"Hem, hem! I am sorry, sir--I am very sorry, Colonel Mannering,
that Miss Bertram should suppose--that any prejudice, in short--or
idea that anything on my part--"

"Sir," said the inflexible Colonel, "where no accusation is made,
excuses or explanations are unnecessary. Have you any objection to
communicate to me, as Miss Bertram's temporary guardian, the
circumstances which you conceive to interest her?"

"None, Colonel Mannering; she could not choose a more respectable
friend, or one with whom I, in particular, would more anxiously
wish to communicate frankly."

"Have the goodness to speak to the point, sir, if you please."

"Why, sir, it is not so easy all at once--but Mr. Hazlewood need
not leave the room,--I mean so well to Miss Bertram, that I could
wish the whole world to hear my part of the conference."

"My friend Mr. Charles Hazlewood will not probably be anxious, Mr.
Glossin, to listen to what cannot concern him--and now, when he
has left us alone, let me pray you to be short and explicit in what
you have to say. I am a soldier, sir, somewhat impatient of forms
and introductions." So saying he drew himself up in his chair, and
waited for Mr. Glossin's communication.

"Be pleased to look at that letter," said Glossin, putting
Protocol's epistle into Mannering's hand, as the shortest way of
stating his business.

The Colonel read it, and returned it, after pencilling the name of
the writer in his memorandum-book. "This, sir, does not seem to
require much discussion--I will see that Miss Bertram's interest is
attended to."

"But, sir,--but, Colonel Mannering," added Glossin, there is
another matter which no one can explain but myself. This
lady--this Mrs. Margaret Bertram, to my certain knowledge, made a
general settlement of her affairs in Miss Lucy Bertram's favour
while she lived with my old friend, Mr. Bertram, at Ellangowan.
The Dominie--that was the name by which my deceased friend always
called that very respectable man Mr. Sampson--he and I witnessed
the deed. And she had full power at that time to make such a
settlement, for she was in fee of the estate of Singleside even
then, although it was life-rented by an elder sister. It was a
whimsical settlement of old Singleside's, sir; he pitted the two
cats his daughters against each other, ha, ha, ha!"

"Well, sir," said Mannering, without the slightest smile of
sympathy, "but to the purpose. You say that this lady had power to
settle her estate on Miss Bertram, and that she did so?"

"Even so, Colonel," replied Glossin. "I think I should understand
the law--I have followed it for many years, and though I have given
it up to retire upon a handsome competence, I did not throw away
that knowledge which is pronounced better than house and land, and
which I take to be the knowledge of the law, since, as our common
rhyme has it,

  "'Tis most excellent,
  To win the land that's gone and spent.

No, no, I love the smack of the whip--I have a little, a very
little law yet, at the service of my friends."

"Glossin ran on in this manner, thinking he had made a favourable
impression on Mannering. The Colonel indeed reflected that this
might be a most important crisis for Miss Bertram's interest, and
resolved that his strong inclination to throw Glossin out at
window, or at door, should not interfere with it. He put a strong
curb on his temper, and resolved to listen with patience at least,
if without complacency. He therefore let Mr. Glossin get to the
end of his self-congratulations, and then asked him if he knew
where the deed was?"

"I know--that is, I think--I believe I can recover it--In such
cases custodiers have sometimes made a charge."

"We won't differ as to that, sir," said the Colonel, taking out his
pocket-book.

"But, my dear sir, you take me so very short--I said some persons
might make such a claim--I mean for payment of the expenses of the
deed, trouble in the affair, etc. But I, for my own part, only
wish Miss Bertram and her friends to be satisfied that I am acting
towards her with honour. There's the paper, sir! It would have been
a satisfaction to me to have delivered it into Miss Bertram's own
hands, and to have wished her joy of the prospects which it opens.
But since her prejudices on the subject are invincible, it only
remains for me to transmit her my best wishes through you, Colonel
Mannering, and to express that I shall willingly give my testimony
in support of that deed when I shall be called upon. I have the
honour to wish you a good morning, sir."

This parting speech was so well got up, and had so much the tone of
conscious integrity unjustly suspected, that even Colonel Mannering
was staggered in his bad opinion. He followed him two or three
steps, and took leave of him with more politeness (though still
cold and formal) than he had paid during his visit. Glossin left
the house half pleased with the impression he had made, half
mortified by the stern caution and proud reluctance with which he
had been received. "Colonel Mannering might have had more
politeness," he said to himself--"it is not every man that can
bring a good chance of 400L a year to a penniless girl. Singleside
must be up to 400L a year now--there's Reilageganbed, Gillifidget,
Loverless, Liealone, and the Spinster's Knowe--good 400L a year.
Some people might have made their own of it in my place--and yet,
to own the truth, after much consideration, I don't see how that is
possible."

