 Volume 2 Chapter 6 Many great ones would part with half their states to have the plan and credit to beg in the first style. Beggar's Bush. Old Eddie was stirring with the lark, and his first inquiry was after Steanie and the pocketbook. The young fisherman had been under the necessity of attending his father before daybreak to avail themselves of the tide, but he had promised that immediately on his return, the pocketbook, with all its contents carefully wrapped up in a piece of sailcloth, should be delivered by him to bring in Equan for a duster-swivel, the owner. The matron had prepared the morning meal for the family, and shouldering her basket of fish tramped sturdily away towards Fairport. The children were idling round the door, for they was fair and sun-shiny. The ancient grandeur, again seated on her wicker chair by the fire, had resumed her eternal spindle, holy and moved by the yelling and screaming of the children, and the scolding of the mother, which had preceded the dispersion of the family. Eddie had arranged his various bags, and was bound for the renewal of his wandering life, but first advanced with due courtesy to take his leave of the ancient crone. G'day, Tia-cummer, and money I needn't him. I will be back about the fore-end, or heist, and I trust to find you by the hay and then fair. Pray that you may find me in my quite grave, said the old woman, in a hollow and sepulchral voice, but without the agitation of a single feature. Here I'd, Cumber, and sign my myself, but we mine abide his wit, when I'll be forgotten in his good time. Nor our deeds, neither, said the crone, what's done in the body mightn't be answered in the spirit. I would that's true, and I may we'd take the tail-heim to myself, that I led a mis-ruled and roven life, but you were I a conny-wife, or I a friend, but you kind of heist I muckled about you down, less than I might have had, but mire, or far more, than would sink the stoutest brig ever sailed out of airport harbour, dint somebody say your strain, at least side is borne in my own mind, but old folk I weak fancies, dint not somebody say that Jocelyn, Countess of Glenallon, was departed for a life? They said the truth, whey ever said it, answered already, she was buried yestering by torched id at St. Ruth's, and I, like a fool, got a glyph we see in the lights and the riders. It was their fashions since the days of the great world that was killed at Harla. They did it to show scorn that they should die and be buried like other mortals. The wives of the house of Glenallon wailed nigh-wail for the husband, nor the sister for the brother. But is she even kind to the lying-account? As sure, answered Eddie, has we munt all abided? Then all unlaid my mind, come out what we did. She spoke with more alacrity than usually attended her expressions, and accompanied her words with an attitude at the hand as if throwing something from her. She then raised up her form, once tall, and still retaining the appearance of having been so, though bent with age and rheumatism, and stood before the beggar, like a mummy, animated, by some wandering spirit, into a temporary resurrection. Her light-blue eyes wandered to and fro, as if she occasionally forgot and again remembered the purpose for which her long and withered hand was searching among the miscellaneous contents of an ample old-fashioned pocket. At length she pulled out a small chip-box, an opening net, took out a handsome ring, in which was set a braid of hair, composed of two different colors, black and light and brown, twined together, encircled with brilliance of considerable value. Good one! She said to Okotri, as you would ever deserve mercy, you might gain my ear into the house of Glen Allen, and ask for the earl. The earl of Glen Allen, come on, boy, you want to see any of the gentiles of the country, and what likelihood is there that he would see the like of an old gobernanzi. Bring your ways and try, and tell him that Elzbeth owe the Craigburn foot. He'll mind me best by that name, Monsium, or she be relieved, for her long pilgrimage, and that she sends him that ring in token of the business she would speak of. Okotri looked on the ring with some admiration of its apparent value, and then carefully replacing it in the box, and wrapping it in an old ragged handkerchief, he deposited the token in his bosom. Weird good wife, he said, has do your bidding, or it's no be my fault, but surely there was never sick a broad palm pine, as this sent to a earl, by an old fishwife, and through the hands of a gobernanzi beggar. With this reflection, Eddie took up his pike staff, put on his broad-brinned bonnet, and set forth upon his pilgrimage. The old woman remained for some time, standing in a fixed posture, her eyes directed to the door through which her ambassador had departed. The appearance of excitation, which the conversation had occasioned, gradually left her features. She sank down upon her accustomed seat, and resumed her mechanical laborer of the disc staff and spindle, with her wanted air of apathy. The occultry meanwhile advanced on his journey. The distance of Glen Allen was ten miles, a march which the old soldier accomplished in about four hours. With the curiosity belonging to his idle trade and animated character, he torched himself the whole way to consider what could be the meaning of this mysterious errand with which he was entrusted, or what connection the proud, wealthy, and powerful earl of Glen Allen, could have with the crimes or penitence of an old, doting woman, whose rank in life did not greatly exceed that of her messenger. He endeavored to call to memory all that he had ever known or heard of the Glen Allen family, yet having done so, remained altogether unable to form a conjecture on the subject. He knew that the whole extensive estate of this ancient and powerful family had descended to the Countess, lately deceased, who inherited, in a most remarkable degree, the stern, fierce, and unbending character which had distinguished the house of Glen Allen since they first figured in Scottish annals. Like the rest of her ancestors, she adhered zealously to the Roman Catholic faith, and was married to an English gentleman of the same communion, and of large fortune, who did not survive their union two years. The Countess was, therefore, left an early widow, with the uncontrolled management of the largest states of her two sons. The elder, Lord Geraldine, who was to succeed to the title and fortune of Glen Allen, was totally dependent on his mother during her life. The second, when he came of age, assumed the name and arms of his father, and took possession of his estate, according to the provisions of the Countess's marriage settlement. After this period he chiefly resided in England, and paid very few in brief visits to his mother and brother, and these at length were altogether dispensed with, and consequence of his becoming a convert to the reformed religion. But even before this mortal offense was given to its mistress, his residentic Glen Allen offered few inducements to a gay young man like Edward Geraldine Neville, though its gloom and seclusion seemed to suit the retired and melancholy habits of his elder brother. Lord Geraldine, in the outset of life, had been a young man of accomplishment and hopes. Those who knew him upon his travels entertained the highest expectations of his future career. But such fair dawns are often strangely overcast. The young nobleman returned to Scotland, and after living about a year in his mother's society at Glen Allen House, he seemed to have adopted all the stern gloom and melancholy of her character, excluded from politics by the incapacities attached to those of his religion, and from all lighter avocations by choice. Lord Geraldine led a life of the strictest retirement. His ordinary society was composed of the clergyman of his communion who occasionally visited his mansion, and very rarely, upon stated occasions of high festival, one or two families who still professed the Catholic religion were formally entertained at Glen Allen House. But this was all. Their heretic neighbors knew nothing of the family whatever, and even the Catholics saw little more than the sumptuous entertainment and solemn parade which was exhibited on those formal occasions, from which all returned without knowing whether most to wonder at the stern and stately demeanor of the Countess, or the deep and gloomy dejection which never ceased for a moment to cloud the features of her son. The Lady then had put him in possession of his fortune and title, and the neighborhood had already begun to conjecture whether Gaity would revive with independence. When those who had some occasional acquaintance with the interior of the family spread abroad a report that the Earl's constitution was undermined by religious austerities, and that in all probability he would soon follow his mother to the grave, this event was the more probable as his brother had died of a lingering complaint which in the later years of his life had affected at once his frame and his spirits, so that Haralds and genealogists were already looking back into their records to discover the error of this ill-fated family, and lawyers were talking with the glissom anticipation of the probability of a great Glen Allen cause. As Eddie Oakletree approached the front of Glen Allen House, readers note, supposed to represent Glamis Castle in Forfisher, with which the author was well acquainted, and readers note, an ancient building of great extent, the most modern part of which had been designed by the celebrated Indigo Jones. He began to consider in what way he should be most likely to gain access for delivery of his message, and after much consideration resolved to send the token to the Earl by one of the domestics. With his purpose he stopped at a cottage, where he obtained the means of making up the ring in a sealed packet, like a petition, addressed, for his honor, the Earl of Glen Allen, these, but being aware that missives delivered at the doors of great houses by such persons as himself, do not always make their way according to address. Eddie determined, like an old soldier, to reconnoiter the ground before he made his final attack. As he approached the Porter's Lodge, he discovered by the number of poor ranked before it, some of them being indigent persons in the vicinity, and others itinerants of his own begging profession, that there was about to be a general dole or distribution of charity. A good turn, said Eddie to himself, never goes unrewarded, how may we get a good almos that I would high-missed but for trotten on this old wife's errand? Accordingly he ranked up with the rest of this ragged regiment, assuming a station as near the front as possible, a distinction due, as he conceived, to his blue gown