 stiU continue so." 
 
 "And a fine encouragement I have ! " said the abbot ; "to be 
 called out of my bed at midnight, in this raw weather, to undergo 
 the examination of a knight, who is the youngest, perhaps, of his 
 own honourable rank, and who will not tell me the subject of the 
 interrogatories, but detains me on this cold pavement, till, accord- 
 ing to the opinion of Celsus, the podagra which lurks in my feet 
 may be driven into my stomach, and then good-night to abbacy 
 and examinations from henceforward." 
 
 " Good father," said the young man, " the spirit of the times must 
 teach thee patience ; recoUect that I can feel no pleasure in this 
 duty, and that if an insurrection should take place, the rebels, who 
 are sufficiently displeased with thee for acknowledging the English 
 monarch, would hang thee from thine own steeple to feed the crows ; 
 or that, if thou hast secured thy peace by some private compact 
 with the insurgents, the English governor, who will sooner or later 
 gain the advantage, will not fail to treat thee as a rebel to his 
 sovereign." 
 
 " It may appear to you, my noble son,'' answered the abbot, ob- 
 viously discomposed, " that I am hung up, in this case, on the horns 
 of the dilemma which you have stated ; nevertheless, I protest to 
 you, that if any one accuses me of conspiring with the rebels 
 against the King of England, I am ready, provided you give me 
 time to swallow a potion recommended by Celsus in my perilous 
 case, to answer with the most perfect sincerity every question which 
 thou canst put to me upon that subject." So saying, he called 
 upon a monk who had attended at his levie, and giving him a large 
 key, whispered something in his ear. The cup which the monk 
 brought, was of such capacity as proved Celsus's draught required 
 to be administered in considerable quantity, and a strong smell 
 which it spread through the apartment, accredited the knight's 
 suspicion that the medicine chiefly consisted of what were then 
 termed distilled waters, a preparation known in the monasteries for 
 sometime before that comfortable secret had reached the laity in 
 general. The abbot, neither overawed by the strength nor by the 
 quantity of the potion, took it off with what he himself would have 
 called a feeling of solace and pleasance, and his voice became much 
 more composed ; he signified himself as comforted extraordinarily 
 by the medicine, and willing to proceed to answer any questions 
 which could be put to him by his gallant young friend. 
 
 " At present," said the knight, " you are aware, father, that 
 strangers travelling through this country, must be the first objects 
 of our suspicions and enquiries. What is, for example, your own 
 
270 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 opinion of the youth termed Augustine, the son, or calling himself 
 so, of a person called Bertram the minstrel, who has resided for 
 some days in your convent ? " 
 
 The abbot heard the question with eyes expressive of surprise at 
 the quarter from which it came. 
 
 " Assuredly," said he, " I think of him as a youth who, from any 
 thing I have seen, is of that excellent disposition, both with respect 
 to loyalty and religion, which I should have expected, were I to 
 judge from the estimable person who committed him to my 
 care." 
 
 With this the abbot bowed to the knight, as if he had conceived 
 that this repartee gave him a silencing advantage in any question 
 which could follow upon that subject ; and he was probably, there- 
 fore, surprised when Sir Aymer replied as follows : — 
 
 " It is very true. Father Abbot, that I myself did recommend 
 this stripling to you as a youth of harmless disposition, and with 
 respect to whom it would be unnecessary to exercise the strict 
 vigilance extended to others in similar circumstances ; but the 
 evidence which seemed to me to vouch for this young man's inno- 
 cence, has not appeared so satisfactory to my superior and com- 
 mander ; and it is by his orders that I now make farther enquiries 
 of you. You must think they are of consequence, since we again 
 trouble you, and at so unwonted an hour." 
 
 " I can only protest by my order, and by the veil of Saint Bride," 
 replied the abbot, the spirit of Celsus appearing to fail his pupil, 
 " that whatever evil may be in this matter, is totally unknown to 
 me — nor could it be extorted from me by racks or implements of 
 torture. Whatever signs of disloyalty may have been evinced by 
 this young man, I have witnessed none of them, although I have 
 been strictly attentive to his behaviour." 
 
 " In what respect ?" said the knight—" and what is the result of 
 your observation?" 
 
 " My answer," said the abbot of Saint Bride, " shall be sincere 
 and downright. The youth condescended upon payment of a cer- 
 tain number of gold crowns, not by any means to repay the hos- 
 pitality of the church of Saint Bride, but merely" 
 
 " Nay, father," interrupted the knight, " you may cut that short, 
 since the governor and I well understand the terms upon which the 
 monks of Saint Bride exercise their hospitality. In what manner, 
 it is more necessary to ask, was it received by this boy ? " 
 
 "With the utmost gentleness and moderation, noble sir," an- 
 swered the abbot ; " indeed, it appeared to me, at first, that he 
 might be a troublesome guest, since the amount of his benevolence 
 to the convent was such as to encourage, and, in some degree, tQ 
 
CASTLE, DANGEROUS. aji 
 
 authorize, his demanding accommodation of a kind superior to 
 what we had to bestow." 
 
 " In which case," said Sir Aymer, " you would have had the 
 discomfort of returning some part of the money you had re- 
 ceived ? " 
 
 " That," rephed the abbot, " would have been a mode of settle- 
 ment contrary to our vows. What is paid to the treasury of Saint 
 Bridget cannot, agreeably to our rule, be on any account restored. 
 But, noble knight, there was no occasion for this ; a crust of white 
 bread and a draught of milk were diet sufficient to nourish this 
 poor youth for a day, and it was my own anxiety for his health that 
 dictated the furnishing of his cell with a softer bed and coverlet 
 than are quite consistent with the rules of our order." 
 
 " Now hearken to what I say, Sir Abbot, and answer me truly," 
 said the Knight of Valence—" What communication has this youth 
 held with the inmates of your convent, or with those beyond your 
 house ? Search your memory concerning this, and let me have 
 a distinct answer, for your guest's safety and your own depend 
 upon it." 
 
 " As I am a Christian man," said the abbot, " I have observed 
 nothing which could give ground for your worship's suspicions. 
 The boy Augustine, unlike those whom I have observed who have 
 been educated in the world, showed a marked preference to the 
 company of such sisters as the house of Saint Bride contains, 
 rather than for that of the monks, my brethren, although there are 
 among them pleasant and conversible men." 
 
 " Scandal," said the young knight, " might find a reason for that 
 preference." 
 
 " Not in the case of the sisters of Saint Bridget," said the abbot, 
 " most of whom have been either sorely misused by time, or their 
 comeliness destroyed by some mishap previously to their being 
 received into the seclusion of the house." 
 
 This observation the good father made with some internal move- 
 ment of mirth, which was apparently excited at the idea of the 
 sisterhood of Saint Bridget becoming attractive to any one by dint 
 of their personal beauty, in which, as it happened, they were all 
 notably, and almost ludicrously, deficient. The English knight, to 
 whom the sisterhood were well known, felt also inclined to smile at 
 this conversation. 
 
 " I acquit," he said, " the pious sisterhood of charming, otherwise 
 than by their kind wishes, and attention to the wants of the suffering 
 stranger." 
 
 "Sister Beatrice," continued the father, resuming his gravity, 
 "is indeed blessed with a winning gift of making comfits and 
 
272 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 syllabubs ; but, on minute enquiry, I do not find that the youth 
 has tasted any of them. Neither is sister Ursula so hard-favoured 
 by nature, as from the effects of an accident ; but your honour 
 knows that when a woman is ugly, the men do not trouble them- 
 selves about the cause of her hard favour. I will go, with your 
 leave, and see in what state the youth now is, and summon him 
 before you." 
 
 " I request you to do so, father, for the affair is instant : and I 
 earnestly advise you to watch, in the closest manner, this Augus- 
 tine's behaviour ; you cannot be too particular. I will wait your 
 return, and either carry the boy to the castle, or leave him here, as 
 circumstances may seem to require." 
 
 The abbot bowed, promised his utmost exertions, and hobbled 
 out of the room to wait on the youth Augustine in his cell, anxious 
 to favour, if possible, the wishes of De Valence, whom he looked 
 upon as rendered by circumstances his military patron. 
 
 He remained long absent, and Sir Aymer began to be of opinion 
 that the delay was suspicious, when the abbot returned with per- 
 plexity and discomposure in his countenance. 
 
 " I crave your pardon for keeping your worship waiting," said 
 Jerome, with much anxiety ; " but I have myself been detained and 
 vexed by unnecessary formalities and scruples on the part of this 
 peevish boy. In the first place, hearing my foot approaching his 
 bedroom, my youth, instead of undoing the door, which would 
 have been but proper respect to my place, on the contrary draws a 
 strong bolt on the inside ; and this fastening, forsooth, has been 
 placed on his chamber by Ursula's command, that his slumbers 
 might be suitably respected. I intimated to him as I best could, 
 that he must attend you without delay, and prepare to accompany 
 you to the Castle of Douglas ; but he would not answer a single 
 word, save recommending to me patience, to which I was fain to 
 have recourse, as well as your archer, whom I found standing 
 sentinel before the door of the cell, and contenting himself with 
 the assurance of the sisters that there was no other passage by 
 which Augustine could make his escape. At length the door opens, 
 and my young master presents himself fully arrayed for his journey. 
 The truth is, I think some fresh attack of his malady has affected 
 the youth ; he may perhaps be disturbed with some touch of hypo- 
 chondria, or blaclc choler, a species of dotage of the mind, which is 
 sometimes found concomitant with and symptomatic of this dis- 
 order ; but he is at present composed, and if your worship chooses 
 to see him, he is at your command." 
 
 " Call him hither," said the knight. And a considerable space of 
 time again elapsed ere the eloquence of the abbot, half chiding and 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 273 
 
 half soothing, prevailed on the lady, in her adopted character, to 
 approach the parlour, in which at last she made her appearance, 
 with a countenance on which the marks of tears might still be 
 discovered, and a pettish sullenness, like that of a boy, or, with 
 reverence, that of a girl, who is determined upon taking her own 
 way in any matter, and equally resolved to give no reason for her 
 doing so. Her hurried levde had not prevented her attending 
 closely to all the mufflings and disguisings by which her pilgrim's 
 dress was arranged, so as to alter her appearance, and effectually 
 disguise her sex. But as civility prevented her wearing her large 
 slouched hat, she necessarily exposed her countenance more than 
 in the open air ; and though the knight beheld a most lovely set of 
 features, yet they were not such as were inconsistent with the 
 character she had adopted, and which she had resolved upon 
 maintaining to the last. She had, accordingly, mustered up a 
 degree of courage which was not natural to her, and which she 
 perhaps supported by hopes which her situation hardly admitted. 
 So soon as she found herself in the same apartment with De Valence, 
 she assumed a style of manners, bolder and more determined than 
 she had hitherto displayed. 
 
 " Your worship," she said, addressing him even before he spoke, 
 " is a knight of England, and possessed, doubtless, of the virtues 
 which become that noble station. I am an unfortunate lad, obliged, 
 by reasons which I am under the necessity of keeping secret, to 
 travel in a dangerous country, where I am suspected, without any 
 just cause, of becoming accessory to plots and conspiracies which 
 are contrary to my own interest, and which my very soul abhors ; 
 and which I might safely abjure, by imprecating upon myself all 
 the curses of our religion and renouncing all its promises, if I were 
 accessory to such designs, in thought, word, or deed. Nevertheless, 
 you, who will not believe my solemn protestations, are about to 
 proceed against me as a guilty person, and in so doing I must 
 warn you. Sir Knight, that you will commit a great and cruel 
 injustice." 
 
 " I shall endeavour to avoid that," said the knight, " by referring 
 the duty to Sir John de Walton, the governor, who will decide what 
 is to be done ; in this case, my only duty will be to place you in 
 his hands at Douglas Castle." 
 
 " Must you do this ? " said Augustine. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the knight, "or be answerable for neglecting 
 my duty." 
 
 " But if 1 become bound to answer your loss with a large sum of 
 money, a large tract of land" 
 
 " No treasure, no land, — supposing such at your disposal," 
 
 T 
 
374 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 answered the knight, " can atone for disgrace ; and besides, boy, 
 how should I trust to your warrant, were my avarice such as would 
 induce me to listen to such proposals ? " 
 
 " I must then prepare to attend you instantly to the Castle of 
 Douglas and the presence of Sir John de Walton ? " replied 
 Augustine. 
 
 " Young man," answered De Valence, " there is no remedy, 
 since, if you delay me longer, I must carry you thither by force." 
 " What will be the consequence to my father .'"' said the youth. 
 " That," replied the knight, " will depend exactly on the nature 
 of your confession and his ; something you both have to say, as is 
 evident from the terms of the letter Sir John de Walton conveyed 
 to you ; and I assure you, you were better to speak it out at once 
 than to risk the consequences of more delay. I can admit of no 
 more trifling ; and, believe me, that your fate will be entirely ruled 
 by your own frankness and candour." 
 
 " I must prepare, then, to travel at your command," said the 
 youth. " But this cruel disease still hangs around me, and Abbot 
 Jerome, whose leechcraft is famous, will himself assure you that I 
 cannot travel without danger of my life ; and that while I was 
 residing in this convent, I declined every opportunity of exercise 
 which was offered me by the kindness of the garrison at Hazelside, 
 lest I might by mishap bring the contagion among your men." 
 
 " The youth says right," said the Abbot ; " the archers and men- 
 at-arms have more than once sent to invite this lad to join in some 
 of their military games, or to amuse them, perhaps, with some of 
 his minstrelsy ; but he has uniformly declined doing so ; and, 
 according to my belief, it is the effects of this disorder which have 
 prevented his accepting an indulgence so natural to his age, and in 
 so dull a place as the convent of Saint Bride must needs seem to a 
 youth bred up in the world." 
 
 '■' Do you then hold, reverend father," said Sir Aymer, " that 
 there is real danger in carrying this youth to the castle to-night, as 
 I proposed ? " 
 
 " I conceive such danger," replied the Abbot, " to exist, not only 
 as it may occasion the relapse of the poor youth himself, but as 
 particularly likely, no preparations having been made, to introduce 
 the infection among your honourable garrison ; for it is in these 
 relapses, more than in the first violence of the malady, that it has 
 been found most contagious." 
 
 " Then," said the knight, " you must be content, my friend, to 
 give a share of your room to an archer, by way of sentinel." 
 
 " I cannot object," said Augustine, " provided my unfortunate 
 vicinity does not endanger the health of the poor soldier." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 275 
 
 " He will be as ready to do his duty," said the Abbot, " without 
 the door of the apartment as within it ; and if the youth should 
 sleep soundly, which the presence of a guard in his chamber might 
 prevent, he is the more likely to answer your purpose on the 
 morrow." 
 
 " Let it be so," said Sir Aymer ; " so you are sure that you do 
 not minister any facility of escape.'' 
 
 " The apartment," said the monk, " hath no other entrance than 
 that which is guarded by the archer, but to content ou, I shall 
 secure the door in your presence." 
 
 " So be it, then," said the knight of Valence ; " this done, I 
 myself will lie down without doffing my mail-shirt, and snatch a 
 sleep till the ruddy dawn calls me again to duty, when you, Augus- 
 tine, will hold yourself ready to attend me to our Castle of 
 Douglas." 
 
 The bells of the convent summoned the inhabitants and inmates 
 of Saint Bride to morning prayers at the first peep of day. When 
 this duty was over, the knight demanded his prisoner. The abbot 
 marshalled him to the door of Augustine's chamber. The sentinel 
 who was stationed there, armed with a brown-bill, or species of 
 partisan, reported that he had heard no motion in the apartment 
 during the whole night. The abbot tapped at the door, but re- 
 ceived no answer. He knocked again louder, but the silence was 
 unbroken from within. 
 
 "What means this ?" said the reverend ruler of the convent of 
 Saint Bride ; " my young patient has certainly fallen into a syncope 
 or swoon ! " 
 
 " I wish. Father Abbot," said the knight, " that he may not have 
 made his escape instead, an accident which both you and I may be 
 required to answer, since, according to our strict duty, 'we ought 
 to have kept sight of him, and detained him in close custody until 
 daybreak." 
 
 " I trust your worship," said the abbot, " only anticipates a mis- 
 fortune which I cannot think possible." 
 
 " We shall speedily see," said the knight ; and raising his voice, 
 he called aloud, so as to be heard within, " Bring crow-bars and 
 levers, and burst me that door into splinters without an instant's 
 delay ! " 
 
 The loudness of his voice, and the stern tone in which he spoke, 
 soon brought around him the brethren of the house, and two or 
 three soldiers of his own party, who were already busy in capa- 
 risoning their horses. The displeasure of the young knight was 
 manifested by his flushed features, and the abrupt manner in which 
 he again repeated his commands for breaking open the door. This 
 
 T 2 
 
276 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 was speedily performed, though it required the application of con- 
 siderable strength, and as the shattered remains fell crashing into 
 the apartment, De Valence sprung, and the abbot hobbled, into the 
 cell of the prisoner, which, to the fulfdment of their worst suspicions, 
 they found empty. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Where is he ? Has the deep earth swallow'd him ? 
 
 Or hath he melted like some airy phantom 
 
 That shuns the approach of morn and the young sun ? 
 
 Or hath he wrapt him in Cimmerian darkness,' 
 
 And pass'd beyond the circuit of the sight 
 
 With things of the night's shadows ? 
 
 Anony7nous. 
 
 The disappearance of the youth, whose disguise and whose fate 
 have, we hope, inclined our readers to take some interest in him, 
 will require some explanation ere we proceed with the other 
 personages of the story, and we shall set about giving it accordingly. 
 
 When Augustine was consigned to his cell for the second time 
 on the preceding evening, both the monk and the young Knight of 
 Valence had seen the key turned upon him, and had heard him 
 secure the door in the inside with the bolt which had been put on at 
 his request by sister Ursula, in whose affections the youth of 
 Augustine, his extreme handsomeness, and, above all, his indispo- 
 sition of body and his melancholy of mind, had gained him 
 considerable interest. 
 
 So soon, accordingly, as Augustine re-entered his apartment, he 
 was greeted in a whisper by the sister, who, during the interval of 
 his absence, had contrived to slip into the cell, and having tappiced 
 herself behind the little bed, came out, with great appearance of joy, 
 to greet the return of the youth. The number of little attentions, 
 the disposal of holly boughs, and such other evergreens as the 
 season permitted, showed the anxiety of the holy sisters to decorate 
 the chamber of their guest, and the greetings of sister Ursula 
 expressed the same friendly interest, at the same time intimating 
 that she was already in some degree in possession of the stranger's 
 mystery. 
 
 As Augustine and the holy sister were busied in exchange of confi- 
 dence, the extraordinary difference between their countenances and 
 their persons must have struck any one who might have been acci- 
 dentally a witness of their interview. The dark pilgrim's robe of 
 the disguised female, was not a stronger contrast to the white 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 277 
 
 woollen garment worn by the votaress of Saint Bride, than the 
 visage of the nun, seamed with many a ghastly scar, and the light 
 of one of her eyes extinguished for ever, causing it to roll a sight- 
 less luminary in her head, was to the beautiful countenance of 
 Augustine, now bent with a confidential, and even affectionate 
 look, upon the extraordinary features of her companion. 
 
 " You know," said the supposed Augustine, " the principal part 
 of my story ; can you, or will you, lend me your assistance .■' If 
 not, my dearest sister, you must consent to witness my death, 
 rather than my shame. Yes, sister Ursula, I will not be pointed at 
 by the finger of scorn, as the thoughtless maiden who sacrificed so 
 much for a young man, of whose attachment she was not so well 
 assured as she ought to have been. I will not be dragged before 
 De Walton, for the purpose of being compelled, by threats of tor- 
 ture, to declare myself the female in honour of whom he holds the 
 Dangerous Castle. No doubt, he might be glad to give his hand 
 in wedlock to a damsel whose dowry is so ample ; but who can tell 
 whether he will regard me with that respect which every woman 
 would wish to command, or pardon that boldness of which I have 
 been guilty, even though its consequences have been in his own 
 favour ? " 
 
 " Nay, my darling daughter,'' answered the nun, " comfort your- 
 self ; for in all 1 can aid you, be assared I will. My means are 
 somewhat more than my present situation may express, and, be 
 assured, they shall be tried to the uttermost. Methinks I still hear 
 that lay which you sung to the other sisters and myself, although I 
 alone, touched by feelings kindred to yoursj had the address to 
 comprehend that it told your own tale." 
 
 " I am yet surprised," said Augustine, speaking beneath her 
 breath, " how I had the boldness to sing in your ears the lay, which, 
 in fact, was the history of my disgrace." 
 
 "Alas ! that you will say so," returned the nun ; " there was not 
 a word but what resembled those tales of love and of high-spirited 
 daring which the best minstrels love to celebrate, and the noblest 
 knights and maidens weep at once and smile to hear. The Lady 
 Augusta of Berkely, a great heiress, according to the world, both 
 in land and movable goods, becomes the King's ward by the death 
 of her parents ; and thus is on the point of being given away in 
 marriage to a minion of the King of England, whom in these 
 Scottish valleys, we scruple not to call a peremptory tyrant." 
 
 " I must not say so, my sister," said the pilgrim ; " and yet, true 
 it is, that the cousin of the obscure parasite Gaviston, on whom the 
 king wished to confer my poor hand, was neither by birth, merit, 
 nor circumstance, worthy of such an alliance. Meantime I heard 
 
27S CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 of the fame of Sir John de Walton ; and I heard of it not with the 
 less interest that his feats of chivalry were said to adorn a knight, 
 who, ricli in every thing else, was poor in worldly goods, and in the 
 smiles of fortune. I saw this Sir John de Walton, and I acknow- 
 ledge that a thought, which had already intruded itself on my im- 
 agination, became, after this interview, by frequent recurrence, 
 more familiar, and more welcome to me. Methought that the 
 daughter of a powerful English family, if she could give away with 
 her hand such wealth as the world spoke of, would more justly and 
 honourably bestow it in remedying the errors of fortune in regard 
 to a gallant knight like De Walton, than in patching the revenues 
 of a beggarly Frenchman, whose only merit was in being the kins- 
 man of a man who was very generally detested by the whole 
 kingdom of England, excepting the infatuated monarch himself." 
 
 " Nobly designed, my daughter," said the nun ; " what more 
 worthy of a noble heart, possessing riches, beauty, birth, and rank, 
 than to confer them all upon indigent and chivalrous merit ? " 
 
 " Such, dearest sister, was my intention," replied Augustine ; 
 " but I have, perhaps, scarce sufficiently explained the manner in 
 which I meant to proceed. By the advice of a minstrel of our 
 house, the same who is now prisoner at Douglas, I caused exhibit 
 a large feast upon Christmas eve, and sent invitations abroad to the 
 young knights of noble name who were known to spend their leisure 
 in quest of arms and adventures. When the tables were drawn, 
 and the feast concluded, Bertram, as had been before devised, was 
 called upon to take his harp. He sung, receiving from all who 
 were present the attention due to a minstrel of so much fame. 
 The theme which he chose, was the frequent capture of this 
 Douglas Castle, or, as the poet termed it. Castle Dangerous. 
 ' Where are the champions of the renowned Edward the First,' 
 said the minstrel, ' when the realm of England cannot furnish a 
 man brave enough, or sufficiently expert in the wars, to defend a 
 miserable hamlet of the North against the Scottish rebels, who 
 have vowed to retake it over our soldiers' heads ere the year rolls 
 to an end ? Where are the noble ladies, whose smiles used to give 
 countenance to the Knights of Saint George's Cross ? Alas ! the 
 spirit of love and of chivalry is alike dead amongst us — our knights 
 are limited to petty enterprises — and our noblest heiresses are given 
 as prizes to strangers, as if their own country had no one to deserve 
 them.' — Here stopt the harp ; and I shame to say, that I myself, as 
 if moved to enthusiasm by the song of the minstrel, arose, and 
 taking from my neck the chain of gold which supported a crucifix 
 of special sanctity, I made my vow, always under the King's per- 
 mission, that I would give my hand, and the inheritance of my 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 279 
 
 fathers, to the good knight, being of noble birth and lineage, 
 who should keep the Castle of Douglas in the King of England's 
 name, for a year and a day. I sat down, my dearest sister, 
 deafened with the jubilee in which my guests expressed their 
 applause of my supposed patriotism. Yet some degree of pause 
 took place amidst the young knights, who might reasonably have 
 been supposed ready to embrace this offer, although at the risk 
 of being encumbered with Augusta of Berkely." 
 
 " Shame on the man," said sister Ursula, " who should think 
 so ! Put your beauty alone, my dearest, into consideration, and a 
 true knight ought to have embraced the dangers of twenty Castles 
 of Douglas, rather than let such an invaluable opportunity of 
 gaining your favour be lost." 
 
 " It may be that some in reality thought so," said the pilgrim ; 
 " but it was supposed that the king's favour might be lost by those 
 who seemed too anxious to thwart his royal purpose upon his 
 ward's hand. At any rate, greatly to my joy, the only person 
 who availed himself of the offer I had made, was Sir John de 
 Walton ; and as his acceptance of it was guarded by a clause, 
 saving and reserving the king's approbation, I hope he has not 
 suffered any diminution of Edward's favour." 
 
 " Assure yourself, noble and high-spirited young lady," replied 
 the nun, " that there is no fear of thy generous devotion hurting 
 thy lover with the King of England. Something we hear concern- 
 ing worldly passages, even in this remote nook of St. Bride's 
 cloister ; and the report goes among the English soldiers that their 
 king was indeed offended at your putting your will in opposition to 
 his own ; yet, on the other hand, this preferred lover. Sir John de 
 Walton, was a man of such extensive fame, and your offer was so 
 much in the character of better but not forgotten times, that even 
 a king could not at the beginning of a long and stubborn war 
 deprive an errant cavalier of his bride, if she should be duly won 
 by his sword and lance." 
 
 " Ah ! dearest sister Ursula ! " sighed the disguised pilgrim, 
 " but, on the other hand, how much time must pass by in the siege, 
 by defeating which that suit must needs be advanced? While 
 I sat in my lonely castle, tidings after tidings came to astound me 
 with the numerous, or rather the constant dangers, with which my 
 lover was surrounded, until at length, in a moment I think of mad- 
 ness, I resolved to set out in this masculine disguise ; and having 
 myself with my own eyes seen in what situation I had placed my 
 knight, I determined to take such measures in respect to shorten- 
 ing the term of his trial, or otherwise, as a sight of Douglas 
 Castle, and— why should I deny it?— of Sir John de Walton, 
 
z8o CAStLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 might suggest. Perhaps you, my dearest sister, may not so well 
 understand my being tempted into flinching from the resolution 
 which I had laid down for my own honour, and that of my 
 lover; but consider, that my resolution was the consequence of 
 a moment of excitation, and that the course which I adopted 
 was the conclusion of a long, wasting, sickening state of uncer- 
 tainty, the effect of which was to weaken the nerves which were 
 once highly strung with love of my country, as I thought ; but 
 in reahty, alas ! with fond and anxious feelings of a more selfish 
 description." 
 
 " Alas ! " said sister Ursula, evincing the strongest symptoms 
 of interest and compassion, "am I the person, dearest child, 
 whom you suspect of inseusibiUty to the distresses which are the 
 fruit of true love ? Do you suppose that the air which is breathed 
 within these walls has the property, upon the female heart, of 
 such marvellous fountains as they say change into stone the sub- 
 stances which are immersed into their waters? Hear my tale, 
 and judge if it can be thus with one who possesses my causes 
 of grief. And do not fear for loss of time; we must let our 
 neighbours at Hazelside be settled for the evening, ere I furnish 
 you with the means of escape ; and you must have a trusty 
 guide, for whose fidelity I will be responsible, to direct your 
 path through these woods, and protect you in case of any danger, 
 too likely to occur in these troublesome times. It will thus be 
 nigh an hour ere you depart ; and sure I am that in no manner 
 can you spend the time better than in listening to distresses too 
 similar to your own, and flowing from the source of disappointed 
 affection which you must needs sympathize with." 
 
 The distresses of the Lady Augusta did not prevent her being 
 in some degree affected almost ludicrously with the singular con- 
 trast between the hideous countenance of this victim of the tender 
 passion, and the cause to which she imputed her sorrows ; but it 
 was not a moment for giving way to a sense of the ridiculous, 
 which would have been in the highest degree offensive to the sister 
 of Saint Bride, whose good-will she had so many reasons to con- 
 ciliate. She readily, therefore, succeeded in preparing herself to 
 listen to the votary with an appearance of sympathy, which might 
 reward that which she had herself experienced at the hands of 
 sister Ursula ; while the unfortunate recluse, with an agitation 
 which made her ugliness still more conspicuous, narrated, nearly 
 in a whisper, the following circumstances : — 
 
 " My misfortunes commenced long before I was called sister 
 Ursula, or secluded as a votaress within these walls. My father 
 was a noble Norman, who, like many of his countrymen, sought 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 281 
 
 and found fortune at the court of the King of Scotland. He was 
 endowed with the sheriffdom of this county, and Maurice de 
 Hattely, or Hautlieu, was numbered among the wealthy and 
 powerful barons of Scotland. Wherefore should I deny it, that 
 the daughter of this baron, then called Margaret de Hautlieu, was 
 also distinguished among the great and fair of the land? It can 
 be no censurable vanity which provokes me to speak the truth, 
 and unless I tell it myself, you could hardly suspect what a resem- 
 blance I once bore even to the lovely Lady Augusta of Berkely. 
 About this time broke out those unfortunate feuds of Bruce and 
 Baliol, which have been so long the curse of this country. My 
 father, determined in his choice of party by the arguments of his 
 wealthy kinsmen at the court of Edward, embraced with passion 
 the faction of the English interest, and became one of the keenest 
 partisans, at first of John Bahol, and afterwards of the English 
 monarch. None among the Anglocised-Scottish, as his party was 
 called, were so zealous as he for the red cross, and no one was more 
 detested by his countrymen who followed the national standard of 
 Saint Andrew and the patriot Wallace. Among those soldiers of 
 the soil, Malcolm Fleming of Biggar was one of the most distin- 
 guished by his noble birth, his high acquirements, and his fame 
 in chivalry. I saw him ; and the ghastly spectre who now 
 addresses you must not be ashamed to say, that she loved, and 
 was beloved by, one of the handsomest youths in Scotland. 
 Our attachment was discovered to my father almost ere we had 
 owned it to each other, and he was furious both against my lover 
 and myself; he placed me under the charge of a religious 
 woman of this rule, and I was immured within the house of 
 Saint Bride, where my father shamed not to announce he would 
 cause me to take the veil by force, unless I agreed to wed a youth 
 bred at the English court, his nephew ; and, as Heaven had 
 granted him no son, the heir, as he had resolved, of the house of 
 HautUeu. I was not long in making my election. I protested 
 that death should be my choice, rather than any other husband 
 excepting Malcolm Fleming. Neither was my lover less faithful ; 
 he found means to communicate to me a particular night on which 
 he proposed to attempt to storm the nunnery of Saint Bride, and 
 carry me from hence to freedom and the greenwood, of which 
 Wallace was generally called the king. In an evil hour — an hour. 
 I think, of infatuation and witchery — I suffered the abbess to 
 wheedle the secret out of me, which I might have been sensible 
 would appear more horribly flagitious to her than to any other 
 woman that breathed ; but I had not taken the vows, and I thought 
 Wallace and Fleming had the same charms for every body as for 
 
283 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 me, and the artful woman gave me reason to believe that her 
 loyalty to Bruce was without a flaw of suspicion, and she took part 
 in a plot, of which my freedom was the object. The abbess en- 
 gaged to have the English guards removed to a distance, and in 
 appearance the troops were withdrawn. Accordingly, in the 
 middle of the night appointed, the window of my cell, which was 
 two stories from the ground, was opened without noise ; and never 
 were my eyes more gladdened than, as ready disguised and 
 arrayed for flight, even in a horseman's dress, like yourself, fairest 
 Lady Augusta, I saw Malcolm Fleming spring into the apartment. 
 He rushed towards me ; but at the same time my father with ten 
 of his strongest men filled the room, and cried their war-cry of 
 Baliol. Blows were instantly dealt on every side. A form like 
 a giant, however, appeared in the midst of the tumult, and dis- 
 tinguished himself, even to my half-giddy eye, by the ease with 
 which he bore down and dispersed those who fought against our 
 freedom. My father alone offered an opposition which threatened 
 to prove fatal to him ; for Wallace, it was said, could foil any 
 two martial champions that ever drew sword. Brushing from him 
 the armed men, as a lady would drive away with her fan a swarm 
 of troublesome flies, he secured me in one arm, used his other for 
 our mutual protection, and I found myself in the act of being 
 borne in safety down the ladder by which my deliverers had 
 ascended from without ; — but an evil fate awaited this attempt. 
 
 " My father, whom the Champion of Scotland had spared for my 
 sake, or rather for Fleming's, gained by his victor's compassion and 
 lenity a fearful advantage, and made a remorseless use of it. Hav- 
 ing only his left hand to oppose to the maniac attempts of my 
 father, even the strength of Wallace could not prevent the assailant, 
 with all the energy of desperation, from throwing down the ladder, 
 on which his daughter was perched like a dove in the grasp of an 
 eagle. The champion saw our danger, and exerting his inimitable 
 strength and agility, cleared himself and me from the ladder, and 
 leaped free of the moat of the convent, into which we must other- 
 wise have been precipitated. The Champion of Scotland was 
 saved in the desperate attempt, but I, who fell among a heap of 
 stones and rubbish, I, the disobedient daughter, wellnigh the apos- 
 tate vestal, waked only from a long bed of sickness, to find myself 
 the disfigured wretch which you now see me. I then learned that 
 Malcolm had escaped from the fray, and shortly after I heard, with 
 feelings less keen perhaps than they ought to have been, that my 
 father was slain in one of the endless battles which took place be- 
 tween the contending factions. If he had lived, I might have sub- 
 mitted to the completion of my fate ; but since he was no more, I 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 283 
 
 felt that it would be a preferable lot to be a beggar in the streets of 
 a Scottish village, than an Abbess in this miserable house of Saint 
 Bride ; nor was even that poor object of ambition, on which my 
 father used to expatiate when desirous of persuading me to enter 
 the monastic state, by milder means than throwing me off the battle- 
 ments, long open to me. The old abbess died of a cold caught the 
 evening of the fray ; and the place, which might have been kept 
 open until I was capable of filling it, was disposed of otherwise, 
 when the English thought fit to reform, as they termed it, the disci- 
 pline of the house ; and, instead of electing a new abbess, sent 
 hither two or three friendly monks, who have now the absolute 
 government of the community, and wield it entirely according to 
 the pleasure of the English. But I, for one, who have had the 
 honour to be supported by the arms of the Champion of my country, 
 will not remain here to be commanded by this Abbot Jerome. I 
 will go forth, nor do I fear to find relations and friends, who will 
 provide a more fitting place of refuge for Margaret de Hautlieu than 
 the convent of Saint Bride ; you, too, dearest lady, shall obtain your 
 freedom, and it will be well to leave such information as will make 
 Sir John de Walton aware of the devotion with which his happy 
 fate has inspired you." 
 
 " It is not, then, your own intention," said the Lady Augusta, "to 
 return into the world again, and you are about to renounce the lover, 
 in a union with whom you and he once saw your joint happiness?" 
 " It is a question, my dearest child," said sister Ursula, " which I 
 dare not ask myself, and to which I am absolutely uncertain what 
 answer I should return. I have not taken the final and irrevocable 
 vows ; I have done nothing to alter my situation with regard to 
 Malcolm Fleming. He also, by the vows plighted in the Chancery 
 of Heaven, is my affianced bridegroom, nor am I conscious that I 
 less deserve his faith, in. any respect now, than at the moment when 
 it was pledged to me ; but, I confess, dearest lady, that rumours 
 have reached me, which sting me to the quick ; the reports of my 
 wounds and scars are said to have estranged the Knight of my 
 choice. I am now indeed poor," she added, with a sigh, " and I am 
 no longer possessed of those personal charms, which they say attract 
 the love, and fix the fidelity, of the other sex. I teach myself, 
 therefore, to think, in my moments of settled resolution, that all 
 betwixt me and Malcolm Fleming is at an end, saving good wishes on 
 the part of both towards the other ; and yet there is a sensation in 
 my bosom which whispers, in spite of my reason, that if I absolutely 
 believed that which I now say, there would be no object on earth 
 worthy my living for in order to attain it. This insinuating pre- 
 possession whispers to my secret soul, and in very opposition to my 
 
284 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 reason and understanding, that Malcolm Fleming, who could pledge 
 his all upon the service of his country, is incapable of nourishing the 
 versatile affection of an ordinary, a coarse, or a venal character. 
 Methinks, were the difference upon his part instead of mine, he 
 would not lose his interest in my eyes, because he was seamed with 
 honourable scars, obtained in asserting the freedom of his choice, 
 but that such wounds would, in my opinion, add to his merit, what- 
 ever they took away from his personal comeliness. Ideas rise on 
 my soul, as if Malcolm and Margaret might yet be to each other all 
 that their affections once anticipated with so much security, and 
 that a change, which took nothing from the honour and virtue of 
 the beloved person, must rather add to, than diminish, the charms 
 of the union. Look at me, dearest Lady Augusta ! — look me — if 
 you have courage — full in the face, and tell me whether I do not rave 
 when my fancy is thus converting mere possibilities into that which 
 is natural and probable." 
 
 The Lady of Berkely, conscious of the necessity, raised her eyes 
 on the unfortunate nun, afraid oflosing her own chance of deliverance 
 by the mode in which she should conduct herself in this crisis ; yet 
 not willing at the same time to flatter the unfortunate Ursula, with 
 suggesting ideas for which her own sense told her she could hardly 
 find any rational grounds. But her imagination, stored with the 
 minstrelsy of the time, brought back to her recollection the Loathly 
 Lady in " The Marriage of Sir Gawain," and she conducted her 
 reply in the following manner : — 
 
 " You ask me, my dear Lady Margaret, a trying question, which 
 it would be unfriendly to answer otherwise than sincerely, and most 
 cruel to answer with too much rashness. It is true, that what is 
 called beauty, is the first quality on which we of the weaker sex 
 learn to set a value ; we are flattered by the imputation of personal 
 charms, whether we actually possess them or not ; and no doubt we 
 learn to place upon them a great deal more consequence than in 
 reality is found to belong to them. Women, however, even such as 
 are held by their own sex, and perhaps in secret by themselves, as 
 devoid of all pretensions to beauty, have been known to become, 
 from their understanding, their talents, or their accomplishments, 
 the undoubted objects of the warmest attachment. Wherefore then 
 should you, in the mere rashness of your apprehension, deem it im- 
 possible that your Malcolm Fleming should be made of that porce- 
 lain clay of the earth, which despises the passing captivations of 
 outward form, in comparison to the charms of true affection, and 
 the excellence of talents and virtue ?" 
 
 The nun pressed her companion's hand to her bosom, and 
 answered her with a deep sigh. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 285 
 
 " I fear," she said, " you flatter me ; and yet, in a crisis like this, 
 it does one good to be flattered, even as cordials, otherwise dange- 
 rous to the constitution, are wisely given to support a patient through 
 a paroxysm of agony, and enable him to endure at least what they 
 cannot cure. Answer only one question, and it will be time we drop 
 this conversation. Could you, sweet lady — you upon whom fortune 
 has bestowed so many charms — could any argument make you 
 patient under the irretrievable loss pf your personal advantages, with 
 the concomitant loss, as in my case is most probable, of that lover 
 for whom you have already done so much ?" 
 
 The English lady cast her eyes again on her friend, and could 
 not help shuddering a little at the thought of her own beautiful 
 countenance being exch.inged for the seamed and scarred features 
 of the Lady of Hautlieu, irregularly lighted by the beams of a single 
 eye. 
 
 " Believe me," she said, looking solemnly upwards, " that even in 
 the case which you suppose, I would not sorrow so much for myself, 
 as I would for the poor-spirited thoughts of the lover who could 
 leave me because those transitory charms (which must in any case 
 erelong take their departure) had fled ere yet the bridal day. It is, 
 however, concealed by the decrees of Providence, in what manner, 
 or to what extent, other persons, with whose disposition we are not 
 fully acquainted, may be affected by such changes. I can only 
 assure you that my hopes go with yours, and that there is no difficulty 
 which shall remain in your path in future, if it is in my power to 
 remove it. — Hark !" 
 
 " It is the signal of our freedom," replied Ursula, giving attention 
 to something resembling the whoop of the night owl. " We must 
 prepare to leave the convent in a few minutes. Have you any thing 
 to take with you ?" 
 
 " Nothing," answered the Lady of Berkely, " except the few 
 valuables, which I scarce know why I brought with me on my flight 
 hither. This scroll, which I shall leave behind, gives my faithful 
 minstrel permission to save himself, by confessing to Sir John de 
 Walton who the person really is whom he has had within his reach." 
 
 "It is strange," said the novice of Saint Bride, "through what 
 extraordinary labyrinths this Love, this Will-of-the-Wisp, guides his 
 votaries. Take heed as you descend ; this trapdoor, carefully con- 
 cealed, curiously jointed and oiled, leads to a secret postern, where 
 I conceive the horses already wait, which will enable us speedily to 
 bid adieu to Saint Bride's— Heaven's blessing on her, and on her 
 convent ! We can have no advantage from any light, until we are 
 in the open air." 
 
 During this time, sister Ursula, to give her for the last time her 
 
28(5 CASTLE DANGEROUS, 
 
 conventual name, exchanged her stole, or loose upper garment, for 
 the more succinct cloak and hood of a horseman. She led the way- 
 through divers passages, studiously complicated, until the Lady of 
 Berkely, with throbbing heart, stood in the pale and doubtful moon- 
 light, which was shining with grey uncertainty upon the walls of the 
 ancient building. The imitation of an owlet's cry directed them to 
 a neighbouring large elm, and on approaching it, they were aware 
 of three horses, held by one, concerning whom they could only see 
 that he was tall, strong, and accoutred in the dress of a man-at-arms. 
 
 " The sooner," he said, " we are gone from this place. Lady 
 Margaret, it is so much the better. You have only to direct the 
 course which we shall hold." 
 
 Lady Margaret's answer was given beneath her breath ; and 
 replied to with a caution from the guide to ride slowly and silently 
 for the first quarter of an hour, by which time inhabited places 
 would be left at a distance. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Great was the astonishment of the young Knight of Valence and 
 the reverend Father Jerome, when, upon breaking into the cell, they 
 discovered the youthful pilgrim's absence ; and, from the garments 
 which were left, saw every reason to think that the one-eyed novice, 
 sister Ursula, had accompanied him in his escape from custody. A 
 thousand thoughts thronged upon Sir Aymer, how shamefully he 
 had suffered himself to be outwitted by the artifices of a boy and of 
 a novice. His reverend companion in error felt no less contrition 
 for having recommended to the knight a mild exercise of his autho- 
 rity. Father Jerome had obtained his preferment as abbot upon 
 the faith of his zeal for the cause of the English monarch, with the 
 affected interest in which he was at a loss to reconcile his proceed- 
 ings of the last night. A hurried enquiry took place, from which 
 little could be learned, save that the young pilgrim had most certainly 
 gone off with the Lady Margaret de Hautlieu, an incident at which 
 the females of the convent expressed surprise, mingled with a great 
 deal of horror; while that of the males, whom the news soon reached, 
 was qualified with a degree of wonder, which seemed to be founded 
 upon the very different personal appearance of the two fugitives. 
 