and badge, no less than to his years and experience. But he soon found there was another principle of precedence in this assembly to which he had not adverten. Are ye a triple man friend, that ye press forward, saiboddy? I am thick and kno, for there's nigh Catholics where that badge. Nigh, nigh, I am no a Roman, said Eddie. Then shank yourself away to the double folk or single folk, that's the Episcopals or Presbyterian gender. It's a shame to see a heretic, high-sick and angoyed beard, that would do credit to a hermit. Oakle tree, thus rejected from the society of the Catholic mendicans, or those who call themselves such, went to station himself with the poppers of the Communion of the Church of England, to whom the noble donor allotted a double portion of his charity. But never was a poor occasional conformist more roughly rejected by a high-church congregation, even when that matter was fiercely agitated in the days of good Queen Anne. See to him with his badge, they said, he hears I know the King's Presbyterian chaplains so out of his sermon on the morning of every birthday, and nigh would pass himself for I know the Episcopal Church. Nigh, nigh, we'll take care of that. Eddie, thus rejected by Rome and Prolacy, was feigned to shelter himself from the laughter of his brethren among the thin group of Presbyterians, who had either disdain to disguise their religious opinions for the sake of an augmented dole, or perhaps knew they could not attempt the imposition without a certainty of detection. The same degree of precedence was observed in the motive distributing the charity, which consisted in bread, beef, and a piece of money, to each individual of all the three classes. The almoner, an ecclesiastic of grave appearance and demeanor, superintended in person the accommodation of the Catholic mendicants, asking a question or two of each as he delivered the charity, and recommending to their prayers the soul of Jocelyn, late Countess of Glenallon, mother of their benefactor. The porter, distinguished by his long staff headed with silver, and by the black gown, tufted with lace of the same color, which he had assumed upon the general mourning in the family, overlooked the distribution of the dole among the Prelates. The less favored Kirkfolk were committed to the charge of an age domestic. As this last discussed some disputed point with the porter, his name as a chance to be occasionally mentioned, and in its features struck occultry, and awakened recollections of former times. The rest of the assembly were now retiring, when the domestic, again approaching the place where Eddie is still lingered, sent in a strong, Aberdeenshire accent. Fatsis the old field-body dean, that he can and can go away, now that he's gotten both meat and sillard. Fatsis McRaw answered Eddie occultry, do you know mine? Phone Tony, and keep together front and rear. Ohon, ohon! cried Francie, with a true north-country yellow recognition. Nobody could I say that word but my own front and rear-man, Eddie occultry, but I'm sorry to see you in sick of her state-man. No say ill, off as you may think, Francis, but I'm like to leave this place without a crack with you, and I can't win, I may see you again. For your folk, do not make protestants welcome, and that's I reason that I had never been here before. Fusht, fusht, said Francie, let's safely stick it to oil, when the dirt's dry it'll rub out, and coming away with me, and I'll guide you something better than that beef-bane man. Having then spoke a confidential word with the porter, probably to request his connivance, and having waited until the aluminer had returned to the house with slow and solemn steps, Francie McCraw introduced his old comrade into the court of Glen-Ellen House, the gloomy gateway of which was surmounted by a huge scutcheon in which the herald and undertaker had mingled, as usual, the emblems of human pride and human nothingness, the countess's hereditary coat of arms, with all its numerous quarterings, disposed into Lawsonge, and surrounded by the separate shields of her paternal and maternal ancestry. And her mingled with scythes, hourglasses, skulls, and other symbols of that mortality, which levels all distinctions. Conducting his friend as faithfully as possible along the large paved court, McCraw led the way through a side door to a small apartment near the servants' hall, which in virtue of his personal attendance upon the Earl of Glen-Ellen he was entitled to call his own. To produce cold meat of various kinds, strong beer, and even a glass of spirits, was no difficulty to a person of Francis's importance, who had not lost in his sense of conscious dignity the keen northern prudence which recommended a good understanding with the butler. Our mendicant and voy drank ale and talked over old stories with his comrade, until no other topic of conversation occurring, he resolved to take up the theme of his embassy, which had for some time escaped his memory. He had a petition to present to the Earl, he said, for he judged a prudence to say nothing of the ring, not knowing, as he afterwards observed, how far the manners of a single soldier might have been corrupted by service in a great house. Readers note, a single soldier means in Scotch a private soldier. And Readers note, a twit man, said Francie, though I will look at nigh petitions, but I can guide it to the Almoner, but it relates to some secret that maybe my lord would like best to see it himself. I am judging that is the very reason that the Almoner will be foreseeing it, the first and foremost. But I come by this way on purpose to deliver it, Francis, and you really might help me at a pinch. Near speed than if I did not, answered the Aberdeenscher man, let them be as conquered as they like, they can but turn me away, and I was just thinking to ask my discharge, and gang down ten my days at Ebon Rory. With this dowdy resolution of serving his friend in all ventures, since none was to be encountered, which could much inconvenience himself, Francie McCraw left the apartment. It was long before he returned, and when he did, his manner indicated wonder and agitation. I am niacere gin, you be Eddie Ogletree, or Kerrick's company in the Forty-Twy, or gin you be the Dale in his likeness. And what makes you speak in that gate? demanded the astonishment, because my lord has been in secret distress and so preasy as I never saw him in my life. But who see you? I got that job cooket, who is like a man away from himself for many minutes, and I thought he would high-swarm or tie together. And Fanny came to himself, yes, Fie brought the packet, and Fat Troyee I said. An old soger, said Eddie, that does likely set a gentle's door. At a farmer's it's best to say you're an old tinkler, if you need only quarters, for maybe the good wife will I send something to sell there. But I said, nearer on to the Troy, answered Francis. My lord cares a little about the tine as the tother, for he's best to them that can sell their up-arsens. So I even said the bit-paper was brought by an old man with a long fight beard. He might be a cappuccine friar for Fat Iken, for he was dressed like an old pommer. So you be sent up for a fine-ever, if he can find metal to face ye. I wish I was real through this business, thought Eddie to himself, when he focused on my that the earls know very right in the judgment, and what can say how far he may be offended with me for takin' upon me same makul. But there was now no room for retreat. A bell sounded from a distant part of the mansion, and McCraw said, with a smothered accent, as if already in his master's presence. That's my lord's bell. Follow me, and step lightly, and kindly, Eddie. Eddie followed his guide, who seemed to tread as if afraid of being overheard, through a long passage, and up a backstair, which admitted them into the family apartments. They were ample and extensive, furnished at such cost as showed the ancient importance and splendor of the family. But all the ornaments were in the taste of a former and distant period, and one would have almost supposed himself traversing the halls of a Scottish nobleman before the union of the crowns. The late Countess, partly from a haughty contempt of the times in which she lived, partly from her sense of family pride, had not permitted the furniture to be altered or modernized during her residence at Glen Allen House. The most magnificent part of the decorations was a valuable collection of pictures by the best masters, whose massive frames were somewhat tarnished by time. In this particular also the gloomy taste of the family seemed to predominate. There were some fine family portraits by Van Dyke, and other masters of eminence, but the collection was richest in the saints and martyrdoms of Dominicino, Velasquez, and Murillo, and other subjects of the same kind, which had been selected in preference to landscapes or historical pieces. The manner in which these awful and sometimes disgusting subjects were represented, harmonized with the gloomy state of the apartments, a circumstance which was not altogether lost on the old man as he traversed them under the guidance of his condom fellow soldier. He was about to express some sentiment of his kind, but Francie imposed silence on him by signs, and opening a door at the end of the long picture gallery, ushered him into a small antechamber hung with black. Here they found the Elminer, with his ear turned to a door opposite that by which they entered, in the attitude of one who listens with attention, but is at the same time afraid of being detected in the act. The old domestic and churchmen stared him when they perceived each other, but the Elminer first recovered his recollection and advancing towards McCraw said under his breath, but with an authoritative tone, how dare you approach the Earl's apartment without knocking, and who is the stranger, or what is he to do here? Retire to the gallery and wait for me there. It's impossible just now to attend to reverence, answered McCraw, raising his voice so as to be heard in the next room. Being cautious that the priest would not maintain the altercation within hearing of his patron, the Earl's bell is rung. He had scarce uttered the words when it was rung again, with greater violence than before, and the ecclesiastic, perceiving further expostulation impossible, lifted his finger at McCraw with the menacing attitude as he left the apartment. I told you, say, said the Aberdeen man in a whispered eddy, and then proceeded to open the door near which they had observed the chaplain stationed. End Chapter Six Volume Two, Chapter Seventh, of the Antiquary. This labor box recording is in the public domain. The Antiquary by Sir Walter Scott. Chapter Seventh. This ring, this little ring, with necromantic force, has raised the ghost of pleasure to my fears. Conjured the sense of honor and of love into such shapes, they fright me from myself. The Fatal Marriage The ancient forms of mourning were observed in Glen Allen House, notwithstanding the obduracy with which the members of the family were popularly supposed to refuse to the dead the usual tribute of lamentation. It was remarked that when she received the fatal letter announcing the death of her second, and, as was once believed, her favorite son, the hand of the Countess did not shake, nor her eyelid twinkle, any more than upon perusal the letter of ordinary business. Heaven only knows whether the suppression of maternal sorrow, which her pride commanded, might not have some effect in hastening her own death. It was at least generally supposed that the apoplectic stroke, which so soon afterwards terminated her existence, was, as it were, the vengeance of outraged nature for the restraint to which her feelings had been subjected. But although Lady Glen Allen forbore the usual external signs of grief, she had caused many of the apartments, amongst others her own and that of the Earl, to be hung with the exterior trappings of woe. The Earl of Glen Allen was therefore seated in an apartment hung with black cloth, which waved in dusky folds along its lofty walls. A screen, also covered with black bays, placed towards the high and narrow window, intercepted much of the broken light which found its way through the stained glass, that represented with such skill as the fourteenth century possessed the life and sorrows of the prophet Jeremiah. The table at which the Earl was seated was lighted with two lamps, rotten silver, shedding that unpleasant and doubtful light which arises from the mingling of artificial luster without a general daylight. The same table displayed a silver crucifix and one or two class parchment books, a large picture exquisitely painted by Spongnoletto, represented the martyrdom of St. Stephen, and was the only ornament of the apartment. The inhabitant and lord of this disconsolate chamber was a man not past the prime of life, yet so broken down with disease and mental misery, so gone and ghastly that he appeared but a wreck of manhood. And when he hastily arose and advanced towards his visitor, the exertion seemed almost overpower his emaciated frame. As they met in the midst of the apartment, the contrast they exhibited was very striking. The hail cheek, firm step, a wreck stature, and undaunted presence and bearing of the old mendicant, indicated patience and content in the extremity of age, and in the lowest condition to which humanity can sink. While the sunken eye, pal the cheek, and tottering form of the nobleman with whom he was confronted, showed how little wealth, power, and even the advantages of youth, have to do with that which gives repose to the mind, and firmness to the frame. The old man met the old man in the middle of the room, and having commanded his attendant to withdraw into the gallery, and severed no one to enter the antechamber till he rung the bell, awaited with hurried yet fearful impatience, until he heard first the door of his apartment, and then that of the antechamber, shut and fastened by the spring-bolt. When he was satisfied with this security against being overheard, Lord Glen Allen came close up to the mendicant, whom he probably mistook for some person of a religious order in disguise, and said, in a hasty yet faltering tone, in the name of all our religion holds most holy, tell me, Reverend Father, what am I to expect from a communication opened by a token connected with such horrible recollections? The old man, appalled by a manner so different from what he had expected from the proud and powerful nobleman, was at a loss how to answer, and in what manner to un-deceive him. Tell me, continued Theoral, in a tone of increasing trepidation in agony, tell me, do you come to say that all that has been done to expiate guilt so horrible has been too little and too trivial for the offence, and to point out new and more efficacious modes of severe penance? I will not blench from it, Father, let me suffer the pains of my crime here in the body, rather than hereafter in the spirit. He had now recollection enough to perceive that if he did not interrupt the frankness of Lord Glen-Allen's admissions, he was likely to become the confident of more than might be safe for him to know. He therefore uttered with a hasty and trembling voice, your lordship's honor is mistaken, I am not of your persuasion, nor clergyman, but, with all reverence, only poor Eddie O'Quachie, the king's beadsman, and your honors. This explanation, he accompanied by a profound bow after his manner, and then, drawing himself up erect, rested his arm in his staff, threw back his long white hair, and fixed his eyes upon the earl, as he waited for an answer. And you are not, then, said Lord Glen-Allen, after a pause of surprise. You are not, then, a Catholic priest. Could forbid, said Eddie, for getting in his confusion to whom he was speaking, how will the king's beadsman hand your honors, as I said before? The earl turned hastily away, and paced the room twice, or thrice, as if to recover the effects of his mistake. Coming close up to the mendicant, he demanded, in a stern and commanding tone, what he meant by intruding himself on his privacy, and from once he had got the ring which he had thought proper to send him. Eddie, a man of much spirit, was less daunted at this motive interrogation, than he had been confused by the tone of confidence in which the earl had opened their conversation. To the reiterating question from whom he had obtained the ring, he answered composably, from one who was better known to the earl than to him. Better known to me, fellow, said Lord Glen-Ellen, what is your meaning? Explain yourself instantly, or you shall experience a consequence of breaking in upon the hours of family distress. He resolved as with Mugglebacket that sent me here, said the beggar, in order to say, You don't hold, man, said the earl. I never heard the name, but this dreadful token reminds me. I mind now, my lord, said Ogletree. She told me your lordship would be my familiar with her if I called her Elspeth, or the Craigburn foot. She had that name when she lived on your honor's land, that is, your honor's worshipful mother's, that was then, grace be with her. I said the appalled noblemen, as his countenance sunk, and his cheek assumed a hue yet more cadaverous. The name is indeed, written in the most tragic page of a deplorable history. But what can she desire of me? Is she dead, or living? Living, my lord, and in treats to see your lordship before she dies, for she has something to communicate that hangs upon her very soul, and she says she can't flit in peace until she sees you. Not until she sees me, what can that mean? But she is doting with age and infirmity. I tell the friend, I called at her cottage myself, not a 12 month since, from her report, that she was in distress, and she did not even know my face or voice. If your honor would permit me, said Eddie, to whom the length of the conference restored a part of his professional audacity and native talkativeness. If your honor would permit me, I would say, under correction of your lordship's better judgment, that, oh desbets, like some of the ancient ruin strengths and castles that I seize among the hills, there are many parts of her mind that appear, as I may say, laid waste and decayed. But then there's parts that look the stever and the stronger and the grander, because they are rising just like to fragments among the ruins of the rest. She's an awful woman. Shoes was so, said the earl, almost unconsciously, echoing the observation of the mendicant. Shoes was different from other women, like is perhaps to her who is now no more in her temper and turn of mind. She wishes to see me then. Before she dies, said Eddie, she earnestly entreats that pleasure. It will be a pleasure to neither of us, said the earl sternly. Yet she shall be gratified. She lives, I think, on the seashore to the southward of Fairport. Just between Monk Barnes and Noquinic Castle, but nearer to Monk Barnes, your lordship's honor would kin the Laird and Sir Arthur, doubtless. A stare, as if he did not comprehend the question, was Lord Glenn Allen's answer. Eddie saw his mind was elsewhere, and did not venture to repeat a query which was so little germane to the matter. Are you a Catholic old man? Demanded the earl. Annoyed my lord. Said Ogletree, stoutly, for the remembrance of the unequal division of the doll rose in his mind at the moment. I thank heaven I am a good protestant. He who can conscientiously call himself good has, indeed, reason to thank heaven. Be his form of Christianity what it will. But who is he that shall dare to do so? Not I, said Eddie. I trust to beware of the sin of presumption. What was your trade in your youth? Continue the earl. A soldier, my lord, and many a Saturday's campan I've seen. I used to have been made a sergeant, but—a soldier? When you have slain and burnt and socked and spoiled. How would you say, replied Eddie, that I've been better than my neighbours? It's a rough trade. War sweet to them that never tried it. And you are now old and miserable, asking from precarious charity the food which in your youth you tore from the hand of the poor peasant. I am a beggar it is true, my lord, but I am neither just I am miserable neither. For my sins I had a grace to repent to them, if I might say, say, and to lay them where they may be better borne than by me, and for my food neither grudges an old man a bit and a drink, so I live as I can, and am contented to die when I am kind upon. And thus, then, with little to look back upon, that is pleasant or praiseworthy in your past life, with us to look forward to on this side of eternity, you are contented to drag out the rest of your existence. Go be gone, and in your age and poverty and weariness, never envy the lord of such a mansion as this, either in his sleeping or waking moments. Here is something for thee. The role put into the old man's hand, five or six skinnies, Eddie would perhaps have stated to scruples, as upon other occasions, to the amount of the benefaction, but the tone of Lord Glen-Ellen was too absolute to admit of either answer or dispute. The old man called a servant. See this old man say from the castle, let no one ask him any questions, and you friend, be gone and forget the road that leads to my house. That would be difficult for me, said Eddie, looking at the goal which he still held in his hand. That would be even difficult, since your honor is guiding me, such guide calls to remember it. Lord Glen-Ellen stared, as hardly comprehending the old man's boldness, and daring to bandy words with him, and, with his hand, made him another