 " Sacred Virgin," said a nun, " who could have conceived the 
 hopeful votaress, sister Ursula, so lately drowned in tears for her 
 father's untimely fate, capable of eloping with a boy scarce fourteen 
 years old !" 
 
 And, holy Saint Bride ! " said the Abbot Jerome, " what could 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 287 
 
 have made so handsome a young man lend his arm to assist such a 
 nightmare as sister Ursula in the commission of so great an enor- 
 mity? Certainly he can neither plead temptation nor seduction, 
 but must have gone, as the worldly phrase is, — to the devil with a 
 dishclout." 
 
 " I must disperse the soldiers to pursue the fugitives," said De 
 Valence, " unless this letter, which the pilgrim must have left behind 
 him, shall contain some explanations respecting our mysterious 
 prisoner." 
 
 After viewing the contents with some surprise, he read aloud, — 
 " The undersigned, late residing in the house of Saint Bride, do you, 
 Father Jerome, the abbot of said house, to know, that finding you 
 ■were disposed to treat me as a prisoner and a spy, in the sanctuary 
 to which you had received me as a distressed person, I have resolved 
 to use my natural liberty, with which you have no right to interfere, 
 and therefore have withdrawn myself from your abbacy. Moreover, 
 finding that the novice called in your convent sister Ursula (who 
 hath, by monastic rule and discipline, a fair title to return to the 
 world unless she is pleased, after a year's noviciate, to profess her- 
 self sister of your order) is determined to use such privilege, I joy- 
 fully take the opportunity of her company in this her lawful 
 resolution, as being what is in conformity to the law of God, and 
 the precepts of Saint Bride, which gave you no authority to detain 
 any person in your convent by force, who hath not taken upon her 
 irrevocably the vows of the order. 
 
 * " To you. Sir John de Walton, and Sir Aymer de Valence, knights 
 of England, commanding the garrison of Douglas Dale, I have only 
 to say, that you have acted and are acting against me under a mys- 
 tery, the solution of which is comprehended in a secret known only 
 to my faithful minstrel, Bertram of the many Lays, as whose son I 
 have found it convenient to pass myself. But as I cannot at this 
 time prevail upon myself personally to discover a secret which can- 
 not well be unfolded without feelings of shame, I not only give per- 
 mission to the said Bertram the minstrel, but I charge and command 
 him, that he tell to you the purpose with which I came originally to 
 the Castle of Douglas. When this is discovered, it will only remain 
 to express my feelings towards the two knights, in return for the 
 pain and agony of mind which their violence and threats of further 
 severities have occasioned me. 
 
 " And first, respecting Sir Aymer de Valence, I freely and willingly 
 forgive him for having been involved in a mistake to which I myself 
 led the way, and I shall at all times be happy to meet with him as 
 an acquaintance, and never to think farther of his part in these few 
 days' history, saving as matter of mirth and ridicule. 
 
288 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " But respecting Sir John de Walton, I must request of him to 
 consider whether hisi conduct towards me, standing as we at 
 present do towards each other, is such as he himself ought to forget, 
 or I ought to forgive ; and I trust he will understand me when 
 I tell him, that all former connexions must henceforth be at an 
 end between him and the supposed 
 
 " Augustine." 
 
 " This is madness," said the abbot, when he had read the letter, 
 — " very midsummer madness ; not unfrequently an accompani- 
 ment of this pestilential disease, and I should do well in requiring 
 of those soldiers who shall first apprehend this youth Augustine, 
 that they reduce his victuals immediately to water and bread, 
 taking care that the diet do not exceed in measure what is necessary 
 to sustain nature ; nay, I should be warranted by the learned, did 
 I recommend a sufficient intermixture of flagellation with belts, 
 stirrup-leathers, or surcingles, and failing those, with riding-whipn, 
 switches, and the like." 
 
 " Hush ! my reverend father," said De Valence, " a light begins 
 to break in upon me. John de Walton, if my suspicion be true, 
 would sooner expose his own flesh to be hewn from his bones, than 
 have this Augustine's finger stung by a gnat. Instead of treating 
 this youth as a madman, I, for my own part, will be contented to 
 avow that I myself have been bewitched and fascinated ; and by 
 my honour, if I send out my attendants in quest of the fugitives, it 
 shall be with the strict charge, that, when apprehended, they treat 
 them with all respect, and protect them, if they object to return to 
 this house, to any honourable place of refuge which they may desire." 
 " I hope," said the abbot, looking strangely confused, " I shall 
 be first heard in behalf of the church concerning this affair of an 
 abducted nun ? You see yourself, Sir Knight, that this scapegrace 
 of a minstrel avouches neither repentance nor contrition at his 
 share in a matter so flagitious." 
 
 " You shall be secured an opportunity of being fully heard," 
 replied the knight, " if you shall find at last that you really desire 
 one. Meantime, I must back, without a moment's delay, to inform 
 Sir John de Walton of the turn which affairs have taken. Fare- 
 well, reverend father. By my honour, we may wish each other joy 
 that we have escaped from a troublesome charge, which brought as 
 much terror with it as the phantoms of a fearful dream, and is yet 
 found capable of being dispelled by a cure as simple as that of 
 awakening the sleeper. But, by Saint Bride ! both churchmen 
 and laymen are bound to sympathize with the unfortunate Sir John 
 de Walton. I tell thee, father, that if this letter"— touching the 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 289 
 
 missive with his finger— "is to be construed literally, as far as 
 respects him, he is the man most to be pitied betwixt the brink of 
 Solway and the place where we now stand. Suspend thy curiosity 
 most worthy churchman, lest there should be more in this matter 
 than I myself see ; so that, while thinking that I have lighted on 
 the true explanation, I may not have to acknowledge that I have 
 been again leading you into error.— Sound to horse there ! Ho ! ' 
 he called out from the window of the apartment ; " and let the 
 party I brought hither prepare to scour the woods on their return." 
 " By my faith ! " said Father Jerome, " I am right glad that this 
 young nut-cracker is going to leave me to my own meditation. I 
 hate when a young person pretends to understand whatever passes, 
 while his betters are obliged to confess that it is all a mystery to 
 them. Such an assumption is like that of the conceited fool, sister 
 Ursula, who pretended to read with a single eye a manuscript which I 
 myself could not find intelligible with the assistanceof my spectacles." 
 This might not have quite pleased the young knight, nor was it 
 one of those truths which the abbot would have chosen to deliver 
 in his hearing. But the knight had shaken him by the hand, 
 said adieu, and was already at Hazelside, issuing particular orders 
 to little troops of the archers and others, and occasionally chiding 
 Thomas Dickson, who, with a degree of curiosity which the English 
 knight was not very willing to excuse, had been endeavouring to 
 get some account of the occurrences of the night. 
 
 " Peace, fellow ! " he said, " and mind thine own business, being 
 well assured that the hour will come in which it will require all the 
 attention thou canst give, leaving others to take care of their own 
 affairs." 
 
 " If I am suspected of anything,'' answered Dickson, in a tone 
 rather dogged and surly than otherwise, " methinks it were but fair 
 to let me know what accusation is brought against me. I need not 
 tell you that chivalry prescribes that a knight should not attack an 
 enemy undefied." 
 
 " When you are a knight," answered Sir Aymer de Valence, " it 
 will be time enough for me to reckon with you upon the points of 
 form due to you by the laws of chivalry. Meanwhile, you had best 
 let me know what share you have had in playing off the martial 
 phantom v/hich sounded the rebellious slogan of Douglas in the 
 town of that name ? " 
 
 " I know nothing of what you speak," answered the goodman of 
 Hazelside. 
 
 " See then," said the knight, " that you do not engage yourself in 
 affairs of other people, even if your conscience warrants that you 
 are in no danger from your own." 
 
 u 
 
ago CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 So saying, he rode off, not waiting any answer. The ideas which 
 filled his head were to the following purpose. 
 
 " I know not how it is, but one mist seems no sooner to clear 
 away, than we find ourselves engaged in another. I take it for 
 granted that the disguised damsel is no other than the goddess of 
 Walton's private idolatry, who has cost him and me so much 
 trouble, and some certain degree of misunderstanding during these 
 last weeks. By my honour ! this fair lady is right lavish in the 
 pardon which she has so frankly bestowed upon me, and if she is 
 willing to be less complaisant to Sir John de Walton, why then — 
 And what then ? — It surely does not infer that she would receive 
 me into that place in her affections, from which she has just 
 expelled De Walton.'' Nor, if she did, could I avail myself of a 
 change in favour of myself, at the expense of my friend and com- 
 panion in arms. It were a folly even to dream of a thing so im- 
 probable. But with respect to the other business, it is worth 
 serious consideration. Yon sexton seems to have kept company 
 with dead bodies, until he is unfit for the society of the living ; and 
 as to that Dickson of Hazelside, as they call him, there is no attenipt 
 againgst the English during these endless wars in which that man 
 has not been concerned ; had my life depended upon it, I could not 
 have prevented myself from intimating my suspicions of him, let 
 him take it as he lists." 
 
 So saying, the knight spurred his horse, and arriving at Douglas 
 Castle without farther adventure, demanded, in a tone of greater 
 cordiality than he had of late used, whether he could be admitted 
 to Sir John de Walton, having something of consequence to report 
 to him. He was immediately ushered into an apartment, in which 
 the governor was seated at his solitary breakfast. Considering the 
 terms upon which they had lately stood, the governor of Douglas 
 Dale was somewhat surprised at the easy familiarity with which 
 De Valence now approached him. 
 
 " Some uncommon news," said Sir John, rather gravely, " have 
 brought me the honour of Sir Aymer de Valence's company." 
 
 '■' It is," answered Sir Aymer, " what seems of high importance to 
 your interest. Sir John de Walton, and therefore I were to blame if 
 I lost a moment in communicating it," 
 
 " I shall be proud to profit by your intelligence," said Sir John de 
 Walton. 
 
 " And I too," said the young knight, " am loath to lose the credit 
 of having penetrated a mystery which blinded Sir John de Walton. 
 At the same time, I do not wish to be thought capable of jesting 
 with you, which might be the case were I, from misapprehension, 
 to give a false key to this matter. With your permission, then, 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 291 
 
 we will proceed thus : We go together to the place of Bertram the 
 minstrel's confinement. I have in my possession a scroll from the 
 young person who was intrusted to the care of the Abbot Jerome ; 
 it is written in a delicate female hand, and gives authority to the 
 minstrel to declare the purpose which brought them to this vale of 
 Douglas." 
 
 " It must be as you say," said Sir John de Walton, " although I 
 can scarce see occasion for adding so much form to a mystery 
 which can be expressed in such small compass." 
 
 Accordingly the two knights, a warder leading the way, pro- 
 ceeded to the dungeon to which the minstrel had been removed. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The doors of the stronghold being undone, displayed a dungeon 
 such as in those days held victims hopeless of escape, but in which 
 the ingenious knave of modern times would scarcely have deigned 
 to remain many hours. The huge rings by which the fetters were 
 soldered together, and attached to the human body, were, when 
 examined minutely, found to be clenched together by riveting so 
 very thin, that when rubbed with corrosive acid, or patiently 
 ground with a bit of sandstone, the hold of the fett::rs upon each 
 other might be easily forced asunder, and the purpose of them 
 entirely frustrated. The locks also, large, and apparently very 
 strong, were so coarsely made, that an artist of small ingenuity 
 could easily contrive to get the better of their fastenings upon the 
 same principle. The daylight found its way to the subterranean 
 dungeon only at noon, and through a passage which was purposely 
 made tortuous so as to exclude the rays of the sun, while it 
 presented no obstacle to wind or rain. The doctrine that a prisoner 
 was to be esteemed innocent until he should be found guilty by his 
 peers, was not understood in those days of brute force, and he was 
 only accommodated with a lamp or other alleviation of his misery, if 
 his demeanour was quiet, and he appeared disposed to give his 
 jailer no trouble by attempting to make his escape. Such a cell of 
 confinement was that of Bertram, whose moderation of temper and 
 patience had nevertheless procured for him such mitigations of his 
 fate as the warder could grant. He was permitted to carry into 
 his cell the old book, in the perusal of which he found an 
 amusement of his solitude, together with writing materials, and 
 such other helps towards spending his time as were consistent with 
 his abode in the bosom of the rock, and the degree of information 
 
 u 2 
 
292 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 with which his minstrel craft had possessed him. He raised his 
 head from the table as the knights entered, while the governor 
 observed to the young knight : — 
 
 " As you seem to think yourself possessed of the secret of this 
 prisoner, 1 leave it to you, Sir Aymer de Valence, to bring it to 
 light in the manner which you shall judge most expedient. If the 
 man or his son have suffered unnecessary hardship, it shall be 
 my duty to make amends — which, I suppose, can be no very im- 
 portant matter." 
 
 Bertram looked up, and fixed his eyes full upon the governor, 
 but read nothing in his looks which indicated his being better 
 acquainted than before with the secret of his imprisonment. Yet, 
 upon turning his eye towards Sir Aymer, his countenance 
 evidently lighted up, and the glance which passed between them 
 was one of intelligence. 
 
 " You have my secret then," said he, " and you know who it is 
 that passes under the name of Augustine ? " 
 
 Sir Aymer exchanged with him a look of acquiescence ; while 
 the eyes of the governor, glancing wildly from the prisoner to the 
 Knight of Valence, exclaimed : — 
 
 " Sir Aymer de Valence, as you are belted knight and Christian 
 man, as you have honour to preserve on earth, and a soul to rescue 
 after death, I charge you to tell me the meaning of this mystery ! 
 It may be that you conceive, with truth, that you have subject of 
 complaint against me ; — If so, I will satisfy you as a knight 
 may." 
 
 The minstrel spoke at the same moment. 
 
 " I charge this knight," he said, " by his vow of chivalry, that he 
 do not divulge any secret belonging to a person of honour and 
 of character, unless he has positive assurance that it is done 
 entirely by that person's own consent." 
 
 " Let this note remove your scruples," said Sir Aymer, putting 
 the scroll into the hands of the minstrel ; " and for you, Sir John de 
 Walton, far from retaining the least feeling of any misunderstand- 
 ing which may have existed between us, I am disposed entirely 
 to bury it in forgetfulness, as having arisen out of a series of 
 mistakes which no mortal could have comprehended. And do not 
 be offended, my dear Sir John, when I protest, on my knightly 
 faith, that I pity the pain which I think this scroll is likely to 
 give you, and that if my utmost efforts can be of the least 
 service to you in unravelling this tangled skein, I will contribute 
 them with as much earnestness as ever I did aught in my life. 
 This faithful minstrel will now see that he can have no difficulty in 
 yielding up a secret, which 1 doubt not, but for the writing I have 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 293 
 
 just put into his hands, he would have continued to keep with 
 unshaken fidelity." 
 
 Sir Amyer now placed in De Walton's hand a note, in which he 
 had, ere he left Saint Bride's convent, signified his own interpreta- 
 tion of the mystery ; and the governor had scarcely read the name 
 it contained, before the same name was pronounced aloud by 
 Bertram, who at the same moment, handed to the governor the 
 scroll which he had received from the Knight of Valence. 
 
 The white plume which floated over the knight's cap of main- 
 tenance, which was worn as a headpiece within doors, was not 
 more pale in complexion than was the knight himself at the un- 
 expected and surprising information, that the lady who was, in 
 chivalrous phrase, empress of his thoughts, and commander of 
 his actions, and to whom, even in less fantastic .times, he must 
 have owed the deepest gratitude for the generous election which 
 she had made in his favour, was the same person whom he had 
 threatened with personal violence, and subjected to hardships and 
 affronts which he would not willingly have bestowed even upon the 
 meanest of her sex. 
 
 Yet Sir John de Walton seemed at first scarcely to comprehend 
 the numerous ill-consequences which might probably follow this 
 unhappy complication of mistakes. He took the paper from the 
 minstrel's hand, and while his eye, assisted by the lamp, wandered 
 over the characters without apparently their conveying any distinct 
 impression to his understanding, De Valence even became alarmed 
 that he was about to lose his faculties. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir," he said, " be a man, and support with 
 manly steadiness these unexpected occurrences — I would fain think 
 they will reach to nothing else — which the wit of man could not 
 have prevented. This fair lady, I would fain hope, cannot be much 
 hurt or deeply offended by a train of circumstances, the natural 
 consequence of your anxiety to discharge perfectly a duty upon 
 which must depend :he accomplishment of all the hopes she had 
 permitted you to entertain. In God's name, rouse up, sir ; let it 
 not be said, that an apprehended frown of a fair lady hath damped 
 to such a degree the courage of the boldest knight in England ; be 
 what men have called you, ' Walton the Unwavering ; ' in Heaven's 
 name, let us at least see that the lady is indeed offended, before we 
 conclude that she is irreconcilably so. To whose fault are we to 
 ascribe the source of all these errors ? Surely, with all due respect, 
 to the caprice of the lady herself, which has engendered such a 
 nest of mistakes. Think of it as a man, and as a soldier. Sup- 
 pose that you yourself, or I, desirous of proving the fidelity of our 
 sentinels, or for any other reason, good or bad, attempted to enter 
 
394 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 this Dangerous Castle of Douglas without giving the password to 
 the warders, would we be entitled to blame those upon duty, if, not 
 knowing our persons, they manfully refused us entrance, made us 
 prisoners, and mishandled us while resisting our attempt, in terms 
 of the orders which we ourselves had imposed upon them ? What 
 is there that makes a difference between such a sentinel and your- 
 self, John de Walton, in this curious affair, which, by Heaven ! 
 would rather form a gay subject for the minstrelsy of this excellent 
 bard, than the theme of a tragic lay ? Come ! look not thus. Sir 
 John de Walton ; be angry, if you will, with the lady who has com- 
 mitted such a piece of folly, or with me who have rode up and 
 down nearly all night on a fool's errand, and spoiled my best horse, 
 in absolute uncertainty how I shall get another till my uncle of 
 Pembroke and I shall be reconciled ; or, lastly, if you desire to be 
 totally absurd in your wrath, direct it against this worthy minstrel 
 on account of his rare fidelity, and punish him for that for which 
 he better deserves a chain of gold. Let passion out, if you will ; 
 but chase this desponding gloom from the brow of a man and a 
 belted knight." 
 
 Sir John de Walton made an effort to speak, and succeeded with 
 some difficulty. 
 
 " Aymer de Valence," he said, " in irritating a madman you do 
 but sport with your own life ; " and then remained silent. 
 
 " I am glad you can say so much," replied his friend ; " for I was 
 not jesting when I said I would rather that you were at variance 
 with me, than that you laid the whole blame on yourself. It would 
 be courteous, I think, to set. this minstrel instantly at liberty. Mean- 
 time, for his lady's sake, I will entreat him, in all honour, to be our 
 guest till the lady Augusta de Berkely shall do us the same honour, 
 and to assist us in our search after her place of retirement. — 
 Good minstrel," he continued, " you hear what I say, and you will 
 not, I suppose, be surprised, that, in all honour and kind usage, 
 you find yourself detained for a short space in this Castle of 
 Douglas ? " 
 
 "You seem, Sir Knight," replied the minstrel, "not so much to 
 keep your eye upon the right of doing what you should, as to pos- 
 sess the might of doing what you would. I must necessarily be 
 guided by your advice, since you have the power to make it a 
 command." 
 
 " And I trust,'' continued De Valence, " that when your mis- 
 tress and you again meet, we shall have the benefit of your 
 intercession for any thing which we may have done to displeasure 
 her, considering that the purpose of our action was exactly the 
 reverse." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 295 
 
 " Let me," said Sir John de Walton, " say a single word. I will 
 offer thee a chain of gold, heavy enough to bear down the weight 
 of these shackles, as a sign of regret for having condemned thee to 
 suffer so many indignities." 
 
 " Enough said, Sir John," said De Valence ; "let us promise no 
 more till this good minstrel shall see some sign of performance. 
 Follow me this way, and I will tell thee in private of other tidings, 
 which it is important that you should know." 
 
 So saying, he withdrew De Walton from the dungeon, and send- 
 ing for the old knight. Sir Philip de Montenay, already mentioned, 
 who acted as seneschal of the castle, he commanded that the min- 
 strel should be enlarged from the dungeon, well looked to in other 
 respects, yet prohibited, though with every mark of civility, from 
 leaving the castle without a trusty attendant. 
 
 " And now. Sir John de Walton," he said, " methinks you are a 
 little churlish in not ordering me some breakfast, after I have been 
 all night engaged in your affairs ; and a cup of muscadel would, I 
 think, be no bad induction to a full consideration of this perplexed 
 matter." 
 
 " Thou knowest," answered De Walton, " that thou mayst call 
 for what thou wilt, provided always thou tellest me, without loss of 
 time, what else thou knowest respecting the will of the lady, against 
 whom we have all sinned so grievously — and I, alas, beyond hope 
 of forgiveness !" 
 
 "Trust me, I hope," said the Knight of Valence, "the good lady 
 bears me no malice, as indeed she has expressly renounced any ill- 
 will against me. The words, you see, are as plain as you yourself 
 may read — ' The lady pardons poor Aymer de Valence, and wil- 
 lingly, for having been involved in a mistake, to which she herself 
 led the way ; she herself will at all times be happy to meet with 
 him as an acquaintance, and never to think farther of these few 
 days' history, except as matter of mirth and ridicule.' So it is 
 expressly written and set down." 
 
 " Yes," replied Sir John de Walton, " but see you not that her 
 offending lover is expressly excluded from the amnesty granted to 
 the lesser offender? Mark you not the concluding paragraph?" 
 He took the scroll with a trembling hand, and read with a dis- 
 composed voice its closing words. " It is even so ; 'All former 
 connexion must henceforth be at an end between him and the 
 supposed Augustine.' Explain to me how the reading of these 
 words is reconcilable to any thing but their plain sense of condem- 
 nation and forfeiture of contract, implying destruction of the hopes 
 of Sir John de Walton ? " 
 
 " You are somewhat an older man than I, Sir Knight," answered 
 
296 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 De Valence, "and, I will grant, by far the wiser and more expe- 
 rienced ; yet I will uphold that there is no adopting the interpre- 
 tation which you seem to have affixed in your mind to this letter, 
 without supposing the preliminary, that the fair writer was dis- 
 tracted in her understanding, — nay, never start, look wildly, or lay 
 your hand on your sword, I do not affirm this is the case. I say 
 again, that no woman in her senses would have pardoned a common 
 acquaintance for his behaving to her with unintentional disrespect 
 and unkindness, during the currency of a certain masquerade, and, 
 at the same time, sternly and irrevocably broke off with the lover 
 to whom her troth was plighted, although his error in joining in the 
 offence was neither grosser nor more protracted than that of the 
 person indifferent to her love." 
 
 "Do not blaspheme," said Sir John de Walton ; " and forgive me, 
 if, in justice to truth and to the angel whom I fear I have forfeited 
 for ever, I point out to you the difference which a maiden of dignity 
 and of feeling must make between an offence towards her, com- 
 mitted by an ordinary acquaintance, and one of precisely the 
 same kind, offered by a person who is bound by the most unde- 
 served preference, by tlie most generous benefits, and by every 
 thing which can bind human feeling, to think and reflect ere he 
 becomes an actor in any case in which it is possible for her to be 
 concerned." 
 
 " Now, by mine honour," said Aymer de Valence, " I am glad to 
 hear thee make some attempt at reason, although it is but an 
 unreasonable kind of reason too, since its object is to destroy thine 
 own hopes, and argue away thine own chance of happiness ; but if 
 I have, in the progress of this affair, borne me sometimes towards 
 thee, as to give not only the governor, but even the friend, some 
 cause of displeasure, 1 will make it up to thee now, John de Wal- 
 ton, by trying to convince thee in spite of thine own perverse logic. 
 But here comes the muscadel and the breakfast ; wilt thou take 
 some refreshment ? — or shall we go on without the spirit of mus- 
 cadel ? " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," replied De Wahon, " do as thou wilt, so 
 thou make me clear of thy well-intended babble." 
 
 " Nay, thou shaft not brawl me out of my powers of argument," 
 said De Valence, laughing, and helping himself to a brimming cup 
 of wine ; " if thou acknowledgest thyself conquered, 1 am contented 
 to give the victory to the inspiring strength of the jovial liquor." 
 
 " Do as thou listest," said De Walton, " but make an end of an 
 argument which thou canst not comprehend." 
 
 " I deny the charge," answered the younger knight, wiping his 
 lips, after having finished his draught ; " and listen, Walton the 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 297 
 
 Warlike, to a chapter in the history of women, in which thou art 
 more unskilled than I would wish thee to be. Thou canst not 
 deny that, be it right or wrong, thy Lady Augusta hath ventured 
 more forward with you than is usual upon the sea of affection ; she 
 boldly made thee her choice, while thou wert as yet known to her 
 only as a flower of English chivalry, — faith, and I respect her for 
 her frankness — ^but it was a choice, which the more cold of her own 
 sex might perhaps claim occasion to term rash and precipitate. — 
 Nay, be not, I pray thee, offended — I am far from thinking or say- 
 ing so ; on the contrary, I will uphold with my lance, her selection 
 of John de Walton against the minions of a court, to be a wise and 
 generous choice, and her own behaviour as alike candid and noble. 
 But she herself is not unlikely to dread unjust misconstruction ; a 
 fear of which may not improbably induce her, upon any occasion, 
 to seize some opportunity of showing an unwonted and unusual 
 rigour towards her lover, in order to balance her having extended 
 towards him, in the beginning of their intercourse, somewhat of an 
 untisual degree of frank encouragement. Nay, it might be easy 
 for her lover so far to take part against himself, by arguing as thou 
 dost when out of thy senses, as to make it difficult for her to with- 
 draw from an argument which he himself was foolish enough to 
 strengthen ; and thus, like a maiden too soon taken at her first 
 nay-say, she shall perhaps be allowed no opportunity of bearing 
 herself according to her real feelings, or retracting a sentence issued 
 with consent of the party whose hopes it destroys." 
 
 " I have heard thee, De Valence," answered the governor of 
 Douglas Dale ; " nor is it difficult for me to admit, that these thy 
 lessons may serve as a chart to many a female heart, but not to 
 that of Augusta de Berkely. By my life, I say I would much 
 sooner be deprived of the merit of those few deeds of chivalry 
 which thou sayest have procured for me such enviable distinction, 
 than I would act upon them with the insolence, as if I said that my 
 place in the lady's bosom was too firmly fixed to be shaken even by 
 the success of a worthier man, or by my own gross failure, in 
 respect to the object of my attachment. No, herself alone shall 
 have power to persuade me that even goodness equal to that of an 
 interceding saint, will restore me to the place in her affections 
 which I have most unworthily forfeited by a stupidity only to be 
 compared to that of brutes." 
 
 " If you are so minded," said Aymer de Valence, " I have only 
 one word more — forgive me if I speak it peremptorily — the lady, 
 as you say, and say truly, must be the final arbitress in this ques- 
 tion. My arguments do not extend to insisting that you should 
 claim her hand, whether she herself will or no ; but to learn her 
 
298 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 determination, it is necessary that you should find out where she 
 is, of which I am unfortunately not able to inform you." 
 
 " How ! what mean you ! " exclaimed the governor, who now only 
 began to comprehend the extent of his misfortune ; " whither hath 
 she fled .' or with whom ? " 
 
 " She is fled, for what I know," said De Valence, " in search of a 
 more enterprising lover than one who is so willing to interpret 
 every air of frost as a killing blight to his hopes ; perhaps she 
 seeks the Black Douglas, or some such hero of the Thistle, to 
 reward with her lands, her lordships, and beauty, those virtues of 
 enterprise and courage of which John de Walton was at one time 
 thought possessed. But, seriously, events are passing around us 
 of strange import. I saw enough last night, on my way to Saint 
 Bride's, to make me supicious of every one. I sent to you as a 
 prisoner the old sexton of the church of Douglas. I found him 
 contumacious as to some enquiries which I thought it proper to 
 prosecute ; but of this more at another time. The escape of this 
 lady adds greatly to the difficulties which encircle this devoted 
 castle." 
 
 " Aymer de Valence," replied De Walton, in a solemn' and ani- 
 mated tone, " Douglas Castle shall be defended, as we have hitherto 
 been able, with the aid of Heaven, to spread from its battlements 
 the broad banner of St. George. Come of me what list during my 
 life, I will die the faithful lover of Augusta de Berkely, even although 
 I no longer live as her chosen knight. There are cloisters and 
 hermitages " 
 
 " Ay, marry are there," replied Sir Aymer ; " and girdles of hemp, 
 moreover, and beads of oak ; but all these we omit in our reckon- 
 ings, till we discover where the Lady Augusta is, and what she 
 purposes to do in this matter." 
 
 " You say well," replied De Walton ; " let us hold counsel toge- 
 gether by what means we shall, if possible, discover the lady's too 
 hasty retreat, by which she has done me great wrong ; I mean if 
 she supposed her commands would not have been fully obeyed, had 
 she honoured with them the governor of Douglas Dale, or any who 
 are under his command." 
 
 " Now," replied De Valence, " you again speak like a true son of 
 
 chivalry. With your permission, I would summon this minstrel to 
 
 our presence. His fidelity to his mistress has been remarkable ; 
 
 and, as matters stand now, we must take instant measures for 
 
 racing the place of her retreat." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The way is long, my children, long and rough — 
 The moors are dreary, and the woods are dark ; 
 But he that creeps from cradle on to grave, 
 Unskilled save in the velvet course of fortune, 
 Hath missed the discipline of noble hearts. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 It was yet early in the day, when, after the Governor and De 
 Valence had again summoned Bertram to their councils, the 
 garrison of Douglas was mustered, and a number of small parties, 
 in addition to those already dispatched by De Valence from Hazel- 
 side, were sent out to scour the woods in pursuit of the fugitives, 
 with strict injunctions to treat them, if overtaken, with the utmost 
 respect, and to obey their commands, keeping an eye, however, on 
 the place where they might take refuge. To facilitate this result, 
 some who were men of discretion were intrusted with the secret who 
 the supposed pilgrim and the fugitive nun really were. The whole 
 ground, whether forest or moorland, within many miles of Douglas 
 Castle, was covered and traversed by parties, whose anxiety to 
 detect the fugitives was equal to the reward for their safe recovery, 
 liberally offered by De Walton and De Valence. They spared not, 
 meantime, to make such enquiries in all directions as might bring 
 to light any machinations of the Scottish insurgents which might 
 be on foot in those wild districts, of which, as we have said before, 
 De Valence, in particular, entertained strong suspicions. Their 
 instructions were, in case of finding such, to proceed against the 
 persons engaged, by arrest and otherwise, in the most rigorous 
 manner, such as had been commanded by De Walton himself at 
 the time when the Black Douglas and his accomplices had been 
 the principal objects of his wakeful suspicions. These various de- 
 tachments had greatly reduced the strength of the garrison ; yet, 
 although numerous, alert, and dispatched in every direction, they 
 had not the fortune either to fall on the trace of the Lady of 
 Berkely, or to encounter any party whatever of the insurgent 
 Scottish. 
 
 Meanwhile our fugitives had, as we have seen, set out from the 
 convent of Saint Bride under the guidance of a cavalier, of whom 
 the Lady Augusta knew nothing save that he was to guide their 
 steps in a direction where they would not be exposed to the risk of 
 being overtaken. At length Margaret de Hautlieu herself spoke 
 upon the subject. 
 
300 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " You have made no enquiry," she said, " Lady Augusta, whither 
 you are travelling, or under whose charge, although methinks it 
 should much concern you to know." 
 
 " Is it not enough for me to be aware," answered Lady Augusta, 
 "that I am travelling, kind sister, under the protection of one to 
 whom you yourself trust as to a friend ; and why need I be anxious 
 for any farther assurance of my safety ? " 
 
 " Simply," said Margaret de Hautlieu, " because the persons with 
 whom, from national as well as personal circumstances, I stand 
 connected, are perhaps not exactly the protectors to whom you, 
 lady, can with such perfect safety intrust yourself." 
 
 " In what sense," said the Lady Augusta, " do you use these 
 words ? " 
 
 " Because,'' replied Margaret de Hautlieu, " the Bruce, the 
 Douglas, Malcolm Fleming, and others of that party, although they 
 are incapable of abusing such an advantage to any dishonourable 
 purpose, might nevertheless, under a strong temptation, consider 
 you as an hostage thrown into their hands by Providence, through 
 whom they might meditate the possibility of gaining some benefit to 
 their dispersed and dispirited party." 
 
 " They might make me," answered the Lady Augusta, " the 
 subject of such a treaty, when I was dead, but, believe me, never 
 while I drew vital breath. Believe me also that, with whatever 
 pain, shame, or agony, I would again deliver myself up to the power 
 of De Walton, yes, I would rather put myself in his hands — What 
 do I say ? his ! — I would rather surrender myself to the meanest 
 archer of my native country, than combine with its foes to work 
 mischief to merry England — my own England — that country which 
 is the envy of every other country, and the pride of all who can 
 term themselves her natives ! " 
 
 " I thought that your choice might prove so," said Lady Mar- 
 garet ; " and since you have honoured me with your confidence, 
 gladly would I provide for your liberty by placing you as nearly in 
 the situation which you yourself desire, as my poor means have the 
 power of accomplishing. In half an hour we shall be in danger of 
 being taken by the English parties, which will be instantly dispersed 
 in every direction in quest of us. Now take notice, lady, I know a 
 place in which I can take refuge with my friends and countrymen, 
 those gallant Scots, who have never even in this dishonoured age 
 bent the knee to Baal. For their honour, their nicety of honour, I 
 could in other days have answered with my own ; but of late, I am 
 bound to tell you, they have been put to those trials by which the 
 most generous affections may be soured, and driven to a species of 
 frenzy, the more wild that it is founded originally on the noblest 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 301 
 
 feelings. A person who feels himself deprived of his natural birth- 
 right, denounced, exposed to confiscation and death, because he 
 avouches the rights of his king, the cause of his country, ceases on 
 his part to be nice or precise in estimating the degree of retaliation 
 which it is lawful for him to exercise in the requital of such injuries ; 
 and, believe me, bitterly should I lament having guided you into a 
 situation which you might consider afflicting or degrading." 
 
 " In a word, then," said the English lady, " what is it you ap- 
 prehend I am like to suffer at the hands of your friends, whom I 
 must be excused for terming rebels ? " 
 
 " If," said the sister Ursula, "your friends, whom I should term 
 oppressors and tyrants, take our land and our lives, seize our 
 castles and confiscate our property, you must confess, that the 
 rough laws of war indulge mine with the privilege of retaliation. 
 There can be no fear, that such men, under any circumstances, 
 would ever exercise cruelty or insult upon a lady of your rank ; but 
 it is another thing to calculate that they will abstain from such 
 means of extorting advantage from your captivity as are common 
 in warfare. You would not, I think, wish to be delivered up to the 
 English, on consideration of Sir John de Walton surrendering the 
 Castle of Douglas to its natural lord ; yet, were you in the hands of 
 the Bruce or Douglas, although I can answer for your being treated 
 with all the respect which they have the means of showing, yet I 
 own, their putting you at such a ransom might be by no means 
 unlikely." 
 
 " I would sooner die," said the Lady Berkely, " than have my 
 name mixed up in a treaty so disgraceful ; and De Walton's reply 
 to it would, I am certain, be to strike the head from the messenger, 
 and throw it from the highest tower of Douglas Castle." 
 
 "Where, then, lady, would you now go," said sister Ursula, 
 " were the choice in your power ? " 
 
 "To my own castle," answered Lady Augusta, " where, if necessary, 
 I could be defended even against the king himself, until I could 
 place at least my person under the protection of the Church." 
 
 "In that case," replied Margaret de Hautlieu, "my power of 
 rendering you assistance is only precarious, yet it comprehends a 
 choice which I will willingly submit to your decision, notwithstand- 
 ing I thereby subject the secrets of my friends to some risk of being 
 discovered and frustrated. But the confidence which you have 
 placed in me, imposes on me the necessity of committing to you a 
 like trust. It rests with you, whether you will proceed with me to 
 the secret rendezvous of the Douglas and his friends, which I may 
 be blamed for making known, and there take your chance of the 
 reception which you may encounter, since I cannot warrant you of 
 
302 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 anything save honourable treatment, so far as your person is con- 
 cerned ; or, if you should think this too hazardous, make the best 
 of your way at once for the Border ; in which last case I will pro- 
 ceed as far as I can with you towards the English line, and then 
 leave you to pursue your journey, and to obtain a guard and a con- 
 ductor among your own countrymen. Meantime, it will be well for 
 me if I escape being taken, since the abbot would not shrink at 
 inflicting upon me the death due to an apostate nun." 
 
 " Such cruelty, my sister, could hardly be inflicted upon one who 
 had never taken the religious vows, and who still, according to the 
 laws of the church, had a right to make a choice between the world 
 and the veil." 
 
 " Such choice as they gave their gallant victims," said Lady 
 Margaret, " who have fallen into English hands during these merci- 
 less wars, — such choice as they gave to Wallace, the Champion of 
 Scotland,— such as they gave to Hay, the gentle and the free, — to 
 Sommerville, the flower of chivalry, — and to Athol, the blood re- 
 lation of King Edward himself — all of whom were as much traitors, 
 under which name they were executed, as Margaret de Hautlieu is 
 an apostate nun, and subject to the rule of the cloister." 
 
 She spoke with some eagerness, for she felt as if the English lady 
 imputed to her more coldness than she was, in such doubtful cir- 
 cumstances, conscious of manifesting. 
 
 " And after all," she proceeded, " you, Lady Augusta de Berkely, 
 what do you venture, if you run the risk of falling into the hands of 
 your lover ? What dreadful risk do you incur ? You need not, 
 methinks, fear being immured between four walls, with a basket of 
 bread and a cruse of water, which, were I seized, would be the only 
 support allowed to me for the short space that my life would be 
 prolonged. Nay, even were you to be betrayed to the rebel Scots, 
 as you call them, a captivity among the hills, sweetened by the 
 hope of deliverance, and rendered tolerable by all the alleviations 
 which the circumstances of your captors allowed them the means 
 of supplying, were not, I think, a lot so very hard to endure." 
 
 " Nevertheless," answered the Lady of Berkely, " frightful enough 
 it must have appeared to me, since, to fly from such, I threw myself 
 upon your guidance." 
 
 " And whatever you think or suspect," answered the novice, " I 
 am as true to you as ever was one maiden to another ; and as sure 
 as ever sister Ursula was true to her vows, although they were never 
 completed, so will I be faithful to your secret, even at the risk of 
 betraying my own." 
 
 " Harken, lady ! " she said, suddenly pausing, " do you hear 
 that ? " 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 303 
 
 The sound to which she alluded was the same imitation of the 
 cry of an owlet, which the lady had before heard under the walls of 
 the Convent. 
 
 [' These sounds," said Margaret de Hautlieu, " announce that one 
 is near, more able than I am to direct us in this matter. I must 
 go forward and speak with him ; and this man, our guide, will 
 remain by you for a little space ; nor, when he quits your bridle, 
 need you wait for any other signal, but ride forward on the woodland 
 path, and obey the advice and directions which will be given 
 you." 
 
 " Stay ! stay ! sister Ursula ! " cried the Lady de Berkely — 
 " abandon me not in this moment of uncertainty and distress ! " 
 
 " It must be, "for the sake of both," returned Margaret de Haut- 
 lieu. " I also am in uncertainty — I also am in distress — and 
 patience and obedience are the only virtues which can save us 
 both." 
 
 So saying, she struck her horse with the riding rod, and moving 
 briskly forward, disappeared among the boughs of a tangled thicket. 
 The Lady of Berkely would have followed her companion, but the 
 cavalier who attended them laid a strong hand upon the bridle of 
 her palfrey, with a look which implied that he would not permit her 
 to proceed in that direction. Terrified, therefore, though she could 
 not exactly state a reason why, the Lady of Berkely remained with 
 her eyes fixed upon the thicket, instinctively, as it were, expecting 
 to see a band of English archers, or rugged Scottish insurgents, 
 issue from its tangled skirts, and doubtful which she should have 
 most considered as the objects of her terror. In the distress of her 
 uncertainty, she again attempted to move forward, but the stern 
 check which her attendant again bestowed upon her bridle, proved 
 sufficiently that in restraining her wishes, the stranger was not 
 likely to spare the strength which he certainly possessed. At 
 length, after some ten minutes had elapsed, the cavalier withdrew 
 his hand from her bridle, and pointing with his lance towards the 
 thicket, through which there winded a narrow, scarce visible path, 
 seemed to intimate to the lady that her road lay in that direction, 
 and that he would no longer prevent her following it. 
 
 "Do you not go with me?" said the lady, who having been 
 accustomed to this man's company since they left the convent, 
 had by degrees come to look upon him as a sort of protector. He, 
 however, gravely shook his head, as if to excuse complying with a 
 request, which it was not in his power to grant ; and turning his 
 steed in a different direction, retired at a pace which soon carried 
 him from her sight. She had then no alternative but to take the 
 path of the thicket, which had been followed by Margaret de 
 
304 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 Hautlieu, nor did she pursue it long before coming in sight of a 
 singular spectacle. 
 
 The trees grew wider as the lady advanced, and when she 
 entered the thicket, she perceived, that though edged in as it were 
 by an enclosure of copsewood, it was in the interior altogether 
 occupied by a few of the magnificent trees, such as seemed to have 
 been the ancestors of the forest, and which, though few in number, 
 were sufficient to overshade all the unoccupied ground, by the 
 great extent of their complicated branches. Beneath one of these 
 lay stretched something of a grey colour, which, as it drew itself 
 together, exhibited the figure of a man sheathed in armour, but 
 strangely accoutred, and in a manner so bizarre, as to indicate 
 some of the wild fancies peculiar to the knights of that period. 
 His armour was ingeniously painted, so as to represent a skeleton ; 
 the ribs being constituted by the corslet and its back-piece. The 
 shield represented an owl with its wings spread, a device which 
 was repeated upon the helmet, which appeared to be completely 
 covered by an image of the same bird of ill omen. But that which 
 was particularly calculated to excite surprise in the spectator, was 
 the great height and thinness of the figure, which, as it arose from 
 the ground, and placed itself in an erect posture, seemed rather to 
 resemble an apparition in the act of extricating itself from the 
 grave, than that of an ordinary man rising upon his feet. The 
 horse, too, upon which the lady rode, started back, and snorted, 
 either at the sudden change of posture of this ghastly specimen of 
 chivalry, or disagreeably affected by some odour which accom- 
 panied his presence. The lady herself manifested some alarm, for 
 although she did not utterly believe she was in the presence of a 
 supernatural being, yet, among all the strange and half-frantic 
 disguises of chivalry, this was assuredly the most uncouth which 
 she had ever seen ; and considering how often the knights of the 
 period pushed their dreamy fancies to the borders of insanity, it 
 seemed at best no very safe adventure to meet one accoutred in the 
 emblems of the King of Terrors himself, alone, and in the midst of 
 a wild forest. Be the knight's character and purposes what they 
 might, she resolved, however, to accost him in the language and 
 manner observed in romances upon such occasions, in the hope 
 even that if he were a madman, he might prove a peaceable one, 
 and accessible to civility. 
 