signal of departure, which the mendicant instantly obeyed. End Chapter Seventh Volume Two, Chapter Eighth, of the Antiquary This lever-box recording is in the public domain. The Antiquary by Sir Walter Scott, Chapter Eighth. For he was one in all their idle sport, and like a monarch, ruled the little court, the pliant bow he formed, the flying ball, the bat, the wicket, were his labors all. Francis McCraw, agreeably to the commands of his master, attended the mendicant, in order to see him fairly out of the estate, without permitting him to have conversation or intercourse with any of the Earl's dependents or domestics, but judiciously considering that the restriction did not extend to himself, who was the person entrusted with the convoy, he used every measure in his power to extort from Eddie the nature of his confidential and secret interview with Lord Glen Allen. But Eddie had been in his time accustomed to cross-examination and easily evaded those of this condom comrade. The secrets of the great folk, said Oakletree within himself, are just like the wild beasts that are shut up in cages. Keep them hard and fast, they have sneaked up, and it's all very wilder better. But I inset them out, they will turn and rend you. High-mined, how ill-dugled-gun! came I for letting Lucy's tongue about the major's lady, and Captain Bandir. Francis was therefore foiled in his assaults upon the fidelity of the mendicant, and, like an indifferent chess-player, became at every unsuccessful movement more liable to the counter-tracks of his opponent. Say, Apology had nine particulars to say to my lord, but about your own matters. High-end, about the wee bits of things I had brought for you abroad, said Eddie. I can do popesfolk or uncouset on the relics that are fetched for a fard kerks in Cyforth. Troth, my lord might be turned for your lot, right? said the domestic. And he put himself into sick of car-fuffle, for anything you could bring him any. Had not any me say it true in the mine, neighbor? replied the beggar, but maybe he's had some hard play in his younger days, Francis, and that was uncettlesfolk'sire. Troth, Eddie, and you may say that, and since it's like you'll never come back to the estate or, if you do, that shall not find me there. I is even tell ye, he had a heart in his young time, so I wrecked him in rent, that it's a wonder it has no broken outright long before this day. I say you say, said OKOTRI, that more than it been about a woman, I reckon. Troth, and ye guessed it, said Francis, just a cousin of his name, Miss Evelyn Neville, as they say, I kiter. There was a soft in the country about it, but it was hushed up, but as the grandies were concerned, it's more than twenty another sign. Aye, it will be three and twenty. Hi, I was in America, then, said the mendicant, and no in the way to hear of the country clashes. There was a little clash about it, man, replied McCraw. He liked this young lady, and a soldier married her, but his mother find out, and then the dale guide over Jack Webster. At last the pure lass clotted herself, or the scrawl of the craig burneth foot into the sea, and there was an end-ont. An end-ont with the poor lady, said the mendicant, but as I reckon, nigh end-ont with the earl. Nigh end-ont till his life makes an end, answered the Aberdonian. But what for did the old Countess forbid the marriage? Continue, the persevering querest. Thought for. She may be didn't a world ken for fight herself, for she guarded a bow to her bidding, right or wrong. But it was ken the young lady was inclined to some of the heresies of the country. Mired by token, she was sift to him, nearer than our churches rolled admits of. Said the lady was driven to the desperate act, and the earl was never since held his head up like a man. We had a way, replied, local tree. It seemed queer, I near heard this tale before. It seemed queer that she heard it now, for dead on an eye of the servants, durst a spoken-ont, had the old Countess been liven. Who he manned he, but she was a trimmer. It would have been taken a keyed a man to a squared with her. But she's in her grave, and we may lose our tongues a bit upon we meet a friend. But fair he waited any, and won't be back to the evening service. And he come to, in vury, maybe six months away. Didn't forget to ask after a frenzy m'crow. What one kindly pressed, the other is firmly promised, and the friend's having thus parted, with every testimony of mutual regard. The domestic of Lord Glen Allen took his road back to the seat of his master, leaving local tree to face onward his habitual pilgrimage. It was a fine summer evening, and the world, that is, the little circle which was all in all to the individual by whom it was trodden, lay before etiocratry for the choosing of his night's quarters. When he had passed the less hospitable domains of Glen Allen, he had in his option so many places of refuge for the evening, that he was nice and even fastidious in the choice. Ailey Sims public was on the roadside about a mile before him, but there would be a parcel of young fellows there on the Saturday night, and that was a bar to civil conversation. Other good men and good wives, as the farmers in their dames are termed in Scotland, successively presented themselves to his imagination. But one was deaf, and could not hear him. Another toothless, and could not make him here. A third had a cross-temper, and a fourth an ill-natured half-stog. At Monk Barnes, or a knock-winnick, he was sure of a favourable and hospitable reception, but they lay too distant to be conveniently reached that night. I didn't again, how it is, said the old man, but I'm nicer about my quarters this night than ever I mind having been in my life. I think having seen Ailey the rose-yonder and finding out I may be happier without them has made me proud of my own lot. But it was it both me good, for pride goeth before destruction. How, Tony Raid, the worst barn ever man-laying would be a pleasure aboed than the Nallen House, with Ailey the pictures in black velvet and silver boni-waldries belonging to it. Saad even settled a dine-sin, put in Friday-sins. As the old man descended the hill above the little hamlet, to which he was bending his course, the setting sun had relieved its inmates from their labour, and the young men availing themselves of the fine evening were engaged in the sport of long bowls on a patch of common, while the women and elders looked on. The shout, the laugh, the exclamations of winners and losers came in blended chorus up the path which Ogletree was descending, and awakened in his recollection the days when he himself had been a keen competitor and frequently victor in games of strength and agility. These remembrances seldom failed to excite a sigh, even when the evening of life was much brighter prospects than those of our poor mendicant. At that time of day, was his natural reflection, I would have thought just it about only old palmarin body that was coming down the edge of Gimbley-le-Mont, as only a day-celward young child does even now about Ogletree. He was, however, presently cheered by finding that more importance was attached to his modesty had anticipated. A disputed cast had occurred between the bands of players, and as the gager favored the one party and the schoolmaster the other, the matter might be said to be taken up by the higher powers. The miller and smith also had espoused different sides and considering the vivacity of two such disputants, there was reason to doubt whether the strife might be amicably but the first person who caught a sight of the mendicant exclaimed, ah, here comes old Eddie, that kins the rules of a country-games better than any man that ever drove a bowl or threw an axel-tree or put it a stein, either. Let's have Nyquirelyn Kalence will stand by old Eddie's judgment. Eddie was accordingly welcomed and installed as umpire with a general shout of graduation. With all the modesty of a bishop to whom the minor is proffered or of a new speaker called to the chair, the old man declined the high trust and responsibility with which it was proposed to invest him and, in requital for his self-denial in humility, had the pleasure of receiving the reiterated assurances of young, old and middle-aged that he was simply the best qualified person for the office of arbiter Thus encouraged, he proceeded gravely to the execution of his duty and strictly forbidding all aggravating expressions on either side. He heard the Smith and Gager on one side, the Miller and Schoolmaster on the other, as junior and senior counsel. Eddie's mind, however, was fully made up on the subject before the pleading began, like that of many a judge who must nevertheless go through all the forms and endure in its full extent the eloquence and argumentation of the bar. For when all had been said on both sides and much of it said over oftener than once, our senior, being well and rightly advised, pronounced the moderate and healing judgment that the disputed cast was a drawn one and should therefore count to neither party. This judicious decision ensured concord to the field of players. They began anew to arrange their match and their bets with the clamorous mirth, usual on such occasions of village sport. And the more eager were already stripping their jackets and committing them with their colored handkerchiefs to the care of wives, sisters and mistresses. But their mirth was singularly interrupted. On the outside of the group of players began to arise the sounds of a description very different from those of sport. That sort of suppressed sigh and exclamation with which the first news of calamities received by the hearers began to be heard indistinctly. A buzz went about among the women of, ay, sirs, say, young and say, suddenly summoned. It then extended itself among the men and silenced the sounds of sport of mirth. All understood at once that some disaster had happened in the country and each inquired the cause at his neighbor who knew as little as the queerest. At length the rumor reached in a distinct shape the ears of Eddie Ocultry, who was in the very center of the assembly. The boat of Mucklebacket, the fisherman, whom we have so often mentioned, had been swamped at sea and four men had perished. It was affirmed, including Mucklebacket and his son. Rumor had in this, however, as in other cases, gone beyond the truth. The boat had indeed been overset, but Stephen, or as he was called, Stiney, Mucklebacket, was the only man who had been drowned. Although the place of his residence and his mode of life removed the young man from the society of the country folks, yet they failed not to pause to pay that tribute to sudden calamity, which it seldom fails to receive in cases of infrequent occurrence. To Ocultry in particular, the news came like a knell, the