 " Sir Knight," she said, in as firm a tone as she could assume, 
 " right sorry am I, if, by my hasty approach, I have disturbed 
 your solitary meditations. My horse, sensible I think of the 
 presence of yours, brought me hither, without my being aware 
 whom or what I was to encounter." 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 305 
 
 " I am one," answered the stranger, in a solemn tone, " whom 
 few men seek to meet, till the time comes that they can avoid me 
 no longer." 
 
 " You speak, Sir Knight," replied the Lady de Berkely, " accord- 
 ing to the dismal character of which it has pleased you to assume 
 the distinction. May I appeal to one whose exterior is so formi- 
 dable, for the purpose of requesting some directions to guide me 
 through this wild wood ; as, for instance, what is the name of the 
 nearest castle, town, or hostelry, and by what course I am best 
 likely to reach such ? " 
 
 " It is a singular audacity,'' answered the Knight of the Tomb, 
 " that would enter into conversation with him who is termed the 
 Inexorable, the Unsparing, and the Pitiless, whom even the most 
 miserable forbears to call to his assistance, lest his prayers should 
 be too soon answered." 
 
 " Sir Knight," replied the Lady Augusta, " the character which 
 you hav^- assumed, unquestionably for good reasons, dictates to 
 you a peculiar course of speech ; but although your part is a sad 
 one, it does not should suppose, render it necessary for you to 
 refuse those acts of civility to which you must have bound yourself 
 in taking the high vows of chivalry." 
 
 " If you will trust to my guidance," replied the ghastly figure, 
 "there is only one condition upon which I can grant you the 
 information which you require ; and that is, that you follow my 
 footsteps without any questions asked as to the tendency of our 
 journey." 
 
 " I suppose I must submit to your conditions," she answered, " if 
 you are indeed pleased to take upon yourself the task of being my 
 guide. In my heart I conceive you to be one of the unhappy gen- 
 tlemen of Scotland, who are now in arms, as they say, for the 
 defence of their liberties. A rash undertaking has brought me 
 within the sphere of your influence, and now the only favour I have 
 to request of you, against whom I never did, nor planned any evil, 
 is the guidance which your knowledge of the country permits you 
 easily to afford me in my way to the frontiers of England. Believe 
 that what I may see of your haunts or of your practices, shall be to 
 me things invisible, as if they were actually concealed by the 
 sepulchre itself, of the king of which it has pleased you to assume 
 the attributes ; and if a sum of money, enough to be the ransom of 
 a wealthy earl, will purchase such a favour at need, such a ransom 
 will be frankly paid, and with as much fidelity as ever it was ren- 
 dered by a prisoner to the knight by whom he was taken. Do not 
 reject me, princely Bruce — noble Douglas — if indeed it is to either 
 of these that I address myself in this my last extremity — men speak 
 
 X 
 
3o6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 of both as fearful enemies, but generous knights and faithful friends. 
 Let me entreat you to remember how much you would wish your 
 own friends and connexions to meet with compassion under similar 
 circumstances, at the hands of the knights of England." 
 
 " And have they done so ? " replied the Knight, in a voice more 
 gloomy than before, " or do you act wisely, while imploring the 
 protection of one whom you believe to be a true Scottish knight, 
 for no other reason than the extreme and extravagant misery of his 
 appearance ; — is it, I say, well or wise to remind him of the mode 
 in which the lords of England have treated the lovely maidens and 
 the high-born dames of Scotland ? Have not their prison cages 
 been suspended from the battlements of castles, that their captivity 
 might be kept in view of every base burgher who should desire to 
 look upon the miseries of the noblest peeresses, yea, even the 
 Queen of Scotland?* Is this a recollection which can inspire a 
 Scottish knight with compassion towards an English lady ? or is 
 it a thought which can do aught but swell the deeply sworn hatred 
 of Edward Plantagenet, the author of these evils, that boils in 
 every drop of Scottish blood which still feels the throb of life ? 
 No ; — it is all you can expect, if, cold and pitiless as the sepulchre 
 I represent, I leave you unassisted in the helpless condition in 
 which you describe yourself to be." 
 
 " You will not be so inhuman," replied the lady ; " in doing so, 
 you must surrender every right to honest fame, which you have 
 won either by sword or lance. You must surrender every pretence 
 to that justice which affects the merit of supporting the weak 
 against the strong. You must make it your principle to avenge 
 the wrongs and tyranny of Edward Plantagenet upon the dames 
 and damosels of England, who have neither access to his councils, 
 nor perhaps give him their approbation in his wars against 
 Scotland." 
 
 " It would not then," said the Knight of the Sepulchre, " induce 
 you to depart from your request, should I tell you the evils to 
 which you would subject yourself should we fall into the hands of 
 the English troops, and should they find you under such ill-omened 
 protection as my own ? " 
 
 " Be assured," said the lady, " the consideration of such an event 
 does not in the least shake my resolution or desire of confiding in 
 your protection. You may probably know who I am, and may 
 judge how far even Edward would hold himself entitled to extend 
 punishment towards me." 
 
 " How am I to know you," replied the ghastly cavalier, " or your 
 circumstances ? They must be extraordinary indeed, if they could 
 form a check, either of justice or humanity, upon the revengeful 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 307 
 
 feelings of Edward. All who know him are well assured that it is 
 no ordinary motive that will induce him to depart from the indul- 
 gence of his evil temper. But be it as it may, you, lady, if a lady 
 you be, throw yourself as a burden upon me, and I must discharge 
 myself of my trust as I best may ; for this purpose you must be 
 guided implicitly by my directions, which will be given after the 
 fashion of those of the spiritual world, being intimations, rather 
 than detailed instructions, for your conduct, and expressed rather 
 by commands than by any reason or argument. In this way it is 
 possible that I may be of service to you ; in any other case, it is 
 most likely that I may fail you at need, and melt from your side 
 like a phantom which dreads the approach of day." 
 
 " You cannot be so cruel ! " answered the lady. " A gentleman, 
 a knight, and a nobleman — and I persuade myself I speak to all — 
 hath duties which he cannot abandon." 
 
 " He has, I grant it, and they are most sacred to me," answered 
 the Spectral Knight ; " but I have also duties whose obligations 
 are doubly binding, and to which I must sacrifice those which 
 would otherwise lead me to devote myself to your rescue. The 
 only question is, whether you feel inclined to accept my protection 
 on the limited terms on which alone I can extend it, or whether 
 you deem it better that each go their own way, and limit themselves 
 to their own resources, and trust the rest to Providence ? " 
 
 " Alas ! " replied the lady, " beset and hard pressed as I am, to 
 ask me to form a resolution for myself, is like calling on a wretch, 
 in the act of falling from a precipice, to form a calm judgment by 
 what twig he may best gain the chance of breaking his fall. His 
 answer must necessarily be, that he will cling to that which he can 
 easiest lay hold of, and trust the rest to Providence. I accept 
 therefore your offer of protection, in the modified way you are 
 pleased to limit it, and I put my faith in Heaven and in you. To 
 aid me effectually, however, you must know my name and my cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 "All these," answered the Knight of the Sepulchre, "have 
 already been told me, by your late companion ; for deem not, 
 young lady, that either beauty, rank, extended domains, unlimited 
 wealth, or the highest accomplishments, can weigh any thing in 
 the consideration of him who wears the trappings of the tomb, 
 and whose affections and desires are long buried in the charnel- 
 house." 
 
 " May your faith," said the Lady Augusta de Berkely, " be as 
 steady as your words appear severe, and I submit to your guidance, 
 without the least doubt or fear that it will prove otherwise than as 
 I venture to hope." 
 
 X 2 
 
3o8 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Like the dog following its master, when engaged in training him 
 to the sport in which he desires he should excel, the Lady Augusta 
 felt herself occasionally treated with a severity calculated to 
 impress upon her the most implicit obedience and attention to the 
 Knight of the Tomb, in whom she had speedily persuaded herself 
 she saw a principal man among the retainers of Douglas, if not 
 James of Douglas himself. Still, however, the ideas which the 
 lady had formed of the redoubted Douglas, were those of a knight 
 highly accomplished in the duties of chivalry, devoted in particular 
 to the service of the fair sex, and altogether unlike the personage 
 with whom she found herself so strangely united, or rather for the 
 present enthralled to. Nevertheless, when, as if to abridge farther 
 communication, he turned short into one of the mazes of the wood, 
 and seemed to adopt a pace, which, from the nature of the ground, 
 the horse on which the Lady Augusta was mounted had difficulty 
 to keep up with, she followed him with the alarm and speed of the 
 young spaniel, which, from fear rather than fondness, endeavours 
 to keep up with the track of its severe master. The simile, it is 
 true, is not a very polite one, nor entirely becoming an age, when 
 women were worshipped with a certain degree of devotion ; but 
 such circumstances as the present were also rare, and the Lady 
 Augusta de Berkely could not but persuade herself that the terrible 
 champion, whose name had been so long the theme of her anxiety, 
 and the terror indeed of the whole country, might be able, some 
 way or other, to accomplish her deliverance. She, therefore, 
 exerted herself to the utmost so as to keep pace with the phantom- 
 like apparition, and followed the knight, as the evening shadow 
 keeps watch upon the belated rustic. 
 
 As the lady obviously suffered under the degree of exertion ne- 
 cessary to keep her palfrey from stumbling in these steep and 
 broken paths, the Knight of the Tomb slackened his pace, looked 
 anxiously around him, and muttered apparently to himself, though 
 probably intended for his companion's ear, " There is no occasion 
 for so much haste." 
 
 He proceeded at a slower rate until they seemed to be on the 
 brink of a ravine, being one of many irregularities on the surface of 
 the ground, effected by the sudden torrents peculiar to that country, 
 and which, winding among the trees and copsewood, formed, as it 
 were, a net of places of concealment, opening into each other, so 
 that there was perhaps no place in the world so fit for the purpose 
 of ambuscade. The spot where the borderer Turnbull had made 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 309 
 
 his escape at the hunting-match, was one specimen of this broken 
 country, and perhaps connected itself with the various thickets and 
 passes through which the knight and pilgrim occasionally seemed 
 to take their way, though that ravine was at a considerable distance 
 from their present route. 
 
 Meanwhile the knight led the way, as if rather with the purpose 
 of bewildering the Lady Augusta amidst these interminable woods, 
 than following any exact or fixed path. Here they ascended, and 
 anon appeared to descend in the same direction, finding only 
 boundless wildernesses, and varied combinations of tangled wood- 
 land scenery. Such part of the country as seemed arable, the 
 knight appeared carefully to avoid ; yet he could not direct his 
 course with so much certainty but that he occasionally crossed the 
 path of inhabitants and cultivators, who showed a consciousness of 
 so singular a presence, but never, as the lady observed, evinced 
 any symptom of recognition. The inference was obvious, that the 
 spectre knight was known in the country, and that he possessed 
 adherents or accomplices there, who were at least so far his friends, 
 as to avoid giving any alarm, which might be the means of his dis- 
 covery. The well-imitated cry of the night-owl, too frequent a 
 guest in the wilderness that its call should be a subject of surprise, 
 seemed to be a signal generally understood among them ; for it 
 was heard in different parts of the wood, and the Lady Augusta, 
 experienced in such journeys by her former travels under the 
 guidance of the minstrel Bertram, was led to observe, that on hear- 
 ing such wild notes, her guide changed the direction of his course, 
 and betook himself to paths which led through deeper wilds, and 
 more impenetrable thickets. This happened so often, that a new 
 alarm came upon the unfortunate pilgrim, which suggested other 
 motives of terror. Was she not the confidant, and almost the tool 
 of some artful design, laid with a view to an extensive operation, 
 which was destined to terminate, as the efforts of Douglas had 
 before done, in the surprise of his hereditary castle, the massacre 
 of the English garrison — and finally in the dishonour and death of 
 that Sir John de Walton, upon whose fate she had long believed, or 
 taught herself to believe, that her own was dependent ? 
 
 It no sooner flashed across the mind of the Lady Augusta that 
 she was engaged in some such conspiracy with a Scottish insur- 
 gent, than she shuddered at the consequences of the dark trans- 
 actions in which she had now become involved, and which appeared 
 to have a tendency so very different from what she had at first 
 apprehended. 
 
 The hours of the morning of this remarkable day, being that of 
 Palm Sunday, were thus drawn out in wandering from place to 
 
310 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 place ; while the Lady de Berkely occasionally interposed by 
 petitions for liberty, which she endeavoured to express in the 
 most moving and pathetic manner, and by offers of wealth and 
 treasures, to which no answer whatever was returned by her strange 
 guide. 
 
 At length, as if worn out by his captive's importunity, the knight, 
 coming close up to the bridle rein of the Lady Augusta, said in a 
 solemn tone — 
 
 " I am, as you may well believe, none of those knights who roam 
 through wood and wild seeking adventures, by which I may obtain 
 grace in the eyes of a fair lady : Yet will I to a certain degree grant 
 the request which thou dost solicit so anxiously, and the arbitration 
 of thy fate shall depend upon the pleasure of him to whose will 
 thou hast expressed thyself ready to submit thine own. I will, on 
 our arrival at the place of our destination, which is now at hand, 
 write to Sir John de Walton, and send my letter, together with thy 
 fair self, by a special messenger. He will, no doubt, speedily 
 attend our summons, and thou shalt thyself be satisfied, that even 
 he who has as yet appeared deaf to entreaty, and insensible to 
 earthly affections, has still some sympathy for beauty and for 
 virtue. I will put the choice of safety, and thy future happiness, 
 into thine own hands, and those of the man whom thou hast 
 chosen ; and thou mayst select which thou wilt betwixt those and 
 misery." 
 
 While he thus spoke, one of those ravines or clefts in the earth 
 seemed to yawn before them, and entering it at the upper end, the 
 spectre knight, with an attention which he had not yet shown, 
 guided the lady's courser by the rein down the broken and steep 
 path by which alone the bottom of the tangled dingle was ac- 
 cessible. 
 
 When placed on firm ground after the dangers of a descent, in 
 which her palfrey seemed to be sustained by the personal strength 
 and address of the singular being who had hold of the bridle, the 
 lady looked with some astonishment at a place so well adapted for 
 concealment as that which she had now reached. It appeared 
 evident that it was used for this purpose, for more than one stifled 
 answer was given to a very low bugle-note emitted by the Knight 
 of the Tomb ; and when the same note was repeated, about half a 
 score of armed men, some wearing the dress of soldiers, others 
 those of shepherds and agriculturists, showed themselves imper- 
 fectly, as if acknowledging the summons. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 311 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Hail to you, my gallant friends ! " said the Knight of the 
 Tomb to his companions, who seemed to welcome him with the 
 eagerness of men engaged in the same perilous undertaking. " The 
 winter has passed over, the festival of Palm Sunday is come, and 
 as surely as the ice and snow of this season shall not remain to 
 chill the earth through the ensuing summer, so surely we, in a few 
 hours, keep our word to those southern braggarts, who think their 
 language of boasting and malice has as much force over our 
 Scottish bosoms, as the blast possesses over the autumn fruits ; but 
 it is not so. While we choose to remain concealed, they may as 
 vainly seek to descry us, as a housewife would search for the needle 
 she has dropped among the withered foliage of yon gigantic oak. 
 Yet a few hours, and the lost needle shall become the exterminating 
 sword of the Genius of Scotland, avenging ten thousand injuries, 
 and especially the life of the gallant Lord Douglas, cruelly done to 
 death as an exile from his native country." 
 
 An exclamation between a yell and a groan burst from the 
 assembled retainers of Douglas, upon being reminded of the recent 
 death of their chieftain ; while they seemed at the same time sen- 
 sible of the necessity of making little noise, lest they should give 
 the alarm to some of the numerous English parties which were 
 then traversing different parts of the forest. The acclamation, so 
 cautiously uttered, had scarce died away in silence, when the 
 Knight of the Tomb, or, to call him by his proper name. Sir 
 James Douglas, again addressed his handful of faithful fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 " One effort, my friends, may yet be made to end our strife with 
 the southron without bloodshed. Fate has within a few hours 
 thrown into my power the young heiress of Berkely, for whose sake 
 it is said Sir John de Walton keeps with such obstinacy the castle 
 which is mine by inheritance. Is there one among you who dare 
 go, as the honourable escort of Augusta de Berkely, bearing a 
 letter, explaining the terms on which I am willing to restore her to 
 her lover, to freedom, and to her English lordships .■' " 
 
 " If there is none other," said a tall man, dressed in the tattered 
 attire of a woodsman, and being, in fact, no other than the very 
 iVIichael Turnbull, who had already given so extraordinary a proof 
 of his undaunted manhood, " I will gladly be the person who will 
 be the lady's henchman on this expedition." 
 
 " Thou art never wanting," said the Douglas, " where a manly 
 deed is to be done ; but remember, this lady must pledge to us her 
 
312 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 word and oath that she will hold herself our faithful prisoner, 
 rescue or no rescue ; that she will consider herself as pledged for 
 the life, freedom, and fair usage of Michael TurnbuU ; and that if 
 Sir John de Walton refuse my terms, she must hold herself obliged 
 to return with TurnbuU to our presence, in order to be disposed of 
 at our pleasure. 
 
 There was much in these conditions, which struck the Lady 
 Augusta with natural doubt and horror ; nevertheless, strange as it 
 may seem, the declaration of the Douglas gave a species of decision 
 to her situation, which might have otherwise been unattainable ; 
 and from the high opinion which she entertained of the Douglas's 
 chivalry, she could not bring herself to think, that any part which 
 he might play in the approaching drama would be other than that 
 which a perfect good knight would, under all circumstances, main- 
 tain towards his enemy. Even with respect to De Walton, she 
 felt herself relieved of a painful difficulty. The idea of her being 
 discovered by the knight himself, in a male disguise, had preyed 
 upon her spirits ; and she felt as if guilty of a departure from the 
 laws of womanhood, in having extended her favour towards him 
 beyond maidenly limits ; a step, too, which might tend to lessen 
 her in the eyes of the lover for whom she had hazarded so 
 much. 
 
 " The heart, she said, is lightly prized. 
 That is but lightly won ; 
 And long shall mourn the heartless man. 
 That leaves his love too soon." 
 
 On the other hand, to be brought before him as a prisoner, was 
 indeed a circumstance equally perplexing and unpleasing, but it 
 was one which was beyond her control, and the Douglas, into whose 
 hands she had fallen, appeared to her to represent the deity in the 
 play, whose entrance was almost sufficient to bring its perplexities 
 to a conclusion ; she therefore not unwillingly submitted to take 
 what oaths and promises were required by the party in whose hands 
 she found herself, and accordingly engaged to be a true prisoner, 
 whatever might occur. Meantime she strictly obeyed the directions 
 of those who had her motions at command, devoutly praying that 
 circumstances, in themselves so adverse, might nevertheless work 
 together for the safety of her lover and her own freedom. 
 
 A pause ensued, during which a slight repast was placed before 
 the Lady Augusta, who was wellnigh exhausted with the fatigues of 
 her journey. 
 
 Douglas and his partisans, meanwhile, whispered together, as if 
 unwilling she should hear their conference ; while, to purchase their 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 313 
 
 good-will, if possible, she studiously avoided every appearance of 
 listening. 
 
 After some conversation, TurnbuU, who appeared to consider the 
 lady as peculiarly his charge, said to her in a harsh voice, " Do not 
 fear, lady ; no wrong shall be done you ; nevertheless, you must be 
 content for a space to be blindfolded." 
 
 She submitted to this in silent terror ; and the trooper, wrapping 
 part of a mantle round her head, did not assist her to remount her 
 palfrey, but lent her his arm to support her in this blinded state. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The ground which they traversed was, as Lady Augusta could 
 feel, very- broken and uneven, and sometimes, as she thought, en- 
 cumbered with ruins, which were difficult to surmount. The strength 
 of her comrade assisted her forward on such occasions ; but his 
 help was so roughly administered, that the lady once or twice, in 
 fear or suffering, was compelled to groan or sigh heavily, whatever 
 was her desire to suppress such evidence of the apprehension which 
 she underwent, or the pain which she endured. Presently, upon an 
 occasion of this kind, she was distinctly sensible that the rough 
 woodsman was removed from her side, and another of the party 
 substituted in his stead, whose voice, more gentle than that of his 
 companion, she thought she had lately heard. 
 
 " Noble lady," were the words, " fear not the slightest injury at 
 our hands, and accept of my ministry instead of that of my hench- 
 man, who has gone forward with our letter ; do not think me pre- 
 suming on my situation if I bear you in my arms through ruins 
 where you could not easily move alone and blindfold." 
 
 At the same time the Lady Augusta Berkely felt herself raised 
 from the earth in the strong arms of a man, and borne onward with 
 the utmost gentleness, without the necessity of making those pain- 
 ful exertions which had been formerly required. She was ashamed 
 of her situation ; but, however delicate, it was no time to give vent 
 to complaints, which might have given offence to persons whom it 
 was her interest to conciliate. She, therefore, submitted to necessity, 
 and heard the following words whispered in her ear. 
 
 " Fear nothing ; there is no evil intended you ; nor shall Sir John 
 de Walton, if he loves you as you deserve at his hand, receive any 
 harm on our part. We call on him but to do justice to ourselves 
 and to you ; and be assured you will best accomplish your own 
 
314 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 happiness by aiding our views, which are equally in favour of your 
 wishes and your freedom." 
 
 The Lady Augusta would have made some answer to this, but her 
 breath, betwixt fear and the speed with which she was transported, 
 refused to permit her to use intelligible accents. Meantime she 
 began to be sensible that she was enclosed within some building, 
 and probably a ruinous one^for although the mode of her trans- 
 portation no longer permitted her to ascertain the nature of her path 
 in any respect distinctly, yet the absence of the external air^which 
 was, however, sometimes excluded, and sometimes admitted in 
 furious gusts — intimated that she was conducted through buildings 
 partly entire, and in other places admitting the wind through wide 
 rents and gaps. In one place it seemed to the lady as if she passed 
 through a considerable body of people, all of whom observed silence, 
 although there was sometimes heard among them a murmur, to 
 which every one present in some degree contributed, although the 
 general sound did not exceed a whisper. Her situation made her 
 attend to every circumstance, and she did not fail to observe that 
 these persons made way for him who bore her, until at length she 
 became sensible that he descended by the regular steps of a stair, 
 and that she was now alone excepting his company. Arrived, as it 
 appeared to the lady, on more level ground, they proceeded on their 
 singular road by a course which appeared neither direct nor easy, 
 and through an atmosphere which was close to a smothering degree, 
 and felt at the same time damp and disagreeable, as if from the 
 vapours of a new-made grave. Her guide again spoke. 
 
 " Bear up, Lady Augusta, for a little longer, and continue to endure 
 that atmosphere which must be one day common to us all. By the 
 necessity of my situation, I must resign my present office to your 
 original guide, and can only give you my assurance, that neither he, 
 nor any one else, shall offer you the least incivility or insult — and 
 on this you may rely, on the faith of a man of honour." 
 
 He placed her, as he said these words, upon the soft turf, and, to 
 her infinite refreshment, made her sensible that she was once more 
 in the open air, and free from the smothering atmosphere which had 
 before oppressed her like that of a charnel-house. At the same 
 time, she breathed in a whisper an anxious wish that she might be 
 permitted to disencumber herself from the folds of the mantle, which 
 excluded almost the power of breathing, though intended only to 
 prevent her seeing by what road she travelled. She immediately 
 found it unfolded, agreeably to her request, and hastened, with un- 
 covered eyes, to take note of the scene around her. 
 
 It was overshadowed by thick oak-trees, among which stood some 
 remnants of buildings, or what might have seemed such, being per- 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 315 
 
 haps the same in which she had been lately wandering. A clear 
 fountain of living water bubbled forth from under the twisted roots 
 of one of those trees, and offered the lady the opportunity of a 
 draught of the pure element, and in which she also bathed her face, 
 which had received more than one scratch in the course of her jour- 
 ney, in spite of the care, and almost the tenderness, with which she 
 had latterly been borne along. The cool water speedily stopt the 
 bleeding of those trifling injuries, and the application served at the 
 same time to recall the scattered senses of the damsel herself. Her 
 first idea was, whether an attempt to escape, if such should appear 
 possible, was not advisable. A moment's reflection, however, 
 satisfied her that such a scheme was not to be thought of; and such 
 second thoughts were confirmed by the approach of the gigantic 
 form of the huntsman Turnbull, the rough tones of whose voice were 
 heard before his figure was obvious to her eye. 
 
 " Were you impatient for my return, fair lady ? Such as I," he 
 continued in an ironical tone of voice, " who are foremost in the 
 chase of wild stags and silvan cattle, are not in use to lag behind, 
 when fair ladies, like you, are the objects of pursuit ; and if I am 
 not so constant in my attendance as you might expect, beheve me, 
 it is because I was engaged in another matter, to which I must 
 sacrifice for a little even the duty of attending on you.'' 
 
 " I offer no resistance," said the lady ; " forbear, however, in dis- 
 charging thy duty, to augment my uneasiness by thy conversation, 
 for thy master hath pledged me his word that he will not suffer me 
 to be alarmed or ill treated." 
 
 " Nay, fair one," replied the huntsman, " I ever thought it was fit 
 to make interest by soft words with fair ladies ; but if you like it 
 not, I have no such pleasure in hunting for fine holyday terms, but 
 that I can with equal ease hold myself silent. Come, then, since we 
 must wait upon this lover of yours ere morning closes, and learn his 
 last resolution touching a matter which is become so strangely 
 complicated, I will hold no more intercourse with you as a 
 female, but talk to you as a person of sense, although an English- 
 woman." 
 
 " You will," replied the lady, " best fulfil the intentions of those 
 by whose orders you act, by holding no society with me whatever, 
 otherwise than is necessary in the character of guide." 
 
 The man lowered his brows, yet seemed to assent to what the 
 Lady of Berkely proposed, and remained silent as they for some 
 time pursued their course, each pondering over their own share of 
 meditation, which probably turned upon matters essentially different. 
 At length the loud blast of a bugle was heard at no great distance 
 from the unsocial fellow-travellers. " That is the person we seek," 
 
3i6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 said TurnbuU ; " I know his blast from any other who frequents 
 this forest, and my orders are to bring you to speech of him." 
 
 The blood darted rapidly through the lady's veins at the thought 
 of being thus unceremoniously presented to the knight, in whose 
 favour she had confessed a rash preference more agreeable to the 
 manners of those times, when exaggerated sentiments often inspired 
 actions of extravagant generosity, than in our days, when every 
 thing is accounted absurd which does not turn upon a motive con- 
 nected with the immediate selfish interests of the actor himself. 
 When TurnbuU, therefore, winded his horn, as if in answer to the 
 blast which they had heard, the lady was disposed to fly at the first 
 impulse of shame and of fear. TurnbuU perceived her intention, 
 and caught hold of her with no very gentle grasp, saying — " Nay, 
 lady, it is to be understood that you play your own part in the 
 drama, which, unless you continue on the stage, will conclude un- 
 satisfactorily to us all, in a combat at outrance between your lover 
 and me, when it will appear which of us is most worthy of your 
 favour." 
 
 " I will be patient," said the lady, bethinking her that even this 
 strange man's presence, and the compulsion which he appeared to 
 use towards her, was a sort of excuse to her female scruples, for 
 coming into the presence of her lover, at least at her first appearance 
 before him, in a disguise which her feelings confessed was not 
 extremely decorous, or reconcilable to the dignity of her sex. 
 
 The moment after these thoughts had passed through her mind, 
 the tramp of a horse was heard approaching ; and Sir John de 
 Walton, pressing through the trees, became aware of the presence 
 of his lady, captive, as it seemed, in the grasp of a Scottish outlaw, 
 who was only known to him by his former audacity at the hunting- 
 match. 
 
 His surprise and joy only supplied the knight with those hasty 
 expressions—" Caitiff, let go thy hold! or die in thy profane attempt 
 to control the motions of one whom the very sun in heaven should 
 be proud to obey." At the same time, apprehensive that the hunts- 
 man might hurry the lady from his sight by means of some entangled 
 path — such as upon a former occasion had served him for escape — 
 Sir John de Walton dropt his cumbrous lance, of which the trees 
 did not permit him the perfect use, and springing from his horse, 
 approached TurnbuU with his drawn sword. 
 
 The Scottishman, keeping his left hand still upon the lady's 
 mantle, uplifted with his right his battle-axe, or Jedwood staff, for 
 the purpose of parrying and returning the blow of his antagonist, 
 but the lady spoke. 
 
 " Sir John de Walton," she said, " for heaven's sake, forbear all 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 317 
 
 violence, till you hear upon what pacific object I am brought hither, 
 and by what peaceful means these wars may be put an end to. 
 This man, though an enemy of yours, has been to me a civil and 
 respectful guardian ; and I entreat you to forbear him while he 
 speaks the purpose for which he has brought me hither." 
 
 " To speak of compulsion and the Lady de Berkely in the same 
 breath, would itself be cause enough for instant death," said the 
 Governor of Douglas Castle ; "but you command, lady, and I spare 
 his insignificant life, although I have causes of complaint against 
 him, the least of which were good warrant, had he a thousand lives, 
 for the forfeiture of them all." 
 
 " John de Walton," replied TurnbuU, " this lady well knows that 
 no fear of thee operates in my mind to render this a peaceful meet- 
 ing ; and were I not withheld by other circumstances of great con- 
 sideration to the Douglas, as well as thyself, I should have no more 
 fear in facing the utmost thou couldst do, than I have now in 
 levelling that sappling to the earth it grows upon." 
 
 So saying, Michael Turnbull raised his battle-axe, and struck 
 from a neighbouring oak-tree a branch, wellnigh as thick as a 
 man's arm, which (with all its twigs and leaves) rushed to the ground 
 between De Walton and the Scotchman, giving a singular instance 
 of the keenness of his weapon, and the strength and dexterity with 
 which he used it. 
 
 " Let there be truce, then, between us, good fellow," said Sir John 
 de Walton, " since it is the lady's pleasure that such should be the 
 case, and let me know what thou hast to say to me respecting her ? " 
 
 " On that subject," said Turnbull, " my words are few, but mark 
 them. Sir Englishman. The Lady Augusta Berkely, wandering in 
 this country, has become a prisoner of the noble Lord Douglas, the 
 rightfiil inheritor of the castle and lordship, and he finds himself 
 obliged to attach to the liberty of this lady the following conditions, 
 being in all respects such as good and lawful warfare entitles a 
 knight to exact. That is to say, in all honour and safety the Lady 
 Augusta shall be delivered to Sir John de Walton, or those whom 
 he shall name for the purpose of receiving her. On the other hand, 
 the Castle of Douglas itself, together with all out-posts or garrisons 
 thereunto belonging, shall be made over and surrendered by Sir 
 John de Walton, in the same situation, and containing the same 
 provisions and artillery, as are now within their walls ; and the 
 space of a month of truce shall be permitted to Sir James Douglas 
 and Sir John de Walton farther to regulate the terms of surrender 
 on both parts, having first plighted their knightly word and oath, 
 that in the exchange of the honourable lady for the foresaid castle, 
 lies the full import of the present agreement, and that every other 
 
3i8 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 subject of dispute shall, at the pleasure of the noble knights fore- 
 said, be honourably compounded and agreed betwixt them ; or, at 
 their pleasure, settled knightly by single combat, according to 
 usage, and in a fair field, before any honourable person, that may 
 possess power enough to preside." 
 
 It is not easy to conceive the astonishment of Sir John de Walton 
 at hearing the contents of this extraordinary cartel ; he looked 
 towards the Lady of Berkely with that aspect of despair with which 
 a criminal may be supposed to see his guardian angel prepare for 
 departure. Through her mind also similar ideas flowed, as if they 
 contained a concession of what she had considered as the summit 
 of her wishes, but under conditions disgraceful to her lover, like the 
 cherub's fiery sword of yore, which was a barrier between our first 
 parents and the blessings of Paradise. Sir John de Walton, after 
 a moment's hesitation, broke silence in these words : — 
 
 " Noble lady, you may be surprised if a condition be imposed 
 upon me, having for its object your freedom ; and if Sir John de 
 Walton, already standing under those obligations to you, which he 
 is proud of acknowledging, should yet hesitate on accepting, with 
 the utmost eagerness, what must ensure your restoration to free- 
 dom and independence ; but so it is, that the words now spoken 
 have thrilled in mine ear without reaching to my understanding, 
 and I must pray the Lady of Berkely for pardon if I take time to 
 reconsider them for a short space." 
 
 " And I," replied TurnbuU, " have only power to allow you half 
 an hour for the consideration of an offer, in accepting which, me- 
 thinks, you should jump shoulder-height, instead of asking any 
 time for reflection. What does this cartel exact, save what your 
 duty as a knight implicitly obliges you to ? You have engaged 
 yourself to become the agent of the tyrant Edward, in holding 
 Douglas Castle, as his commander, to the prejudice of the Scottish 
 nation, and of the Knight of Douglas Dale, who never, as a com- 
 munity or as an individual, were guilty of the least injury towards 
 you ; you are therefore prosecuting a false path, unworthy of a 
 good knight. On the other hand, the freedom and safety of your 
 lady is now proposed to be pledged to you, with a full assurance of 
 her liberty and honour, on consideration of your withdrawing from 
 the unjust line of conduct, in which you have suffered yourself to 
 be imprudently engaged. If you persevere in it, you place your 
 own honour, and the lady's happiness, in the hands of men 
 whom you have done every thing in your power to render des- 
 perate, and whom, thus irritated, it is most probable you may find 
 such." 
 " It is not from thee at least," said the knight, " that I shall learn 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 3ig 
 
 to estimate the manner in which Douglas will explain the laws of 
 war, or De Walton receive them at his dictating." 
 
 " I am not, then," said TurnbuU, " received as a friendly messen- 
 ger ? Farewell, and think of this lady as being in any hands but 
 those which are safe, while you make up at leisure your mind upon 
 the message I have brought you. Come, madam, we must be gone." 
 
 So saying, he seized upon the lady's hand, and pulled her, as if 
 to force her to withdraw. The lady had stood motionless, and 
 almost senseless, while these speeches were exchanged between the 
 warriors ; but when she felt the grasp of Michael TurnbuU, she 
 exclaimed, like one almost beside herself with fear — " Help me, De 
 Walton ! " 
 
 The knight, stung to instant rage, assaulted the forester with the 
 utmost fury, and dealt him with his long sword, almost at unawares, 
 two or three heavy blows, by which he was so wounded that 
 he sunk backwards in the thicket, and De Walton was about 
 to despatch him, when he was prevented by the anxious cry 
 of the lady — " Alas ! De Walton, what have you done ? This 
 man was only an ambassador, and 'should have passed free 
 from injury, while he confined himself to the delivery of what he 
 was charged with ; and if thou hast slain him, who knows how 
 frightful may prove the vengeance exacted ! " 
 
 The voice of the lady seemed to recover the huntsman from the 
 effects of the blows he had received ; he sprung on his feet, saying 
 — " Never mind me, nor think of my becoming the means of 
 making mischief. The knight, in his haste, spoke without giving 
 me warning and defiance, which gave him an advantage which, I 
 think, he would otherwise have scorned to have taken in such a 
 case. I will renew the combat on fairer terms, or call another 
 champion, as the knight pleases." With these words he dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Fear not, empress of De Walton's thoughts,'' answered the 
 knight, "but believe, that if we regain together the shelter of 
 Douglas Castle, and the safeguard of Saint George's Cross, thou 
 mayst laugh at all. And if you can but pardon, what I shall 
 never be able to forgive myself, the mole-like blindness which 
 did not recognise the sun while under a temporary eclipse, the 
 task cannot be named too hard for mortal valour to achieve 
 which I shall not willingly undertake, to wipe out the memory 
 of my grievous fault." 
 
 " Mention it no more," said the lady ; " it is not at such a 
 time as this, when our lives are for the moment at stake, that 
 quarrels upon slighter topics are to be recurred to. I can tell 
 you, if you do not yet know, that the Scots are in arms in this 
 
320 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 vicinity, and that even the earth has yawned to conceal them 
 from the sight of your garrison." 
 
 " Let it yawn, then," said Sir John de Walton, " and suffer 
 every fiend in the infernal abyss to escape from his prison-house 
 and reinforce our enemies — still, fairest, having received in thee 
 a pearl of matchless price, my spurs shall be hacked from my 
 heels by the basest scullion, if I turn my horse's head to the rear 
 before the utmost force these ruffians can assemble, either upon 
 earth or from underneath it. In thy name I defy them all to 
 instant combat." 
 
 As Sir John de Walton pronounced these last words, in some- 
 thing of an exalted tone, a tall cavalier, arrayed in black armour 
 of the simplest form, stepped forth from that part of the thicket 
 where Turnbull had disappeared. "I am," he said, "James of 
 Douglas, and your challenge is accepted. I, the challenged, 
 name the arms our knightly weapons as we now wear them, and 
 our place of combat this field or dingle called the Bloody Sykes, 
 the time being instant, and the combatants, like tr p knights, 
 foregoing each advantage on either side." * 
 
 " So be it, in God's name," said the English knight, -w L ' . 
 though surprised at being called upon to so sudden an encounter 
 with so formidable a warrior as young Douglas, was too proud 
 to dream of avoiding the combat. Making a sign to the lady to 
 retire behind him, that he might not lose the advantage which he 
 had gained by setting her at liberty from the forester, he drew his 
 sword, and with a deliberate and prepared attitude of offence, 
 moved slowly to the encounter. It was a dreadful one, for the 
 courage and skill both of the native Lord of Douglas Dale, and of 
 De Walton, were among the most renowned of the times, and 
 perhaps the world of chivalry could hardly have produced two 
 knights more famous. Their blows fell as if urged by some mighty 
 engine, where they were met and parried with equal strength and 
 dexterity ; nor seemed it likely, in the course of ten minutes' 
 encounter, that an advantage would be gained by either combatant 
 over the other. An instant they stopped by mutually implied 
 assent, as it seemed, for the purpose of taking breath, during which 
 Douglas said, " I beg that this noble lady may understand, that 
 her own freedom is no way concerned in the present contest, 
 which entirely regards the injustice done by this Sir John de 
 VVauui., and by his nation of England, to the memory of my 
 father, and to my own natural rights." 
 
 " You are generous. Sir Knight," replied the lady ; " but in what 
 circumstances do you place me, if you deprive me of my protector 
 by death or captivity, and leave me alone in a foreign land ? " 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. jii 
 
 " If such should be the event of the combat," replied Sir James, 
 "the Douglas himself, lady, will safely restore thee to thy native land; 
 for never did his sword do an injury for which he was not willing 
 to make amends with the same weapon ; and if Sir John de Wal- 
 ton will make the slightest admission that he renounces maintain- 
 ing the present strife, were it only by yielding up a feather from 
 the plume of his helmet, Douglas will renounce every purpose on 
 his part which can touch the lady's honour or safety, and the 
 combat may be suspended until the national quarrel again brings 
 us together." 
 
 Sir John de Walton pondered a moment, and the lady, although 
 she did not speak, looked at him with eyes which plainly expressed 
 how much she wished that he would choose the less hazardous 
 alternative. But the knight's own scruples prevented his bringing 
 the case to so favourable an arbitrement. 
 
 " Never shall it be said of Sir John de Walton," he replied, 
 " that he compromised, in the slightest degree, his own honour, or 
 that of his country. This battle may end in my defeat, or rather 
 death, and in that case my earthly prospects are closed, and I 
 resign to Douglas, with my last breath, the charge of the Lady 
 Augusta, trusting that he will defend her with bis life, and find the 
 means of replacing her with safety in the halls of her fathers. But 
 while I survive, she may have a better, but will not need another 
 protector than he who is honoured by being her own choice ; nor 
 will I yield up, were it a plume from my helmet, implying that I 
 have maintained an unjust quarrel, either in the cause of England, 
 or of the fairest of her daughters. Thus far alone I will concede 
 to Douglas — an instant truce, provided the lady shall not be inter- 
 rupted in her retreat to England, and the combat be fought out 
 upon another day. The Castle and territory of Douglas is the 
 property of Edward of England, the governor in his name is the 
 rightful governor, and on this point I will fight while my eyelids 
 are unclosed." 
 
 " Time flies," said Douglas, " without waiting for our resolves ; 
 nor is there any part of his motions of such value, as that which 
 is passing with every breath of vital air which we presently draw. 
 Why should we adjourn till to-morrow that which can be as well 
 finished to-day? Will our swords be sharper, or our arms stronger 
 to wield them, than they are at this moment ? Douglas will do all 
 which knight can do to succour a lady in distress ; but he will not 
 grant to her knight the slightest mark of deference, which Sir 
 John de Walton vainly supposes himself able to extort by force of 
 arms." 
 
 With these words, the knights engaged once more in mortal 
 
 V 
 
323 CAstLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 combat, and the lady felt uncertain whether she should attempt her 
 escape through the devious paths of the wood, or abide the issue of 
 this obstinate fight. It was rather her desire to see the fate of Sir 
 John de Walton, than any other consideration, which induced her 
 to remain, as if fascinated, upon the spot, where one of the fiercest 
 quarrels ever fought was disputed by two of the bravest champions 
 that ever drew sword. At last the lady attempted to put ~a stop to 
 the combat, by appealing to the bells which began to ring for the 
 service of the day, which was Palm Sunday. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," she said — " for your own sakes, and for 
 that of lady's love, and the duties of chivalry, hold your hands 
 only for an hour, and take chance, that where strength is so equal, 
 means will be found of converting the truce into a solid peace. 
 Think this is Palm Sunday, and will you defile with blood such a 
 peculiar festival of Christianity ? Intermit your feud at least so 
 far as to pass to the nearest church, bearing with you branches, 
 not in the ostentatious mode of earthly conquerors, but as render- 
 ing due homage to the rules of the blessed church, and the institu- 
 tions of our holy religion." 
 
 " I was on my road, fair lady, for that purpose, to the holy church 
 of Douglas," said the Englishman, " when I was so fortunate as to 
 meet you at this place ; nor do I object to proceed thither even 
 now, holding truce for an hour, and I fear not to find there friends 
 to whom I can commit you with assurance of safety, in case I am 
 unfortunate in the combat which is now broken off, to be resumed 
 after the service of the day." 
 
 "I also assent," said the Douglas, "to a truce for such short 
 space ; nor do I fear that there may be good Christians enough at 
 the church, who will not see their master overpowered by odds. 
 Let us go thither, and each take the chance of what Heaven shall 
 please to send us." 
 
 From these words, Sir John de Walton little doubted that 
 Douglas had assured himself of a party among those who should 
 there assemble ; but he doubted not of so many of the garrison 
 being present as would bridle every attempt at rising ; and the 
 risk, he thought, was worth incurring, smce he should thereby 
 secure an opportunity to place Lady Augusta de Berkely in safety, 
 at least so far as to make ner liberty depend on the event of a 
 general conflict, instead of the precarious issue of a combat 
 between himself and Douglas. 
 
 Botli these distinguislied knights were inwardly of opinion, that 
 the proposal of the lady, though it relieved them from their pre- 
 sent contlict, by no means bound them to abstain from the con- 
 sequences which an accession of force might add to their general 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 3^3 
 
 Strength, and each reUed upon his superiority, in some degree 
 provided for by their previous proceedings. Sir John de Wahon 
 made almost certain of meeting with several of his bands of 
 soldiers, who were scouring the country and traversing the woods 
 by his direction ; and Douglas, it may be supposed, had not 
 ventured himself in person where a price was set upon his head, 
 without being attended by a sufficient number of approved ad- 
 herents, placed in more or less connection with each other, and 
 stationed for mutual support. Each, therefore, entertained well- 
 grounded hopes, that, by adopting the truce proposed, he would 
 ensure himself an advantage over his antagonist, although neither 
 exactly knew in what manner or to what extent this success was 
 o be obtained. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 His talk was of another world — his bodements 
 
 Strange, doubtful, and mysterious ; those who heard him 
 
 Listen'd as to a man in feverish dreams. 
 
 Who speaks of other objects than the present. 
 
 And mutters like to him who sees a vision. 
 
 OldPlav. 
 
 On the same Palm Sunday when De Walton and Douglas 
 measured together their mighty swords, the minstrel Bertram was 
 busied with the ancient Book of Prophecies, which we have already 
 mentioned as the supposed composition of Thomas the Rhymer, 
 but not without many anxieties as to the fate of his lady, and the 
 events which were passing around him. As a minstrel, he was 
 desirous of an auditor to enter into the discoveries which he should 
 make in that mystic volume, as well as to assist in passing away 
 the time; Sir John de Walton had furnished him, in Gilbert 
 Greenleaf the archer, with one who was well contented to play the 
 listener "from morn to dewy eve," provided a flask of Gascon 
 wine, or a stoup of good English ale, remained on the board. It 
 may be remembered that De Walton, when he dismissed the 
 minstrel from the dungeon, was sensible that he owed him some 
 compensation for the causeless suspicion which had dictated his 
 imprisonment, more particularly as he was a valued servant, and 
 had shown himself the faithful confidant of the Lady Augusta de 
 Berkely, and the person who was moreover likely to know all the 
 motives and circumstances of her Scottish journey. To secure his 
 good wishes was, therefore, politic ; and De Walton had intimated 
 
 y 3 
 
334 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 to his faithful archer that he was^to lay aside all suspicion of 
 Bertram, but at the same time keep him in sight, and, if possible, 
 in good humour with the governor of the castle, and his adherents. 
 Greenleaf accordingly had no doubt in his own mind, that the 
 only way to please a minstrel was to listen with patience and com- 
 mendation to the lays which he liked best to sing, or the tales 
 which he most loved to tell ; and in order to ensure the execution 
 of his master's commands, he judged it necessary to demand of the 
 butler such store of good liquor, as could not fail to enhance the 
 pleasure of his society. 
 
 Having thus fortified himself with the means of bearing a long 
 interview with the minstrel, Gilbert Greenleaf proposed to confer 
 upon him the bounty of an early breakfast, which, if it pleased 
 him, they might wash down with a cup of sack, and, having his 
 master's commands to show the minstrel any thing about the 
 castle which he might wish to see, refresh their overwearied spirits 
 by attending a part of the garrison of Douglas to the service of the 
 day, which, as we have already seen, was of peculiar sanctity. 
 Against such a proposal the minstrel, a good Christian by profes- 
 sion, and, by his connexion with the joyous science, a good fellow, 
 having no objections to offer, the two comrades, who had formerly 
 little good-will towards each other, commenced their morning's 
 repast on that fated Palm Sunday, with all manner of cordiality 
 and good fellowship. 
 
 " Do not believe, worthy minstrel," said the archer, " that my 
 master in any respect disparages your worth or rank in referring 
 you for company or conversation to so poor a man as myself. It 
 is true, I am no officer of this garrison ; yet for an old archer, who, 
 for these thirty years, has lived by bow and bowstring, I do not 
 (Our Lady make me thankful !) hold less share in the grace of Sir 
 John de Walton, the Earl of Pembroke, and other approved good 
 soldiers, than many of those giddy young men on whom commis- 
 sions are conferred, and to whom confidences are intrusted, not on 
 account of what they have done, but what their ancestors have 
 done before them. I pray you to notice among them one youth 
 placed at our head in De Walton's absence, and who bears the 
 honoured name of Aymer de Valence, being the same with that of 
 the Earl of Pembroke, of whom I have spoken ; this knight has 
 also a brisk young page, whom men call Fabian Harbothel." 
 
 " Is it to these gentlemen that your censure applies ? " answered 
 the minstrel ; " I should have judged differently, having never, in 
 the course of my experience, seen a young man more courteous 
 and amiable than the young knight you named." 
 
 " I nothing dispute that it may be so," said the archer, hastening 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. - 325 
 
 to amend the false step which he had made ; " but in order that it 
 should be so, it will be necessary that he conform to the usages of 
 his uncle, taking the advice of experienced old soldiers in the 
 emergencies which may present themselves ; and not believing, 
 that the knowledge which it takes many years of observation to 
 acquire, can be at once conferred by the slap of the flat of a sword, 
 and the magic words, 'Rise up, Sir Arthur' — or however the case 
 may be." 
 
 " Doubt not. Sir Archer," replied Bertram, " that I am fully 
 aware of the advantage to be derived from conversing with men of 
 experience like you : it benefiteth men of every persuasion, and I 
 myself am oft reduced to lament my want of sufficient knowledge 
 of armorial bearings, signs, and cognizances, and would right fain 
 have thy assistance, where I am a stranger alike to the names of 
 places, of persons, and description of banners and emblems by 
 which great families are distinguished from each other, so abso- 
 lutely necessary to the accomplishment of my present task." 
 
 " Pennons and banners," answered the archer, " I have seen 
 right many, and can assign, as is a soldier's wont, the name of the 
 leader to the emblem under which he musters his followers ; never- 
 theless, worthy minstrel, I cannot presume to understand what you 
 call prophecies, with or under warranted authority of old painted 
 books, expositions of dreams, oracles, revelations, invocations of 
 damned spirits, judicials, astrologicals, and other gross and pal- 
 pable offences, whereby men, pretending to have the assistance of 
 the devil, do impose upon the common people, in spite of the 
 warnings of the Privy Council ; not, however, that I suspect you, 
 worthy minstrel, of busying yourself with these attempts to explain 
 futurity, which are dangerous attempts, and may be truly said to 
 be penal, and part of treason." 
 
 " There is something in what you say," replied the minstrel ; 
 " yet it applieth not to books and manuscripts such as I have been 
 consulting ; part of which things therein written having already come 
 to pass, authorise us surely to expect the completion of the rest ; 
 nor would I have much difficulty in showing you from this volume, 
 that enough has been already proved true, to entitle us to look 
 with certainty to the accomplishment of that which remains." 
 
 " I should be glad to hear that," answered the archer, who 
 entertained little more than a soldier's belief respecting prophecies 
 and auguries, but yet cared not bluntly to contradict the minstrel 
 upon such subjects, as he had been instructed by Sir John de 
 Walton to comply with his humour. Accordingly the minstrel 
 began to recite verses, which, in our time, the ablest interpreter 
 could not make sense out of. 
 
3a6 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " When the cock crows, keep well his comb, 
 For the fox and the fulmart they are false both. 
 When the raven and the rook have rounded together. 
 And the kid in his cliff shall accord to the same, 
 Then shall they be bold, and soon to battle thereafter. 
 Then the birds of the raven rugs and reives. 
 And the leal men of Lothian are louping on their horse ; 
 Then shall the poor people be spoiled full near. 
 And the Abbeys be burnt truly that stand upon Tweed ; 
 They shall burn and slay, and great reif make ; 
 There shall no poor man who say whose man he is : 
 Then shall the land be lawless, for love there is none. 
 Then falset shall have foot fully five years ; 
 Then truth surely shall be tint, and none shall lippen to other ; 
 The one cousing shall not trust the other. 
 Not the son the father, nor the father the son ; 
 For to have his goods he would have him hanged." 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 The archer listened to these mystic prognostications, which were 
 not the less wearisome that they were, in a considerable degree, 
 unintelligible ; at the same time subduing his Hotspur-like dispo- 
 sition to tire of the recitation, yet at brief intervals comforting 
 himself with an application to the wine flagon, and enduring as he 
 might what he neither understood nor took interest in. Mean- 
 while the minstrel proceeded with his explanation of the dubious 
 and imperfect vaticinations of which we have given a sufficient 
 specimen. 
 
 " Could you wish," said he to Greenleaf, " a more exact descrip- 
 tion of the miseries which have passed over Scotland in these 
 latter days .' Have not these the raven and rook, the fox and the 
 fulmart, explained ; either because the nature of the birds or beasts 
 bear an individual resemblance to those of the knights who display 
 them on their banners, or otherwise are bodied forth by actual 
 blazonry on their shields, and come openly into the field to ravage 
 and destroy.' Is not the total disunion of the land plainly indi- 
 cated by these words, that connexions of blood shall be broken 
 asunder, that kinsmen shall not trust each other, and that the 
 father and son, instead of putting faith in their natural connexion, 
 shall seek each other's life, in order to enjoy his inheritance? The 
 leal 7nen of Lothian are distinctly mentioned as taking arms, and 
 there is plainly allusion to the other events of these late Scottish 
 troubles. The deatli of this last William is obscurely intimated 
 under the type of a hound, which was that good lord's occasional 
 cognizance. 
 
 ' The hound that was harmed then muzzled shall be, 
 Who loved him worst shall weep for his wreck ; 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 327 
 
 Yet shall a whelp rise of the same race, 
 That rudely shall roar, and rule the whole north, 
 And quit the whole quarrel of old deeds done, 
 Though he from his hold be kept back a while. 
 True Thomas told me this in a troublesome time, 
 In a harvest morning at Eldoun hills.' 
 
 " This hath a meaning, Sir Archer," continued the minstrel, 
 " and which flies as directly to its mark as one of your own arrows, 
 although there may be some want of wisdom in making the direct 
 explication. Being, however, upon assurance with you, I do not 
 hesitate to tell you, that in my opinion this lion's whelp that waits 
 its time, means this same celebrated Scottish prince, Robert the 
 Bruce, who, though repeatedly defeated, has still, while hunted 
 \\ith bloodhounds, and surrounded by enemies of every sort, main- 
 tained his pretensions to the crown of Scotland, in despite of King 
 Edward, now reigning." 
 
 " Minstrel," answered the soldier, " you are my guest, and we 
 have sat down together as friends to this simple meal in good 
 comradeship. I must tell thee, however, though I am loath to 
 disturb our hannony, that thou art the first ^^ho hast adventured to 
 speak a word before Gilbert Greenleaf in favour of that outlawed 
 traitor, Robert Bruce, who has by his seditions so long disturbed 
 the peace of this realm. Take my advice, and be silent on this 
 topic ; for, believe me, the sword of a true English archer will 
 spring from its scabbard without consent of its master, should it 
 hear aught said to the disparagement of bonny St. George and his 
 ruddy cross ; nor shall the authority of Thomas the Rhymer, or 
 any other prophet in Scotland, England, or Wales, be considered 
 as an apology for such unbecoming predictions." 
 
 " I were loath to give offence at any time," said the minstrel, 
 " much more to provoke you to anger, when I am in the very act 
 of experiencing your hospitality. I trust, however, you will remem- 
 ber that I do not come your uninvited guest, and that if 1 speak to 
 you of future events, I do so without having the least intention to 
 add my endeavour to bring them to pass ; for, God knows, it is 
 many years since my sincere prayer has been for peace and happi- 
 ness to all men, and particularly honour and happiness to the land 
 of Bowmen, in which I was born, and which I am bound to re- 
 member in my prayers beyond all other nations in the world." 
 
 " It is well that you do so," said the archer ; " for so you shall 
 best maintain your bounden duty to the fair land of your birth, 
 which is the richest that the sun shines upon. Something, how- 
 ever, I would know, if it suits with your pleasure to tell me, and 
 that is, whether you find any thing in these rude rhymes appearing 
 
323 - CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 to affect the safety of the Castle of Douglas, where we now are?— 
 for, mark me, Sir Minstrel, I have observed that these mouldering 
 parchments, when or by whomsoever composed, have so far a 
 certain coincidence with the truth, that when such predictions 
 which they contain are spread abroad in the country, and create 
 rumours of plots, conspiracies, and bloody wars, they are very apt 
 to cause the very mischances which they would be thought only to 
 predict." 
 
 " It were not very cautious in me," said the minstrel, " to choose 
 a prophecy for my theme, which had reference to any attack on 
 this garrison ; for in such case I should, according to your ideas, 
 lay myself under suspicion of endeavouring to forward what no 
 person could more heartily regret than myself." 
 
 " Take my word for it, good friend," said the archer, " that it 
 shall not be thus with thee ; for I neither will myself conceive ill 
 of thee, nor report thee to Sir John de Walton as meditating harm 
 against him or his garrison— nor, to speak truth, would Sir John 
 de Walton be willing to believe any one who did. He thinks 
 highly, and no doubt deservedly, of thy good faith towards thy 
 lady, and would conceive it unjust to suspect the fidelity of one 
 who has given evidence of his willingness to meet death rather 
 than betray the least secret of his mistress." 
 
 " In preserving her secret," said Bertram, " I only discharged 
 the duty of a faithful servant, leaving it to her to judge how long 
 such a secret ought to be preserved ; for a faithful servant ought to 
 think as little of the issue towards himself of the commission which 
 he bears, as the band of flock silk concerns itself with the secret of 
 the letter which it secures. And, touching your question — I have 
 no objections, although merely to satisfy your curiosity, to unfold 
 to you that these old prophesies do contain some intimations of 
 wars befalling in Douglas Dale, between an haggard, or wild hawk, 
 which I take to be the cognizance of Sir John de Walton, and the 
 three stars, or martlets, which is the cognizance of the Douglas ; 
 and more particulars I could tell of these onslaughts, did I know 
 whereabouts is a place in these woods termed Bloody Sykes, the 
 scene also, as I comprehend, of slaughter and death, between the 
 followers of the three stars and those who hold the part of the 
 Saxon, or King of England." 
 
 " Such a place," replied Gilbert Greenleaf, " I have heard often 
 mentioned by that name among the natives of these parts ; never- 
 theless it is in vain to seek to discover the precise spot, as these 
 wily Scots conceal from us with care every thing respecting the 
 geography of their country, as it is called by learned men ; but we 
 may here mention the Bloody Sykes, Bottomless Myre, and other 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 3=9 
 
 places, as portentous names, to which their traditions attach some 
 signification of war and slaughter. If it suits your wish, however, 
 we can, on our way to the church, try to find this place called 
 Bloody Sykes, which I doubt not we shall trace out long before 
 the traitors who meditate an attack upon us will find a power suffi- 
 cient for the attempt." 
 
 Accordingly the minstrel and archer, the latter of whom was by 
 this time reasonably well refreshed with wine, marched out of the 
 Castle of Douglas, without waiting for others of the garrison, 
 resolving to seek the dingle bearing the ominous name of Bloody 
 Sykes, concerning which the archer only knew that by mere 
 accident he had heard of a place bearing such a name, at the 
 hunting-match made under the auspices of Sir John de Walton, 
 and knew that it lay in the woods somewhere near the town of 
 Douglas, and in the vicinage of the castle. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Hotspur. I cannot choose ; sometimes he angers me 
 With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, 
 Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies ; 
 And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
 A clipt-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, 
 A couching lion, and a ramping cat, 
 And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff, 
 As puts me from my faith. 
 
 Kin^ Henry IV. 
 
 The conversation between the minstrel and the ancient archer 
 naturally pursued a train somewhat resembling that of Hotspur 
 and Glendower, in which Gilbert Greenleaf by degrees took a 
 larger share than was apparently consistent with his habits and 
 education : but the truth was, that as he exerted himself to recall 
 the recognizances of military chieftains, their war-cries, emblems, 
 and other types, by which they distinguished themselves in battle, 
 and might undoubtedly be indicated in prophetic rhymes, he began 
 to experience the pleasure which most men entertain when they 
 find themselves unexpectedly possessed of a faculty which the 
 moment calls upon them to employ, and renders them important 
 in the possession of. The minstrel's sound good sense was cer- 
 tainly somewhat surprised at the inconsistencies sometimes dis- 
 played by his companion, as he was carried off by the willingness 
 to njake show of his newly discovered faculty on the one hand, 
 
330 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 and, on the other, to call to mind the prejudices which he had 
 nourished during his whole life against minstrels, who, with the 
 whole train of legends and fables, were the more likely to be false, 
 as being generally derived from the " North Countrie." 
 
 As they strolled from one glade of the forest to another, the 
 minstrel began to be surprised at the number of Scottish votaries 
 whom they met, and who seemed to be hastening to the church, 
 and, as it appeared by the boughs which they carried, to assist in 
 the ceremony of the day. To each of these the archer put a ques- 
 tion respecting the existence of a place called Bloody Sykes, and 
 where it was to be found — but all seemed either to be ignorant on 
 the subject, or desirous of evading it, for which they found some 
 pretext in the jolly archer's manner of interrogation, which savoured 
 a good deal of the genial breakfast. The general answer was, that 
 they knew no such place, or had other matters to attend to upon 
 the morn of a holy-tide than answering frivolous questions. At 
 last, when, in one or two instances, the answer of the Scottish 
 almost approached to suUenness, the minstrel remarked it, observ- 
 ing that there was ever some mischief on foot when the people of 
 this country could not find a civil answer to their betters, which is 
 usually so ready among them, and that they appeared to be making 
 a strong muster for the service of Palm Sunday. 
 
 " You will doubtless, Sir Archer," continued the minstrel, "make 
 your report to your knight accordingly ; for I promise you, that if 
 you do not, I myself, whose lady's freedom is also concerned, will 
 feel it my duty to place before Sir John de Walton the circum- 
 stances which make me entertain suspicion of this extraordinary 
 confluence of Scottish men, and the surliness which has replaced 
 their wonted courtesy of manners." 
 
 " Tush, Sir Minstrel," replied the archer, displeased at Bertram's 
 interference, " believe me, that armies have ere now depended on 
 my report to the general, which has always been perspicuous and 
 clear, according to the duties of war. Your walk, my worthy 
 friend, has been in a separate department, such as affairs of peace, 
 old songs, prophecies, and the like, in which it is far from my 
 thoughts to contend with you ; but credit me, it will be most for 
 the reputation of both, that we do not attempt to interfere with 
 what concerns each other." 
 
 " It is far from my wish to do so," replied the minstrel ; " but I 
 would wish that a speedy return should be made to the castle, in 
 order to ask Sir John de Walton's opinion of that which we have 
 but just seen." 
 
 " To this," replied Greenleaf, " there can be no objection ; but, 
 would you seek the governor at the hour which now is, you will 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 331 
 
 find him most readily by going to the church of Douglas, to which 
 he regularly wends on occasions such as the present, with the 
 principal part of his officers, to ensure, by his presence, that no 
 tumult arise (of which there is no little dread) between the English 
 and the Scottish. Let us therefore hold to our original intention of 
 attending the service of the day, and we shall rid ourselves of these 
 entangled woods, and gain the shortest road to the Church of 
 Douglas." 
 
 " Let us go then with all despatch," said the minstrel ; " and 
 with the greater haste, that it appears to me that something has 
 passed on this very spot this morning, which argues that the Chris- 
 tian peace due to the day has not been inviolably observed. What 
 mean these drops of blood ? " alluding to those which had flowed 
 from the wounds of Turnbull — " Wherefore is the earth impressed 
 with these deep dints, the footsteps of armed men advancing and 
 retreating, doubtless, according to the chances of a fierce and 
 heady conflict.'" 
 
 " By Our Lady," returned Greenleaf, " I must own that thou 
 seest clear. What were my eyes made of when they permitted 
 thee to be the first discoverer of these signs of conflict ? Here are 
 feathers of a blue plume, which I ought to remember, seeing my 
 knight assumed it, or at least permitted me to place it in his 
 helmet, this morning,, in sign of returning hope, from the liveliness 
 of its colour. But here it lies, shorn from his head, and, if I may 
 guess, by no friendly hand. Come, friend, to the church — to the 
 church — and thou shalt have my example of the manner in which 
 De Walton ought to be supported when in danger." 
 
 He led the way through the town of Douglas, entering at the 
 southern gate, and up the very street in which Sir Aymer de 
 Valence had charged the Phantom Knight. 
 
 We can now say more fully, that the church of Douglas had 
 originally been a stately Gothic building, whose towers, arising 
 high above the walls of the town, bore witness to the grandeur of 
 its original construction. It was now partly ruinous, and the small 
 portion of open space which was retained for public worship was 
 fitted up in the family aisle, where its deceased lords rested from 
 worldly labours and the strife of war. From the open ground in 
 the front of the building, their eye could pursue a considerable 
 part of the course of the river Douglas, which approached the 
 town from the south-west, bordered by a line of hills fantastically 
 diversified in their appearance, and in many places covered with 
 copsewood, which descended towards the valley, and formed a 
 part of the tangled and intricate woodland by which the town was 
 §urrp«nded, The river itself, sweeping round the west side of the 
 
333 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 town, and from thence northward, supplied that large inundation 
 or artificial piece of water which we have already mentioned. 
 Several of the Scottish people, bearing willow branches, or those of 
 yew, to represent the palms which were the symbol of the day, 
 seemed wandering in the churchyard as if to attend the approach 
 of some person of peculiar sanctity, or procession of monks and 
 friars, come to render the homage due to the solemnity. At the 
 moment almost that Bertram and his companion entered the 
 churchyard, the Lady of Berkely, who was in the act of following 
 Sir John de Walton into the church, after having witnessed his 
 conflict with the young Knight of Douglas, caught a glimpse of her 
 faithful minstrel, and instantly determined to regain the company 
 of that old servant of her house and confidant of her fortunes, and 
 trust to the chance afterwards of being rejoined by Sir John de 
 Walton, with a sufficient party to provide for her safety, which she 
 in no respect doubted it would be his care to collect. She darted 
 away accordingly from the path in which she was advancing, and 
 reached the place where Bertram, with his new acquaintance 
 Greenleaf, were making some enquiries of the soldiers of the 
 English garrison, whom the service of the day had brought there. 
 
 Lady Augusta Berkely, in the meantime, had an opportunity to 
 s.ay privately to her faithful attendant and guide, " Take no notice 
 of me, friend Bertram, but take heed, if possible, that we be not 
 again separated from each other." Having given him this hint, 
 she observed that it was adopted by the minstrel, and that he 
 presently afterwards looked round and set his eye upon her, as, 
 muffled in her pilgrim's cloak, she slowly withdrew to another part 
 of the cemetery, and seemed to halt until, detaching himself from 
 Greenleaf, he should find an opportunity of joining her. 
 
 Nothing, in truth, could have more sensibly affected the faithful 
 minstrel than the singular mode of communication which acquainted 
 him that his mistress was safe, and at liberty to choose her own 
 motions, and, as he might hope, disposed to extricate herself from 
 the dangers which surrounded her in Scotland, by an immediate 
 retreat to her own country and domain. , He would gladly have 
 approached and joined her, but she took an opportunity by a sign 
 to caution ^lim against doing so, while at the same time he remained 
 somewhat apprehensive of the consequences of bringing her under 
 the notice of his new friend, Greenleaf, who might perhaps think 
 it proper to busy himself so as to gain some favour with the knight 
 who was at the head of the garrison. Meantime the old archer 
 continued his conversation with Bertram, while the minstrel, like 
 many other men similarly situated, heartily wished that his well- 
 meaning companion had been a hundred fathoms under ground, so 
 
CAStLE t)ANG£ROt;S. 333 
 
 his evatiishmettt had given him license to join his mistress ; but all 
 he had in his power was to approach her as near as he could, 
 without creating any suspicion. 
 
 " I would pray you, worthy minstrel," said Greenleaf, after look- 
 ing carefully round, that we may prosecute together the theme 
 which we were agitating before we came hither ; is it not your 
 opinion, that the Scottish natives have fixed this very morning for 
 some of those dangerous attempts which they have repeatedly ^ 
 made, and which are so carefully guarded against by the governors 
 placed in this district of Douglas by our good King Edward, our 
 rightful sovereign ? " 
 
 " I cannot see," replied the minstrel, " on what grounds you 
 found such an apprehension, or what you see here in the church- 
 yard different from that you talked of as we approached it, when 
 you held me rather in scorn, for giving way to some suspicions of 
 the same kind." 
 
 " Do you not see," added the archer, "the numbers of men, with 
 strange faces, and in various disguisements, who are thronging 
 about these ancient ruins, which are usually so solitary ? Yonder, 
 for example, sits a boy, who seems to shun observation, and whose 
 dress, I will be sworn, has never been shaped in Scotland." 
 
 " And if he is an EngUsh pilgrim," replied the minstrel, observ- 
 ing that the archer pointed towards the Lady of Berkely, "he 
 surely affords less matter of suspicion." 
 
 " I know not that," said old Greenleaf, " but I think it will be 
 my duty to inform Sir John de Walton, if I can reach him, that 
 there are many persons here, who in outward appearance neither 
 belong to the garrison, nor to this part of the country." 
 
 " Consider," said Bertram, " before you harass with accusation a 
 poor young man, and subject him to the consequences which must 
 necessarily attend upon suspicions of this nature, how many cir- 
 cumstances call forth men peculiarly to devotion at this period. 
 Not only is this the time of the triumphal entrance of the founder 
 of the Christian religion into Jerusalem, but the day itself is called 
 Dominica Confitentium, or the Sunday of Confessors, and the 
 palm-tree, or the box and yew, which are used as its substitutes, and 
 which are distributed to the priests, are burnt solemnly to ashes, 
 and those ashes distributed among the pious, by the priests, upon 
 the Ash- Wednesday of the succeeding year, all which rites and 
 ceremonies in our country are observed, by order of the Christian 
 church ; nor ought you, gentle archer, nor can you without a crime, 
 persecute those as guilty of designs upon your garrison, who can 
 ascribe their presence here to their desire to discharge the duties of 
 the day; and look ye at yon numerous procession approaching 
 
334 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 with banner and cross, and, as it appears, consisting of some 
 churchman of rank, and his attendants ; let us first enquire who he 
 is, and it is probable we shall find in his name and rank sufficient 
 security for the peaceable and orderly behaviour of those whom 
 piety has this day assembled at the church of Douglas." 
 
 Greenleaf accordingly made the investigation recommended by 
 his companion, and received information that the holy man who 
 headed the procession, was no other than the diocesan of the 
 district, the Bishop of Glasgow, who had come to give his counte- 
 nance to the rites with which the day was to be sanctified. 
 
 The prelate accordingly entered the walls of the dilapidated 
 churchyard, preceded by his cross-bearers, and attended by num- 
 bers, with boughs of yew and other evergreens, used on the festivity 
 instead of palms. Among them the holy father showered his 
 blessing, accompanied by signs of the cross, which were met with 
 devout exclamations by such of the worshippers as crowded around 
 him : — To thee, reverend father, we apply for pardon for our 
 offences, which we humbly desire to confess to thee, in order that 
 we may obtain pardon from heaven." 
 
 In this manner the congregation and the dignified clergyman 
 met together, exchanging pious greeting, and seemingly intent 
 upon nothing but the rites of the day. The acclamations of the 
 congregation mingled with the deep voice of the officiating priest, 
 dispensing the sacred ritual ; the whole forming a scene which, 
 conducted with the Catholic skill and ceremonial, was at once 
 imposing and affecting. 
 
 The archer, on seeing the zeal with which the people in the 
 churchyard, as well as a number who issued from the church, 
 hastened proudly to salute the bishop of the diocese, was rather 
 ashamed of the suspicions which he had entertained of the sincerity 
 of the good man's purpose in coming hither. Taking advantage of 
 a fit of devotion, not perhaps very common with old Greenleaf, who 
 at this moment thrust himself forward to share in those spiritual 
 advantages which the prelate was dispensing, Bertram slipped 
 clear of his English friend, and, gliding to the side of the Lady 
 Augusta, exchanged, by the pressure of the hand, a mutual con- 
 gratulation upon having rejoined company. On a sign by the 
 minstrel, they withdrew to the inside of the church, so as to remain 
 unobserved amidst the crowd, in which they were favoured by the 
 dark shadows of some parts of the building. 
 
 The body of the church, broken as it was, and hung round with the 
 armorial trophies of the last Lords of Douglas, furnished rather the 
 appearance of a sacrilegiously desecrated ruin, than the inside of a 
 holy place ; yet some care appeared to have been taken to prepare 
 
CASILE DANGEROUS. 335 
 
 It for the service of the day. At the lower end hung the great 
 escutcheon of WiUiam Lord of Douglas, who had lately died a 
 prisoner in England ; around that escutcheon were placed the 
 smaller shields of his sixteen ancestors, and a deep black shadow 
 was diffused by the whole mass, unless where relieved by the 
 glance of the coronets, or the glimmer of bearings particularly gay 
 in emblazonry. I need not say that in other respects the interior 
 of the church was much dismantled, it being the very same place 
 in which Sir Aymer de Valence held an interview with the old 
 sexton ; and who now, drawing into a separate corner some of the 
 straggling parties whom he had collected, and brought to the 
 church, kept on the alert, and appeared ready for an attack as well 
 at mid-day as at the witching hour of midnight. This was the 
 more necessary, as the eye of Sir John de Walton seemed busied 
 in searching from one place to another, as if unable to find the 
 object he was in quest of, which the reader will easily understand 
 to be the Lady Augusta de Berkely, of whom he had lost sight in 
 the pressure of the multitude. At the eastern part of the church 
 was fitted up a temporary altar, by the side of which, arrayed in 
 his robes, the Bishop of Glasgow had taken his place, with such 
 priests and attendants as composed his episcopal retinue. His 
 suite was neither numerous nor richly attired, nor did his own 
 appearance present a splendid specimen of the wealth and dignity 
 of the episcopal order. When he laid down, however, his golden 
 cross, at the stern command of the King of England, that of simple 
 wood, which he assumed instead thereof, did not possess less 
 authority, nor command less awe among the clergy and people of 
 the diocese. 
 
 The various persons, natives of Scotland, now gathered around, 
 seemed to watch his motions, as those of a descended saint, and 
 the English waited in mute astonishment, apprehensive that at 
 some unexpected sigrral an attack would be made upon them, 
 either by the powers of earth or heaven, or perhaps by both in 
 combination. The truth is, that so great was the devotion of the 
 Scottish clergy of the higher ranks to the interests of the party of 
 Bruce, that the English had become jealous of permitting them to 
 interfere even with those ceremonies of the church which were 
 placed under their proper management, and thence the presence of 
 the Bishop of Glasgow, officiating at a high festival in the church 
 of Douglas, was a circumstance of rare occurrence, and not unat- 
 tended both with wonder and suspicion. A council of the church, 
 however, had lately called the distinguished prelates of Scotland to 
 the discharge of their duty on the festivity of Palm Sunday, and 
 neither English nor Scottish saw the ceremony with indifference, 
 
jj6 CASTLB DANGEROL'S. 
 
 An unwonted silence which prevailed in the church, filled, as it 
 appeared, with persons of different views, hopes, wishes, and ex- 
 pectations, resembled one of those solemn pauses which often 
 take place before a strife of the elements, and are well understood 
 to be the forerunners of some dreadful concussion of nature. All 
 animals, according to their various nature, express their sense of 
 the approaching tempest ; the cattle, the deer, and other inhabi- 
 tants of the walks of the forest, withdraw to the inmost recesses of 
 their pastures ; the sheep crowd into their fold ; and the dull 
 stupor of universal nature, whether animate or inanimate, presages 
 its speedily awaking into general convulsion and disturbance, when 
 the lurid lightning shall hiss at command of the diapason of the 
 thunder. 
 
 It was thus that, in deep suspense, those who had come to the 
 church in arms at the summons of Douglas, awaited and expected 
 every moment a signal to attack ; while the soldiers of the English 
 garrison, aware of the evil disposition of the natives towards them, 
 were reckoning every moment when the well-known shout of 
 " Bows and bills ! " should give signal for a general conflict, and 
 both parties, gazing fiercely upon each other, seemed to expect the 
 fatal onset. 
 
 Notwithstanding the tempest, which appeared every moment 
 ready to burst, the Bishop of Glasgow proceeded with the utmost 
 solemnity to perform the ceremonies proper to the day ; he paused 
 from time to time to survey the throng, as if to calculate whether 
 the turbulent passions of those around him would be so long kept 
 under as to admit of his duties being brought to a close in a 
 manner becoming the time and place. 
 
 The prelate had just concluded the service, when a person ad- 
 vanced towards him with a solemn and mournful aspect, and asked 
 if the reverend father could devote a few moments to administer 
 comfort to a dying man who was lying wounded close by. 
 
 The churchman signified a ready acquiescence, amidst a still- 
 ness which, when he surveyed the lowering brows of one party 
 at least of those who were in the church, boded no peaceable ter- 
 mination to this fated day. The father motioned to the messen- 
 ger to show him the way, and.proceeded on his mission, attended 
 by some of those who were understood to be followers of the 
 Douglas. 
 
 There was something peculiarly striking, if not suspicious, in the 
 interview which followed. In a subterranean vault was deposited 
 the person of a large tall man, whose blood flowed copiously 
 through two or three ghastly wounds, and streamed amongst the 
 trusses of straw on which he lay ; while his features exhibited a 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 337 
 
 mixture of sternness and ferocity, which seemed prompt to kindle 
 into a still more savage expression. 
 
 The reader will probably conjecture that the person in question 
 was no other than Michael TurnbuU, who, wounded in the ren- 
 counter of the morning, had been left by some of his friends upon 
 the straw, which was arranged for him by way of couch, to live 
 or die as he best could. The prelate, on entering the vault, lost no 
 time in calling the attention of the wounded man to the state of 
 his spiritual affairs, and assisting him to such comfort as the doc- 
 trine of the church directed should be administered to departing 
 sinners. The words exchanged between them were of that grave 
 and severe character which passes between the ghostly father and 
 his pupil, when one world is rolling away from the view of the 
 sinner, and another is displaying itself in all its terrors, and thun- 
 dering in the ear of the penitent that retribution which the deeds 
 done in the flesh must needs prepare him to expect. This is one 
 of the most solemn meetings which can take place between earthly 
 beings ; and the courageous character of the Jedwood forester, as 
 well as the benevolent and pious expression of the old churchman, 
 considerably enhanced the pathos of the scene. 
 
 " TurnbuU," said the churchman, " I trust you will believe me 
 when I say, that it grieves my heart to see thee brought to this 
 situation by wounds which, it is my duty to tell you, you must con- 
 sider mortal." 
 
 " Is the chase ended then?" said the Jedwood man with a sigh. 
 " I care not, good father, for I think I have borne me as becomes a 
 gallant quarry, and that the old forest has lost no credit by me, 
 whether in pursuit, or in bringing to bay ; and even in this last 
 matter,methinks this gay English knight would not have come off 
 with such advantage had the ground on which we stood been alike 
 indifferent to both, or had I been aware of his onset ; but it will be 
 seen, by any one who takes the trouble to examine, that poor 
 Michael TurnbuU's foot shpped twice in the miUc, otherwise it had 
 not been his fate to be lying here in the dead-thraw ;* while 
 yonder southron would probably have died like a dog, upon this 
 bloody straw, in his place." 
 
 The bishop replied, advising his penitent to turn from vindictive 
 thoughts respecting the death of others, and endeavour to fix his 
 attention upon his own departure from existence, which seemed 
 shortly about to take place. 
 
 " Nay," replied the wounded man, " you, father, undoubtedly 
 know best what is fit for me to do ; yet methinks it would not be 
 very well with me, if I had prolonged to this time of day the task 
 Of revising my life, and I am not the man to deny that mine has 
 
 z 
 
333 ^ASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 been a bloody and a desperate one. ,But you will grant me I 
 never bore malice, to a brave enemy for having done me an injury, 
 and show me the man, being a Scotchman born, and having a 
 natural love for his own country, who hath not, in these times, 
 rather preferred a steel cap to a hat and feather, or who hath not 
 been more conversant with drawn blades than with prayer-book ; 
 and you yourself know, father, whether, in our proceedings against 
 the English interest, we have not uniformly had the countenance 
 of the sincere fathers of the Scottish Church, and whether we have 
 not been exhorted to take arms and make use of them for the 
 honour of the King of Scotland, and the defence of our own 
 rights." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said the prelate, " such have been our exhorta- 
 tions towards our oppressed countrymen, nor do I now teach you a 
 different doctrine ; nevertheless, having now blood around me, and 
 a dying man before me, I have need to pray that I have not been 
 misled from the true path, and thus become the means of mis- 
 directing others. May Heaven forgive me if I have done so, since 
 I have only to'plead my sincere and honest intention in excuse for 
 the erroneous counsel which I may have given to you and others 
 touching these wars. I am conscious that encouraging you so to 
 stain your swords in blood, I have departed in some degree from 
 the character of my profession, which enjoins that we neither shed 
 blood, nor are the occasion of its being shed. May Heaven 
 enable us to obey our duties, and to repent of our errors, especially 
 such as, have occasioned the death or distress of our fellow- 
 creatures ! And, above all, may this dying Christian become 
 aware of his errors, and repent with sincerity of having done to 
 others that which he would not willingly have suffered at their 
 hand ! " 
 
 " For that matter," answered Turnbull, " the time has never 
 been when I would not exchange a blow with the best man who 
 ever lived ; and if I was not in constant practice of the sword, it 
 was because I have been brought up to the use of the Jedwood- 
 axe, which the English call a partisan, and which makes little dif- 
 ference, I understand, from the sword and poniard." 
 
 " The distinction is not great," said the bishop ; " but I fear, my 
 friend, that life taken with what you call a Jedwood-axe, gives you 
 no privilege over him who commits the same deed, and inflicts the 
 same injury, with any other weapon." 
 
 " Nay, worthy father," said the penitent, " I must own that the 
 effect of the weapons is the same, as far as concerns the man who 
 suffers ; but I would pray of you information, why a Jedwood man 
 ought not to use, as is the custom of his country, a Jedwood-axe' 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 339 
 
 being, as is implied in the name, the offensive weapon proper to 
 his country ? " 
 
 " The crime of murder," said the bishop, " consists not in the 
 weapon with whicli the crime is inflicted, but in the pain which the 
 murderer inflicts upon his fellow-creature, and the breach of good 
 order which he introduces into heaven's lovely and peaceable 
 creation ; and it is by turning your repentance upon this crime 
 that you may fairly expect to propitiate Heaven for your offences, 
 and at the same time to escape the consequences which are de- 
 nounced in Holy Writ against those by whom man's blood shall be 
 shed." 
 
 " But, good father," said the wounded man, " you know as well 
 as any one, that in this company, and in this very church, there 
 are upon the watch scores of both Scotchmen and Englishmen, 
 who come here not so much to discharge the religious duty of the 
 day, as literally to bereave each other of their lives, and give a new 
 example of the horror of thdse feuds which the two extremities of 
 Britain nourish against each other. What conduct, then, is a poor 
 man like me to hold ? Am I not to raise this hand against the 
 English, which methinks I still can make a tolerably efficient one 
 — or am I, for the first time in my life, to hear the war-cry when it 
 is raised, and hold back my sword from the slaughter .' Methinks 
 it will be difficult, perhaps altogether impossible, for me to do so ; 
 but if such is the pleasure of Heaven, and your advice, most reve- 
 rend father, unquestionably I must do my best to be governed by 
 your directions, as of one who has a right and title to direct us 
 in every dilemma, or case, as they term it, of troubled con- 
 science." 
 
 " Unquestionably," said the bishop, " it is my duty, as I have 
 already said, to give no occasion this'day for the shedding of blood, 
 or the breach of peace ; and I roust charge you, as my penitent, 
 that upon your soul's safety, you do not minister any occasion to 
 affray or bloodshed, either by maintaining such in your own person, 
 or inciting others to the same ; for by following a different course 
 of advice, I am certain that you, as well as myself, would act sin- 
 fully and out of character." 
 
 " So I will endeavour to think, reverend father," answered the 
 huntsman ; " nevertheless, I hope it will be remembered in my 
 favour that I am the first person bearing the surname of TurnbuU, 
 together with the proper name of the Prince of Archangels himself, 
 who has at any time been able to sustain the affront occasioned by 
 the presence of a southron with a drawn sword, and was not 
 thereby provoked to pluck forth his own weapon, and to lay about 
 him." 
 
 Z 2 
 
34° CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " Take care, my son,'' returned the Prelate of Glasgow, " and 
 observe, that even now thou art departing from those resolutions 
 which, but a few minutes since, thou didst adopt upon serious and 
 just consideration ; wherefore do not be, O my son ! like the sow 
 that has wallowed in the mire, and, having been washed, repeats 
 its act of pollution, and becomes again yet fouler than it was before." 
 
 " Well, reverend father," replied the wounded man, " although it 
 seems almost unnatural for Scottish men and English to meet and 
 part without a buffet, yet I will endeavour most faithfully not to 
 minister any occasion of strife, nor, if possible, to snatch at any 
 such occasion as shall be ministered to me." 
 
 " In doing so," returned the bishop, " thou wilt best atone for the 
 injury which thou hast done to the law of Heaven upon former 
 occasions, and thou shalt prevent the causes for strife betwixt thee 
 and thy brethren of the southern land, and shalt eschew the temp- 
 tation towards that blood-guiltiness which is so rife in this our day 
 and generation. And do not think that I am imposing upon thee, 
 by these admonitions, a duty more difficult than it is in thy cove- 
 nant to bear, as a man and as a Christian. I myself am a man, 
 and a Scotchman, and, as such, I feel offended at the unjust con- 
 duct of the English towards our country and sovereign ; and 
 thinking as you do yourself, I know what you must suffer when you 
 are obliged to submit to national insults, unretaliated and un- 
 revenged. But let us not conceive ourselves the agents of that 
 retributive vengeance which Heaven has, in a peculiar degree, 
 declared to be its own attribute. Let us, while we see and feel the 
 injuries inflicted on our own country, not forget that our own raids, 
 ambuscades, and surprisals, have been at least equally fatal to the 
 English as their attacks and forays have been to us ; and, in short, 
 let the mutual injuries of the crosses of Saint Andrew and of Saint 
 George be no longer considered as hostile to the inhabitants of the 
 opposite district, at least during the festivals of religion ; but as 
 they are mutually signs of redemption, let them be, in like manner, 
 intimations of forbearance and peace on both sides." 
 
 " I am contented," answered TurnbuU, " to abstain from all 
 offences towards others, and shall even endeavour to keep myself 
 from resenting those of others towards me, in the hope of bringing 
 to pass such a quiet and godly state of things as your words, re- 
 verend father, induce me to expect." Turning his face to the wall, 
 the Borderer lay in stern expectation of approaching death, which 
 the bishop left him to contemplate. 
 
 The peaceful disposition which the prelate had inspired into 
 Michael TurnbuU, had in some degree diffused itself among those 
 present, who heard with awe the spiritual admonition to suspend 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 341 
 
 the national antipathy, and remain in truce and amity with each 
 other. Heaven had, however, decreed that the national quarrel, in 
 which so much blood had been sacrificed, should that day again 
 be the occasion of deadly strife. 
 