rather that he had so lately engaged this young man's assistance in an affair of sport and mischief. And though neither loss nor injury was designed to the German adept, yet the work was not precisely one in which the latter hours of life ought to be occupied. The fortunes never come alone. While Ocultry, pensively leaning upon his staff, added his regrets to those of the Hamlet, which beweld the young man's sudden death, and internally blamed himself for the transaction in which he had so lately engaged him, the old man's collar was seized by a peace-officer who displayed his baton in his right hand and exclaimed in the king's name. The gager and schoolmaster united their rhetoric to prove to the constable and his assistant that he had no right to arrest the king's beadsman as a vagrant. And the mute eloquence of the Miller and Smith, which was vested in their clenched fists, was prepared to give Highland mail for their arbiter. His blue gown, they said, was his warrant for traveling the country. But his blue gown, answered the officer, is not a protection for assault, robbery, and murder, and my warrant is against him for these crimes. Murder! said Eddie. Murder! Why did I ever murder? Mr. German Dostorcevill the agent at Glenn Withershyn's mining works. Where are Dostorcevill? What! He's living and life-like man. Night thanks to you, Phoebe. He had a sigh of struggle for his life, if I would be true, he tells, and you might answer for it at the beginning of the law. The defenders of the mendicant shrunk back at hearing the atrocity of the charges against him, but more than one kind hand, thrust meat and bread, and pence upon Eddie, to maintain him in the prison, to which the officers were about to conduct him. Thanks to you. God bless you, barns. I have gotten out of money a snare when I was war-deserving the difference. I shall escape like a bird from the fowler. Ploughed to a play and never mind me, I more agree for the poor lad that's kind than for what that can do to me. Accordingly, the unresisting prisoner was let off while he mechanically accepted and stored in his wallets the alms which poured in on every hand. Here he left the hamlet. Was as deep played in as a government victualer. The laborer bearing this accumulating burden was, however, a bridge by the officer procuring a cart and horse to convey the old man to a magistrate in order to his examination and committal. The disaster of Steny and the arrest of Eddie put a stop to the sports of the village, the pence of inhabitants of which began to speculate upon the vicissitudes of human affairs, which had so suddenly consigned the comrades to the grave and placed their master of the rebels in some danger of being hanged. The character of Dousha Swivel, being pretty generally known, which was in his case equivalent to being pretty generally detested, there were many speculations upon the probability of the accusation being malicious. But all agreed that if Eddie Oakwitry behooved the accusation, it was a great pity he had not better merited his fate by killing Dousha Swivel outright. End Chapter 8 Volume 2 Chapter 9 of the antiquary The antiquary by Sir Walter Scott Chapter 9 Who is he? One that for the lack of land shall fight upon the water. He hath challenged formerly the Grand Whale and by his titles of Leviathan, Behemoth, and so forth. He tilted with a swordfish. Mary, sir, the aquatic had the best. The argument still galls our champion's breach. Old play. And the poor young fellow, Stiney Mucklebackett, is to be buried this morning. Said our old friend the antiquary as he exchanged his quilted nightgown for an old-fashioned black coat in lieu of the snuff-colored vestment, which he ordinarily wore. And I presume it is expected that I should attend the funeral. Why? Answered the faithful caxon, officiously brushing the white threads and specks from his patron's habit. The body, God help us, was sightbroken against the rocks, that they are feigned to hurry the burial. The seas are kittled cast as I tell my daughter, poor thing, when I want her to get up her spirits. The seas, as I Jenny is as uncertain a calling as the calling of an old periwigmaker that's robbed of his business by crops and the powder tax. Caxon, thy topics of consolation are as ill-chosen as they are foreign to the present purpose. Quid migum femina What have I to do with thy womankind who have enough and a spare of my own? I pray of you again am I expected by these poor people to attend the funeral of their son. Hoid doubtless, your honor is expected. Answered caxon, will thy watch here expected? You can, in this country, ill-co-gentlemen is wuss to be size civil as to see the corpse off his grounds. You need a gang higher than the lone head. It's no expected, your honor, so leave the land. It's just a cal-so convoy a step and a half over the door-stein. A cal-so convoy echo the inquisitive antiquary and why a cal-so convoy more than any other. Dear sir, answered caxon, how should I can? It's just a byword. Caxon, answered old buck, thou art a mere peri-wig-maker. Had I asked Oakletree the question, he would have had a legend ready made to my hand. My business, replied caxon, with more animation than he commonly displayed, is with the outside of your owner's head, as you are accustomed to see. True caxon true, and it is no reproach to a thatcher that he is not an upholsterer. He then took out his memorandum book and wrote down, cal-so convoy, said to be a step and a half over the threshold. Authority, caxon. Quara once derived men to write to Dr. Gray still upon the subject. Have he made this entry, he resumed. And truly, as to this custom of the landlord attending the body of the peasant, I approve it, caxon. And herein I must say, the feudal system, as also in its courtesy towards womankind in which it exceeded. Herein I say, the feudal usages mitigated and softened the sternness of classical times. No man caxon ever heard of a spartan attending the funeral of a hullot. Yet I derby sworn that, John of the Gurnal, you have heard of him, caxon. I, I, sir, answered caxon, nobody can have been Langoneerunner's company without hearing of that gentleman. Well, continued the antiquary, I would bet a trifle there was not a cold curl or bondsman or peasant, a scripteuse, glib-eye died upon the monks' territories down here, but John of the Gurnal saw them fairly and decently in turn. Hi. But if it like your honour, they say ye had more to do with the burst than the burials. Ha-ha! With a gleeful chuckle. Good caxon, very good. Why, you shined this morning. And besides, added caxon, slyly, encouraged by his patron's times, got something for a gang in about to burials. Right, caxon? Right as my glove. By the by I fancy that phrase comes from the custom of pledging a glove as a signal of irrefragable faith. Right, I say as my glove, caxon. But we of the Protestant ascendancy have the more merit in doing that duty for nothing, which cost money in the rain whom Spencer, caxon, terms in his allegorical phrase, the daughter of that woman blind, Abessa, daughter of Correca, slow. But why talk I of these things to thee? My poor level has spoiled me and taught me to speak aloud when it is much the same as speaking to myself. Where's my nephew, Hector Mentire? He's in the pardoser with the ladies. Very well. I will but take me thither. Now, Mark Barnes, said his sister, on his entry in the parlor, you might not be angry. My dear uncle, began Ms. Mentire. What's the meaning of all this, said Old Buck, in alarm of some impending bad news and arguing upon the supplicating tone of the ladies as a fortress apprehends an attack from the very first flourish that announces the summons? What's all this? What do you bespeak my patience for? No particular matter, I should hope, sir, said Hector, who with his arm in his sling was seated at the breakfast table. However, whatever it may amount to, I am answerable for it, as I am for much more trouble than I have occasioned, and for which I have little more than hardly welcome, only let it be a warning to you, said the antiquary, against your fits of anger, which is a short madness, irrefuro brevice. But what is this new disaster? My dog, sir, has, unfortunately, thrown down . . . . . . if it please heaven, not the lacrimatory from Clock Noven, interjected Old Buck. Indeed, uncle, said the young lady, I'm afraid, it was that which stood upon the sideboard, the poor thing only meant to eat the patch of fresh butter, in which she has fully succeeded, I presume, for I see that on the table assaulted. But that is nothing, my lacrimatory, the main pillar of my theory on which I rested to show, in despite of the ignorant obscency of past the defiles of these mountains, and left behind them traces of their arts and arms, is gone, annihilated, reduced to such fragrances, might be the shreds of a broken flower pot. Hector, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine. Well, I really, sir, I'm afraid I should make a bad figure in a regiment of your raising. At least, Hector, I would have you dispatch your camp-train and travel expeditus, or relictus impedimentus. You cannot conceive how I'm annoyed by this beast. She commits burglary, I believe, for I hurt her charged with breaking into the kitchen, after all the doors were locked, and eating up a shoulder of mutton. Our readers, if they chance to remember Jenny Rintaroud's precaution of leaving the door open when she went down to the fissure's will probably acquit poor Juno of that aggravation of guilt, which the lures call a claustrum frigate, and which makes a distinction between burglary and privately stealing. I am truly sorry, sir, said Hector, that Juno has committed so much disorder. But Jack Muirhead, the breaker, was never able to bring her under command. She has more travel than any bitch I ever knew, but then, Hector, I wish the bitch would travel herself out of my grounds. We will both of us retreat tomorrow or today, but I would not willingly part from my mother's mother in unkindness about a paltry pipkin. Oh, brother, brother, ejaculated Miss Mintire in utter despair at this vituberative epithet. Why? What would you have me call it? It was just such a thing as they used in Egypt to cool wine or sherbet or water. I brought home a pair of them. I might have brought home twenty. What? said Old Buck. Shape such as that, your dog threw down. Yes, sir. Much such a sort of earthen jar as that which was on the side-born. There are my lodgings at Fairport. We brought a parcel of them to cool our wine on the passage. They answer wonderfully well. If I could think they would in any degree repay your loss or rather that they could afford you pleasure, I am sure I should be much honoured by your accepting them. Indeed, my dear boy, I should be highly gratified by possessing them. To