 A loud flourish of trumpets, seeming to proceed from beneath 
 the earth, now rung through the church, and roused the attention 
 of the soldiers and worshippers then assembled. Most of those 
 who heard these warlike sounds betook themselves to their 
 weapons, as if they considered it useless to wait any longer for the 
 signal of conflict. Hoarse voices, rude exclamations, the rattle of 
 swords against their sheaths, or their clashing against other pieces 
 of armour, gave an awful presage of an onset, which, however, was 
 for a time averted by the exhortations of the bishop. A second 
 flourish of trumpets having taken place, the voice of a herald 
 made proclamation to the following purpose : — 
 
 " That whereas there were many noble pursuivants of chivalry 
 presently assembled in the Kirk of Douglas, and whereas there 
 existed among them the usual causes of quarrel and points of 
 debate for their advancement in chivalry, therefore the Scottish 
 knights were ready to fight any number of the English who might 
 be agreed, either upon the superior beauty of their ladies, or upon 
 the national quarrel in any of its branches, or upon whatsoever 
 point might be at issue between them, which should be deemed 
 satisfactory ground of quarrel by both ; and the knights who should 
 chance to be worsted in such dispute should renounce the prosecu- 
 tion thereof, or the bearing arms therein thereafter, with such other 
 conditions to ensue upon their defeat as inight be agreed upon by 
 a council of the knights present at the Kirk of Douglas aforesaid. 
 But foi-emost of all, any number of Scottish knights, from one to 
 twenty, will defend the quarrel which has already drawn blood, 
 touching the freedom of Lady Augusta de Berkely, and the ren- 
 dition of Douglas Castle to the owner here present. Wherefore it 
 is required that the English knights do intimate their consent that 
 such trial of valour take place, which, according to the rules of 
 chivalry, they cannot refuse, without losing utterly the reputation 
 of valour, and incurring the diminution of such other degree of 
 estimation as a courageous pursuivant of arms would willingly be 
 held in, both by the good knights of his own country, and those of 
 others." 
 
 This unexpected gage of battle realized the worst fears of those 
 who had looked with suspicion on the extraordinary assemblage 
 this day of the dependants of the House of Douglas. After a short 
 pause, the trumpets again flourished lustily, when the reply of the 
 English knights was made in the following terms : — 
 
342 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 " That God forbid the rights and privileges of England's knights, 
 and the beauty of her damsels, should not be asserted by her 
 children, or that such English knights as were here assembled, 
 should show the least backwardness to accept the combat oifered, 
 whether grounded upon the superior beauty of their ladies, or 
 whether upon the causes of dispute between the countries, for 
 either or all of which the knights of England here present were 
 willing to do battle in the terms of the indenture aforesaid, while 
 sword and lance shall endure. Saving and excepting the surrender 
 of the Castle of Douglas, which can be rendered to no one but 
 England's king, or those acting under his orders." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Cry the wild war-note, let the champions pass, 
 
 Do bravely each, and God defend the right ; 
 
 Upon Saint Andrew thrice can they thus cry, 
 
 And thrice they shout on height, 
 
 And then marked them on the Englishmen, 
 
 As I have told you right. 
 
 Saint George the bright, our ladies' knight. 
 
 To name they were full fain ; 
 
 Our Englishmen they cried on height, 
 
 And thrice they shout again. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 The extraordinary crisis mentioned in the preceding chapter, 
 was the cause, as may be supposed, of the leaders on both sides 
 now throwing aside all concealment, and displaying their utmost 
 strength, by marshalling their respective adherents ; the renowned 
 Knight of Douglas, with Sir Malcolm Fleming and other dis- 
 tinguished cavaliers, were seen in close consultation. 
 
 Sir John de Walton, startled by the first flourish of trumpets, 
 while anxiously endeavouring to secure a retreat for the Lady 
 Augusta, was in a moment seen collecting his followers, in which 
 he was assisted by the active friendship of the Knight of Valence. 
 
 The Lady of Berkely showed no craven spirit at these warlike 
 preparations ; she advanced, closely followed by the faithful 
 Bertram, and a female in a riding-hood, whose face, though care- 
 fully concealed, was no other than that of the unfortunate Margaret 
 de Hautlieu, whose worst fears had been realized as to the faithless- 
 ness of her betrothed knight. 
 
 A pause ensued, which for some time no one present thought 
 himself of authority sufficient to break. 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS, 343 
 
 At last the Knight of Douglas stepped forward and said, loudly, 
 " I wait to know whether Sir John de Walton requests leave of 
 James of Douglas, to evacuate his castle witliout further wasting 
 that daylight which might show us to judge a fair field, and whether 
 he craves Douglas's protection in doing so ?" 
 
 The Knight of Walton drew his sword. " I hold the Castle of 
 Douglas," he said, " in spite of all deadly, — and never will I ask 
 the protection from any one which my own sword is competent to 
 afford me ! " 
 
 " I stand by you. Sir John," said Aymer de Valence, " as your 
 true comrade, against whatever odds may oppose themselves to us." 
 
 " Courage, noble English," said the voice of Greenleaf ; " take 
 your weapons, in God's name. Bows and bills ! bows and bills ! — 
 A messenger brings us notice that Pembroke is in full march 
 hither from the borders of Ayrshire, and v/ill be with us in half an 
 hour. Fight on, gallant English ! Valence to the rescue ! and 
 long life to the gallant Earl of Pembroke ! " 
 
 Those English within and around the church no longer delayed 
 to take arms, and De Walton, crying out at the height of his voice, 
 ■'' I implore the Douglas to look nearly to the safety of the ladies," 
 fought his way to the church door ; the Scottish finding themselves 
 unable to resist the impression of terror which affected them at the 
 sight of this renewed knight, seconded by his brother-in-arms, both 
 of whom had been so long the terror of the district. In the mean- 
 time, it is possible that De Walton might altogether have forced 
 his way out of the church, had he- not been met boldly by the young 
 son of Thomas Dickson of Hazelside, while his father was receiving 
 from Douglas the charge of preserving the stranger ladies from all 
 harm from the fight, which, so long suspended, was now on the 
 point of taking place. 
 
 De Walton cast his eye upon the Lady Augusta, with a desire of 
 rushing to the rescue ; but was forced to conclude, that he provided 
 best for her safety by leaving her under the protection of Douglas's 
 honour. 
 
 Young Dickson, in the meantime, heaped blow on blow, second- 
 ing with all his juvenile courage every effort he could make, in order 
 to attain the prize due to the conqueror of the renowned De Walton. 
 " Silly boy," at length said Sir John, who had for some time for- 
 borne the stripling, " take, then, thy death from a noble hand, since 
 thou preferrest that to peace and length of days." 
 
 ",I care not," said the Scottish youth, with his dying breath ; " 1 
 have lived long enough, since I have kept you so long in the place 
 where you now stand." 
 
 And the youth said truly, for as he fell never again to rise, the 
 
344 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 Douglas stood in his place, and without a word spoken, again 
 engaged with De Walton in the same formidable single combat, by 
 which they had already been distinguished, but with even additional 
 fury. Aymer de Valence drew up to his friend De Walton's left 
 hand, and seemed but to desire the apology of one of Douglas's 
 people attempting to second him, to join in the fray ; but as he 
 saw no person who seemed disposed to give him such opportunity, 
 he repressed the inclination, and remained an unwilling spectator. 
 At length it seemed as if Fleming, who stood foremost among the 
 Scottish knights, was desirous to measure his sword with De 
 Valence. Aymer himself, burning with the desire of combat, 
 at last called out, " Faithless Knight of Boghall ! step forth 
 and defend yourself against the imputation of having deserted 
 your lady love, and of being a mansworn disgrace to the rolls of 
 Chivalry ! " 
 
 " My answer," said Fleming, "even to a less gross taunt, hangs 
 by my side." In an instant his sword was in his hand, and even 
 the practised warriors who looked on felt difficulty in discovering 
 the progress of the strife, which rather resembled a thunder-storm 
 in a mountainous country than the stroke and parry of two swords, 
 offending on the one side, and keeping the defensive on the 
 other. 
 
 Their blows were exchanged with surprising rapidity ; and 
 although the two combatants did not equal Douglas and De 
 Walton in maintaining a certain degree of reserve, founded upon a 
 respect which these knights mutually entertained for each other, yet 
 the want of art was supplied by a degree of fury, which gave chance 
 at least an equal share in the issue. 
 
 Seeing their superiors thus desperately engaged, the partisans, as 
 they were accustomed, stood still on either side, and looked on with 
 the reverence which they instinctively paid to their commanders 
 and leaders in arms. One or two of the women were in the mean- 
 while attracted, according to the nature of the sex, by compassion 
 for those who had already experienced the casualties of war. 
 Young Dickson,breathing his last among the feetof the combatants,* 
 was in some sort rescued from the tumult by the Lady of Berkely, 
 in whom the action seemed less strange, owing to the pilgrim's 
 dress which she still retained, and who in vain endeavoured to 
 solicit the attention of the boy's father to the task in which she was 
 engaged. 
 
 " Cumber yourself not, lady, about that which is bootless," said 
 old Dickson, " and distract not your own attention and mine from 
 preserving you, whom it is the Douglas's wish to rescue, and whom, 
 so please God and Saint Bride, I consider as placed by my 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 34S 
 
 chieftain under my charge. Believe me, this youth's death is in 
 no way forgotten, though this be not the time to remember it. A 
 time will come for recollection, and an hour for revenge." 
 
 So said the stern old man, reverting his eyes from the bloody 
 corpse which lay at his feet, a model of beauty and strength. 
 Having taken one more anxious look, he turned round, and placed 
 himself where he could best protect the Lady of Berkely, not again 
 turning his eyes on his son's body. 
 
 In the interim the combat continued, without the least cessation 
 on either side, and without a decided advantage. At length, 
 however, fate seemed disposed to interfere ; the Knight of Fleming, 
 pushing fiercely forward, and brought by chance almost close to the 
 person of the Lady Margaret de Hautlieu, missed his blow, andhjs 
 foot sliding in the blood of the young victim, Dickson, he fell before 
 his antagonist, and was in imminent danger of being at his mercy, 
 when Margaret de Hautlieu, who inherited the soul of a warrior, 
 and, besides, was a very strong, as well as an undaunted person, 
 seeing a mace of no great weight lying on the floor, where it had 
 been dropt by the fallen Dickson, it, at the same instant, caught 
 her eye, armed her hand, and intercepted, or struck down the sword 
 of Sir Aymer de Valence, who would otherwise have remained the 
 master of the day at that interesting moment. Fleming had more 
 to do to avail himself of an unexpected chance of recovery, than to 
 make a commentary upon the manner in which it had been so 
 singularly brought about ; he instantly recovered the advantage he 
 had lost, and was able in the ensuing close to trip up the feet of his 
 antagonist, who fell on the pavement, while the voice of his 
 conqueror, if he could properly be termed such, resounded through 
 the church with the fatal words, " Yield thee, Aymer de Valence — 
 rescue or no rescue — yield thee ! — yield thee ! " he added, as he 
 placed his sword to the throat of the fallen knight, " not to me, but 
 to this noble lady — rescue or no rescue." 
 
 With a heavy heart the English knight perceived that he had 
 fairly lost so favourable an opportunity of acquiring fame, and was 
 obliged to submit to his destiny, or be slain upon the spot. There 
 was only one consolation, that no battle was ever more honourably 
 sustained, being gained as much by accident as by valour. 
 
 The fate of the protracted and desperate combat between Doug- 
 las and De Walton did not much longer remain in suspense ; 
 indeed, the number of conquests in single combat achieved by the 
 Douglas in the^e wars, was so great, as to make it doubtful whether 
 he was not, in personal strength and skill, even a superior knight to 
 Bruce himself, and he was at least acknowledged nearly his equal 
 in the art of war. 
 
346 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 So however it was, that when three quarters of an hour had 
 passed in hard contest, Douglas and De Walton, whose nerves 
 were not actually of iron, began to show some signs that their 
 human bodies were feeling the effect of the dreadful exertion. 
 Their blows began to be drawn more slowly, and were parried with 
 less celerity. Douglas, seeing that the combat must soon come to 
 an end, generously made a signal, intimating to his antagonist to 
 hold his hand for an instant. 
 
 " Brave de Walton," he said, "there is no mortal quarrel between 
 us, and you must be sensible that in this passage of arms, Douglas, 
 though he is only worth his sword and his cloak, has abstained 
 from taking a decisive advantage when the chance of arms has 
 more than once offered it. My father's house, the broad domains 
 around it, the dwelling, and the graves of my ancestors, form a 
 reasonable reward for a knight to fight for, and call upon me in an 
 imperative voice to prosecute the strife which has such' an object, 
 while you are as welcome to the noble lady, in all honour and 
 safety, as if you had received her from the hands of King Edward 
 himself ; and I give you my word, that the utmost honours which 
 can attend a prisoner, and a careful absence of every thing like 
 injury or insult, shall attend De Walton when he yields up the 
 castle, as well as his sword, to James of Douglas." 
 
 " It is the fate to which I am perhaps doomed," replied Sir John 
 de Walton ; " but never will I voluntarily embrace it, and never 
 shall it be said that my own tongue, saving in the last extremity, 
 pronounced upon me the fatal sentence to sink the point of my own 
 sword. Pembroke is upon the march with his whole army, to 
 rescue the garrison of Douglas. I hear the tramp of his horse's 
 feet even now ; and I will maintain my ground while I am within 
 reach of support ; nor do I fear that the breath which now begins 
 to fail will not last long enough to uphold the struggle till the 
 arrival of the expected succour. Come on, then, and treat me not 
 as a child, but as one who, whether I stand or fall, fears not to 
 encounter the utmost force of my knightly antagonist." 
 
 " So be it then," said Douglas, a darksome hue, like the lurid 
 colour of the thunder-cloud, changing his brow as he spoke, inti- 
 mating that he meditated a speedy end to the contest, when, just as 
 the noise of horses' feet drew nigh, a Welsh knight, known as such 
 by the diminutive size of his steed, his naked limbs, and his 
 bloody spear, called out loudly to the combatants to hold their 
 hands. 
 
 " Is Pembroke near ? " said De Walton. 
 
 "No nearer than Loudon Hill," said the Prestantin ; "but I 
 bring his commands to John de Walton," 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 347 
 
 " I Stand ready to obey them through every danger," answered 
 the knight. 
 
 "Woe is me," said the Welshman, "that my mouth should bring 
 to the ears of so brave a man tidings so unwelcome ! The Earl of 
 Pembroke yesterday received information that the Castle of Doug- 
 las was attacked by the son of the deceased Earl, and the whole 
 inhabitants of the district. Pembroke, on hearing this, resolved to 
 march to your support, noble knight, with all the forces he had at 
 his disposal. He did so, and accordingly entertained every assur- 
 ance of relieving the castle, when unexpectedly he met, on Loudon 
 Hill, a body of men of no very inferior force to his own, and 
 having at their head that famous Bruce whom the Scottish rebels 
 acknowledge as their king. He marched instantly to the attack, 
 swearing he would not even draw a comb through his grey beard 
 until he had rid England of this recurring plague. But the fate of 
 war was against us." 
 He stopt here for lack of breath. 
 
 " I thought so ! " exclaimed Douglas. " Robert Bruce will now 
 sleep at night, since he has paid home Pembroke for the slaughter 
 of his friends and the dispersion of his army at Methuen Wood. 
 His men are, indeed, accustomed to meet with dangers, and to 
 conquer them: those who follow him have been trained under 
 Wallace, besides being partakers of the perils of Bruce himself. 
 It was thought that the waves had swallowed them when they 
 shipped themselves from the west ; but know, that the Bruce was 
 determined with the present reviving spring to awaken his preten- 
 sions, and that he retires not from Scotland again while he lives, 
 and while a single lord remains to set his foot by his sovereign, in 
 spite of all the power which has been so feloniously employed 
 against him." 
 
 " It is even too true," said the Welshman Meredith, " although 
 it is said by a proud Scotchman. — The Earl of Pembroke, com- 
 pletely defeated, is unable to stir from Ayr, towards which he has 
 retreated with great loss ; and he sends his instructions to Sir John 
 de Walton, to make the best terms he can for the surrender of the 
 Castle of Douglas, and trust nothing to his support." 
 
 The Scottish, who heard this unexpected news, joined in a shout 
 so loud and energetic, that the ruins of the ancient church seemed 
 actually to rock, and threaten to fall on the heads of those who 
 were crowded within it. 
 
 The brow of De Walton was overclouded at the news of Pem- 
 broke's defeat, although in some respects it placed him at liberty 
 to take measures for the safety of the Lady of Berkely. He could 
 not, however, claim the same honourable terms which had been 
 
34B CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 offered to him by Douglas before the news of the battle of Loudon 
 Hill had arrived. 
 
 "Noble knight," he said, "it is entirely at your pleasure to dic- 
 tate the terms of surrender of your paternal castle ; nor have I a 
 right to claim from you those conditions which, a little while since, 
 your generosity put in my offer. But I submit to my fate ; and 
 upon whatever terms you think fit to grant me, I must be content 
 to offer to surrender to you the weapon, of which I now put the 
 point in the earth, in evidence that I will never more direct it 
 against you until a fair ransom shall place it once more at my own 
 disposal." 
 
 " God forbid," answered the noble James of Douglas, " that I 
 should take such advantage of the bravest knight out of not a few 
 who have found me work in battle ! I will take example from the 
 Knight of Fleming, who has gallantly bestowed his captive in 
 guerdon upon a noble damsel here present ; and in like manner I 
 transfer my claim upon the person of the redoubted Knight of 
 Walton, to the high and noble Lady Augusta Berkely, who, I hope, 
 will not scorn to accept from the Douglas a gift which the chance 
 of war has thrown into his hands." 
 
 Sir John de Walton, on hearing this unexpected decision, 
 looked up like the traveller who discovers the beams of the sun 
 breaking through and dispersing the tempest which has accom- 
 panied him for a whole morning. The Lady of Berkely recol- 
 lected what became her rank, and showed her sense of the 
 Douglas's chivalry. Hastily wiping off the tears which had un- 
 willingly flowed to her eyes, while her lover's safety and her own 
 were resting on the precarious issue of a desperate combat, she 
 assumed the look proper to a heroine of that age, who did not 
 feel averse to accept the importance which was conceded to her 
 by the general voice of the chivalry of the period. Stepping for- 
 ward, bearing her person gracefully, yet modesth', in the attitude 
 of a lady accustomed to be looked to in difficulties like the 
 present, she addressed the audience in a tone which might not 
 have misbecome the Goddess of Battle dispersing her influence 
 at the close of a field covered with the dead and the dying. 
 
 " The noble Douglas," she said, " shall not pass without a prize 
 from the field which he has so nobly won. This rich string of 
 brilliants, which my ancestor won from the Sultan of Trebisond, 
 itself a prize of battle, will be honoured by sustaining, under the 
 Douglas's armour, a lock of hair of the fortunate lady whom the 
 victorious lord has adopted for his guide in chivalry ; and if the 
 Douglas, till he shall adorn it with that lock, will permit the honoured 
 lock of hair which it now bears to retain its station, she on whose 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 349 
 
 head it grew will hold it as a signal that poor Augusta de Berkely 
 is pardoned for having gaged any mortal man in strife with the 
 Knight of Douglas." 
 
 "Woman's love," replied the Douglas, "shall not divorce this 
 locket from my bosom, which I will keep till the last day of my 
 life, as emblematic of female worth and female virtue. And, not to 
 encroach upon the valued and honoured province of Sir John de 
 Walton, be it known to all men, that whoever shall say that the 
 Lady Augusta of Berkely has, in this entangled matter, acted other- 
 wise than becomes the noblest of her sex, he will do well to be 
 ready to maintain such a proposition with his lance, against James 
 of Douglas, in a fair field." 
 
 This speech was heard with approbation on all sides ; and the 
 news brought by Meredith of the defeat of the Earl of Pembroke, 
 and his subsequent retreat, reconciled the fiercest of the English 
 soldiers to the surrender of Douglas Castle. The necessary con- 
 ditions were speedily agreed on, which put the Scottish in pos- 
 session of this stronghold, together with the stores, both of arms 
 and ammunition, of every kind, which it contained. The gar- 
 rison had it to boast, that they obtained a free passage, with 
 their horses and arms, to return by the shortest and safest route to 
 the marches of England, without either suffering or inflicting 
 damage. 
 
 Margaret of Hautlieu was not behind in acting a generous part ; 
 the gallant Knight of Valence was allowed to accompany his 
 friend De Walton and the Lady Augusta to England, and without 
 ransom. 
 
 The venerable prelate of Glasgow, seeing what appeared at one 
 time likely to end in a general conflict, terminate so auspiciously 
 for his country, contented himself with bestowing his blessing on 
 the assembled multitude, and retiring with those who came to assist 
 in the service of the day. 
 
 This surrender of Douglas Castle upon the Palm Sunday of 19th 
 March 1306-7, was the beginning of a career of conquest which 
 was uninterrupted, in which the greater part of the strengths and 
 fortresses of Scotland were yielded to those who asserted the liberty 
 of their country, until the crowning mercy was gained in the cele- 
 brated field of Bannockburn, where the English sustained a defeat 
 more disastrous than is mentioned upon any other occasion in their 
 annals. 
 
 Little need be said of the fate of the persons of this story. King 
 Edward was greatly enraged at Sir John de Walton for having 
 surrendered the Castle of Douglas, securing at the same time his 
 own object, the envied hand of the heiress of Berkely. The knights 
 
350 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 to whom he referred the matter as a subject of enquiry, gave it 
 nevertheless as their opinion that De Walton was void of all cen- 
 sure, having discharged his duty in its fullest extent, till the com- 
 mands of his superior officer obliged him to surrender the 
 Dangerous Castle. 
 
 A singular renewal of intercourse took place, many months after- 
 wards, between Margaret of Hautlieu and her lover, Sir Malcolm 
 Fleming. The use which the lady made of her freedom, and of the 
 doom of the Scottish Parliament, which put her in possession of 
 her father's inheritance, was to follow her adventurous spirit through 
 dangers not usually encountered by those of her sex ; and the Lady 
 of Hautlieu was not only a daring follower of the chase, but it was 
 said that she was even not daunted in the battle-field. She re- 
 mained faithful to the political principles which she had adopted 
 at an early period ; and it seemed as if she had formed the gallant 
 resolution of shaking the god Cupid from her horse's mane, if not 
 treading him beneath her horse's feet. 
 
 The Fleming, although he had vanished from the neighbourhood 
 of the counties of Lanark and Ayr, made an attempt to state his 
 apology to the Lady de Hautlieu herself, who returned his letter un- 
 opened, and remained to all appearance resolved never again to enter 
 upon the topic of their original engagement. It chanced, however, 
 at a later period of the war with England, while Fleming was one 
 night travelling upon the Border, after the ordinary fashion of one 
 who sought adventures, a waiting-maid, equipped in a fantastic 
 habit, asked the protection of his arm in the name of her lady, 
 who, late in the evening, had been made captive, she said, by 
 certain ill-disposed caitiffs, who were carrying her by force through 
 the forest. The Fleming's lance was, of course, in its rest, and woe 
 betide the faitour whose lot it was to encounter its thrust ; the first 
 fell, incapable of farther combat, and another of the felons encoun- 
 tered the same fate with little more resistance. The lady, released 
 from the discourteous cord which restrained her liberty, did not 
 hesitate to join company with the brave knight by whom she had 
 been rescued ; and although the darkness did not permit her to 
 recognise her old lover in her liberator, yet she could not but lend 
 a willing ear to the conversation with which he entertained her, as 
 they profceeded on the way. He spoke of the fallen caitiffs as being 
 Englishmen, who found a pleasure in exercising oppression and 
 barbarities upon the wandering damsels of Scotland, and whose 
 cause, therefore, the champions of that country were bound to 
 avenge while the blood throbbed in their veins. He spoke of the 
 injustice of the national quarrel which had afforded a pretence for 
 such deliberate oppression j and the lady, who herself had sufifered 
 
CASTLE DANGEROUS. 351 
 
 SO much by the interference of the English in the affairs of Scot- 
 land, readily acquiesced in the sentiments which he expressed on 
 a subject which she had so much reason for regarding as an afflict- 
 ing one. Her answer was given in the spirit of a person who 
 would not hesitate, if the times should call for such an example, to 
 defend even with her hand the rights which she asserted with her 
 tongue. 
 
 Pleased with the sentiments which she expressed, and recognis- 
 ing in her voice that secret charm, which, once impressed upon the 
 human heart, is rarely wrought out of the remembrance by a long 
 train of subsequent events, he almost persuaded himself that the 
 tones were familiar to him, and had at one time formed the key to 
 his innermost affections. In proceeding on their journey, the 
 knight's troubled state of mind was augmented instead of being 
 diminished. The scenes of his earliest youth were recalled by cir- 
 cumstances so slight, as would in ordinary cases have produced no 
 effect whatsoever ; the sentiments appeared similar to those which 
 his life had been devoted to enforce, and he half persuaded himself 
 that the dawn of day was to be to him the beginning of a fortune 
 equally singular and extraordinary. 
 
 In the midst of this anxiety. Sir Malcolm Fleming had no anti- 
 cipation that the lady whom he had heretofore rejected was again 
 thrown into his path, after years of absence ; still less, when day- 
 light gave him a partial view of his fair companion's countenance, 
 was he prepared to believe that he was once again to term himself 
 the champion of Margaret de Hautlieu, but it was so. The lady, 
 on that direful morning v/hen she retired from the (Jhurch of 
 Douglas, had not resolved (indeed what lady ever did ?) to renounce, 
 without some struggle, the beauties which she had once possessed. 
 A long process of time, employed under skilful hands, had suc- 
 ceeded in obliterating the scars which remained as the marks of 
 her fall. These were now considerably effaced, and the lost organ 
 of sight no longer appeared so great a blemish, concealed, as it 
 was, by a black ribbon, and the arts of the tirewoman, who made 
 it her business to shadow it over by a lock of hair. In a word, he 
 saw the same Magaret de Hautlieu, with no very different style of 
 expression from that which her face, partaking of the high and 
 passionate character of her soul, had always presented. It seemed 
 to both, therefore, that their fate, by bringing them together after a 
 separation which appeared so decisive, had intimated its fiat that 
 their fortunes were inseparable from each other. By the time that 
 the summer sun had climbed high in the heavens, the two travellers 
 rode apart from their retinue, conversing together with an eager- 
 ness which marked the important matters in discussion between 
 
352 CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 them ; and in a short time it was made generally known through 
 Scotland, that Sir Malcolm Fleming and the Lady Margaret de 
 Hautlieu were to be united at the court of the good King Robert, 
 and the husband invested with the honours of Biggar and Cumber- 
 nauld, an earldom so long known in the family of Fleming. 
 
 The gentle reader is acquainted, that these are, in all probabi- 
 lity, the last tales which it will be the lot of the Author to submit 
 to the public. He is now on the eve of visiting foreign parts ; a 
 ship of war is commissioned by its Royal Master to carry the 
 Author of Waverley to climates in which he may possibly obtain 
 such a restoration of health as may serve him to spin his thread to 
 an end in his own country. Had he continued to prosecute his 
 usual literary labours, it seems indeed probable, that at the term of 
 years he has already attained, the bowl, to use the pathetic language 
 of Scripture, would have been broken at the fountain ; and little can 
 one, who has enjoyed on the whole an uncommon share of the most 
 inestimable of worldly blessings, be entitled to complain, that life, 
 advancing to its period, should be attended with its usual propor- 
 tions of shadows and storms. They have affected him at least in 
 no more painful manner than is inseparable from the discharge of 
 this part of the debt of humanity. Of those whose relation to him 
 in the ranks of life might have ensured him their sympathy unde 
 indisposition, many are now no more ; and those who may yet 
 follow in his wake, are entitled to expect, in bearing inevitable 
 evils, an example of firmness and patience, more especially on the 
 part of one who has enjoyed no small good fortune during the 
 course of his pilgrimage. 
 
 The public have claims on his gratitude, for which the Author of 
 Waverley has no adequate means of expression ; but he may be 
 permitted to hope, that the powers of his mind, such as they are, 
 may not have a different date from those of his body ; and that he 
 may again meet his patronising friends, if not exactly in his old 
 fashion of literature, at least in some branch, which may not call 
 forth the remark, that — 
 
 " Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage." 
 
 Abbotsford, 
 September, 1 831. 
 
NOTES TO 
 THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 * p. 6. — The Constitution of the 
 Borough. 
 
 * P. n.— [Robert Walker, the col- 
 league and rival of Dr. Hugh Blair, 
 in St. Giles's Church, Edinburgh.] 
 
 *P. 15. — List of criminal indictments, 
 so termed in Scotland. 
 
 * P. 30.— Strollers. 
 
 * P. 32.— Or Kite. 
 
 * P. 33.— TattUng. 
 
 * P. 41. — Marion. 
 
 * P. 44. — Galatian is a name of a 
 person famous in Christmas gambols. 
 
 * P. 55. — ^The Botanic Garden is so 
 termed by the vulgar of Edinburgh, 
 
 * P. 75.—" Pretty toy." 
 
 * P. 127. — In order to maintain unin- 
 jured the tone of passion throughout 
 this dialogue, it has been judged ex- 
 pedient to discard, in the language of 
 the Begum, the patois of Madame 
 Montreville. 
 
 * P. 132. — It is scarce necessary to 
 
 say, that such things could only be 
 acted in the earlier period of our 
 Indian settlements, when the check 
 of the Directors was imperfect, and 
 that of the Crown did not exist. My 
 friend Mr. Fairscribe is of opinion, 
 that there is an anachronism in the 
 introduction of Paupiah, the Bramin 
 Dubash of the English governor. — ■ 
 C. C. 
 
 * P. 135. — In every village the Dow- 
 rah, or Guide, is an official person, 
 upon the public establishment, and 
 receives a portion of the harvest or 
 other revenue, along with the Smith, 
 the Sweeper, and the Barber. As he 
 gets nothing from the travellers whom 
 it is his office to conduct, he never 
 scruples to shorten his own journey 
 and prolong theirs by taking them to 
 the nearest village, without reference 
 to the most direct line of route, and 
 sometimes deserts them entirely. If 
 the regular Dowrah is sick or absent 
 no wealth can procure a substitute. 
 
 * P. 148,— Long Whips. 
 
 A A 
 
NOTES TO CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 * P. i6o. — Vassalage. 
 
 * P. i6o. — [The reader will find both 
 this story, and that of Robert of Paris, 
 in Sir W. Scott's Essay on Chivalry, 
 published in 1818, in the Supplement 
 to the Encyclopsedia Britannica. — 
 
 £.] 
 
 * P. 161.' — [The following notice of 
 Douglas Castle, &c. is from the De- 
 scription of the Sheriffdom of Lanark, 
 by William Hamilton of Wishaw, 
 written in the beginning of the last 
 century, and printed by the Maitland 
 Club of Glasgow in 1831 : — 
 
 " Douglass parish, and baronie and 
 lordship, heth very long appertained 
 to the family of Douglass, and con- 
 tinued with the Earles of Douglass 
 untill their fatall forfeiture, anno 1455 ; 
 during which tyme there are many 
 noble and important actions recorded 
 in histories performed by them, by 
 the lords and earls of that great 
 family. It was thereafter given to 
 Douglass, Earl of Anguse, and con- 
 tinued with them untill William, 
 Earle of Anguse, was created Mar- 
 quess of Douglass, anno 1633 ; and is 
 now the principal seat of the Mar- 
 quess of Douglass his family. It is a 
 large baronie and parish, and ane 
 laick patronage ; and the Marquess 
 is both titular and patron. He heth 
 there, near to the church, a very con- 
 siderable great house, called the Castle 
 of Douglass ; and near the church is 
 a fyne village, called the town of Dou- 
 glass, long since erected in a burgh of 
 baronie. It heth ane handsome church, 
 with many ancient monuments and 
 inscriptions on the old interments of 
 the Earles of this ]:)lace. 
 
 ' ' The water of Douglas runs quyte 
 through the whole length of this 
 parish, and upon either side of the 
 water it is called Douglasdale. It 
 toucheth Clyde towards the north, 
 and is bounded by Lesmahagow to 
 the we^t, Kyle to the southwest, 
 
 Crawfurd John and Carmichaell to 
 the south and southeast. It is a 
 pleasant strath, pleQtifuU in grass and 
 corn, and coall ; and the minister is 
 well provided. 
 
 " The lands of Heysleside, belong- 
 ing to Samuel Douglass, has a good 
 house and pleasant seat, close by a 
 wood," &c. — p. 65.] 
 
 * P. 176. — Holms, or fiat plains, by, 
 the sides of the brooks and rivers, 
 termed in the south, Ings. 
 
 * P. 177. — The good dame, or wife of 
 a respectable farmer, is almost uni- 
 versally thus designated in Scotland. 
 
 * P. 180. — The table dormant, which 
 stood in a baron's hall, was often so 
 designated. 
 
 * P. 191. — [Hazelside Place, the fief 
 granted to Thomas Dickson by Wil- 
 liam the Hardy, seventh Lord Dou- 
 glas, is still pointed out about two 
 miles to the southwest of the Castle 
 Dangerous. Dickson was sixty years 
 of age at the time when Lord James 
 first appeared in Douglasdale. His 
 heirs kept possession of the fief for 
 centuries ; and some respectable gen- 
 tlemen's families in Lanarkshire still 
 trace themselves to this ancestor. — 
 Fro7n Notes by Mr. Haddow. J 
 
 * P. 198. — The name of Maker stands 
 for Poet {with the original sense of 
 which word it exactly corresponds) in 
 the old Scottish language. That of 
 Troiiveur or Troubadour — Finder, in 
 short — has a similar meaning, and 
 almost in every country the poetical 
 tribes have been graced with the same 
 epithets, inferring the property of 
 those who employ invention or crea- 
 tion. 
 
 * P. 220. — i. e. Gnat's wing. 
 
 * P. 228. — These Bulls are thus de- 
 scribed by Hector Boetius, concerning 
 whom he says — ' ' In this wood {namely 
 the Caledonian wood) were sometirae 
 white bulls, with crisp and curling 
 manes, like fierce hons ; and though 
 
NOTES TO CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 3SS 
 
 they seemed meek and tame in the 
 remanent figure of then- bodies, they 
 were more wild than any other beasts, 
 and had such hatred, against the so- 
 ciety and company of men, that they 
 never came in the woods nor lesuries 
 where they found any foot or hand 
 thereof, and many days after tliey eat 
 not of the herbs that were touched or 
 handled by man. These bulls were so 
 wild, that they were never taken but 
 by slight and crafty labour, and so 
 impatient, that after they were taken 
 they died from insupportable dolour. 
 As soon as any man invaded these 
 bulls, they rushed with such terrible 
 press upon him that they struck him 
 to the earth, taking no fear of hounds, 
 sharp lances, or other most penetra- 
 tive weapons. — Boctius, Chron. Scot. 
 Vol. I. p. xxxix. 
 
 The wild cattle of this breed, which 
 are now only known in one manor in 
 England, that of ChiUingham Castle 
 in Northumberland, (the seat of the 
 Earl of Tankerville,) were, in the 
 memory of man, still preserved in 
 three places in Scotland, namely, 
 Drumlanrig, Cumbernauld, and the 
 upper park at Hamilton Palace, at all 
 of which places, except the last, I be- 
 lieve, they have now been destroyed, 
 on account of their ferocity. But 
 though those of modern days are re- 
 markable for their white colour, with 
 black muzzles, and exhibiting, in a 
 small degree, the black mane, about 
 three or four inches long, by which 
 the bulls in particular are distin- 
 guished, they do not by any means 
 come near the terrific description 
 given us by the ancient authors, which 
 has made some naturalists think that 
 these animals should probably be re- 
 ferred to a different species, though 
 possessing the same general habits, 
 and included in the same genus. The 
 bones which are often discovered in 
 Scottish mosses belong certainly to a 
 race of animals much larger than those 
 of ChiUingham, which seldom grow 
 to above 80 stone (of 14 lbs.,) the 
 general weight varying from 60 to 80 
 stone. We should be accounted very 
 negligent by one class of readers, did 
 we not record that the beef furnished 
 by those cattle is of excellent flavour, 
 and finely marbled. 
 
 [The following is an extract from a 
 letter received by Sir Walter Scott, 
 
 some time after the pubhcation of the 
 novel : — 
 
 "When it is wished to kill any of 
 the cattle at ChiUingham, the keeper 
 goes into the herd on horseback, in 
 which way they are quite accessible, 
 and singling out his victim, takes aim 
 with a large rifle-gun, and seldom 
 fails in bringing him down. If the 
 poor animal makes much bellowing 
 in his agony, and especially if the 
 ground be stained with his blood, his 
 companions become very furious, and 
 are themselves, I believe, accessory to 
 his death. After which, they fly off 
 to a distant part of the park, and he 
 is drawn away on a sledge. Lord 
 Tankerville is very tenacious of these 
 singular animals ; he will on no ac- 
 count part with a living one, and 
 hardly allows of a sufficient number 
 being killed, to leave pasturage for 
 those that remain. 
 
 " It happened on one occasion, 
 three or four years ago, that a party 
 visiting at the castle, among whom 
 were some men of war, who had 
 hunted buffaloes in foreign parts, ob- 
 tained permission to do the keeper's 
 work and shoot one of the wild cattle. 
 They sallied out on horseback, and 
 duly equipped for the enterprise, at- 
 tacked their object. The poor animal 
 received several wounds, but none of 
 them proving fatal, he retired before 
 his pursuers, roaring with pain and 
 rage, till, planting himself against a 
 wall or tree, he stood at bay, offering 
 a front of defiance. In this position 
 the youthful heir of the castle, Lord 
 Ossulston, rode up to give him the 
 fatal shot. Though warned of the 
 danger of approaching near to the 
 enraged animal, and especially of 
 firing without first having turned his 
 horse's head in a direction to be ready 
 for flight, he discharged his piece ; 
 but ere he could turn his horse round 
 to make his retreat, the raging beast 
 had plunged his immense horns into 
 its flank. The horse staggered and 
 was near falling, but recovering by a 
 violent effort, he extricated himself 
 from his infuriated pursuer, making 
 off with all the speed his wasting 
 strength supplied, his entrails mear 
 while dragging on the ground ; tilli 
 length he fell, and died at the same 
 moment. The animal was now close 
 upon his rear, and the young Lord 
 A A 2 
 
356 
 
 NOTES TO CASTLE DANGEROUS. 
 
 would unquestionably have shared 
 the fate of his unhappy steed, had not 
 the keeper, deeming it full time to 
 conclude the day's diversion, fired at 
 the instant. His shot brought the 
 beast to the ground, and running in 
 with his large knife, he put a period 
 to its existence. 
 
 " This scene of gentlemanly pastime 
 was viewed from a turret of the castle 
 by Lady Tankerville and her female 
 visitors. Such a situation for the 
 mother of the young hero, was any 
 thing but enviable."] 
 
 * 245. — Unlearned. 
 
 * P. 261. — [This is a most graphic and 
 accurate description of the present 
 state of the ruin. Its being occupied 
 by the sexton as a dwelling-place, and 
 the whole scene of the old man's 
 interview with De Valence, may be 
 classed with our illustrious author's 
 most felicitous imaginings. — Note by 
 the Rev. Mr. Stewart of Douglas.'] 
 
 * P. 263.— Coleridge. — [The author 
 has somewhat altered part of a beau- 
 tilul unpublialied fragment of Cole- 
 ridge : — 
 
 " Where is the grave of Sir Arthur 
 Orellan, — 
 Where may the grave of that good 
 knight be ? 
 By the marge of a brook, on the 
 slope of Helvellyn, 
 Under the boughs of a young birch- 
 tree. 
 The Oak that in Summer was 
 
 pleasant to hear. 
 That rustled in Autumn all withered 
 
 and sear. 
 That whistled and groaned thro' 
 
 the Winter alone. 
 He hath gone, and a birch in his 
 place is grown. 
 The knight's bones are dust, 
 His good sword is rust ; 
 His spirit is with the saints, 
 we trust." 
 
 £d/t.] 
 
 * P. 306. — The Queen of Robert the 
 Bruce, and the Countess of Buchan, 
 by whom, as one of Macdufif's de- 
 scent, he was crowned at Scone, were 
 secured in the manner described. 
 
 * P. 320. — Theominous name of Blood- 
 mire-Sink or Syke, marks a narrow 
 hollow to the northwest of Douglas 
 Castle, from which it is distant about 
 the third of a mile. Mr. Haddow 
 states, that according to local tradi- 
 tion, the name was given in conse- 
 quence of Sir James Douglas having 
 at this spot intercepted and slain part 
 of the garrison of the castle while De 
 Walton was in command. 
 
 * P- 337' — Or death agony. 
 
 * P. 344. — [The fall of this brave 
 stripling by the hand of the English 
 governor, and the stem heroism of 
 the father in turning from the spot 
 where he lay, ' ' a model of beauty and 
 strength," that he might not be with- 
 drawn from the duty which Douglas 
 had assigned him of protecting the 
 Lady of Berkely, excites an interest 
 for both, with which it is almost to be 
 regretted that history interferes. It 
 was the old man, Thomas Dickson, 
 not his son, \\ho fell. The slogan, 
 "aDouglas, aDouglas," having been 
 prematurely raised, Dickson, who was 
 within the church, thinking that his 
 young Lord with his armed band was 
 at hand, drew his sword, and with 
 only one man to assist him, opposed 
 the English, who now rushed to the 
 door. Cut across the middle by an 
 English sword, he still continued his 
 opposition, till he fell lifeless at the 
 threshold. Such is the tradition, and 
 it is supported by a memorial of some 
 authority — a tombstone, still to be 
 seen in the churchyard of Douglas, on 
 which is sculptured a figure of Dick- 
 son, supporting with his left arm his 
 protruding entrails, and raising his 
 sword with the other in the attitude 
 of combat.] — Note by the Rev. Mr. 
 Stewart of Douglas. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 A', all. 
 Aa, aw, awe. 
 Ableeze, blaziu^;. 
 Aboon, abune, above. 
 Abulyiements, habili- 
 ments ; accoutrements. 
 Aefauld, simple. 
 AS, off. 
 
 Aff-hands, hands off. 
 Afore, before. 
 Aft, oft. 
 Aften, often. 
 Afterhend, afterwards. 
 Ahint, behind. 
 Agee, ajee, awry ; off the 
 right line; obliquely : 
 wrong. 
 Aiblins, perhaps. 
 Ain, own. 
 Aines, aince, once. 
 Ainsells, cmin selves. 
 Air, ear, early. 
 Aim, iron^ 
 
 Airts, points of the com- 
 pass. 
 Airt, to direct. 
 Aits, oats, ait-meal, oat- 
 meal. 
 Aiver, aver, a work-horse. 
 Ajee, awry. 
 Alane, alone. 
 A-low, a-fire ; in aflame. 
 Altoun, old town. 
 Amaist, almost. 
 Ambry, aumry, almery, 
 close cupboard for keep- 
 ing coldvictuals, bread, 
 &c. 
 An, if. 
 
 Anes-errand, of set pur- 
 pose; sole-errand. 
 Anent, opposite ; respect- 
 ing. 
 Aneuch, enough. 
 Ante-nup, antenuptial 
 co-habitation between 
 persons who are after- 
 wards married to each 
 Other. 
 