trace the connection of nations by their usages, and the similarity of the implements which they employ has been long my favourite study. Everything that can illustrate such connections is most valuable to me. While, sir, I shall be much gratified by your acceptance of them and a few trifles of the same kind. And now, am I to hope you have forgiven me? Oh, my dear boy, you are only thoughtless and foolish. But, you know, she is only thoughtless, too, I assure you. The breaker tells me she is no vice or stubbornness. I grant you know also a free pardon, conditioned that you will imitate her in avoiding vice and stubbornness and that henceforward she banish herself forth of Monk Barn's parlor. Then, uncle, said the soldier, I should have been very sorry and ashamed to propose to you anything in the way of expiation of my own sins or those of my father were that I thought worth your acceptance. But now, as all is forgiven, will you permit the orphaned nephew to whom you have been a father to offer you a trifle which I have been assured is really curious and which only the cross accident of my wound has prevented my delivering to you before. I got it from a French savant to whom I rendered some service after the Alexandria affair. The captain put a small ring case into the antiquary's hands which, when opened, was found to contain an antique ring of massive gold with a cameo most beautifully executed bearing ahead of Cleopatra. The antiquary broke forth into unrepressed ecstasy, shook his nephew cordially by the hand, thanked him a hundred times and showed the ring to his sister and niece, the latter of whom had the tact to give it sufficient admiration. But Miss Grisalda, though she had the same affection for her nephew, had not addressed enough to follow the lead. It's a bony thing, she said, Monk Barnes, and I dare say valuable, but it's out of my way. You can, I'm not a judge if it matters. There spoke all fairport in one voice, exclaimed Old Buck, it is the very spirit of the borough has infected us all. I think I have smelled the smoke these two days that the wind has stuck like a remora in the northeast and its prejudices fly farther than its vapours. Believe me, my dear Hector, where I to walk up the high street of Fairport displaying this inestimable gem in the eyes of each one I met, no human creature from the provost to the town crier was stopped to ask me its history. But if I carried a bale of linen cloth under my arm I could not penetrate to the horse market ere I should be overwhelmed with queries about its precise texture and price. Oh, one might parody their brutal ignorance in the words of Gray. Weave the warp and weave the woof, the winding sheet of wooden scents, dull garment of defensive proof, against all that doth not gather pence. The most remarkable proof of this peace offering being quite acceptable was that while the antiquary was in full declamation, Juno, who held him in awe according to the remarkable instinct by which dogs instantly discover those who like or dislike them, had peep several times into the room, and encountering nothing very forbidding in his aspect, had at length presumed to introduce her full person, and finally, becoming bold by impunity, she actually ate up Mr. Old Buck's toast, as, looking first at one, then at another of his audience, he repeated with self-complacency, weave the warp and weave the woof. You remember the passage in The Fatal Sisters, which, by the way, is not so fine as in the original. But, hey, day, my toast is vanished! I see which way! Ah! How type of woman-kind! No wonder they take offence at thy generic appellation. So, saying, he shook his fist at Juno, who scoured out of the parlor. However, as Jupiter, according to Homer, could not rule Juno in heaven, and his jack-mure head, according to Hector entire, has been equally unsuccessful on earth. I suppose she must have her own way. And this mild censure, the brother and sister justly accounted a full pardon for Juno's offences, and sat down, well-pleased, to the morning meal. When breakfast is over, the antiquary proposed to his nephew to go down with him to attend the funeral. The soldier pleaded the want of a morning habit. Oh, that does not signify. Your presence is all that is requisite. I assure you, you will see something that will entertain. No, that's an improper phrase, but that will interest you, from the resemblances which I will point out betwixt popular customs on such occasions, and those of the ancients. Heaven forgive me, thought Mentire, I shall certainly misbehave, and lose all the credit I have so lately accidentally gained. When they set out, schooled as he was by the warning and in-treating looks of his sister, the soldier made his resolution strong to give no offense by evincing inattention or impatience. But our best resolutions are frail, when opposed to our predominant inclinations. Our antiquary, to leave nothing unexplained, had commenced with the funeral rites of the ancients' Scandinavians when his nephew interrupted him in a discussion upon the age of hills, to remark that a large seagull, which flitted around them, had come twice within shot. This error being acknowledged and pardoned, Ulbuk resumed his disquisition. These are circumstances you ought to attend to and be familiar with, my dear Hector, for in the strange contingencies of the present war, which agitates every corner of Europe, there is no knowing where you may be called upon to serve. Or any part of the ancient Scania, or Scandinavia, as we term it. What could be more convenient than to have at your fingers' ends the history and antiquities of that ancient country, the Ophesina Gentium, the mother of modern Europe, the nursery of those heroes, stern to inflict and stubborn to endure who smiled in death? How animating, for example, at the inclusion of a weary march, to find yourself in the vicinity of a runic monument and discover that you have pitched your temp beside the tomb of a hero. I am afraid, sir, our mess would be better supplied if it chanced to be in the neighbourhood of a good poultry-yard. Alas, that you should say so. No wonder the days of Cressy and Agincourt are no more. When respect for ancient valor has died away in the breast of the British soldiery. By no means, sir. By no manner of means. I dare say that Edward and Henry and the rest of these heroes thought of their dinner, however, before they thought of examining an old tombstone. But I assure you, we are by no means insensible to the memoir of our father's fame. I used often of an evening to get old Rory Melton to sing us songs out of Ocean about the battles of Fingall and Lemonmore and Magnus and the spirit of Muratoc. And did you believe, asked the aroused antiquary, did you absolutely believe that stuff of McPherson's to be really ancient, you simple boy? Believe it, sir. How could I but believe it when I've heard the song-song from my infancy? But not the same as McPherson's English Ocean. You're not absurd enough to say that, I hope, said the antiquary, his brow darkening with wrath. But Hector Astoutly abode the storm, like many a sturdy kelt, he imagined the honour of his country and native language connected with the authenticity of these popular poems and would have fought knee-deep or forfeited life in land rather than have given up the line of them. He therefore undoubtedly maintained that Rory Malpin could repeat the whole book from one end to another. And it was only upon cross-examination that he explained an assertion so general by adding, at least if he was loud whiskey enough he could repeat as long as anybody would hearken to him. I, I, said the antiquary, and that I suppose was not very long. Why, we had our duty, sir, to attend to and could not sit listening all night to a piper. But do you recollect now, said Old Buck, setting his teeth firmly together and speaking without opening them, which was his custom when contradicted. Do you recollect now any of these verses you thought so beautiful and interesting, being a capital judge no doubt of such things? I don't pretend to much skill, Uncle, but it's not very reasonable to be angry with me for admiring the antiquities of my own country more than those of the Harolds, Harfigurs, and Hakkos you're so fond of. Why, these, sir, these mining and unconquered Goths were your ancestors. The bare-breach Celts, whom they subdued and suffered only to exist, like a fearful people in the crevices of the rocks, were but their mancipia and serfs. Hector's brow now grew red in his turn. Sir, he said, I don't understand the meaning of mancipia and serfs, but I can see that such names are very improperly applied to Scotch Highlanders. No man but my mother's brother dared to review such language in my presence, and I pray you will observe that I consider it as neither hospitable, handsome, kind, nor generous usage toward your guests in your kinsmen. My ancestors, Mr. Oldbuck, were great and gallant chiefs, I dare say, Hector, and really I did not mean to give you such immense offense in treating a point of remote antiquity, a subject on which I always am myself cool, deliberate, and unimpassioned. But you are as hot and hasty as if you were Hector and Achilles and Agamemnon to boot. I am sorry I expressed myself so hastily, uncle, especially to you, who have been so generous and good. But my ancestors, no more about it, lad, I meant them no affront, none. I am glad of it, sir, for the house of men tire, peace be with them all, every man of them, said the antiquary, but to return to our subject, do you recollect, I say, any of those poems which afforded you such amusement? Very hard this, thought men tire, that he will speak with such glee of everything which is ancient, accepting my family. Then after some efforts at recollection, he added aloud, Yes, sir, I think I do remember some lines, but you do not understand the Gaelic language, and will readily excuse hearing it, but you can't give me some idea in our own vernacular idiom. I shall prove a wretched interpreter, said men tire, running over the original, while garnished withogs, ogs, and o's, and similar gutter-rolls, and then coughing and hawking, as if the translation stuck in his throat. At length, having premised that the poem was a dialogue between the poet Crescent, or Ocean, and Patrick, the Toodler Saint of Ireland, and that it was difficult, if not impossible, to render the exquisite felicity of the first two or three lines, he said the sense was to this purpose. Patrick, the solemn singer, since you will not listen to one of my stories, though you never heard it before, I am sorry to tell you, you are a little better than an ass. Good, good, exclaim the antiquary, but go on, why this is, after all, the most admirable fooling, I dare say the poet was very right. What says the saint? He replies in character, said men tire, but you should hear a Malpin sing the original. The speeches of Ocean come in upon a strong deep base. Those of Patrick are upon a tenor key. Like Malpin's drone in small pipes, I suppose, said old Buck. Well, pray go on. Well then, Patrick replies to Ocean, upon my word, son of Thingel, while I am warbly in the Psalms, the clamor of your old women's tails disturbs my devotional exercises. Excellent. Why, this is better and better. I hope Saint Patrick sung better than Lattergal's presenter, or it would be Hang, choice between the poet and Psalmist. But what I admire is the courtesy of these two eminent persons towards each other. It is a pity there should not be a word of this in McPherson's translation. If you are sure of that, said men tire gravely, he must have taken very unwarrantable liberties with his original. It will go near to be thought so shortly, but pray proceed. Then, said men tire, this is the answer of Ocean. Dare you compare your Psalms, you son of a son of a what? exclaimed old Buck. It means, I think, said the young soldier with some reluctance, son of a female dog. Do you compare your Psalms to the tails of the bear armed Finians? Are you translating that last epithet correctly, Hector? Quite sure, sir. Answered Hector, doggedly. Because I should have thought the nudity might have been quoted as existing in a different part of the body. Distaining to reply to this insinuation, Hector proceeded in his recitation, I shall think it no great harm to wring your bald head from your shoulders. But what is that yonder? exclaimed Hector, interrupting himself. One of the herd of Proteus said the antiquary, Afoka, or seal, lying asleep on the beach. Upon which men tire, with the eagerness of a young sportsman, totally forgot both Ocean, Patrick, his uncle, and his wound, and exclaiming, I shall have her, I shall have her. Snatched the walking stick out of the hand of the astonished antiquary, at some risk of throwing him down and set off at full speed to get between the animal and the sea, to which element, having caught the alarm, she was rapidly retreating. Not Sancho, when his master interrupted his account of the combatants of Pentapolan, with the naked arm, to advance in person to the charge stood more confounded than Old Buck at the sudden escapade of his nephew. If the devil in him was his first exclamation, to go to disturb the brute that was never thinking of him, then elevating his voice, Hector, nephew, fool, let alone the foca, let alone the foca, they bide I tell you like furies, he minds me, no more than a post, there, there they are at it, God, the foca has the best of it, I am glad to see it, said he, in the bitterness of his heart, though really alarmed for his nephew's safety, I am glad to see it, with all my heart and spirit. In truth, the seal, finding her retreat, intercepted by the light-footed soldier, confronted him manfully, and having sustained a heavy blow without any further injury, she knitted her brows, as is the fashion of the animal when incensed, and making use at once of her fore-pause and her unwieldy strength, wrenched the weapon out of the assailant's hand, overturned him on the sands, and scuttled away into the sea, without doing him any further injury. Catch him entire, a good deal, out of countenance at the issue of his exploit, he believed the ironical congratulations of his uncle, upon a single combat, worthy to be commemorated by Ocean himself. Since, said the antiquary, your magnanimous opponent has fled, though not upon Eagle's wings, from the foe that was low. Egan, she walloped away with all the grace of triumph, and has carried my stick off also, by way of Spoldia, Opema. He also made his fall an apology for returning back to Monk Barnes, and thus escaped the father ray of the rey of his uncle, as well as his lamentations for his walking-stick. I cut it, he said, in the classic woods of Hawthorne County, and in the forest of Monk Barnes, and in the forest of Monk Barnes, in the classic woods of Hawthorne when I did not expect always to have been a bachelor. I would not have given it for an ocean of seals. Oh, Hector, Hector, thy namesake was born to be the prop of Troy, and thou to be the plague of Monk Barnes. End Chapter 9. Volume 2, Chapter 10, of the Antiquary This Leap of Box recording is in the public domain. The Antiquary by Sir Walter Scott. Chapter 10. Tell me not of it, friend, when the young weep their tears are lukewarm brine. From your old eyes sorrow falls down like hail drops of the north, chilling the furrows of our withered cheeks, cold as our hopes and hardened as our feeling. There's as they fall sink sightless. Ours recoil keep the fair plain and bleak in all before us. Old play. The Antiquary being now alone hastened his pace which had been retarded by these various discussions and the recounter which had closed them and soon arrived before the half-dozen cottages at Muscle Crag. They had now in addition to their usual squalid and uncomfortable appearance the melancholy attributes of the house of mourning. The boats were all drawn up on the beach and though the day was fine and the season favorable the chant which is used by the fishers when at sea was silent as well as the paddle of the children and the shrill song of the mother as she sits mending her nets by the door. A few of the neighbors others in their ordinary clothes but all bearing an expression of mournful sympathy with distress so sudden and unexpected stood gathered around the door of Muscle Baget's cottage waiting till the body was lifted. As the load of Monk Barnes approached they made way for him to enter doffing their hats and bonnets as he passed with an air of melancholy and he returned their salutes in the same manner. In the inside of the cottage was a scene which our Wilkie alone could have painted with that exquisite feeling of nature that characterizes his enchanting productions. The body was laid in its coffin within the wooden bedstead which the young fisher had occupied while alive. At a little distance stood the father whose rugged weather-beaten countenance shaded by his grizzled hair had faced many a stormy night and night-like day. He was apparently revolving his loss in his mind with that strong feeling of painful grief peculiar to harsh and rough characters which almost breaks forth into hatred against the world and all that remain in it after the beloved object is withdrawn. The old man had made the most desperate efforts to save his son and had only been withheld by main force from renewing them at a moment when without the possibility of assisting the sufferer he must himself have perished. All this apparently was boiling in his recollection. His glance was directed side-long towards the coffin as to an object on which he could not set vastly look and yet from which he could not withdraw his eyes. His answers to the necessary questions which were occasionally put to him were brief, harsh and almost fierce. His family had not yet dared to address to him a word, either of sympathy or consolation. His masculine wife Virago as she was an absolute mistress of the family as she justly boasted herself on all ordinary occasions was by this great loss terrified into silence and submission and compelled to hide from her husband's observation the burst of her female sorrow. As he had rejected food ever since the disaster had happened not daring herself to approach him she had that morning with affectionate artifice employed the youngest and favorite child to present her husband with some nourishment. His first action was to put it from him with an angry violence that frightened the child. His next to snatch up the boy and devour him with kisses. He'll be a bright fellow I'll need be spared Patti but she'll never, never can be what he was to me. He was sighed the cobble with me since he was ten years-eyed and there was neither like a hymn due a net betwixt this and book a nest. They say folks must submit I will try. And he had been silent from that moment and tell compelled to answer the necessary questions we have already noticed. Such was the discontent state of the father. In another corner of the cottage her face covered by her apron which was flung over it sat the mother. The nature of her grief sufficiently indicated by the ringing of her hands and the convulsive agitation of the bosom which the covering could not conceal. Two of her gossips officially whispering into her ear the commonplace topic of resignation under irremediable misfortune seemed as if they were endeavoring to stun the grief which they could not console. The sorrow of the children was mingled with wonder at the preparations they beheld around them and at the unusual display and bread and wine which the poorest peasant or fisher offers to the guests on these mournful occasions and thus their grief for their brother's death was almost already lost in admiration of the splendor of his funeral. But the figure of the old grandmother was the most remarkable of the sorrowing group. Seated on her accustomed chair with her usual air of apathy and want of interest in what surrounded her, she seemed every now and then mechanically to resume the motion of twirling her spindle then to look towards her bosom for the distaff although both had been laid aside. She would then cast her eyes about as if surprised at missing the usual implements of her industry and appear struck by the black color of the gown in which they addressed her and embarrassed by the number of persons by whom she was surrounded. Then finally she would raise her head with a ghastly look and fix her eyes upon the bed which contained the coffin of her grandson as if she had at once and for the first time acquired sense to comprehend her inexpressible calamity. These alternate feelings of embarrassment, wonder and grief seemed to succeed each other more than once upon her torpid features. But she spoke not a word and neither had she shed a tear nor did one of the family understand either from look or expression to what extent she comprehended the uncommon bustle around her. Thus she sat among the funeral assembly like a connecting link between the surviving mourners and the dead corpse which they bewailed. A being in whom the light of existence was already obscured by the encroaching shadows of death. When Old Buck entered this house of mourning he was received by a general in silent inclination of the head and according to the fashion of Scotland on such occasions wine and spirits and bread were offered round to the guests. Ellsworth, as these refreshments were presented, surprised and startled the whole company by motioning to the person who bore them to stop. Then taking a glass in her hand she rose up and as a smile of dodage played upon her shriveled features