 Archilowe, (of unknown 
 derivation, ) a peace- 
 offering. 
 Ark, meal-ark; a large 
 chest for holding nicaL 
 Aries, earnest money. 
 
 Arriage and carriage, 
 plough and cart ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Ass, ashes. 
 
 Assoilzie, assoilize, ac- 
 quit. 
 
 Aucht, aught, to possess 
 or belong to. ' ' Wfeae's 
 aught it?" to whom 
 does it belong f 
 
 Aught, possession ; pro- 
 perty. "In ane's 
 aught," in one's keep- 
 ing. 
 
 Atweel, I wot well. 
 
 Auld, old. 
 
 Auld-farran, sagacious. 
 
 Auld-warld, old-fashion- 
 ed ; antique. Auld- 
 warld stories, ancient 
 stories. 
 
 Aver, work-horse. 
 
 Aweel, well. 
 
 Awes, owes. 
 
 Awmous, alms. 
 
 Avnary, v. ambry. 
 
 Awn, owing. 
 
 Awsome, awful; terrible. 
 
 Ax, ask. 
 
 B. 
 
 Ba, hand-ball. 
 
 Bab, bunch; tassell. 
 
 Back, backet, coal-scut- 
 tle. Ass-backet, ashe- 
 scuttle. Adj. muckle- 
 backit, broad-backed. 
 
 Baff, blow; bang; lieavy 
 thump. 
 
 Bayganet, bayonet. 
 
 Baik, beck ; curtsy ; rroe- 
 rence. 
 
 Bailie, alderman, or ma- 
 gistrate. 
 
 Bairns, children. 
 
 Baith, both. 
 
 Baittle, rich pasture. 
 
 grass grund, rich 
 
 close-cropped sheep pas- 
 ture. 
 Ballant, ballad. 
 Baldrick, girdle. 
 Ban, curse. 
 Band, bond. 
 Banes, bones. 
 Bang, spring ; a bound. 
 Banner, bonnet. 
 Bannock, flat round 
 
 cake. 
 Bannock-fluliS, turbot. 
 Bangster, a violent fellow 
 wlio carries every thing 
 before him. 
 Bargaining, disputing; 
 
 battling. 
 Barken, encrust. 
 Barkit, tanned. 
 Barla fummil, barley, an 
 exclamation for a truce 
 by one who has falle7i 
 down ill wrestli?ig or 
 play, ' ' by our Lady 
 upset ! I am down ! " 
 Barley, barly, (from par- 
 ley, ) a cry among boys 
 at their violent games 
 for a truce. 
 Barm, yeast. 
 Barns-breakmg, idle 
 
 frolic. 
 Barrace, bounds , lists 
 
 for combatants. 
 Barrow-tram, shaft of a 
 
 wheel-barrow. 
 Bartizan, (in fortifica- 
 tion,) battlement. 
 Batts, bolts. 
 Baudrons, puss ; a eat. 
 Banks, uuculti-uated 
 
 places between ridges 
 of land. 
 Bauld, bald, also bold. 
 Bawbee, halfpenny. 
 Bawbee rows, halfpenny 
 rolls. 
 
360 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Bawson-faced, having a 
 2ohite oblong spot on 
 the/ace. 
 
 Baxter, baker. 
 
 Be, "let be," let alone; 
 not to meniiOJi. 
 
 Beal, biel, (Gael.) mouth, 
 opening; also suppu- 
 rate. 
 
 Bean, bien, bein, well to 
 do ; comfortable and 
 ■well provided. 
 
 Bear, barley that has 
 more than two rows of 
 grain in the ear. 
 
 Bedesman, one that 
 prays for, or to ; a 
 poor pensioner. 
 
 Bedral, a beadle, also 
 bed-rid. 
 
 B jfliimmed, pa lavered ; 
 flattered. 
 
 Begrutten, cxhatisted 
 zvith weeping. 
 
 Begitnk, begoke, trick. 
 
 Beild, bield, shelter. 
 
 Bein, wealthy; well pro^ 
 vided. 
 
 Belike, perhaps. 
 
 Relive, belyve, by and 
 by ; speedily. 
 
 Bell-the-cat, to co7itcvd 
 with, especially of 
 superior rank or 
 power; to use strong 
 measures I'egardless of 
 consequences. 
 
 Bell-wavering, wander- 
 ing. 
 
 Ben, (be-in,) the inner 
 apartment. " To 
 
 bring far ben," to 
 trea t with grea t re- 
 spect aJid hospitality. 
 
 Bend-leather, thick sole 
 leather. 
 
 Bennison, blessing. 
 
 Bent, a kind of grass ; 
 metapliorically, the 
 hill; the 7noor. 
 "Ta'en the bent," 
 taken the field ; run 
 away. 
 
 Bicker, wooden vessel 
 made by a cooper Jor 
 holding liqtior, brosc, 
 &c. 
 Bide, stay; endure; 
 reside. " Bide a 
 
 blink," stay a moment. 
 
 Biding, abiding; [waij- 
 
 ing ; residitig. 
 Bield, V. beild. 
 Bien, v. bein. 
 Big, build; also great, 
 
 large. 
 Bigging, building. 
 Biggit, built. 
 Biggonets, lifien caps of 
 the fashion worn by 
 the Begnine sisterhood. 
 Bike, byke, bink, wild- 
 bees' nest. 
 Billy, (the infantine pro- 
 nunciation of brither, ) 
 brother. 
 Bind, {in drinking,) as 
 much liquor asonecan 
 carry zinder his ba?id 
 or girdle. " I'm at 
 my bind," I've got my 
 full measure. 
 Bink, bench ; bank ; 
 
 acclivity. 
 Binn, bing, heap of un* 
 
 thrashed corn. 
 Binna, be not. 
 Birkie, a child's game at 
 cards; also a lively 
 young fellow. 
 Birling, drinking ; ad- 
 ministering liquor ; 
 also maki7ig a grum- 
 bling noise like aii old- 
 fashioned spinning- 
 wheel or hand-mill in 
 motio?i. 
 Birly-man, tlie petty officer 
 
 of a btifgh of barony. 
 Birn, burden. "Skin 
 and him," full accottnt 
 of a sheep by bringing 
 the skin with the tar- 
 mark, and the head 
 •with the brand on the 
 nose; the lohole of any 
 thing. 
 Birr, 7ioise ; vehemence; 
 
 stimulate. 
 Birse, bristles. ' ' Set up 
 his birse," roused him 
 to his mettle ; put him. 
 in a towering passion. 
 Bit, (used as a diminu- 
 tive.) "Bit burn,'' 
 sinall rivulet. " Bit 
 lassock," little girl. 
 Bit, small space ; spot. 
 '" Blithe bit," pleasant 
 s/<y. 
 
 Bite, a bit. ' ' Bite of 
 bread," a mouthful of 
 bread. 
 Bittle, beetle, a wooden 
 bat for beating of 
 Ihien. 
 Bittock, little bit; a short 
 dista?ice. (Ock is used 
 as a diminutive, as in 
 lassock for lass.) 
 Blackaviced, dark-com- 
 plexioned. 
 Black-fishers, poachers 
 who kill salmon in 
 close-time. 
 Blackit, blackened. 
 Black-mail, sccurity- 
 money paid to free- 
 booters. 
 Black-nebs, democrats ; 
 factious discontented 
 revilers. 
 Blasting, puffing and 
 blowing; also boasting. 
 Blate, bashful; modest. 
 Blawart, blaewort, blue- 
 bottle, blue-wort, 
 centaurca cyanus. 
 Blaw-in-my-lug, boast in 
 mine ear; flatterer; 
 parasite. 
 Blawing in one's lug, 
 flattering ; using cir- 
 cumlocution. 
 Blearing your ee, blind- 
 ing you with flattery. 
 Bleeze, blaze. 
 Blether, bladder. 
 Blethers, babbling ; 
 
 foolish talk. 
 Blink, glance of the eye ; 
 glimpse ; a twinkling. 
 Blithe, glad; pleasant. 
 Blood-wite, compensa- 
 tion, or flne for blood- 
 shed, 
 Bluid, blood. 
 
 Blunker, bungler ; on e 
 that spoils everything 
 he meddles with. 
 Boast, talking to intimi- 
 date. 
 Bob, dance; up and 
 
 down. 
 Bodach, old man; bug-a- 
 
 boo. 
 Bode, what is bidden / 
 
 offer. 
 Boddle, a copper coin, 
 value the sixth part of 
 
GLOSSARV. 
 
 361 
 
 an English penny, 
 equal to two doits, or 
 Scottish pen n ies. 
 
 BogiMy, full 0/ goblins. 
 
 Bogles, goblins / bug- 
 bears; scarecrows. 
 
 Bole, boal, a locker in 
 the wall of a cottage for 
 keeping books, &c. 
 " Window-bole,** a 
 ivindow with blinds of 
 wood, with one small 
 pane of glass iti the 
 middle, instead of 
 casement. 
 
 Bolt, arrow. 
 
 Bonnally, bonnaile, a 
 parting cup with a 
 friend, in earnest of 
 wishing him, a pros- 
 perous journey. 
 
 Bonny-wawlies, toys, 
 trinkets. Waulie {a 
 daisy) is commonly 
 used figuratively to 
 express what is beauti- 
 ful. 
 
 Boot, buit, a balance of 
 value in barter. " Into 
 the hoot," given into 
 [instead of] the boot. 
 
 Booth, shop. 
 
 Bordel, brothel. 
 
 Borrell-loons, low rustic 
 rogues. 
 
 Borrowing-days, the 
 
 three last days of 
 March, O. S. 
 
 ' ' March borrowed frae 
 
 Aprile 
 
 Three days, an' they were 
 
 ill: 
 
 The first d them was 
 
 wind and weet, 
 
 The second 0' them was 
 
 snaw a7id sleet. 
 
 The third d them was 
 
 sic a freeze, 
 
 That the birds' legs stack 
 
 to the trees." 
 
 See Note, ' Heart of 
 
 Mid-I^othian. 
 
 Boss, hollow. 
 Bonnet-laird, small fro- 
 >■ prietor of land. 
 Bonnie, bonny, pretty; 
 
 beautiful; also strong; 
 
 worthy, approz'ed. 
 
 Bothy, hut; hovel. 
 
 Bouking, bucking, 
 
 Boul o' a pint stoup, 
 handle of a two-quart 
 pot. 
 
 Bountith, the bounty 
 given in addition to 
 stipulated wages. 
 
 Bourfl, Jeer, mock. 
 
 Bouroks, bourachs, con- 
 fused heaps ; miserable 
 huts; also small eft- 
 closures. 
 
 Bourtree-bush , elder 
 
 bush. 
 
 Bow, boll, or. dry 
 measure, con ta i?i ing 
 the sixteenth part of a 
 chalder* 
 
 Bowies, casks with the 
 head taken out ; tubs ; 
 milk-pails. 
 
 Bowk, bulk; body. 
 
 Bracken, 7^/-?/. 
 
 Brae, rising ground. 
 
 Braid, broad. 
 
 Brander, gridiron. 
 
 Brandered, grilled ; 
 
 broiled. 
 
 Brank-new, bran-new, a 
 phrase equivale?tt to 
 "spick and span;" 
 quite new. 
 
 Brash, transient fit of 
 sickness. 
 
 Brattach, standard, 
 
 hterally cloth. 
 
 Braw, brave; fine. 
 
 Brawly, bravely, finely. 
 
 Braws, braveries ; finery. 
 
 Breaskit, briskit, the 
 breast. 
 
 Brecham, working- 
 
 horses collar. 
 
 Breckan, fer7i. 
 
 Breeks, breeches, ' ' Breek- 
 less," breechless. 
 
 Brent brow, high fore- 
 head. 
 
 "^xviM.^, brittle ; ticklish. 
 
 Brig, bridge. 
 
 Brither, bf-otJur. 
 
 Broach, broche, spit. 
 
 Broach, breast-pin. 
 
 Brochan, gruel. 
 
 Breering, coming through 
 the ground, as young 
 corn, &c. 
 
 Brock, badger, (from its 
 white or spotted face.) 
 
 Brockit-cow, white-faced 
 cow. 
 
 Brog, a pointed instru- 
 ment, such as a shoe- 
 maker's awl. 
 
 Brogging, pricking with 
 a sharp-pointed instru- 
 ment. 
 
 Brogues, shoes ; in the 
 Lowlands, shoes of 
 half-dressed leather. 
 
 Broken man, outlaw; 
 bankrupt. 
 
 Broo, bree, broth; juice ; 
 also opi?iion founded 
 on bruit or report. 
 
 Brose, a kind of pottage, 
 made by pouring 
 boiling water or broth 
 on meal, which is 
 stirred while the liquid 
 is poured. The dish 
 is denominated front 
 the nature of the liquid, 
 as "water-brose^" 
 
 " kail-brose." 
 
 Brose, brewis ; stir- 
 about. 
 
 Brose-time, brewis-time ; 
 supper-time. 
 
 Brown Man of the Moors, 
 a droich, dwarf or 
 subterranean elf. 
 
 Brownies, domestic 
 
 goblins : the ' ' Robin 
 Goodfellows " of Scot- 
 land. 
 
 Browst, brewing; as 
 much as is brewed at 
 one time. 
 
 Bnickle, brickie ; brittle ; 
 ticklish. 
 
 Bruick, brook, tisc ; 
 wear ; enjoy. 
 
 Bruilzie, broil ; sctifife ; 
 disttcrbance. 
 
 Brunstane, brimstone. 
 
 Brusten, bursted. 
 
 Buckie, shell of a sea- 
 snail, or any spiral 
 shell, of wJiatever size. 
 " De'il, or deevil's 
 buckie, ' ' a pet verse 
 refractory youngster ; 
 a mischievous madcap 
 tliat has an evil twist 
 in his character. 
 
 Bulk, buke, book. 
 
 Buirdly, strong; athletic. 
 
 Buist, boost, the mark set 
 
362 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 upon cattle hy their 
 owners, 
 Bumbazed, amazed; con- 
 fused ; stupified. 
 Bunker, bench. "Sand- 
 bunker," sand bank; 
 in cottages a seat which 
 also serves for a chest, 
 opening with a hinged 
 lid. 
 
 Busk, dress. 
 
 Busking, dressing. 
 
 But-and-ben, be-out and 
 be-in^ or the outer and 
 i7tner side of the par- 
 tition-wall in a house 
 consisting of two apart- 
 ments. 
 
 Buttock-mail, fine im- 
 posed on fornication in 
 lieu of sitting on the 
 stool of repentance. 
 
 Bye, " down bye," f/(nc« 
 yonder: not far off. 
 
 By ordinar, more thati 
 ordinary. 
 
 By, past ; besides; over 
 and above. 
 
 Byganes, bygones, what 
 is gone by and past. 
 
 Byre, shipper; cow-house. 
 
 Bytime, odd time ; 
 interval of leisure ; 
 now and then. 
 
 Ca', (fnW.'i" Ca'-throw, " 
 disturbance ; preven- 
 tion, '*Ca'the5huttle," 
 drive the shuttle. 
 
 Ca', call. 
 
 Cadger, carrier ; hifxfcr, 
 
 Cadgy, lively and frisky ; 
 wanton, 
 
 Caickling, cackling. 
 
 Cailliachs, (Gael . ) old 
 women, 
 
 Caimed, kaimed, C(?M^£?£f. 
 
 Caird, tinker. 
 
 Cairn, heap of loose stones 
 piled as a memorial of 
 some individual or 
 occurrence. 
 
 Calf-ward, v. cauf-ward. 
 
 Callan, callant, young 
 lad ; a somewhat irri- 
 sory tise of the old tenn 
 gallant; a fine fellow. 
 
 Caller, cool, fresh. 
 
 " Caller oysters," or 
 "herrings," newly 
 caught. 
 Cam, came. 
 
 Camstery, froward ; 
 perverse ; zinmanage- 
 able. 
 Canna, cannot. 
 Cannily, skilfully ; 
 
 cautiously, 
 Canny, skilful; prudent; 
 lucky; in a super- 
 stitious sense, good- 
 conditioned and safe to 
 dealwith ; trust^vorthy . 
 Cantle, the back part of 
 the head ; also a frag- 
 ment broken off atiy- 
 thing. 
 Cantrip, spell; incanta- 
 tion, charm. 
 Canty, lively and cheer- 
 ful. 
 Capercailzie, the great 
 
 cock of the wood. 
 Cap, wooden vessel for 
 holding food or liquor. 
 Cappie, diminutive of 
 
 cap. 
 Cappernoity, crabbed ; 
 
 peevish. 
 Capul, horse; in a more 
 limited seiise work- 
 horse. 
 Carfuffled, curfuffled, 
 
 rtiffled; rumpled. 
 Carle, churl ; gruff old 
 
 man. 
 Carline, carling, the 
 
 fcitiiniue of carle. 
 Carriage, horse-and-cart 
 
 service. 
 Carried, i?i nubibus ; 
 having the mi7id fixed 
 upon sotnething diffe- 
 rent from the business 
 on hand ; having the 
 wits gone ' ' a-wool- 
 gatheri?ig." 
 Carritch, carritches, cate- 
 chism. 
 Carvy, carraway. 
 Cast, got over; re- 
 covered from. 
 Cast, lot ; fate. 
 Cast out, fall out; 
 
 quarrel. 
 Cast up, appear; also, 
 throw in one's teeth ; 
 reproach with. 
 
 Cateran, keam ; High- 
 land and Irish ir- 
 regular soldier : free- 
 booter. 
 Cauf-ward, calf-ward, 
 place where calves are 
 kept in the field. 
 Cauff, chaff. 
 Cauld, cold. 
 
 Cauldrife, chilly ; sus- 
 ceptible of cold. 
 
 Caup, cap, cup; wooden 
 bowl; also the shell of 
 a snail, as snail-cap. 
 
 Causey, causeway, 
 
 calsay, raised and 
 paved street. ' ' To 
 crown the causey," to 
 keep the middle or 
 higher part of the street 
 ill defiance of all to be 
 met. 
 
 Cavey, hen-coop; also a 
 partan, or common sea- 
 crab. 
 
 Certie, "my certie, " 7ny 
 faith ; in good troth. 
 
 Chack, snack; luncheon. 
 
 Chafts, jaws. 
 
 Chalder, (dry measure,) 
 sixteen bolls. 
 
 Chancy, lucky. 
 
 Chap, custo7ner ; fellow ; 
 also a stroke. 
 
 Chappit, struck ; also 
 pounded ; mashed. 
 
 Chaw, chew. 
 
 Cheap o't, well deserving 
 of it ; deserving worse. 
 
 Cheese-fat, cheese-dish ; 
 cheese form. 
 
 Chenzie, chain. 
 
 Chields, chiels, young 
 fellows, 
 
 Chimley neuk, chimney 
 corner, 
 
 Choast, {ch as k in 
 Tweeddale, ) hoast, 
 severe cojtgh. 
 
 Chop, shop. 
 
 Chowl, jowl. 
 
 Chuckles, ba,rn-door 
 fowls. 
 
 Chuckie-stanes, pebble- 
 stones such as children 
 play at chuck-farthing 
 •with. 
 
 Clachan, a small village^ 
 
 Clack-geese, c! aick- 
 
 geese, barnacle geese. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 363 
 
 Clagged, claggit, clogged, 
 
 Clairshach, clairsho, Acr/. 
 
 Claise, clase, clothes. 
 
 Claiths, clothes. 
 
 Clamyhewit, stroke. 
 
 Clanjamfrie, mob ; tag- 
 rag-and'bob'tail. 
 
 Clap, a stroke ; also 
 moment. 
 
 Clapper, tongue; tongue 
 of a bell. " Ringing his 
 clapper, " nsing his 
 tongue freely . 
 
 Clarty, clorty, unclean ; 
 very dirty. 
 
 Clash, tittle-tattle ; scan- 
 dal ; idle talk. 
 
 Clat, claut, rake together ; 
 an instrument for rak- 
 ing together mire, 
 weeds, &c. 
 
 Clatter, tattle. 
 
 Clatter - traps, rattle - 
 traps, aludicrotts name 
 for tools and accoutre- 
 ments. 
 
 Claught, clutched ; 
 
 snatcJud violently. 
 
 Claut, V. clat. 
 
 Clavering, talking idly 
 and foolishly. 
 
 Clavers, idle talk. 
 
 Claw, scratch ; scrape. 
 "Claw up their mit- 
 tins," give them the 
 finishing stroke. ' ' Claw 
 favour," ciirry favour. 
 
 Cleck, collect ; bxing 
 together, hatch. 
 
 "decking time," 
 
 hatching time. 
 
 Cleed, clothe. 
 
 Cleek, cleick, hook. 
 
 Cleekit, caught as with a 
 
 hook. " Cleekit in the 
 
 cxame," hooked in the 
 
 loin. 
 
 Cleugh, cliff; also ravine. 
 
 Clink, smart stroke ; also 
 
 a Jingling sound, 
 
 metaph. money. 
 
 Clinket, clanket; struck. 
 
 Clipping time, the nick 
 
 of time. "To come 
 
 in clipping time," to 
 
 come as opportunely as 
 
 he who visits a farmer 
 
 at sheep-shearing time, 
 
 when there is always 
 
 mirth and good cheer. 
 
 Clocking hen, clucking, 
 hatching, breedinghen. 
 
 Clodded, threw clods ; 
 threw with violence, 
 
 Clomb, climbed, 
 
 Cloot, cloove, divided 
 hoof; cloven hoof 
 "Cloot and cloot," 
 hoofandhoof i.e. every 
 hoof. 
 
 Clour, btimp upon the 
 head from a blow ; also 
 inde?itaiion in a brass 
 or pewter vessel; de- 
 facement ; inequality 
 of surface produced by 
 a blow, 
 
 Cloured, adj. of clour. 
 
 Clute, V. cloot. 
 
 Coal-heugh, place where 
 coals are hewed or dug. 
 
 Coble, small fishing-boat 
 upon a river. 
 
 Cock bree, cock broo, 
 cock broth. 
 
 Cocky - leeky, cock - a - 
 leekie, leek soup in 
 which a cock has been 
 boiled. 
 
 Cockernonie, the gather- 
 ing of ayoung woman's 
 hair tinder the snood or 
 fillet. 
 
 Cock-laird, a land pro- 
 prietor who cultivates 
 his own estate. 
 
 Cockle -brained, chuckle- 
 headed; foolish. 
 
 Cock-padle, Imhp-fish, 
 
 Cod, pillow ; also pod. 
 
 Codling, an apple so 
 called. " Cariisle cod- 
 lings " are in great 
 esteem. 
 
 Cogue, cogie, a round 
 wooden vessel 7nade by 
 -tz cooper, for holding 
 milk, brose, liquor, &c. 
 
 Collie, car, dog. 
 
 Collie-shangy, quarrel ; 
 confused uproar like 
 that produced when 
 coWxesfall a-worrying 
 one another about one 
 of their own kind who 
 has got a shangie or 
 shagan, i.e., a canister, 
 &c., tied to his tail. 
 
 Coney, rabbit. 
 
 Cookie, a kind of small 
 
 sweet bread for eating 
 at tea. 
 
 Corbie, raven. "Corbie 
 messenger, ' ' one that is 
 long upon his errand, 
 or who, like the raven 
 sent from the Ark, 
 returns not again. 
 
 Coost, cast. 
 
 Coronach, dirge, 
 
 Corri, (in the Highlands, ) 
 a hollmo recess in a 
 mountain open only on 
 one side. 
 
 Cottars, cottagers. 
 
 Cosy, cozie, warm and 
 comfortable. 
 
 Couldna', could not. 
 
 Coup, turn over. ' ' Coup 
 the crans," go to wreck, 
 like a pot on tjie fire, 
 when the cran upo7i 
 which it stood is upset. 
 
 Coup, barter. 
 
 Couping, buying, par- 
 ticularly horses; also 
 trucking, or bartering. 
 
 Cove, cave. 
 
 Cowt, colt. 
 
 Cozie, cosie, warm and 
 comfortable. 
 
 Crack, boast. 
 
 Crack, new ; showy. 
 
 Crack-hemp, crack-rope; 
 ga llows-apple. 
 
 Cracks, hearty conversa- 
 tio?i. 
 
 Craemes, krames, wair- 
 houses where goods aj-e 
 C7'ammed or packed; 
 range of booths for the 
 sale of goods. 
 
 Craft, c7'oft. 
 
 Craig, crag, rock; neck; 
 throat. 
 
 Craigsman, one who is 
 dexterous in climbing 
 rocks. 
 
 Crap, crop, produce of the 
 groutid. 
 
 Crap, thetopofany thing; 
 the craw of a fowl, 
 used ludicrously for a 
 mans stomach. 
 
 Crappit heads, puddings 
 made in the heads of 
 haddocks. 
 
 Creach, Highland foray ; 
 plundering incwsion^ 
 
 Creel, abasketor pan nicr. 
 
SH 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 "To be in a creel," 
 or "to have one's wits 
 in a creel, "to have one's 
 wits jumbled into con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Creelfu', basketful. 
 
 Creish, creesh, grease. 
 
 Creishing, greasing. 
 
 Crewels, scrofula. 
 
 Crombie, crummy, « 
 crooked-horned cozu. 
 
 Crook, pot-hook. 
 
 Crook, winding. 
 
 Grouse, brisk ; full of 
 heart; courageous-like. 
 
 Crowdy, meal a?id milk 
 mixed in a cold state ; 
 a kind of pottage. 
 
 Crown of the causeway, 
 middle of the street. 
 
 Cruppin, crept. 
 
 Cud, cudgel. 
 
 Cuddle, ass. 
 
 Cuitikins, cutikings, 
 
 guetres, gaiters, 
 
 Cuitle, diddle. 
 
 Cuittle, (Eng. cuddle, 
 with a different shade 
 of meaning, ) tickle, 
 ' ' Cuittle favour, ' ' cur/y 
 favour. 
 
 Cullion, (Gael.) puppy; 
 base spunging dog ; 
 base fellow, poltroon. 
 
 Cummer, midwife ; 
 
 gossip. 
 
 Curch, (Gael, and Fr.) 
 kerchief; a woman's 
 covering for the head ; 
 inner linen cap, some- 
 times worn without the 
 {v.) mtitch. 
 
 Curfuffle, ruffie; rumple ; 
 put in a disordered and 
 tumbled state. 
 
 Cur\\evm.T\\e5,fa7Ztastical 
 circular ornaments. 
 
 Curmurring, grumbling. 
 
 Cum, a quantity; an 
 indefinite number. 
 
 Curney, round; granu- 
 lated. 
 
 Cui-ple, curpin, crupper. 
 
 Currach, a corackle, or 
 small skiff; boat of 
 wicker - work, covered 
 zvith hides. 
 
 Cusser, cuisser, stallion. 
 
 Cushat, wood-pigeon. 
 
 Cut-lugged, crop-eared. 
 
 Cutty, [cwi.) slut ; worth- 
 less girl; a loose woman . 
 
 Cutty, a spoon ; tobacco- 
 pipe, cut or broken short. 
 " OntXy spoon," a short 
 hor7i spoon. "Cutty- 
 stool," sliort - legged 
 stool. 
 
 D. 
 
 Dab, daub, to peck as 
 birds do. 
 
 Dabs, small bits, or specks 
 stuck upon any thing. 
 
 Dacker, search, as for 
 stolen or smuggled 
 goods. 
 
 Daft, mad ; frolicsome. 
 
 'D^.ffmjhoughtless gaiety ; 
 foolish playfulness ; 
 foolery. 
 
 Daidling, loitering; 
 
 sauntering ; getting on 
 in a lazy, careless way. 
 
 Daiker, to toil ; as in job- 
 work. 
 
 Daikering, v. dacker. 
 
 Dais, v. deas. 
 
 Dalt, foster child. 
 
 Dammer, miner. 
 
 Dammer, stun, and con- 
 fusion by striking on 
 the head. 
 
 Danders, cinders ; re- 
 fuse of a sjnith'sfire, 
 
 Dandering, satintering ; 
 roa m ing idly from 
 place to place. 
 
 Dandilly, spoiled by too 
 much indulgence. 
 
 Dang, dung, struck ; 
 subdued, knocked over. 
 
 Darg, dargue, day'swork. 
 
 Darn, dern, conceal. 
 
 Daur, daured, dare ; 
 dared. 
 
 Day, " the day, " to-day. 
 
 Dead - thraw, the death 
 thro^vs ; last agonies. 
 \Vhe?i applied to an 
 inanimate object, it 
 means neither dead nor 
 alive, neither hot nor 
 cold. 
 
 Deas, dais, dees, table, 
 great hall table ; a pew 
 in the church, (also a 
 turf seat erected at the 
 
 doors of cottages, but 
 not used by the Author 
 of VVaverley in this 
 sense. ) 
 
 Deasil, 7notion contrary 
 to that of the sun ; a 
 Highland superstitious 
 custom, implying some 
 preternatural virtue. 
 
 Death - ruckle, death - 
 rattle in the throat of a 
 dying person. 
 
 Deave, deafen. 
 
 Dee, die. 
 
 Deeing, dying ; also 
 doing. 
 
 Deevils buckie, imp of 
 Satan ; limb of the 
 Devil, 
 
 Deil, devil. 
 
 Deil's dozen, thirteen. 
 
 Deil gaed o 'er Jock Wab- 
 ster, every thing went 
 topsy-turvy ; there was 
 the devil to pay. 
 
 Deil may care, tlu devil 
 may care; I don't care, 
 
 Deil's snuff-box, the com- 
 mon puff-ball. 
 
 Delieret, delirious. 
 
 Deliver, ,,active ; free in 
 moiiofi. 
 
 Deliverly, actively ; 
 
 alertly. 
 
 Delve, V, devel. 
 
 Demented, insane. 
 
 Denty, dainty ; nice. 
 
 Dentier, daintier ; more 
 nice and delicate. 
 
 Dern, concealed; secret; 
 hiddeti. 
 
 Derned, concealed. 
 
 Devel, delve, very hard 
 blow, 
 
 Didna, did not. 
 
 Dike, dyke, stone -wall 
 fence. 
 
 Ding, strike; beat; sub- 
 due. 
 
 'D'lnk, 7ieat ; trim; tidy; 
 also contemptuous ; 
 scornful of others. 
 
 Dinmonts, wethers be 
 twcen one and two years 
 old, or that have not 
 yet been twice shorn. 
 
 Dinna, do not. 
 
 Dinnle, tingle; thrill. 
 
 Dirdnm,w/?*oar/ tumult; 
 evil; chance ; fenancc. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 365 
 
 Dirl, thrill 
 
 Discreet, civil. 
 
 Discretion, civility. 
 
 Disjasked, jaded ; de- 
 cayed ; worn ottt. 
 
 Disjune, dejune, break- 
 fast, 
 
 Dits, stojis up. 
 
 Div, do. 
 
 Divot, thin sod for thatch- 
 ing. 
 
 Doch-an-dorrach, (Gael.) 
 stirrup-cup ; -parting 
 cup. 
 
 Doddie, cow without 
 horns. 
 
 Doiled, dyled, dazed ; 
 stupid; doting. 
 
 Doited, turned to dotage : 
 stupid : confused. 
 
 Dole, " dead dole," that 
 which "was dealt out to 
 the poor at the fiazerals 
 of the rich. 
 
 Donnert, donnard, 
 
 grossly stupid; stunned. 
 ' ' Auld donnert, " i?i. 
 
 Doo, dove. 
 
 Dook, duck ; tjnmerse 
 underwater; batlie. 
 
 Dooket, doucat, dove-cot; 
 pigeoii-hotise. 
 
 Dookit, V. doukit. 
 
 Dooms, zised intensi- 
 tively, as ' ' dooms 
 bad," very bad, [mince 
 ofd d bad.) 
 
 Doon, down. 
 
 Door-stane, threshold. 
 
 Dorlach, v. dourlach. 
 
 Douce, qziiet ; sober , 
 sedate. 
 
 Dought, could; was able. 
 
 Doukit, ducked. 
 
 Doup, bottom; butt-end. 
 
 Dour, hard and impene- 
 trable in body or mind. 
 
 Dourlach, (Gael. ) bundle; 
 knapsack ; literally 
 satchel of arrows. 
 
 Dover, neither asleep nor 
 awake; teinporary pri- 
 vation of conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 Dovering, "walking or 
 riding half asleep as if 
 from the effects of liquor; 
 besotted. 
 
 Dow, (pronounced as in 
 
 how,)areable. Dowed, 
 
 was able. 
 Dow, (pronounced as in 
 
 who, ) dove ; a term of 
 
 endearment. 
 Dow-cote, pigeon-house. 
 Dowed, faded : vapid; 
 
 decayed. 
 Dowf, hollow, dull. 
 Dowie, dolly, diill ; 
 
 melancholy ; in bad 
 
 health ; in bad tune, 
 Downa, cannot ; do not. 
 Down bye, down the way. 
 Draff-poke, bagof grains. 
 Draig, draick, dreck, 
 
 dreg; dregs; a word 
 
 which frequently makes 
 
 part of the name of a 
 
 slovenly, low-lying 
 
 place. In this maimer 
 
 it is used in Mospha- 
 
 draig. 
 Drammock, a thick raw 
 
 fnixture of meal and 
 
 water. 
 Drap, drop. Drappie. 
 
 little drop. 
 Drappit &%%, poached egg. 
 Drave, drove. 
 Dree, sttffer ; endure ; 
 
 to dread the worst that 
 
 may happen. 
 Dreeling, drilling. 
 Dreigh, tardy ; slow ; 
 
 tiresome. 
 Dridder, dreadour, dread, 
 
 fear. 
 Drigie, dredgie, dirgie, 
 
 funeral-company pota- 
 tion. 
 Droghling, coghling, 
 
 wheezing and blowing. 
 Droukit, drenched. 
 Drouthy, droughty, 
 
 thirsty. 
 Drow, drizzle ; mizzling 
 
 rain. 
 Drudging-box, flour-box 
 
 for basting in cookery. 
 Drugsters, druggists. 
 Dry multure, astricted 
 
 mill-dues paid to one 
 - mill for grain that is 
 
 ground at another. 
 Duddy, ragged. 
 Duds, rags; tatters ; 
 
 clothes. 
 Dule, dole, sorrow ; 
 
 viottrning. 
 
 Dulse, dulce, sea-cellery. 
 
 Dung ower, knocked over. 
 
 Dunniewassal, (Gael. , 
 from duine, u man, — 
 wasal, well born,) a 
 Highlaiid gentleman, 
 generally the cadet of 
 a family 0/ rank, and 
 who received his title 
 from the land he occu- 
 pied, though held at 
 will of his chieftain. 
 
 Dunshin, jogging smartly 
 with the elbow. 
 
 Dunt, knock, stroke, or 
 blow, that produces a 
 din or sound ; also a 
 good sizeable portion of 
 any thing. 
 
 Dwam, dwaim, dwaum 
 qualm ; swoon. 
 
 Dwining, decaying ; 
 
 declining in health. 
 
 Dyester, dyer. 
 
 Dyke, stone wall fence. 
 
 Dyvour, debtor who can~ 
 not pay. 
 
 Eannaruich, (Gael. ) 
 
 strong soup. The pot 
 is filled with beef or 
 mutton, (not any par- 
 ticular part,) as much 
 water is put in as will 
 cover the meat, which 
 is kept simmering until 
 it is fully done, and 
 when it is taken out the 
 Ennarich is what an 
 Enghsh cook would 
 call double stock. 
 
 Ear, early, 
 
 Eard, earth. 
 
 Earded, put in the earth; 
 interred. 
 
 Earn, eagle. 
 
 Easel, eastward. 
 
 Ee, eye. 
 
 Een, eyes. 
 
 E'en, even, "E'ensae," 
 even so. 
 
 E'en, evening. 
 
 Effeir of war, warlike 
 guise. 
 
 Eident, ay-doiiig; 
 
 diligent ; car eiil ; 
 attentive. 
 
366 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Eik, eke, additioji. 
 
 Eliding, fuel. 
 
 Eithly, easily. 
 
 Elshin, awl. 
 
 Erne, uncle. 
 
 Endlong, /« uninter- 
 
 nipted succession ; even 
 
 on ; at full length. 
 Eneugh, enough. 
 Enow, just now. 
 Equal-aquals, makes all 
 
 odds even. 
 Errand. "For ance 
 
 (ains) trcaxid," for that 
 
 purpose alone. 
 Estreen, yestreen, yester- 
 day, more properly 
 
 last night. 
 Etter-cap, adder-cap, 
 
 atter-cope, a spider; 
 
 a virulent atribilious 
 
 persoi?. 
 Ettle, ai/it; intend. 
 Evening, comparing, 
 Evidents, evidences, 
 Ewest, nearest ; conti- 
 
 gzious. 
 Ewhow ! eh wow ! oh 
 
 dear / 
 Ewking, itching. 
 Exies, hysterics; ecstasies, 
 
 F. 
 
 Fa', faw, fall ; befall. 
 
 Fa, get. "We maunna 
 fa that," we must not 
 Iiope to get that. 
 
 T2LGn, fallen. 
 
 Fa'ard, favoured. " 111 
 faa'rd," ill favoured. 
 
 Fae, foe. 
 
 Fae, ir^Q.from. 
 
 Fae, faie, whose ; who. 
 
 Faem, foam. 
 
 Faither, father. 
 
 Faitour, rascal; mean 
 fellow. 
 
 Fal-lalls, foolish orna- 
 ments in dress. 
 
 Fallow, fellow. 
 
 Falset, falsehood. 
 
 Fan, whan, when. 
 
 Fard, colour. 
 
 Fard, faurd, v. fa'ard. 
 
 Farl, farle, now the 
 fourth part of a large 
 cake, originally -used 
 for corn or bread. 
 
 Fash, fasherie, trouble. 
 Fashing, takingor giving 
 
 trouble. 
 Fashions, troublesome. 
 Eastern's e'en, Fastern 
 
 e'en, Shrove Tuesday, 
 Fat, what. 
 Fauld, /<?/(/. 
 Y2c\iTid., found. 
 FsMr'd, favoured. "Weel 
 
 faiir'd," well favoured; 
 
 good-looking. 
 Fause, false. 
 Faut, fault ; default ; 
 
 want. 
 Feal, sod. 
 Feal-dyke, wall of sods 
 
 for an enclosure. 
 Feal, faitJiful; loyal. 
 Feared, affected with 
 
 fear. 
 Fear, feer, entire. 
 Fearfu', terrible. 
 Feck, strength and sub- 
 stance ; part of a thing. 
 
 "Best feck," better 
 
 part. " Maist feck," 
 
 greatest part. 
 Feckless, powerless ; 
 
 pithless ; feeble ; de- 
 ficient in some quality. 
 
 "Feckless body," 
 
 having barely the 
 
 retnains of a man. 
 Fee, wages. 
 Feel, fool. 
 Fell, skill; also rocky 
 
 hill. 
 Fell, strong and fiery. 
 
 " Fell chield," fery 
 fellow; terrible fellow. 
 
 " Fell airts," hellish 
 
 arts. 
 Fell, befall. 
 Fend, defend; keep out 
 
 bad weather ; provide 
 
 against want. 
 Fended, provided ; made 
 
 shift. 
 Fending, providing; pj-o- 
 
 vision. 
 Fendy, clever in pro- 
 viding. 
 Ferlie, wo7ider ; rarity. 
 
 "To ferWe," to wonder. 
 
 Fickle, made to fike or 
 
 fidge ; puzzle; difficult. 
 
 Fie, fey, acting unac- 
 
 couJitably, as persons 
 
 in health and soon to 
 
 die are supposed to do, 
 
 in some last and extra- 
 ordinary effort. 
 Fient a heat, * deuce a 
 
 thing; deuce a bit; 
 (from fiend,) devil a 
 
 bit. 
 Fiking, fyking, fidgeting; 
 
 fddlefaddlijig. 
 Files, defies ; spoils. 
 Finner, a small whale. 
 Firefianght, flash of 
 
 lightning. 
 Firlot, fourth part of a 
 
 boll of corn. 
 Fissell, bustle. 
 Fissenless, fizzenless, 
 
 fusionless, pithless , 
 
 weak. 
 Fit, foot; step. 
 Fite, white. 
 Flaming, basting. 
 Flash, dash out rashly. 
 Flaughtering, light shin- 
 ing fitfullv ; flickering. 
 Flaunes, pan-cakes. 
 Flaw, gust ; blast. 
 Fleech, fatter ; wheedle. 
 Fleeching, flattering. 
 Flees, flies. 
 Fleg, fright. 
 Flemit, frightetied. 
 Flemet, flamit, batrished; 
 
 expelled. 
 F\ey, frighten. 
 Flichtering, fluttering. 
 Flight, arrow. 
 Fling, kick; throw out 
 
 the legs like a horse. 
 Flisking, ivhisking up 
 
 and down. 
 Flisk-ma.-hoys,jiZl-Jlirts; 
 
 giddy fy-fap~girls. 
 Flit, remove; depart. 
 Flory, vai?i. 
 Flow-moss, watery moss; 
 
 morass. 
 Fluff, fash. 
 Fluff-gibs, squibs. 
 Fluffed i' the pan, bunted 
 
 prime without firiiig 
 
 the barrel of the gun 
 
 or pistol. 
 Flunkie, footman. 
 Flyte, flite, scold. 
 Folk free and sacless, 
 
 (IVANHOE,) a lawful 
 
 freeinan. 
 Follies, foolish fashions 
 
 n dress. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 367 
 
 Forbears, forefathers ; 
 
 ancestors, 
 Forbye, besides; over and 
 
 above. 
 Fore, "to the fore,'' re- 
 maining still in ex- 
 istence ; also in front. 
 Foretauld, foretold, 
 Forfairn , exha tested by 
 fatigue or decay ; 
 sorely worn ont. 
 Forfaulted, forfeited. 
 Forfoughten, exhausted 
 withfigkting ; fatigued 
 and breathless. 
 Forgathered, fell in with. 
 Forgie, forgive. 
 Forpet, fourth fart of a 
 
 peck, 
 
 Forrit, forward. 
 
 Forspeaks, affects with 
 
 the curse of an evil 
 
 tongue, which brings 
 
 ill luck upon what or 
 
 whomso^er it praises. 
 
 Fortalice, a keep, -fortress; 
 
 castle. 
 Fouats, house-leeks. 
 Foumart, foulmart, pole- 
 cat. 
 Four-nooked, four- 
 
 cornered. 
 Fou, few, full; drunk; 
 
 also a pitchfork. 
 Foy, depart in peace. 
 Fozy, sofi and spongy. 
 Frack, ready ; eager ; 
 
 forward. 
 Fractious, peevish, 
 Frae, from. 
 
 Frampul, unruly ; for- 
 ward; evil-conditioned. 
 Freits, freats, super- 
 stitious observances. 
 Frem, fremmit, fraira, 
 frem'd, strange ; not 
 related. 
 Fristed, put off for a 
 
 time. 
 7^, full. 
 'Fwn,puff; whiff. 
 Fule,/f7o/. 
 
 Fusionless, v. fissenless. 
 Funk, funking, applied 
 to a horse kicking up 
 tlie rear without dash- 
 iiig out the heels. 
 Funk, funck. "In a 
 funk," in a foolish per- 
 plexity. 
 
 Fyke, bustle; trouble; 
 7'estless7tess ; much the 
 same as funk. 
 
 Gaberlunzie, a mendi- 
 cant ; a poor guest who 
 cannot pay for his 
 entertainment. 
 Gad, goad ; bar of iron. 
 Gae, go. 
 Gae down, drinking 
 
 bout, 
 Gaed, went. 
 
 Ga.e \v£i' , go away ; have 
 dofie ; no more of that. 
 Gaen, going. 
 Gaisling, gosling. 
 Gait, goat. 
 
 Gait^, gett, what is be- 
 gotten ; brat. 
 Gane, gone. 
 Gang, go. 
 Ganging, going, 
 Gangrel, a child begin- 
 ning to ^walk ; also a 
 vagrant. 
 Gar, garr, inake ; compel. 
 Gardyloo, (Fr.) gardez 
 
 I'eau, 
 Garr'd, made ; compelled; 
 
 catised. 
 Gascromh, {Gael, cas 
 crom,) a long narrow 
 spade, with a project- 
 ing foot-piece, used in 
 the Highlands for dig- 
 ging in stony ground 
 where no other instru- 
 ment can be intro- 
 duced. 
 Gash, prattle; chatter; 
 
 gossip. 
 Gash, sharp ; shrewd. 
 Gate, way ; manner. 
 Gathering-peat, a fiery 
 peat, which was sent 
 round by the Bor- 
 derers to alarm the 
 country in time of 
 danger, as the fiery 
 cross was by the High- 
 landers. 
 Gathering peat, gather- 
 ing coal, either of them, 
 put into the fire at 
 night, with the ashes 
 gathered around it, to 
 
 preserve ignition for 
 
 the mor7iing. 
 Gaun, going. 
 Gaunt, yaw?i. 
 Gauntrees, goan-trees, 
 
 trams ox wooden frames 
 
 on which casks in a 
 
 cellar are placed. 
 Gauger, exciseman, 
 Gawsie, plump; jolly; 
 
 pertly. 
 Gay, pretty. " Gay 
 
 gude, " pretty good. 
 
 "Gay well," pretty 
 
 well. 
 Gear, goods ; dress ; 
 
 equipment. 
 Gecked, tossed the head ; 
 
 jeered. 
 Geizened, geissend,^?;^/;- 
 
 ing ; leaky. 
 Gelt', brat. 
 Gentles, ge?itlefolks. 
 Gentrice, gentility ; good 
 
 descent. 
 Genty, neat ; trim ; 
 
 elegantly formed. 
 Gey sharp, pretty sharp. 
 
 ' ' Gey gude, ' ' pretty 
 
 good. 
 Ghaist, ghost. 
 Gie, give. 
 Gied, gave. 
 Gien, given, 
 Giff gaff, in old English, 
 
 ka me, ka thee, i.e. 
 
 give and take ; tit for 
 
 tat ; mutztal service to 
 
 one a?iother. 
 Gillie, 7nan-serva?it in the 
 
 Highlands. 
 Gillie white-foot, gillie 
 
 wet-foot, a running 
 
 footman, who had to 
 
 carry his master over 
 
 brooks and wfitery 
 
 places in travelling. 
 Gills, gullies. 
 Gillravaging, plunder- 
 ing, 
 Gilpy, frolicsome young 
 
 person. 
 Gimmer, two-year-old 
 
 ewe. 
 Gin, gifan, if ; suppose. 
 Gingle, gingling, jingle 
 
 or cli7ik ; jingling. 
 Gird, hoop. 
 
 Girdle, an iron plate for 
 rin g cakes ou . 
 
368 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Girn, grin like an ill- 
 jiatured dog. 
 
 Girning, grinning. 
 
 Girnel, meal-chest. 
 
 Girth, gird, hoop. 
 
 Girths, "slip the girths,'' 
 tumble down like a 
 pack-horse' s bicrden, 
 when the girth gives 
 way. 
 
 Glaiks, deception ; de~ 
 lusio7i. ' "Fling the 
 glaiks in folk's een," 
 metaph. throw dust in 
 people's eyes. "Give 
 the glaiks," befool, and 
 then leave in the lurch. 
 
 Glaikit, glaik, light- 
 headed ; idle; foolish. 
 
 Glamour, magical decep- 
 tion of sight. 
 
 Glad, kite. 
 
 Gledging, looking slyly 
 at one. 
 
 Gleed, fame. 
 
 Gleed, gleid, gleyed, one- 
 eyed ; squinting ; also 
 oblique ; aivry. ' ' Gaed 
 a' gleed," went all 
 wrong. • 
 
 Gleeing, squinting. 
 
 Gleg, siiarp ; on the alert. 
 
 Gley, a-gley, on one side; 
 asquint. 
 
 GlifF, glimpse ; short 
 time ; also a fright. 
 
 Glisk, glimpse. 
 
 Gloaming, twilight, 
 
 Glowr, glowering, stare, 
 staring. 
 
 Glunch, frown ; gloom. 
 
 Gomeril.ybo/; blockhead. 
 
 Gossipred, gossiprie, 
 familiarity ; intimacy; 
 sponsorship. 
 
 Goustie, waste ; desolate ; 
 what is accounted 
 ghostly. 
 
 Gouth, drop. 
 
 Gowan, daisy. 
 
 Gowk, cuckoo ; fool. 
 
 Gowling, howling; noisy ; 
 scolding. 
 
 Gowpen, gowpin, as 
 much as both hands 
 held together, with 
 the palms upward, 
 and contracted in a 
 circular form, can 
 contain. 
 
 Graddan, meal ground 
 on t)ie quern, or hand- 
 mill. 
 
 Graif, greaf, grave. 
 
 Graip, dung-fork. 
 
 Graith, harness. 
 
 Gramashes, gaiters 
 
 reaching to the knee. 
 
 Gran, grand ; (Swedish, 
 grann,) fine. 
 
 Grane, groa7i. 
 
 Gmning, groaning. 
 
 Grat, cried ; loept. 
 
 Gree, agree; aX&ofame; 
 reputation. 
 
 Greed, greediness. 
 
 Greeshoch, peat fire 
 piled on the hearth . 
 
 Greet, greeting, weep, 
 %oeeping. 
 
 Grew, shtidder. 
 
 Grewsome, horrible. 
 
 Grice, sucking pig. 
 
 Griddle, v. Girdle, 
 
 Grieve, overseer. 
 
 Grilse, gilse, gray; a 
 young salmoji. 
 
 Grip, gripe. 
 
 Grippie for grippie, gripe 
 for gripe ; fair play in 
 
 Grippit, laid hold of . 
 
 Grippie, griping; greedy; 
 avaricious. 
 
 Grit, great. 
 
 Grossart, grosert, goose- 
 berry. 
 
 Grue, shudder, 
 
 Grumach , ill-favoured. 
 
 Grund, ground, bottom. 
 
 Gude, good. 
 
 Gude-dame, grand- 
 
 motJier. 
 
 Gude-man, husband. 
 
 Gude-sire, grandfather. 
 
 Gude-sister, sister-in- 
 law. 
 
 GM^^X^Xi^d., guested ; been 
 the guest of. 
 
 Guffaw, gaffaw, loud 
 burst of laughter. 
 
 Guided, used ; taken care 
 of; treated. 
 
 Guisards, gysarts, dis- 
 guised persons ; mum- 
 mers, who volunteer 
 vocal music for mo7iey 
 about the ti^ne of Christ- 
 mas and Ncto-Year's 
 dav. 
 
 Gully, large knife. 
 
 Guse, goose. , 
 
 Gusing-iron, a laU7idress s 
 smoothing-iro7i. 
 
 Gutter-bloods, canaille. 
 
 Gy, rope. 
 
 Gy Te-CQx\mg, hag ; weird- 
 sister; ogress. 
 
 Gyte, crazy ; ecstatic ; 
 senselessly extrava- 
 gant ; delirions. 
 
 H. 
 
 Ha", hall. 
 
 Haaf, sea. (Orkney.) 
 
 Hack, heck, rack in a 
 stable. 
 
 Racket v. Howkit. 
 
 Had, hold. 
 
 Hadden, holden. 
 
 Haddows, haddies, had- 
 docks. 
 
 Ha'e, have. 
 
 Haet, thing. 
 
 Hafifits, halfJuads; the 
 sides of the head ; the 
 temples. 
 
 Hafflin, (half-long,) >^a^/ 
 half-long. 
 
 Halft, dwelling; custody. 
 
 Halfted, domiciled. 
 
 Hag, a year's cutting of 
 oak. 
 
 Hagg, briLshwood. 
 
 Haggs, pits and sloughs. 
 
 Haggies, haggis, the 
 pluck, &^c. of a sheep, 
 7?ii7iced with suet, 
 071 ions, ^c. boiled hi its 
 stomach ; dish con- 
 secrated by Bums as 
 " Chieftain of the 
 p7idding race." 
 
 Haill, hale, 7y^(7/^. "Hail 
 o' myain," alhnyown. 
 ' ' Hale and feer, " 
 whole a7id entire. 
 
 Hallan, partition between 
 ihedoor of a cottage and 
 the fire-place. 
 
 Hallan shaker, /^//ot^» who 
 7nust take his place 
 behi7id-backs at the hal- 
 lan ; -sturdy beggarly 
 sca7}ip. 
 
 Hallions, rogues ; ivo)-th- 
 l CSS fellows. 
 
;LosSAUV. 
 
 .r' 
 
 Malse, hause, throat ; 
 7ieck. 
 
 Halse, hailse, hail ; 
 salute; embrace. 
 
 Haly, holy. " Haly be 
 his cast," happy be his 
 fate. 
 
 Hame, ho7ne. 
 
 Hamely, homely ; fami- 
 liar. 
 
 Hamshackle, to tie the 
 head of a horse or cow 
 to one of its forelegs. 
 
 Hand-waled, cJiosen ; 
 picked 02it with tlie 
 hand. 
 
 Hane, hain, spare; not 
 give aivay. 
 
 Hantle, great ma?iy ; 
 great deal. 
 
 Hank, rope; coil. 
 
 Hap, liop. 
 
 HsiPfCOver; cover warmly, 
 
 Happer, hopper of a mill. 
 
 Happit, happed, hopped ; 
 also covered forwarmth 
 or security. 
 
 Hapshackle, (used in the 
 south of Scotland for 
 hamshackle, ) to tie the 
 forefeet of a horse 
 together at the poste- 
 riors. Side-langle, is 
 to tie the fore and hind 
 foot of one side together. 
 
 Harle, drag ; trail along 
 the ground. * ' Harle 
 an old man's pow," 
 scratch an old mans 
 head. 
 
 Hams, brains. "Ham- 
 pan," brain-pajt. 
 
 Harry, to plunder. 
 
 Harrying, plundering. 
 
 Harst, harvest. 
 
 Hash, a clumsy sloven. 
 
 Hassock, anything thick, 
 bushy, and ill ar' 
 
 Hassock, haslock, [from 
 halse-lock, ) throat lock, 
 or more httshy portion 
 of the fleece of sheep, 
 when they were in a 
 more natural and less 
 improved condition . 
 
 Hasna, has not. 
 
 Hat, "giving one a hat," 
 taking off the hat in his 
 presence. 
 
 Hatted, or hattit-kit, a 
 mixture of milk warjn 
 from the cow, and 
 buttermilk. 
 
 Haud, hold. 
 
 Hauding, support ; de- 
 pendence. 
 
 Haulds, holds ; places of ' 
 resort. 
 
 Hause, throat; v. Halse. 
 
 Havered, talked foolishly, 
 or without method. 
 
 Havers, hai vers, idle talk. 
 
 Havrels, hai\Tels, half- 
 witted persons. 
 
 Havings, behaviour ; 
 manners. 
 
 Havvkit, while-faced, 
 applied to cattle. 
 
 Heart-scald, heart-scaud, 
 heart-burn ; metaph. 
 regret ; reinorse. 
 
 Heartsome, cheerful. 
 
 Heather, heath. "Hea- 
 ther cow," stalk of 
 heath. 
 
 Heath er-blutters, cock- 
 snipes ; froTn their cry 
 in alternate flights and 
 descents in thebreeding 
 season. 
 
 Heck and manger, rack 
 and manger. "Living 
 at hack and manger, " 
 applied to one who has 
 got into quarters where 
 every thing is com- 
 fortable and plenteous. 
 
 Heckled, hackled. 
 
 Heeze, hoist; raise np. 
 
 Hellicat, half-witted. 
 
 Hempie, rogue; gallows^ 
 apple ; one for whom 
 hemp grows. Its most 
 common use is in a 
 jocular way., to giddy 
 young people of either 
 sex, 
 
 Hen-cavey, hen-coop. 
 
 Herded, kept sheep. 
 
 Herds, keepers of cattle 
 or sheep. 
 
 Herezeld, anacknowlcdg- 
 
 mcnt of vassalage. 
 Hership, plunder. 
 Hcrse, hoarse, 
 Hesp, hank of yarn. 
 Hat, hot. 
 
 Heugh, precipitous ac- 
 clivity; also hollow dell. 
 
 Heugh-head, head of the 
 cUff; also head of the 
 glen between two 
 cliffs. 
 
 Hickery - pickery is 
 
 clown's Greek for hicr a- 
 plcra. 
 
 Hie, go in haste. 
 
 Hinderlands, latter ends; 
 back-sides. 
 
 Hinderlans, back parts. 
 
 Hinny, honey. " My 
 hinny," 7ny darling. 
 
 Hirdie-girdle, top^- 
 
 turvy ; in reckless C07i- 
 fusion. 
 
 Hirple, walk lamely ; 
 halt. 
 
 Hirsel, move forward with 
 a rustling noise alojig 
 a rough surface ; move 
 sideways in a sitting 
 or lying posture, upon 
 the ground or otherwise, 
 by means of the hands 
 only. 
 
 Hizzic; hussy. 
 
 Hoaste v. choast. 
 
 Hobbilshow, confused 
 kicktip ; uproar. 
 
 Hoddle, waddle. 
 
 Holm., fat ground along 
 the side of a 7'iver, 
 Used in the North for 
 island. 
 
 Hoodie-craws, hooded- 
 crows. 
 
 Hool, huil, hull ; cover- 
 ing ; slotcgh; pea or 
 bean-hull. 
 
 Hooly and fairly, fair 
 a7id softly, 
 
 Horse-cowper, horse- 
 dealer, 
 
 Hotch, hitch. 
 
 Houts, tuts. 
 
 Howe, hollow ; also lioe, 
 
 Houff, chief place of 
 resort. 
 
 Howkit, dug out. 
 
 Howm, V. holm. 
 
 Hoying, hollov)i7ig to ; 
 setting 071 a dog. 
 
 Humdudgeon, 7teedless 
 noise ; 7nuch ado about 
 uothi7ig. 
 Humle, humble, without 
 
 horjis. 
 Humlock-know, he7nlock- 
 knoll. 
 
 B U 
 
37^ 
 
 GLosSArV. 
 
 Hurcheon, urchin ; 
 
 hedgehog. 
 
 Houdie, midwife. 
 
 Hound, hunt; set a dog 
 after any thing ; ferret 
 out; in modern com- 
 mon parlance often 
 contemptuously applied 
 to individuals, such as 
 "aslyhound," "alow 
 hound," a selfish, 
 greedy, 7-apacious, 
 
 quirking fellow, who 
 will alike employ fair 
 or foul means for the 
 attainment of his pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Housewife'skep, hussies- 
 kep, housewifery. 
 
 Hout fie, hout awa ! 
 (interj.) pshal non- 
 sense ! 
 
 Hurdies, buttocks. 
 
 Hure, whore. 
 
 Hurley-hackets, small 
 troiiglis or sledges in 
 which people used for- 
 merly to slide do%on an 
 iuclined plane on the 
 side of a hill. Hurly- 
 hackit is still a child's 
 play. 
 
 H urley - house, literally 
 last house; as the house 
 now stands, or as it was 
 last built. 
 
 Huz, us. 
 
 J- 
 
 Jackman, a. man that 
 ivenrs a short mail 
 Jack or jacket. 
 
 Jagg, prick, as a pin or 
 thorn. 
 
 J agger, pedlar. 
 
 Jaloose, V. jealous. 
 
 Jaud, jadd, jade; marc. 
 
 jaugs, pedlars' wallets. 
 
 Jaw, wave ; 2X^0 petulant 
 loquacity ; coarse 
 
 raillery. 
 
 Jaw-hole, sink. 
 
 jawing, nndulating ; 
 
 rolling water ; also lo- 
 quacious talking. 
 
 Jealous, pronounced 
 
 j^iloose, suspect ; ^i^ucss. 
 
 Jee, m^wtf'. 
 
 Jeedging, judging. 
 
 Jeisticor, justicoat, Juste 
 au corps ; waistcoat 
 with sleeves. 
 
 Jimp, sliin; short. 
 
 Jimply, barely ; scarcely ; 
 hardly. 
 
 Jink, a quick elusory 
 turn. 
 
 Jinketingabout, gadding 
 about. 
 
 Jirbling, pouring out. 
 
 Ilk, ilka, each. "Of that 
 ilk," of the same, as 
 " Knockwinnock of 
 that ilk," Knockwin- 
 nock of Knockwinnock. 
 
 Ilka-days, evcry-days ; 
 week days. 
 
 Ill, bad ; difficult ; evil. 
 
 lU-far'd, evil-favoured ; 
 ugly. 
 
 Ill-set, spiteful; ill- 
 natured. 
 
 Ill-sorted, ill-suited; Hl- 
 inanaged. 
 
 Ingans, onions. 
 
 Ingle, fire. " Ingle- 
 side, ''_^rw/(^i?. " Ingle 
 nook," corner by the 
 fire. 
 
 Ingeer, glean corn, fir'r. 
 
 In ower and out ower, 
 positively a7id violently. 
 
 In-put, contribution. 
 
 Tocteleg, clasp-knife. 
 
 Joes, sweethearts. 
 
 Jougs, pillory. 
 
 Jowing, the swinging 
 noise of a large bell. 
 
 Jowk, jouk, stoop doivn. 
 
 Jowkery-packery, sly 
 juggling tricks. 
 
 I'se, I shall. 
 
 Justified, made the victim 
 of justice ; hanged. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kail, cohwort : colewort 
 soup. ' ' Kail through 
 the reek," a ^eod 
 rating ; a good scold~ 
 ing. 
 
 Kail-blade, colezuottleaf 
 
 Kail-worm, caterpillar. 
 
 Kail-yard, cabbage- 
 
 garden. 
 
 Kaim, a Danish fortified 
 station. 
 
 Kame, comb: 
 
 Kane, kain, cane, duty 
 paid by a tenant to 
 his landlord in eggs, 
 fowls, &c. 
 
 Keb, to cast lamb. 
 
 K ebback, kebbock, 
 
 kebbuck, a cheese. 
 
 Keb-ewe, a?i ewe that has 
 lost her lamb. 
 
 Kebbie, cudgel; club; 
 rough walking stick. 
 
 Keek, peep. 
 
 Keeking-glass, looking- 
 glass. 
 
 Keekit, peeped. 
 
 Keel, ruddle; red chalk, 
 soft stone for marking 
 sheep. 
 
 Keelyvine, (keelyvein, ) 
 pen ; pencil of black or 
 red lead. 
 
 Kelty, fitie of a bmnper. 
 ' ' Take kelties mends, ' ' 
 not drink fair cup-out 
 in order to be fined in 
 a bumper. 
 
 Kemping, striving for 
 victory, as reapers on a 
 Iiarvest field, &c. 
 
 Kemple, forty wisps or 
 windlings {about 8 lbs. 
 each) of straiv. 
 
 Ken, know, 
 
 Kend, knowji. 
 
 Kennin', Kenning, 
 
 kncywing ; also small 
 portion ; a little. 
 
 Kenspeckle, g^t^i'fg- 
 stock. 
 
 Kent, cudgel ; rough 
 tvalking-stick. 
 
 Keme, freebooter. 
 
 KilWogie, kiln fireplace. 
 
 Kilt, the philabeg or short 
 petticoat of ^ High- 
 lander. "To kilt," 
 to tuck up or truss up. 
 
 Kimmer, cuiam^v, gossip; 
 idle gossiping girl. 
 
 Kind gallows. The 
 gallows at Crieff'-wa.s 
 so called, probably 
 because it was jocu- 
 larly said that the 
 Highlanders, when 
 passing it, paid great 
 respect to it, because 
 it had assisted at the 
 last moments of sq 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 371 
 
 i)lafiy of tkelr fnends 
 and relations^ and was 
 likely so to do for 
 t/temselvcs. 
 
 Kinrick, ki?tgdom. 
 
 Kintray, country. 
 
 Kippage, violent passion; 
 disorder ; confusion. 
 
 Kipper, salmon salted 
 and smoke dried; also 
 in the state of spawn- 
 ing. 
 
 Kirk, church. 
 
 Kirn, churn. 
 
 Kirsten, kirsen, christen. 
 
 Kirstening, christening. 
 
 Kirtle, gown ; mantle, or 
 petticoat. 
 
 Kist, cliest ; trunk ; 
 coffin. 
 
 Kitchen, anything eaten 
 with bread, such as 
 butter, cheese, ^c, to 
 give it a relish, 
 "Hunger is gude 
 kitchen," hunger is 
 good sauce. " Bread 
 to bread is nae 
 kitchen," it forms no 
 enjoyment where in- 
 dividuals only of one 
 sex associate. 
 
 Kitchen-fee, drippings. 
 
 Kith, acquaintance. 
 
 Kittle, ticklish, in all its 
 senses. 
 
 Kittled, tickled. 
 
 Kittled, breeded, i. e. 
 
 brought forth young ; 
 
 applied only to some 
 
 domestic animals. 
 
 Kiver, cover. 
 
 Knacks, trifles for orna' 
 
 iHent; nick-nacs. 
 
 Knapping, (gnapping, ) 
 
 English, affecting to 
 
 speak fine without 
 
 knowing how. 
 
 Knave bairn, ma7t child. 
 
 Knave, servant ; miller's 
 
 bay. 
 
 Knaveship, mill-dues 
 
 paid to tlie knaves or 
 
 servants. 
 
 Knevelled, nevelled, heat 
 
 •violently with the fists. 
 
 Know, knoll, rising 
 
 ground ; hillocks 
 Krames, v, Cremes. 
 JCyloes, Highland cattle^ 
 
 Kyte, i^w.,) belly. 
 Kythe, seem; appear; 
 
 make to appear. 
 Kylevene, v. keelyvine. 
 
 L. 
 
 Laid, load. 
 
 Laid till her, awarded to 
 her by fate; laid to her 
 charge. 
 
 Laigh, l(yw. Laigh crofts, 
 lo^ lying fields of in- 
 ferior quality. 
 
 Lair, lear, learning. 
 
 Laird, lord of a matior ; 
 squire. 
 
 Laith, loath. 
 
 Laive, lave, tlie rest ; 
 what is left, 
 
 Lamiter, lame person ; 
 cripple. 
 
 Lamping, heating; also 
 going qziickly and with 
 long strides. 
 
 Lammer, lamer, laumer. 
 amber. 
 
 Lane, "his lane," him- 
 self alone, " By their 
 lane, " themselves alone. 
 
 Land, (in towns, ) a build- 
 ing including different 
 tenements above 07ie 
 anotlur upon the same 
 foundation and under 
 the same roof. 
 
 Landlouper, runagate ; 
 one who runs his 
 country. 
 
 Lang, long, 
 
 Langsyne, long since ; 
 long ago. 
 
 Lap, leaped^ 
 
 Lapper, coagulate ; 
 
 curdle. 
 
 Lassie, lassock, little 
 girl. 
 
 Lat, let. " Lat be," let 
 
 alone. 
 Latch, dub ; mire, 
 Lauch, law ; custom ; 
 
 usage. 
 Lave, rest, 
 Lawing, lawin, tavern 
 
 Leal, loyal ; true. 
 Leaguer lady, soldier s 
 
 wife ; campaigner ; 
 
 camp-trotter^ 
 
 Led-farm, farm held 
 
 along with another. 
 Leddy, lady. 
 Leech, physician.\ 
 Leelane, leefu'lane, all 
 
 alone ; quite solitary. 
 Leesome, pleasant. 
 
 " Leesome lane," dear 
 
 self alone. 
 Leevin', leeving, living. 
 Leg-bail, "to give leg- 
 bail," to run away. 
 Leglin-girth, girth of a 
 
 milk-pail. 
 Leglins, milk-pails. 
 Let-a-be, let alone. 
 Let on, acknowledge, 
 
 confess. 
 Let that flee stick to the 
 
 wa', let that alone. 
 Lethering, tanning the 
 
 hide; thrashing, 
 Leugh, laughed, 
 Leven, lightning. 
 Lick-penny, a greedy 
 
 covetous person. 
 Lift, sky. 
 Lift cattle, make a prey 
 
 of cattle. ' ' Lift rents, ' ' 
 
 collect rents. 
 Lifters, cattle-dealers. 
 Lightly, slight. 
 Like-wake, lyke-wake, 
 
 watching a corpse 
 
 before inter^nent. 
 Lilt, carol; lively air. 
 Limmer, a loose woman. 
 Linking, walking quickly 
 
 and lightly. 
 Links, ^at sandy ground 
 
 on the sea-shore. 
 Lippen, rely upojt ; trust 
 
 to. 
 Lipping, making notches 
 
 on the edge of a sword 
 
 or knife. 
 Lippit, notched, 
 Lippy, fourth part of a 
 
 peck, 
 Lith, joint, 
 
 "Lithe, pliant ; supple. 
 Loan, lane ; enclosed 
 
 road. 
 Loanin, loaning, green- 
 sward on which cows 
 
 are milked. 
 Loch, lake. 
 Lock, small quantity ; 
 
 handful. 
 Loo, love. 
 
 B 13 3 
 
372 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Loof, luif, palm of the 
 hand. " Outside of 
 the loof," back of the 
 hand. 
 
 Lookit, looked. 
 
 Loom, implement , -vessel. 
 
 Loon, loun, rogue ; 
 rustic boy ; naughty 
 woman. The word is 
 of both genders. 
 
 Loop, (Gael. ) bend of a 
 river. 
 
 Loopy, crafty ; deceitful. 
 
 Loosome, lovely. 
 
 Looten, permitted. 
 
 Lound, calm; low and 
 sheltered; still ; tran- 
 quil. 
 
 Lounder, severe stunning 
 blow. 
 
 Lounder, quieter, 
 
 Loup, leap. 
 
 Louping-ill, leaping- 
 evil ; a disease among 
 sheep. 
 
 Louping-on-stane, horse- 
 block; lit. the step-stone 
 by which one gets to the 
 saddle. 
 
 Loup the dyke, leap the 
 fence; break out of or 
 into the enclosure ; 
 scamp. 
 
 Low, flame. 
 
 Loveable, loveable ; 
 
 praiseworthy. 
 
 Luckie, goody ; gam- 
 mer; old gran dam. 
 
 Luckie-dad, luckie- 
 
 daddie, grandfather. 
 
 U. 
 
 Ma, mamma, 
 
 Mae, ma, moe, more. 
 
 Magg, steal. 
 
 Magg, maggs, half- 
 penny ; perquisite in 
 pence to servants, &c. 
 
 Magnum, magnum 
 
 bonum, double-sized 
 bottle, holding two 
 English quarts. 
 
 Mail, payable rent. 
 
 Mailing, farm. 
 
 Mail-payer, rent-payer. 
 
 Mailed, (with the bluid,) 
 mixed. 
 
 Maining, bemoaning. 
 
 Mains, demesne. 
 
 Mair, more, 
 
 Maist, most; almost. 
 
 Maisterfu', imperious ; 
 violent. 
 
 Maistery, power. 
 
 Majoring, looking and 
 talking big. 
 
 Malison, curse. 
 
 Maltalent, evil purpose ; 
 evil inclination, 
 
 Mammie, infantine of 
 mamma. 
 
 Mammocks, gobbets. 
 
 Mane, moan. 
 
 Manna, must not. 
 
 Manse, parsonage hotise. 
 
 Mansworn, perjured. 
 
 Manty, mantua silk, 
 mantle. 
 
 Marches, landmarks ; 
 boundaries. 
 
 Marie, marvel. 
 
 Marrow, match; mate; 
 one of a pair. 
 
 Mart, tlie fatted cow, or 
 whatever animal is 
 slaughtered at Mar- 
 tinmas for winter pro- 
 vision, 
 
 Mashlura, mixed grain. 
 
 Mask, mash ; infuse. 
 
 Masking-fat, mash-tub. 
 
 Maukin, hare. 
 
 Maun, ^nttst. 
 
 Ma.undenng, palavering; 
 talking idly. 
 
 Maunna, 7nust not. 
 
 Maw, moT.!!, [with the 
 scythe. ) 
 
 Mawking, maulkin, hare. 
 
 Mawn, mowed. 
 
 Maybie, it may be; 
 perhaps. 
 
 Mayhap it may happen. 
 
 Mazed, amazed. 
 
 Mear, mare. 
 
 Meg dorts, saucy .Meg; 
 saucy wench. 
 
 Meikle, mztch ; great ; 
 large ; big ; pre- 
 eminent. 
 
 Melder, as much meal as 
 is ground at one time. 
 
 Mells, middles; mixes; 
 interposes. 
 
 Meltith, a meal. 
 
 Meiths, masths, eggs of 
 the blowfly upon meat. 
 
 Meiths, marks ; land- 
 marks. 
 
 Mends, amends. 
 
 Mense, manners 1 
 
 moderation. 
 
 Mensefu', mannerly ; 
 modest. 
 
 Mess, mass. 
 
 Messan, a little dog. 
 
 Mickle, V. meikle. 
 
 Midden, dunghill. 
 
 Midges, gnats. 
 
 Mightma, might not. 
 
 Mim, prim ; precise. 
 
 Minced collops, minced 
 beef. 
 
 Minnie, mammie, in- 
 fantine word for 
 mamma. 
 
 Mint, aim ; attempt ; 
 endeavour. 
 
 Mirk, dark, ftt mirk, 
 (pick mirk,) dark as 
 pitch. 
 
 Mirligoes, dizziness ; 
 megrims in tlie head. 
 
 Misca'd, miscalled; 
 
 abused and called 
 names. 
 
 Mischieve, do a mischief 
 to. 
 
 Misguggled, ma^igled 
 and disfigured ; 
 
 rumpled and dis- 
 ordered. 
 
 Mislear'd, ill-taught ; 
 ill-bred. 
 
 Mishppen, neglect ; also 
 suspect and disappoint. 
 
 Misset, put met of 
 sorts. 
 
 Mister, need. ' ' Mister 
 wight," child of ne- 
 cessity ; doubtful 
 character. 
 
 Mistryst, disappoint by 
 breaking an engage- 
 ment ; deceive ; use ill. 
 
 Mithcr, mother. 
 
 Mittans, worsted glozrs 
 worn by tlie loivcr 
 orders. 
 
 Mizzles, measles. 
 
 Mools, V. mouls. 
 
 Moor-ill, a disease among 
 cattle. 
 
 Mony, many. 
 
 Morn, "the morn," to- 
 morroiv. 
 
 Mornin', morning, morn- 
 ing dram, or draught. 
 
 Morts, the skins of 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 373 
 
 hmbs that die of them- 
 selves. 
 Moss-hags, pits and 
 
 sloughs hi a in ire or 
 
 bog. 
 Moudiwarp, moudiwart, 
 
 mouldwarp, mole. 
 Mouls, mools, carfh ; the 
 
 grave. 
 ^ [ousted (muisted) head, 
 
 cropped head of hair. 
 Muckle V. meikle. 
 Mugs, the large Tees- 
 
 loater sheep. 
 Muhme, (Gael.) vnrse. 
 Mails, moulds ; cloth or 
 
 list shoes for gout. 
 Muir, moors. 
 Muir-pouts, (pools, ) 
 
 young grouse. 
 Munt, mount. 
 Murgeons, grimaces ; 
 
 wry mouths. 
 jMutch, wom.ans linen or 
 
 muslin cap. 
 Arutchkin, English pint. 
 Mysell, ma'sell, myself. 
 
 N. 
 
 Na, nae, no. 
 
 Naig, nag, 
 
 Nain, own. 
 
 Nainsell, own-self 
 
 Napery, table linen. 
 
 Nane, none. 
 
 Nar, near. 
 
 Nashgab, impertinent 
 chatter. 
 
 Natheless, 7ievertheless. 
 
 Near, close; narrow; 
 niggardly. 
 
 Xear-hand. near-at- 
 
 hand ; nearly; ahnost. 
 
 Neb-bill, nose; point, of 
 anything. 
 
 Neebor, neighbour. 
 
 Needna, need not. 
 
 Ne'er-be-lickit, nothing 
 which could be licked 
 up, by dog or cat ; ab- 
 solutely nothing. 
 
 Ne'er-do-wcels, scape- 
 graces ; never to 
 thrive. 
 
 Neeve, the closed hand ; 
 fist. 
 
 N eevie-neevie-nee-nack, 
 the first line to iJie re- 
 
 Which hand will you tak, 
 Tak the right, tak the 
 
 wrang, 
 I'll beguile you if I can. 
 
 A lottery rhyme used 
 among hoys while 
 whirling the two closed 
 fists round each other, 
 one containing the 
 prize, the other empty. 
 
 Neist, Highest; next. 
 
 Neuk, nook ; corner. 
 
 Nevelled v. knevelled. 
 
 Nevoy, nephew. 
 
 New-fangled, 7iew- 
 
 fashioned ; engrossed 
 with some novelty. 
 
 Nicher, nicker, neigh. 
 
 Nick-nackets, trmkets ; 
 gimcracks. 
 
 Nick-sticks, notched 
 
 sticks ; tallies. 
 
 Nieve, v. neeve, 
 
 Nievefu*, handful. 
 
 Niffer, exchange. 
 
 Niffy-naffy, fastidious ; 
 conceited and finical. 
 
 Night-cowl, nightcap. 
 
 Noited, knoited, rapped; 
 strtick forcibly against; 
 as ' ' Noited their 
 heads," knocked heads 
 
 mer. 
 Nor, than. 
 Norland, north-land ; 
 
 belonging to the north- 
 
 cotintry. 
 Nourice, nurse. 
 Nout, nowt, nolt, black 
 
 cattle. 
 Nudge, jog with the 
 
 elbow as a hint of 
 
 caution. 
 
 O. 
 
 Od ! odd! a minced oath, 
 
 oinitting one letter. 
 Odd- come-shortly, 
 
 chance time not far off; 
 
 escape. 
 Oe, oy, oye, gra^idchild. 
 Off-come, come off; escape. 
 Ohon, ohonari! (interj.) 
 
 alas / woe is me. 
 Onding, fall of rain or 
 
 SJIOW. 
 
 0'^i^\\,fallin^^on,- attack, 
 
 Onslaught, inroad ; 
 
 hostile incursion ; 
 
 attack, 
 Onstead, farm-stead; tlie 
 
 buildings on afar^n. 
 Ony, a7iy. 
 
 Open steek, open stitch. 
 Or, ere; before. 
 Ordinar, ordinary ; com- 
 mon ; usual. 
 Orra, odd; 7iot matched; 
 
 that 7)iay be spared; 
 
 U7iemp toyed. 
 Ostler-wife, woma7i that 
 
 kept an hostelry. 
 Out bye, without; a little 
 
 way out. 
 Outshot, projecting part 
 
 of an old buildiiig. 
 Out take, except. 
 Ower, over. 
 Owerby, over the way. 
 Owerlay, o'erlay, overlay, 
 
 cravat ; covering. 
 Owerloup, get over the 
 
 feitce ; ti-espass on 
 
 anothei^s property. 
 
 ' ' Start and owerloup, ' ' 
 
 a law phrase relathig 
 
 to inarches. See 
 
 Marches. 
 Owertaen, overtake7t. 
 Owsen, oxe7i. 
 Oye, grandson. See oe. 
 
 Pa, papa. 
 
 Pace, Pasch, Easter. 
 
 Paidle, pettle ; staff; 
 
 plotigh-staff ; also Iwe. 
 Paidle, tra7np, as clothes 
 
 in a tub ; also short 
 
 a7id irregular steps, 
 
 such as of children. 
 Paik, beat. 
 
 Paiks, blows ; a beati7ig. 
 Palmering, walking z«- 
 
 firinly. 
 Panged, cra7}i7?ied ; 
 
 stuffed. 
 Pantler, keeper of the 
 
 pa7itry. 
 Parafifle, ostentatious 
 
 display. 
 Parochine, parish. 
 Parntch, porridge ; hasty 
 
 Parritch-time, bi'eakfast- 
 
 time, 
 
374 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Partan, crah-fish. 
 
 Passemented , gtiarded 
 with lace, fringe, &c. 
 
 Pat, pot. 
 
 Pat, put. 
 
 Patrick, paetrick, par- 
 trick, pertrick, part- 
 ridge. 
 
 Pattle, plough-staff. 
 
 Pauchty, haughty. 
 
 Pauk, wile. 
 
 Pawky, wily; sly; drolly, 
 but not mischievously. 
 
 Pearlins, pearliitgs; lace. 
 
 Pease-bogle, scarecrow. 
 
 Peaseweep, peeseweep, 
 peeweet, lapwing. 
 
 Peat, pet ; favourite. 
 
 Peat-hagg, sloughs in 
 places from whencepeat 
 has been dug. 
 
 Peeching. See Peghing. 
 
 V^AdiSx, pedlar ; hawker. 
 
 Peeble, pebble. 
 
 Peel, aplace of strettgth, 
 or fortificatiou, in 
 general. In particular, 
 it signifies a strong- 
 hold, the defences of 
 which are of earth 
 mixed •with timber, 
 strengthened with 
 
 palisades. 
 
 Peel. Peel-house, in the 
 Border counties, is a 
 small square tower, 
 built of stone and lime. 
 
 Peengin, whining. 
 
 Peer, poor ; also a pear. 
 
 Peerie, boy's spinning 
 top, set in motion by 
 the ptill of a string, in 
 place of being whipped , 
 
 Peerie, curious ; sus- 
 piciotts. 
 
 Peers, peais. 
 
 Peghing, peching, puff- 
 ing and panting; 
 breathhig hard. 
 
 Peghts, the Picts. 
 
 Pellack, pellock, por- 
 poise : in old Scotch, a 
 bullet. 
 
 Peltrie, furrier s wares. 
 
 Pen-gun, pop-gtm ; from 
 boy's play crackers 
 formed of quill barrels. 
 
 Pennystane, sto7ie quoit. 
 
 Pensy, proud and con-' 
 ceited. 
 
 Pettle, indulge ; treat as 
 a pet. 
 
 Phraising, palavering ; 
 jnaking long or fine 
 speeches. 
 
 Pick, pickaxe ; also 
 pitch. 
 
 Pick-mirk, dark as pitch. 
 
 Pickle, grain of corn; 
 small quantity of any 
 thing. " Pickle in our 
 ain pockneuk. " Siipply 
 ourselves from our owji 
 means. 
 
 Pick-ma\v, a small sea- 
 gull. 
 
 Pictarnie, the great tern. 
 
 Pig, earthen pot, vessel, 
 ov pitcher. 
 
 Pigs, piggs, crockery- 
 ware. 
 
 Pike, pick. 
 
 Pilniewinks, instruments 
 for torturing the 
 fingers. See Pinny- 
 winkles. 
 
 Pinchers, iron crows. 
 
 Pinging, uttering feeble, 
 frequent, and some- 
 what peevish com- 
 plaints. A sickly 
 spoiled child is called a 
 pinging thing. 
 
 Pingled, pained ; p2it to 
 difficulty. 
 
 Pinner, a cap with lap- 
 pets, formerly worn by 
 women of rank. 
 
 Pinnywinkles, a board 
 with holes, into "which 
 the fingers are thrust, 
 and pressed upon -with 
 pegs, as a species of 
 torture. 
 
 Pint, two English q^iarts. 
 
 Pioted, pyebald. 
 
 Pipestaple, tobacco-stop- 
 per ; also broken tubes 
 of clay tobacco pipes. 
 
 Pirn, bobbin; the bobbin 
 of a spinning-wheel ; 
 the reed, or qtiill bobbin 
 in a weaver's shuttle. 
 
 Pit, put. 
 
 Pith, strength. 
 
 Pithless, wanting 
 
 strength. 
 
 Plack, a copper coin, 
 equal to the third part 
 Qf an English fenny. 
 
 Plainstanes, the pavc' 
 7nent. 
 
 Plenishing, furniture. 
 
 Pleugh, plough. 
 
 Pleugh-pettle, plough- 
 staff. 
 
 Plies, folds. 
 
 Pliskies, mischievous 
 
 tricks. 
 
 Plot, scald. 
 
 Plottie, mtilled %oine. 
 
 Ploy, employment ; 
 
 harmless frolic ; merry 
 meeting. 
 
 Pluff, puff; hairdresser s 
 powder-p7iff. 
 
 Pock, poke, pouch ; bag. 
 
 Pockmanty, portman- 
 teatt. 
 
 Poind, distrain. 
 
 Polonie, Polonian, a 
 great coat; a Polish 
 surtout. 
 
 Pooin, pulling. 
 
 Poor-man of Mutton, 
 cold meat ; cold mutton 
 broiled. 
 
 Poorfu', pmjDerful. 
 
 Poortith, poverty. 
 
 Pootry, poutry, poultry. 
 
 Foots, pouts, poults; 
 young grouse, &c. 
 
 Poppling, bubbling ; 
 
 purling ; rippling. 
 
 Pose, deposit ; hoard of 
 money. 
 
 Potatoe-bogle, scare- 
 crow. 
 
 Pottercarrier, pottinger, 
 apothecary. 
 
 Pouch, pocket. 
 
 Pouss, pouse, poos, 
 push ; slight, quick 
 pull, or sportive snatch. 
 
 Pouther, powder. 
 
 Pouthered, powdered ; 
 cor7ied ; slightly salted. 
 
 Pouting, shooting at the 
 young poults of part- 
 ridges. 
 
 Pow, poll; head ; also 
 pool. 
 
 Powney, pojty. 
 
 Powsowdie, sheep's head 
 broth ; milk and meal 
 boiled together; any 
 m i xture of i nco??gnfous 
 sorts of food. 
 
 Powtering, pockering, 
 poltering, g''oping 
 
GT.OSSARY. 
 
 375 
 
 am.fiig the askcs ; or 
 pokering incessantly in 
 
 the fire ; rummaging 
 
 in the dark, 
 Pratty, pretty. 
 Preceesely, precisely. 
 Prent, print. 
 Prick, spur. 
 Prick-my-dainty, affected 
 
 and finical. 
 Prie, taste ; prove by 
 
 tasting. 
 Prigged, entreated 
 
 earnestly ; pleaded 
 
 hard; higgled for a 
 
 bargain. 
 Propale, publish ; dis' 
 
 close. 
 Propine, a present ; gift. 
 Public, piihlic-Jwuse / 
 
 inn. 
 Puddings, ^«^j; sausages. 
 Pair, poor, 
 Pupit, pulpit. 
 Pim, pund, pound. 
 Pat on, clothed. 
 Patted a stahe, pitched a 
 
 stone. Putting the 
 
 stone is a very old 
 
 Scottish and northern 
 
 gymnastic exercise. 
 Pyat, magpie. 
 Pyket, picked. 
 