she pronounced with a hallow and tremulous voice wishing either health sisters and often may we hide such merry meetings. All shrunk from the ominous pledge and sat down the untasted liquor with a degree of shuttering horror which will not surprise those who know how many superstitions are still common on such occasions among the Scottish vulgar. But as the old woman tasted the liquor she suddenly exclaimed with a sort of shriek What's this? This is wine. How should there be wine in my son's house? I... She continued with a suppressed groan. I mind the swordful cause now. And dropping the glass from her hand she stood a moment gazing fixedly on the bed in which the coffin of her grandson was deposited. And then, sinking gradually into her seat she covered her eyes and forehead with her withered and pallid hand. At this moment the clergyman entered the cottage. Mr. Blattergall though a dreadful proser particularly on the subject of augmentations localities tines and overtures in that session of the journal assembly to which unfortunately for his auditors he chanced one year to act as moderator was nevertheless a good man in the old Scottish Presbyterian phrase godward and manward. No divine was more attentive in visiting the sick and afflicted in catacysing the youth in instructing the ignorant and in reproving the airing and hence notwithstanding the patience of his prolixity and prejudices personal or professional and notwithstanding moreover a certain habitual contempt for his understanding especially on affairs of genius and taste on which Blattergall was apt to be diffuse from his hope of one day fighting his way to a chair of rhetoric or ballet notwithstanding I say all the prejudices excited against him by these circumstances our friend the antiquary looked with great regard and respect on the said Blattergall though I own he could seldom even by his sense of decency and the remonstrances of his womankind be hounded out as he called it to hear him preach but he regularly took shame to himself for his absence when Blattergall came to Monk Barnes to dinner to which he was always invited of a Sunday a mode of testifying his respect which the proprietor probably thoughtfully is agreeable to the clergyman and rather more congenial to his own habits to return from a digression which can only serve to introduce the honest clergyman more particularly to our readers Mr. Blattergall had no sooner entered the hut and received the mute and melancholy salutations of the company whom it contained then he edged himself towards the unfortunate father and seemed to endeavor to slide in a few words of condolence or of consolation but the old man was incapable as yet of receiving either he nodded however gruffly and shook the clergyman's hand in acknowledgement of his good intentions but was either unable or unwilling to make any verbal reply the minister next passed to the mother moving along the floor as slowly silently and gradually as if you had been afraid that the ground would, like unsafe ice break beneath his feet or that the first echo of a footstep was to dissolve some magic spell and plunge the hut with all its inmates into a subterranean abyss the tenor of what he had said to the poor woman could only be judged by her answers as half stifled by sobs ill repressed and by the covering which she still kept over her countenance she faintly answered at each pause in the speech yes sir yes you're very good you're very good night out night out it's our duty sismet but oh dear my poor steeny the pride of my very heart and a true's family and a comfort to a sigh and a pleasure to hide that look at on him oh my barn my barn my barn what for is thou lying there and I what for my left to greet for ye there was no contending with this burst of sorrow and natural affection old buck had repeated recourse to his snuff box to conceal the tears which despite a shrewd and caustic temper were apt to start on such occasions the female assistants whimpered the men held their bonnets to their faces and spoke apart with each other the clergyman meantime addressed his ghostly consolation to the aged grandmother at first she listened or seemed to listen to what he said with the apathy of her usual unconsciousness but as in pressing this theme he approached so near to her ear that the sense of his words became distinctly intelligible to her though unheard by those who stood more distant her countenance at once assumed that stern and expressive cast which characterized her intervals of intelligence she drew up her head and body shook her head in a manner that showed at least impatience if not scorn of his counsel and waved her hand slightly but with a gesture so expressive as to indicate to all who witnessed it a marked and disdainful rejection of the ghostly consolation proffered to her the minister stepped back as if repulsed and by lifting gently and dropping his hand seemed to show at once wonder, sorrow and compassion for her dreadful state of mind the rest of the company sympathized and the stifled whisperer went through them indicating how much her desperate and determined manner impressed them with awe and even horror in the meantime the funeral company was completed by the arrival of one or two persons who had been expected from Fairport the wine and spirits again circulated and the dumb show of greeting was a new interchange the randam a second time took a glass in her hand drank its contents and exclaimed with a sort of laugh hi, hi I tasted wine twice an idea when did I that before think ye comers never since and the transient glow vanishing from her countenance she set the glass down and sunk upon the settle from what she had risen to snatch at it as the general amazement subsided Mr. Oldbuck whose heart bled to witness what he considered as the Aryans of the enfeebled intellect struggling with the torpid chill of age and of sorrow observed to the clergyman that it was time to proceed with the ceremony the father was incapable of giving directions but the nearest relation of the family made a sign to the carpenter who in such cases goes through the duty of the undertaker to proceed in his office the creek of the screw nails presently announced that the lid of the last mansion of mortality was in the act of being secured above its tenet the last act which separates us forever even from the mortal relies of the person we assemble to mourn has usually its effect upon the most indifferent selfish and hard-hearted with the spirit of contradiction which we may be pardoned for esteeming narrow-minded the fathers of the Scottish Kirk rejected even on this most solemn occasion the form of an address to the divinity lest this should be thought to give countenance to the rituals of Rome or of England with much better and more liberal judgment it is the present practice of most of the Scottish clergyman to seize this opportunity of offering a prayer of exhortation suitable to make an impression upon the living while they are yet in the very presence of the relics of him whom they have but lately seen such as they themselves and who now is such as they must in their time become but this decent and praiseworthy practice was not adopted at the time of which I am treating or at least Mr. Blattergal did not act upon it and the ceremony proceeded without any exercise the coffin covered with a paw and supported upon hand spikes by the nearest relatives now only waited the father to support the head as his customary two or three of these privileged persons spoke to him but he only answered by shaking his hand and his head in token of refusal with better intention than judgment the friends who considered this an act of duty on the part of the living and of decency towards the deceased would have proceeded to enforce the request had not Old Buck interfered between the distressed father and his well-meaning tormentors and informed them that he himself as landlord and master to the deceased would carry his head to the grave in spite of the sorrowful occasion the hearts of the relatives swallowed within them at so marked a distinction on the part of the lared an old Allison Breck who was present among other fish women swore almost aloud his honor, Muck Barnes should never want sex warp of oysters in the season of which fish he was understood to be fond if she should gang to sea and dredge for them percent in the fattest swim that ever blew and such is the temper of the Scottish common people that by this instance of compliance with their customs and respect for their persons Mr. Old Buck gained more popularity than by all the sums which he had yearly distributed in the parish for purposes of private or general charity the sad procession now moves slowly forward proceeded by the Beatles or Solveys with their batons miserable-looking old men tottering as if on the edge of that grave to which they were marshaling another and clad according to Scottish guys with red bare black coats and hunting caps decorated with rusty crepe Muck Barnes would probably have remonstrated against this superfluous expense had he been consultant but in doing so he would have given more offense than he gained popularity by condescending to perform the office of chief mourner of this he was quite aware and wisely withheld rebuke where rebuke and advice would have been equally unavailing in truth the Scottish peasantry are still infected with that rage for funeral ceremonial which once distinguished the grandies of the kingdom so much that a sumptuary law was made by the parliament of Scotland for the purpose of restraining it and I have known many in the lowest stations who have denied themselves not merely the comforts but almost the necessaries of life in order to save such a sum of money as might enable their surviving friends to bury them like Christians as they termed it nor could their faithful executors be prevailed upon though equally necessitous to turn to the use and maintenance of the living the money vainly wasted upon the interment of the dead the procession to the churchyard at about half a miles distance was made with the mournful solemnity usual on these occasions the body was consigned to its parent earth and when the labourer of the grave diggers had filled up the trench and covered it with fresh sawn Mr. Oldbuck taking his hat off saluted the assistants who had stood by in melancholy silence and with that a dew dispersed the mourners the clergyman offered our antiquaries company to walk homeward but Mr. Oldbuck had been so much struck with the deportment of the fisherman and his mother that moved by compassion and perhaps also in some degree by that curiosity which induces us to seek out even what gives us pain to witness he preferred a solitary walk by the coast for the purpose of again visiting the cottage as he passed End Chapter 10