 Quaich, "^ small drinking 
 cup. 
 
 Quarters, lodgings. 
 
 Quean, young woman. 
 Ttie term, like tlie 
 English wench, is 
 sometimes used 
 
 jocularly, though 
 
 oftener disrespectfully. 
 
 Queans, wenches. 
 
 Queery-madam, cuise- 
 madame ; a pear so 
 called, 
 
 Queish,quegh, v. Quaich. 
 
 Quern, handmill. 
 
 Quey, heifer ; young cow. 
 
 R. 
 
 Rade, rode. 
 Raes, roes. 
 
 Raff, person of worthless 
 ^haracUy ! v, Scowff. 
 
 Raip, rape; 7-opc. 
 
 Rair, raired, outcry ; 
 from roar. 
 
 Raise, rose ; arose. 
 
 Rampallions, rude romps. 
 
 Rampauging, raging 
 and storming ; prajic- 
 ing about with fury. 
 
 Ram-stam, forward; 
 thoughtless ; rash. 
 
 Randy, riotous ; dis- 
 orderly. 
 
 Raploch, coarse nndyed 
 woollen cloth. 
 
 Rapparees, worthless 
 runagates. 
 
 RapscalUons, rascals. 
 
 Rase, rose. 
 
 Rath, ready; quick; 
 early. 
 
 Ratten, rottin, rotton, 
 rat. 
 
 Raunletree, randletree, 
 rantletree, the beam 
 from which the crook is 
 suspended where there 
 is no grate ; also a tree 
 chosen withtwo branch- 
 es, which are cut short, 
 and left somewhat in 
 the form of the letter 
 Y, set close to or built 
 into the gable of a 
 cottage, to support one 
 end of the roof-tree. 
 
 Rave, tore. 
 
 Ravelled, entangled ; 
 confused. 
 
 Rax, stretch. 
 
 Raxing, reaching ; 
 
 stretching. 
 
 Reaving, open violent 
 
 thieving. 
 Red, to interfere and 
 separate, as i?i two 
 people fighting ; to dis- 
 entangle ; clear, and 
 put in order. 
 Red, redd, rede, advice; 
 
 advise. 
 Redder's-lick, v. Red- 
 
 ding-straik. 
 Reddmg, unravelling ; 
 
 putting to rights, 
 Redding-came, large- 
 toothed comb. 
 Redding-straik, a stroke 
 received in attempting 
 to separate combatants 
 in a fray ; a blow in 
 
 return for officious in- 
 
 . terfercnce. 
 
 Redd up, put in order. 
 
 Rede, advise. 
 
 Redshank, Highlandt r 
 with buskins of n-d 
 deer skin with the hair 
 outwards; applied also 
 as a nickname to a 
 Highlander, in de- 
 rision of his bare 
 limbs. 
 
 Red-wud, stark mad. 
 
 Reek, smoke, 
 
 Reekie, smoky. 
 
 Reek, reik, rink, coarse ; 
 exploit ; adven ture ; 
 frolic. 
 
 Reeving, reiving, reaving, 
 
 Reird, v. rair. 
 Reise, ryse, twig. 
 Reises, C2t.t brushwood; 
 
 shi'ubs. 
 Reist, stop I obstinately ; 
 stick fast in the middle. 
 Reisted, stopped ; stuck 
 
 fast. 
 Reisted, roosted; smoke 
 
 dried. 
 Reisting, restive ; having 
 the habit of stopping as 
 a horse. 
 Rickle, heap of stones ; or 
 
 peats, &c. 
 Riding-days, days of 
 hostile inctirsions on 
 horseback. 
 Rief, robbery. 
 Rievers, robbers. 
 Rieving. See Reeving. 
 Riff-raff, rabble. 
 Rig, ridge of land; 
 
 course ; path. 
 Rigg, wild adventure ; 
 t dissipated f? olic. 
 Rigging, back ; ridge ; 
 
 roof 
 Rigging-tree, roof-tree. 
 Rin, run. 
 
 Rinthereout, 7-un out of 
 doors ; gad about ; 
 vagabond. 
 Ripe, search. 
 Ritt, rip; tear; cut; 
 applied almost only to 
 the surface of the 
 ground. 
 Rive, rift; split ; rend; 
 te ir 
 
57 -> 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Riven, rent; torn. 
 
 Rizzer'd, half-salted and 
 ha If-driedfish. 
 
 Rock, distaff. 
 
 Rokelay, short cloak. 
 
 Roopit, hoarse. 
 
 Roose, ruse, extol : 
 praise. 
 
 Rotten, rat, 
 
 Roughies, •withered 
 
 bouglis ; a sort of ritde 
 torchi^Xso driedheaih. 
 
 Round, roun, whisper. 
 
 Roup, auction. 
 
 Rouping, auctioning. 
 
 Roupit, rouped, sold by 
 auction. 
 
 Rouping wife, sales- 
 woman, who attends 
 roitps. 
 
 Rousted, rusted. 
 
 Routh, plenty. 
 
 Routing, roari II g; bellow- 
 ing ; snoring. 
 
 Roving, 7-aving : de- 
 lirious. 
 
 Row, roll. 
 
 Rowan-tree, mountain- 
 ash. 
 
 Rowed, rolled. 
 
 Rowt, roar like a hull. 
 
 Rubbit, robbed. 
 
 Rudas, rowds, haggard 
 old zooman. 
 
 Rug, pull ; dog cheap 
 bargain. 
 
 Rugging, pulling 
 
 roughly, 
 
 RuUions, shoes made of 
 untanned leather. 
 
 Rund, rand, selvage of 
 broad cloth ; list. 
 
 Rung, a 7'ough undressed 
 staff. 
 
 Runt, an old cot^ ; also 
 the stalk of colcwort or 
 cabbage. 
 
 Sa, sae, so. 
 
 Sack and fork, Lat. fossa 
 et furca, i.e. drow?iing 
 and hanging. 
 
 Sack doudling, hagpip- 
 ing. 
 
 Sackless, saikless, sake- 
 less, innocent. 
 
 Sain, bless against evil 
 ififliicncc ; literally, 
 
 sign with the sign of 
 the cross. 
 
 Sair, sore ; very much. 
 
 Salvage, savage. 
 
 Sandy laverock, sand 
 lark ; sanderling. 
 
 Sap, sop. 
 
 Sapeless, v. Sackless. 
 
 Sark, shirt. 
 
 Saugh, sallow broad- 
 leaved willow. 
 
 Saul, soul ; mettle. 
 
 Saulie, a hired mourner. 
 
 Saultfat, pickling tub ; 
 beef stand. 
 
 Saut, salt, 
 
 Sautfit, salt-dish. 
 
 Saw, sow seed. 
 
 Sawing, sowing. 
 
 Scaff-raff, riff-raff: 
 
 rabble. 
 
 Scaith, harm ; damage. 
 
 Scaithless, unharmed ; 
 nni)i.jured. 
 
 Scald, scauld, scold. 
 
 Scart, cormorant. 
 
 Scart, scratch. 
 
 Scat, tribute ; tax ; 
 answering to the Latin 
 vectigal. 
 
 Scathless, free from 
 hann. 
 
 Scauding, scalding. 
 
 Scauff and raff, rough 
 plenty, without selec- 
 tion : fun and frolic 
 in plenty. 
 
 Scaur, scare : frighten. 
 
 Scaur, precipitous bank 
 of earth overhanging 
 a river. 
 
 Schelm, rogue. 
 
 Sclated, slated. 
 
 Scomfishing, suffocating 
 by had air. 
 
 Scones, small cakes. 
 
 Scotch coUops, scotched 
 collops ; beefsteaks, 
 scotched, and broiled 
 in the frying-pan. 
 
 Scouping, skelping, 
 
 moving hastily; run- 
 ning; scampering. 
 
 Scour, put forward. 
 
 Scouther, scorch. 
 Scraughing, scraiching, 
 screamijig hoarsely. 
 
 Screed, a lo7ig stripe, of 
 cloth hastily torn off ; 
 0; lo7ig tirade tipon any 
 
 subject, hastily hrotighi 
 out ; a rash frolic. 
 
 Screeded, torn. 
 
 Screigh o' morning, the 
 first dawn. 
 
 Scud, a heavy shower. 
 
 Scudiar, scullio7i. 
 
 Scull, shallow fish-basket. 
 
 Sculduddery, relating to 
 what is 2inchaste. 
 
 Scunner, disgust. 
 
 Sealgh, selch, seal ; sea- 
 calf 
 
 Sea-maw, sea-mew; sea- 
 gull. 
 
 Seannachie, Highland 
 antiquary. 
 
 Seer, j«?r. 
 
 Seiled, strained through 
 a cloth, or sieve. 
 
 Seiped, oozed; seiping, 
 oozing. 
 
 Sell, j^^; "the sell o' it," 
 itself. 
 
 Semple, of low birth, 
 opposed to gentle. 
 
 Ser'ing, sairing, serving; 
 as mtich as serves the 
 turn ; enough. 
 
 Set, fit; become; suit. 
 
 Sey, "back sey," j/>/i?/«. 
 
 Shabble, cutlass. 
 
 Shand, a cant term for 
 base coin. 
 
 Shanks, legs ; " shank 
 yoursell awa'," take to 
 your legs ; be off. 
 
 Sharn, thin cow-dung. 
 
 Shathmont, six inches in 
 length. 
 
 Shaughling, shambling ; 
 ' ' shauchling shoon, ' ' 
 slwes trodden down o?i 
 one side by bad walk- 
 ing. 
 
 Shave, sheeve, slice of 
 bread, cheese, &c. 
 
 Shaw, shozv. 
 
 Shaws, woods; also, 
 leaves of potatoes, tur- 
 nips, &c. 
 
 Shear, ctit ; divide. 
 
 Shearing, sheering, reap- 
 ing. 
 
 Shealing, temporary sum- 
 mer inilk-house. 
 
 Sheel ing-hill, (near a 
 mill,) rising gi-ound 
 zuhere the shelled oats 
 are wm7i<?%Qe<^, 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 377 
 
 Sheenest, clearest. 
 
 Shellum, skellum, rogtie, 
 
 Sheltie, pony. 
 
 Shiel, shell ; take (nit of 
 the husk. 
 
 Shilpit, wfiZ/^, washy ^ and 
 ins^ipid. 
 
 Shogging, shaking ; jog- 
 ging. 
 
 Shool, shovel. 
 
 Shoon, shoes. 
 
 Shored, threatened. 
 
 Shouldna, sudiia, should 
 not. 
 
 Shot-window, a small 
 window, chiefly filled 
 with a hoard that opens 
 and shuts. 
 
 Shouther, shoulder ; 
 
 ' ' show the cauld 
 shouther," appear cold 
 and reserved. 
 
 Shriegh, shriek. 
 
 Shule, V. shool. 
 
 Shute, push ; also shoot. 
 
 Sibb, related to by blood. 
 
 Sic, siccan, such. 
 
 Sic like, ///j^ so. 
 
 Siccar, secure, safe. 
 
 Side, long : said of gar- 
 ments. 
 
 Siller, silver : money. 
 
 ISillock, (fish,) podley ; 
 gadus carbonarius. 
 
 Silly, ill a weakly state of 
 health, whether of body 
 or mind. 
 
 Sindry, sundry. 
 
 Sith, since. 
 
 Skaith, V. Scaith. 
 
 Skarts, scratches. 
 
 Skeely, skeily, skeelfu', 
 skilful: cunning. 
 
 Skeens, knives ; ' ' skeen 
 dubh, " black knife ; 
 the Highlander s der- 
 nier resort. 
 
 Skellies, squints. 
 
 Skelloch, ■ shrill cry ; 
 squawl. 
 
 Skelping, moving rapid- 
 ly ; also, slapping with 
 the palm of the hand. 
 
 Skeps, bee-hives. 
 
 Skinker, potircr out of 
 liqtior. 
 
 Skink, pour out; also, 
 soup made of the skink, 
 or hotigh of beef. 
 
 pjcirl, s^rlU cry, 
 
 Skirl in the pan, sop in 
 the pan. 
 
 Skirling, screaming, 
 
 Skitchers, skates. 
 
 Skitt, banter ; jeer. 
 
 Skivie, out of the proper 
 directio?i ; deranged. 
 
 Skreigh, screech; loud 
 shrill cry ; ' ' skreigh 
 o' dsiy," peep of day. 
 
 Skrimp, stint, as to mea- 
 sure or quantity. 
 
 Skulduddery, sculdud- 
 dery, fornication. 
 
 Skyte, contemptible 
 
 fellow. 
 
 Slack, an opening between 
 two hills ; hollow where 
 no water runs. 
 
 Slade, slid; slippedalong. 
 
 Slaistering, doing any 
 thing in an awkward 
 and untidy way ; 
 especially applied to 
 dabbling in any thing 
 moist or unctuous. 
 
 Slaisters, dirty slops. 
 
 Slake, smear; splotch of 
 that with which any 
 thing is bedaubed. 
 
 Slap, breach in a fence. 
 
 Sleaveless-gate, sleave- 
 less errand, an idle 
 errand ; htmting the 
 cuckoo. 
 
 Sliddery, slippery. 
 
 Shghted, {as a fortress,) 
 dismantled. 
 
 Slink, little worth; not 
 to be depended upon us 
 good. 
 
 Slink, veal of a calf killed 
 im media tely after 
 
 calved. 
 
 Sloan, sloveti. 
 
 Slockened, slaked. 
 
 Slogan, war cry, or 
 gather l7ig word. 
 
 Slot-hounds, sleuth- 
 
 hounds, blood-hounds, 
 who follow the slot, or 
 scent. 
 
 Slue, slip softly and 
 quietly, 
 
 Sma', small. 
 
 Smaik, a silly fellow; a 
 puny fellow; paltry 
 rogue. 
 
 Smeekit, smoked. 
 
 ^mogr, s7jioth^r. 
 
 Snag, snaggy, "aik 
 snag," knarry stump 
 of an oak, a tree having 
 the branches roughly 
 cut off. 
 
 Snapper, stumble. 
 
 Snaps, gingerbread nuts. 
 
 Snaw, snow. 
 
 Sneck, latch ; ' ' sneck- 
 drawer," latch-lifter ; 
 bolt-drawer; sly fellow. 
 
 Sneckit, notched. 
 
 Sneeshing, snuff. 
 
 Snell, sharp; cold; severe. 
 
 Sniggering, tittering 
 sneeringly. 
 
 Snod, 7ieat. 
 
 Snood, a young woman's 
 '?naide7t fillet for tying 
 round her head. 
 
 Snotter, the proboscis of a 
 turkey - cock. * ' To 
 
 snotter and snivel," 
 to blubber and snuffle. 
 To snotter, is also to 
 go loiteringly. 
 
 Somedele, somewhat. 
 
 Somegate, someJiow ; 
 somezuhere. 
 
 Sorners, sojo%irners ; 
 
 sturdy begga7's ; ob- 
 trusive guests, who 
 pleaded privilege, and 
 were not easily got rid 
 of, at least in the High- 
 lands, where the acts 
 of Parliament against 
 them were not en- 
 forced. 
 
 Sorning, spitnging, and 
 playing the unwelcome 
 guest. 
 
 Sort, to assort; arrange; 
 fit; accommodate and 
 manage. 
 
 Sough, the noise of wind; 
 the breathing of a per- 
 son in deep sleep ; the 
 chatmt, or recitative, 
 peculiar to the old 
 Presbyterians in Scot- 
 land, and to certain 
 extra-religious castes 
 everywhere ; also, a 
 rumour. 
 
 Soup, spoonful, or mouth- 
 ful of soup, or other 
 liquid, or spoon-meat. 
 
 Souple, the striking part 
 of a flail. ^ 
 
378 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Soui^le, supple; active; 
 also subtle. 
 
 Souther, sowder, solder. 
 
 Southron, south-country 
 man ; English-tnan . 
 
 Soutor, souter, shoe- 
 maker. 
 
 SoyfQns,Jliimmery; blanc- 
 marige, made of the 
 oatmeal which remains 
 in the bran after bolt- 
 ing, converted into a 
 sub-acid starch. 
 
 S\i2.e, foretell. 
 
 Spae-wife, prophetess. 
 
 Spang, spring. 
 
 Spanged, sprung. 
 
 Sparry-grass, asparagus. 
 
 Spauld, shoulder. 
 
 Speck and span new, 
 quite 7iew. 
 
 Speel, climb. 
 
 Speer, ask. 
 
 Speerings, askings ; 
 
 answers to questions 
 asked ; information. 
 
 Spence, dispensary ; par- 
 lour. 
 
 Spick and span, matter 
 and form. 
 
 Spleuchan, tobacco-pouch. 
 
 Splores, frolics ; riots. 
 
 Sporran, {Gsiel.) purse. 
 
 iipTa.ck, spruce; sprightly. 
 
 Spraickle, scramble ; get 
 on with difficulty. 
 
 Spreagh, prey; literally, 
 cattle. 
 
 Spreagherie, cattle- 
 
 lifting, prey-driving ; 
 ^so,S7nall spoil; paltry 
 booty of small articles. 
 
 Sprees, sprays, short irre- 
 gularities, and co?i- 
 vivial indulgences. 
 
 Springs, merry tunes, to 
 which people spring 
 and dance. 
 
 Sprug, sparrozv. 
 
 Sprush, spruce. 
 
 Spulzie, spoil. 
 
 Spule-bane, blade-bone. 
 
 Spune, spoo7i. 
 
 Spunk, a jnatch ; a taper; 
 a spark of fire; a small 
 fire. 
 Spunkle, will-d-wisp ; 
 jack with the lantern ; 
 ignis fatutis. 
 Spur-whang, j/?^/-/^fr;'/^frr, 
 
 Staff, stave. 
 
 Staig, an unbroke-in 
 
 young horse. 
 Staik, steak. 
 
 Stalwart, stalwarth, steel- 
 worthy ; stout and 
 courageous. 
 Stamach, stomach. 
 Stance, sta?tding-place. 
 Stanchels, stancheons, 
 iroTi bars for securing 
 windows. 
 Stane, staine, stone. 
 Stang, sting ; also a long 
 
 pole. 
 Stark staring mad, 
 
 evidently quite mad. 
 Stark, strong; rigid ;stiff. 
 Staw, put to a stand; 
 
 surfeit. 
 Sleek, stitch ; also shut. 
 Steer, stir ; molest. 
 Steer'd, st lived ; ineddlcd 
 
 •with. 
 Steery, bustle; stir; 
 
 quandary. 
 Steeve, stiff; strong; 
 
 diirable. 
 Steevely, %i\^\^y, firmly. 
 Stell, place of covert; 
 
 shelter. 
 Stend, make long steps. 
 Sterns, starns, stars. 
 Stibbler, clerical pro- 
 bationer ; applied in 
 ridicule. 
 Sticked, stickit, stuck ; 
 stabbed; also btmgled 
 and spoiled in the 
 making. 
 Stickit minister, a clerical 
 student or probationer 
 becoine unqualified for 
 the mifiisterial office 
 from i-mbecility, or 
 immoral conduct. 
 Stievely, stiffly ; firmly. 
 Sting and ling, vi et 
 
 armis. 
 Stir, sir. 
 
 Stirk, a young steer or 
 heifer between one and 
 two years old. 
 Stoiting, staggering. 
 Stoop and roop, stump 
 and rump ; altogether. 
 Stot, a bullock hetweeft 
 twoand three years old. 
 Stour, dust; skirmish; 
 I'^Utle, 
 
 Stour, stoor, large and 
 
 strong; stern. 
 Stour-lboking, gruf- 
 
 looking. 
 Stouth and routh, plenty. 
 Stouthrief, robbery. 
 Stow, C2ct off; lop. 
 Stowings, sprouts of 
 
 colewort gathered in 
 
 spring. 
 Strae, straw. 
 Strae death, death upon 
 
 the bed-straw ; natural 
 
 death. 
 Straik, stroke. 
 Straike, a strike; a bushel. 
 Strath, a valley through 
 
 •which a river runs. 
 Straughted, stretched ; 
 
 made straight. 
 Streak, streek, striek, 
 
 stretch; lay out a corpse. 
 Stress, hard pressure ; 
 
 hai'd straining. 
 Sturdied sheep, a sheep 
 
 that has the stzirdy, or 
 
 giddiness, from zoater 
 
 in the head. 
 Suckin, mill-dues. 
 Suddenty, sudden. 
 Suld, should. 
 Sumph, soft muddy- 
 headed fellow. 
 Sune, soon. 
 Sune or syne, sooner or 
 
 later. 
 Sunkets, provision of any 
 
 sort. 
 Sunkie, lozo stool. 
 Surquedy, (Ivanhoe), 
 
 presumption ; inso- 
 lence. 
 Sute, soot. 
 Swankie, supple active 
 
 young fellmx}. 
 Swanking, supple; active. 
 Swap, exchange. 
 Swart-back, great black- 
 
 and-tuhite gull. 
 Swarfit, swai'veit, 
 
 swooned. 
 Swarved, swer'ved. 
 Swattered, squattered, 
 
 spluttered ; flounced ; 
 
 moved 7'apidly in the 
 
 zoater. 
 Sweal, to run ; said of a 
 
 candle. 
 Swear, sweer, lazy ; re^ 
 
Glossary. 
 
 379 
 
 Sweepit, swept. 
 
 Swire, neck; zi\^o declina- 
 tion in a hill : hollow 
 betwee?i two hills, 
 
 Swirles, whirls ; circular 
 fiiotions. 
 
 Swith, qiiickly. 
 
 Swither, doubt; hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 Swuir, swore. 
 
 Sybo, a?i onion that does 
 not form a bulb at the 
 root. 
 
 Syke, sike, small rill, 
 coinmofily running out 
 of a quagmire ; small 
 rill without sand or 
 graijel. 
 
 Syn, syne, sin, since ; 
 then ; after thai; in 
 that case, 
 
 Synd, rinse ; syndings, 
 rinsings, 
 
 ^y\ev, gutter; "causeyed 
 syver, " stone-paved 
 gutter. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tae, toe. 
 
 Tae, the ae, the one ; tae 
 half, the 07ie half. 
 
 Taed, taid, toad. 
 
 Taen, taken. 
 
 Taillie, deed of entail. 
 
 Tait, lock of wool, &c. 
 
 Tale, "wi' their tale," 
 according to their own 
 story ; as they pretend, 
 
 Ta.\ent, purpose ; inclina- 
 tion. 
 
 Tammie-norie, (bird), the 
 auk, orpuffi-n. 
 
 Tangle, the stem of the 
 larger fucus digitalis, 
 a species of sea-weed. 
 The term is also applied 
 contemptuously to any 
 long dangling person 
 or thing. 
 
 Tangs, tongs. 
 
 Tap of tow, the quantity 
 of tow, or hards, that 
 is made up in a conical 
 figure, to be put upon 
 the distaff. 
 
 Tape, to tape, to make a 
 little go a great way ; 
 to use sparingly. 
 
 Tappit hen, (in drinking, ) 
 
 a tin pot with a nob on 
 the top, containing a 
 quart of ale, 
 
 Tarr'd, marked with tar, 
 as sheep ; "a' tarr'd 
 wi' the same stick," 
 one as bad as the other. 
 
 Tasker, a labourer %vho 
 does task-work. 
 
 Tasse, cup. 
 
 Tassell, tusscll. 
 
 Tatty, natted, 
 
 Tauld, told. 
 
 Taupie, a slow foolish 
 slut. 
 
 Tawse, the leather strap 
 used for chastisement 
 in Scotland. 
 
 Tee'd ball, (at golf,) a 
 ball raised on a 7iob of 
 earth. 
 
 Teind, see Tiend. 
 
 Tender, delicate, as to 
 health \weakly ; ailing. 
 
 Tent, attention; catition ; 
 care, 
 
 Teugh, teuch, tottgh. 
 
 Thack, thatch. 
 
 Thae, these, 
 
 Thack, thatch. " Under 
 thack and rape, " under 
 thatch and rope ; com- 
 monly used in allusion 
 to the stacks in the barn- 
 yard, after they are 
 thatched-in for the 
 winter ; so that, "under 
 thack and rape" means 
 snug and comfortable. 
 
 Thairm, smallgut ; cat- 
 gut ; ftddlestring. 
 
 Tliat,~"no that far off, " 
 not very far off. 
 
 Theeking, thatching ; 
 thatch. 
 
 Theowffwt/Esne, (Ivan- 
 hoe, ) thrall andbonds- 
 ma7i, 
 
 Thiggers, majinerly 
 
 begga/i's, that ask a 
 benevolence, not an 
 alms. 
 Thigging, going round 
 collecting benevolences ; 
 genteel begging. 
 Thegither, together. 
 Thereout, out of doors. 
 Thick, intimate. 
 Thirlage, tJiraldom ; 
 
 astrkttQn to a mill, 
 
 I'holed, suffered. 
 
 Thought, a very little; 
 somewhat, 
 
 Thowless, sluggish ; zVz- 
 active. - 
 
 Thrang, throng ; busy. 
 
 Thrapple, thropple, 
 
 throat. 
 
 Thraw, twist ; writhe. 
 " Heads and thraws," 
 lyi-ng side by side, the 
 feet of the one by the 
 head of the other. 
 
 Thoom, thumb. 
 
 Thrawart, cross-grained; 
 ill-tempered, 
 
 Thrawing, twisting ; 
 thwarting, 
 
 Thrawn, twisted ; per- 
 verse ; ill-tempered ; 
 crabbed, 
 
 Threave, twenty-four 
 sheaves, or two shocks 
 of grain. 
 
 Threep, threap, accusa.- 
 tion ; pertinacious 
 
 affirmation ; threat. 
 "An auld threep," a 
 sziperstition obstinately 
 persisted iii of old. 
 
 Threepit, persisted in 
 averring. 
 
 Thresh, a rush, 
 
 Through-stane, grave- 
 stone. 
 
 Thrum o'er, tell over in 
 a tiresome manner. 
 
 Thumbiekins, thumb- 
 screws for torture. 
 
 Tiends, tithes. 
 
 Tig, twitch. 
 
 Till, to. 
 
 Tillie-wallie, fiddle- 
 
 faddle. 
 
 Time about, alternately. 
 
 Tine, lose. 
 
 Tinklers, tinkers. 
 
 Tint. lost. 
 
 Tippences, twopenny 
 pieces. 
 
 Tippenny, ale at two- 
 Pence a quart. 
 
 Tirlie-wirlie holes, intri- 
 cate holes. 
 I'vcWng, digging up ; ■un- 
 covering, ' ' Tirling at 
 the door pin, " twirling 
 the handle of the latch. 
 Tirrievies, tantrums. 
 Tittie, the inff\iitine ^\\<\ 
 
38o 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 endearing manner of 
 pronouncing sister. 
 
 Toclier, marriage por- 
 tion. 
 
 Tocherless, portionless. 
 
 Tod, fox. 
 
 Toddling, waddling as 
 children do. 
 
 Took of drum, tuck of 
 drum. 
 
 Toom, empty. 
 
 Toon. See Town. 
 
 Toot (tout) of a horn, 
 blast of a horn. 
 
 Torsk, tusk, a short thick 
 cod-fish so called. 
 
 Tou, thou. 
 
 Toustie, testy. 
 
 Tout, pout: pet; huf; 
 also sound of a horn. 
 
 Toutie, haughty. 
 
 Touzled out, ransacked. 
 
 Touzled, in disorder ; 
 such as the hair un- 
 combed ; 7'umpled, 
 
 Tow, hards : also a rope. 
 
 Town, any inhabited 
 place; a single stead- 
 ing. 
 
 Toy-mutch, close linen 
 cap, without lace, frill, 
 or border, and with 
 flaps covering the neck 
 and part of the 
 shoulders. 
 
 I'railled, dy-agged. 
 
 Traiking, lounging ; 
 
 da?igli7ig. 
 
 Tramped, sta^nped; trod. 
 
 Tramper, scamp ; run-a- 
 gate. 
 
 Trashed, deteriorated 
 through bad usage. 
 
 Treen, made of tree ; 
 wooden. 
 
 Trig, neat. 
 
 Trindling, truJidling. 
 
 Trocking, trucking ; 
 
 bartering; having in~ 
 tercoztrse. 
 
 Troggs, troth, 
 
 Trotcosie, a warm co- 
 vering for the head, 
 neck, and breast, when 
 travelling in bad 
 
 weather. 
 
 Trow, trew, believe ; 
 think ; guess. 
 
 Trump, Jetvs harp. 
 
 Tryacle, trcacU.^ 
 
 Tryst, appointment ; 
 
 rendezvous. 
 Trysted with, met with. 
 Tuilzie, toolyie, tusyle, 
 
 scuffie. 
 Tup, ram. 
 
 Turbinacious, of, or be- 
 longing to peat, or 
 
 rather turf 
 Turnpike stair, windi?ig 
 
 staircase. 
 Twa, twae, two. 
 Twall, twelve. 
 Twalpennies, one penny 
 
 sterling. 
 Twopenny, beer which 
 
 cost twopence a Scottish 
 
 quart. 
 Tyke, dog, of the larger 
 
 kind. 
 Tyne, lose ; tint, lost. 
 Tynes, antlers of a stag; 
 
 teeth of a harrozo. 
 
 U. 
 
 Udal, allodial. 
 
 Udaler, one who holds 
 his lands by allodial 
 tenure. 
 
 Ugsome, disgusting, 
 
 Ulzie, oil. 
 
 Umquhile, luhilom ; ci- 
 devant ; late. 
 
 Unbrized, uiihroken. 
 
 Uncanny, dangerous ; 
 stipposed to possess 
 supernal u ra I powers , 
 
 Unce, ounce. 
 
 Unchancy, %inlucky ; 
 dangerous. 
 
 Unco, uncotith; strange; 
 unknozuji ; it is also 
 used intensitively, as 
 "Unco little," voy 
 little. 
 
 Unfreens, unfriejids ; 
 enemies. 
 
 Unhalsed, uiisaluted. 
 
 Unkenn'd, zifiknown. 
 
 Untenty, i7icautious ; 
 careless. 
 
 Untill, nnto; till. 
 
 Up-bye, a little way far- 
 ther on ; 2ip the %uay. 
 
 Upcast, reproach. 
 
 Upgoing, asce?it. 
 
 Uphaud, uphold; main- 
 
 Uphauden, supported ; 
 laid under obligation. 
 
 Upsetting, conceited ; 
 assttming. 
 
 Upsides with, even with; 
 quit with. 
 
 Up-tak, conception; ap- 
 plied t9 the under- 
 standing. 
 
 Vaes, in Orkney and 
 Shetland, inlets of the 
 sea. 
 
 Vaik, become vacafit. 
 
 Vassaill, vessels. 
 
 Vassail-buird, cup-board. 
 
 Visnomy, visage. 
 
 Y'w&rs, food ; eatables. 
 
 W. 
 
 Wa', wall. 
 
 Waal, well. 
 
 Wabster, webster ; wea- 
 ver. 
 
 Wad, wager ; pledge ; 
 hostage. 
 
 Wad, would. 
 
 Wadna, would not. 
 
 Wae, woe. 
 
 Waesome, woful. 
 
 Waff, blast. 
 
 Waif, strayed; vagabond. 
 
 Waising, weissing, 
 
 directing, 
 
 Wakerife, vigilant. 
 
 Wale, choice ; choose. 
 
 Wallie, valet. 
 
 Walise, saddle-bags ; 
 portmanteau. 
 
 Wallowing, welteriiig. 
 
 Wallydraigle, tlie young- 
 est bird in a nest, and 
 hence used for any 
 feeble ill-grown crea- 
 ture. 
 
 Walth, J>lenty. 
 
 Wame, womb ; belly. 
 
 Wamefou', bellyfull, 
 
 Wampishes, tosses fran- 
 ticly. 
 
 Wmiigot; won. "Wan 
 o'er," got over. 
 
 Wanchancy, wz lucky, 
 
 Wanion, vengeance ; 
 
 the devil, 
 
 "Wnn-thriven, stunted; 
 
Gl.OSSAkV. 
 
 381 
 
 decayed; whose ihrlvhtg 
 is retrograde. 
 
 Ware, expend ; lay out, 
 
 Wanlc, active; strong; 
 healthy. 
 
 Wark, work. 
 
 Wark looms, tools. 
 
 Warlock, wizard. 
 
 Warld, world. 
 
 Warse, worse. 
 
 Warstle, wirstle, wrastle, 
 wrestle. 
 
 Wasna, was not. ' 
 
 Wastell cake, wassail 
 cake; an oaten loaf 
 baked in the oven, with 
 carraway seeds, b^c, 
 in it. 
 
 Wastrife, wastry, waste ; 
 impritdent expense. 
 
 Wat, wet. 
 
 Wat, weet, know. 
 
 Water-broo, water gruel. 
 
 Water-purpie, water 
 speed-well; brook lime. 
 
 Wather, weather. 
 
 Wauch, waff, wauff, 
 nauseous; bad; shabby. 
 
 Wauff, wave ; flap. 
 
 Waught, hearty draught 
 of liquor. 
 
 Waur, worse; also put 
 to, the worse ; get the 
 better of. 
 
 Waured, worsted; van- 
 quished. 
 
 Wawl, roll the eyes, and 
 look wildly. 
 
 Waws, wells, and 
 swelchies, waves, 
 
 whirlpools, and gulfs. 
 
 Wean, wee ane, little 
 one; child. 
 
 Wear, last ; endure. 
 
 Wear, weir, war. 
 
 "Wearthe jacket." This 
 phrase alludes to a cus- 
 tom now, we believe, 
 obsolete, by which, on 
 paying a certain fee, 
 or otherwise making 
 interest with the hunts- 
 men of the Caledonian 
 Hunt, any citizen 
 aspirant, whose rank 
 did not entitle him to 
 become a member of 
 that more highly born 
 society, might become 
 entitled to the field- 
 
 privileges of the Hunt, 
 and among others, was 
 tolerated to zoear the 
 jacket of the order. 
 
 Wearifu', painful; dis- 
 tressing. 
 
 Weasand, wind-pipe. 
 
 Weather-gaws, signs of 
 an approaching storm. 
 
 Wee, small. 
 
 Weel, well ; weal. 
 
 Weel, well, well; prospe- 
 rity ; advantage. 
 
 Weft, waft, woof. 
 
 Weigh bawks, the beam 
 of a. balance for weigh- 
 ing. 
 
 Weight, a sieve without 
 holes, for winnowing 
 corn. 
 
 Weel a weel, well well I 
 
 Weil, wiel, a small whirl- 
 pool. 
 
 Weird, destiny. ' ' The 
 weird is dree'd," the ill 
 fortune is suffered; the 
 destiny is fulfilled. 
 
 Weise, weize, wuss.wush, 
 lead; guide ; point out ; 
 sliow tJie way ; direct ; 
 put in the way. 
 
 Welked, waukit, fulled 
 cloth, callous. 
 
 Well-head, spring. 
 
 Wem, scar. 
 
 Werena, were not. 
 
 We'se, we shall. 
 
 Wha, who. 
 
 Whample, stroke ; slash. 
 
 Whang, leather. 
 
 Whap, curlew. 
 
 Whar, whaur, where. 
 
 What for no ? why not ? 
 
 Wheen, whin, parcel ; a 
 number of persons or 
 things. 
 
 Whidding, scudding. 
 
 Whigamore, great whig. 
 
 Whigging, jogging 
 
 rudely ; urging for- 
 ward. 
 
 Whigmaleeries, trinkets; 
 nicknackets; whims. 
 
 Whiles, sometimes. 
 
 Whillied, wheedled; 
 
 cheated by wheedling. 
 
 Whillying, bamboozling ; 
 deceiving with specious 
 pretences. 
 
 Whilly-whas, Hit 
 
 _^ cajoling speeches : flum- 
 
 "^ mery. 
 
 Whilk, which. 
 
 Whin. See Wheen. 
 
 y^\\m%,€m.%, fawning and 
 whining like a dog. 
 
 Whinger, a sort of hanger 
 used as a knife at 
 meals and in broils. 
 
 Whinnying, neighing. 
 
 Whins, furze ; gorse. 
 
 Whirrying, flying 
 
 rapidly. 
 
 White hass, sausages 
 stuffed with oatmeal 
 and suet. 
 
 Whittie-whattieing, mak- 
 ing foolish conjectures : 
 reasoning to little pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Whittle, knife. 
 
 Whittret, weasel, from 
 white throat. 
 
 Whomling, whelming ; 
 overturning. 
 
 Whom, horn. 
 
 WhuUy-whaing, cajoling. 
 
 Whummle, whelm ; tiLrn 
 over. 
 
 Whunstane, whin-stone. 
 
 Wi', with. 
 
 Wife-carle, a man who 
 busies himself about 
 liousehold affairs or 
 wo?nen's work. 
 
 Will-a-wa, weal-away, 
 woe is me! 
 
 Willyard, wild; strange; 
 unaccountable ; shy. 
 
 Wimple, winding turn. 
 
 Win, get; "win by," 
 "getpast;'' "win to," 
 reach. 
 
 Windle-strae, crested 
 dog's-tail grass. 
 
 Windles, a turni7ig 
 frame, upon which 
 yarn is put, to be 
 wound off. 
 
 Window-bole, tlie part of 
 a cottage windo7u that 
 is filled by a wooden 
 blind. 
 
 Winna, wunna, will not. 
 
 Winsome, gainly ; love- 
 ly ; pretty ; of engaging 
 appearance, or charac- 
 ter and mamiers. 
 
 Withershins, wrong-ways 
 about ; from right in 
 
^^ 
 
 CiLos^ARV. 
 
 le/^ ; contrary to the 
 apparent motion of the 
 sun. 
 
 Withy, woody, rope of 
 twisted wands. 
 
 Witters, harbs of a fish- 
 ing spear ^ or of a fish- 
 ing-hook, &c. 
 
 Witting, weeting, know~ 
 i?ig. 
 
 Woo', wool. 
 
 Woodie, gallows; also 
 a withie, or rope of 
 twisted wands, in 
 which malefactors seem 
 formerly to have been 
 hanged. 
 
 Worriecow, wirriecow, 
 hobgoblin ; bugbear ; 
 scarecrow; iJie devil. 
 
 Wowf, wayward ; tvild ; 
 unreclaimed ; dis- 
 
 ordered in intellect. 
 
 Wraith, an apparition. 
 
 Wud, wood, mad. 
 
 Wuddy, see Woodie. 
 
 Wul!-a-\vins, "woc is me ! 
 
 WuU-cat, wild-cat ; cat- 
 a-mountarn.. 
 
 Wull, will. "What's 
 yerwull," w/;a^ is your 
 pleasure. 
 
 Wuzzent, withered ; 
 
 dried. 
 
 Wun, win ; get, in all its 
 senses. 
 
 Wunna, winna, will not. 
 
 Wuss, wish. See also 
 Weise. 
 
 Wyliecoat, boys flannel 
 under-dress next the 
 shirt ; flannel petti- 
 coats. 
 
 Wynds (in a town) turn- 
 ings off from the 
 streets ; lanes. 
 
 Wyte, blame. 
 
 Wyted, blamed. 
 
 Yaffing, barking, like a 
 
 dog in a passion ; chat- 
 
 teri?ig. 
 Yagger, hunter ; ranger 
 
 about the country ; 
 
 pedlar. 
 Yald, supple ; active ; 
 
 athletic. 
 Yammered, made a loud 
 
 outciy. 
 
 Yanklrtg, tiiay of talking 
 English. 
 
 y?M.6.,jade; niare.^ 
 
 Yaud, " far yaud," a cry 
 of encouragement, or 
 direction, from a shep- 
 herd to his dog. 
 
 Yauld, alert; athletic. 
 
 Yearned, curdled. 
 
 Yearning, rennet. 
 
 Yelloch, shrill cry. 
 
 Yelloched, raiseda shrill 
 C7y. 
 
 Yellow yoldring, yellow 
 yorhng, yelloiv- 
 
 hainmer. 
 
 Yer, your. 
 
 Yerl, earl. 
 
 Yestreen, y ester even ; 
 last night. 
 
 Yin, one. 
 
 Yince, once. 
 
 Yett, gate. 
 
 Yoking, the ploughing 
 that is done at one 
 putting-to of the horses. 
 
 Yon, there; yonder; 
 beyond. 
 
 Yook, yeuking, yowking, 
 itch, itching, 
 
 Yowe, ewe. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 feRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., ^RINfERS, WHttEf RIARS. 
 
3^4 
 
 tiLosSAkV. 
 
 left; contrary to the 
 apparent motion of the 
 smi. 
 
 Withy, woody, rofe of 
 twisted zuands. 
 
 Witters, barbs of a fish- 
 ing spear, or of a fish- 
 ing-hook, &c. 
 
 Witting, weeting, know- 
 ing. 
 
 Woo', wool. 
 
 Woodie, gallows ; also 
 a withie, or rope of 
 twisted wands, in 
 which malefactors seem 
 formerly to have been 
 hanged. 
 
 Worriecow, wirriecow, 
 hobgoblin ; bugbear ; 
 scarecrow ; the devil. 
 
 Wowf, wayward ; wild ; 
 unreclaimed ; dis- 
 
 ordered in intellect. 
 
 Wraith, an apparition . 
 
 Wud, wood, mad. 
 
 Wuddy, see Woodie. 
 
 WuU-a-wins, %uoe is me ! 
 
 WuU-cat, wild-cat; cat- 
 a-mo2intahi. 
 
 Wull, will. "What's 
 yer wull," %L^hat is your 
 pleasure. 
 
 Wuzzent, withered ; 
 
 dried. 
 
 Wun, toin ; get, in all its 
 senses. 
 
 Wunna, winna, will not. 
 
 Wuss, 2uish. See also 
 Weise. 
 
 WyHecoat, boys fianncl 
 under-dress next the 
 shirt / flan7icl petti- 
 coats. 
 
 Wynds {in a town) turn- 
 ings oif from the 
 streets ; lanes. 
 
 Wyte, blame. 
 
 Wyted, blamed. 
 
 Yafiing, barking, like a 
 dog ill a passion ; chat- 
 tering. 
 
 Yagger, hunter ; ranger 
 aboiit the country ; 
 pedlar. 
 
 Yald, stipple ; active ; 
 athletic. 
 
 Yammered, made a loud 
 outciy. 
 
 Yankiilg, viay of tailing 
 English. 
 
 V£iMd,jade; inare.^ 
 
 Yaud, " far yaud," (t cry 
 of encouragement, or 
 direction, from a shep- 
 herd to his dog. 
 
 Yauld, alert; athletic. 
 
 Yearned, curdled. 
 
 Yearning, rennet. 
 
 Yelloch, shrill cry. 
 
 Yelloched, 7'aised a shrill 
 cry. 
 
 Yellow yoldring, yellow 
 yorling, yellow- 
 
 hammer. 
 
 Yer, your. 
 
 Yerl, earl. 
 
 Yestreen, yestcr even ; 
 last night, 
 
 Yin, one. 
 
 Yince, once. 
 
 Yett, gate. 
 
 Yoking, the ploughing 
 that is done at one 
 putting-to of the horses. 
 
 Yon, there; yonder; 
 beyond. 
 
 Yook, yeuking, yowking, 
 itch, itching. 
 
 Yowe, ewe. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 feRADtJCny, AGNEW, & CO., t'RIN'i'ERSt WHjTErRIARS. 
 

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