Glossin was no sooner mounted and gone, than the Colonel despatched
a groom for Mr. Mac-Morlan, and, putting the deed into his hand,
requested to know if it was likely to be available to his friend
Lucy Bertram. Mac-Morlan perused it with eyes that sparkled with
delight, snapped his fingers repeatedly, and at length exclaimed,
"Available!--it's as tight as a glove--naebody could make better
wark than Glossin, when he didna let down a steek on purpose.--But
(his countenance falling) the auld b--, that I should say so, might
alter at pleasure!"

"Ah! And how shall we know whether she has done so?"

"Somebody must attend on Miss Bertram's part, when the repositories
of the deceased are opened."

"Can you go?" said the Colonel. "I fear I cannot," replied
Mac-Morlan; "I must attend a jury trial before our court."

"Then I will go myself," said the Colonel; "I'll set out
to-morrow. Sampson shall go with me--he is witness to this
settlement. But I shall want a legal adviser?"

"The gentleman that was lately Sheriff of this county is high in
reputation as a barrister; I will give you a card of introduction
to him."

"What I like about you, Mr. Mac-Morlan," said the Colonel, "is,
that you always come straight to the point. Let me have it
instantly--shall we tell Miss Lucy her chance of becoming an
heiress?"

"Surely, because you must have some powers from her, which I will
instantly draw out. Besides, I will be caution for her prudence,
and that she will consider it only in the light of a chance."

Mac-Morlan judged well. It could not be discerned from Miss
Bertram's manner that she founded exulting hopes upon the prospect
thus unexpectedly opening before her. She did indeed, in the
course of the evening, ask Mr. Mac-Morlan, as if by accident, what
might be the annual income of the Hazlewood property; but shall we
therefore aver for certain that she was considering whether an
heiress of four hundred a year might be a suitable match for the
young Laird?



CHAPTER XXXVI.

  Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red--For I
  must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses'
  vein.             Henry IV. Part 1

MANNERING, with Sampson for his companion, lost no time in his
journey to Edinburgh. They travelled in the Colonel's
post-chariot, who, knowing his companion's habits of abstraction,
did not choose to lose him out of his own sight, far less to trust
him on horseback, where, in all probability, a knavish stable-boy
might with little address have contrived to mount him with his face
to the tail. Accordingly, with the aid of his valet, who attended
on horseback, he contrived to bring Mr. Sampson safe to an inn in
Edinburgh,--for hotels in those days there were none,--without
any other accident than arose from his straying twice upon the
road. On one occasion he was recovered by Barnes, who understood
his humour, when, after engaging in close colloquy with the
schoolmaster of Moffat, respecting a disputed quantity in Horace's
7th Ode, Book ll., the dispute led on to another controversy,
concerning the exact meaning of the word Malobathro, in that lyric
effusion. His second escapade was made for the purpose of visiting
the field of Rullion-green, which was dear to his Presbyterian
predilections. Having got out of the carriage for an instant, he
saw the sepulchral monument of the slain at the distance of about a
mile, and was arrested by Barnes in his progress up the Pentland
Hills, having on both occasions forgot his friend, patron, and
fellow-traveller, as completely as if he had been in the East
Indies. On being reminded that Colonel Mannering was waiting for
him, he uttered his usual ejaculation of "Prodigious!--I was
oblivious," and then strode back to his post. Barnes was surprised
at his master's patience on both occasions, knowing by experience
how little he brooked neglect or delay; but the Dominie was in
every respect a privileged person. His patron and he were never
for a moment in each other's way, and it seemed obvious that they
were formed to be companions through life. If Mannering wanted a
particular book, the Dominie could bring it; if he wished to have
accounts summed up, or checked, his assistance was equally ready;
if he desired to recall a particular passage in the classics, he
could have recourse to the Dominie as to a dictionary; and all the
while, this walking statue was neither presuming when noticed, nor
sulky when left to himself. To a proud, shy, reserved man, and
such in many respects was Mannering, this sort of living
catalogue, and animated automaton, had all the advantages of a
literary dumb-waiter.

As soon as they arrived in Edinburgh, and were established at the
George Inn near Bristol Port, then kept by old Cockburn (I love to
be particular), the Colonel desired the waiter to procure him a
guide to Mr. Pleydell's, the advocate, for whom he had a letter of
introduction from Mr. Mac-Morlan. He then commanded Barnes to
have an eye to the Dominie, and walked forth with a chairman, who
was to usher him to the man of law.

The period was near the end of the American war. The desire of
room, of air, and of decent accommodation, had not as yet made very
much progress in the capital of Scotland. Some efforts had been
made on the south side of the town towards building houses within
themselves, as they are emphatically termed; and the New Town on
the north, since so much extended, was then just commenced. But
the great bulk of the better classes, and particularly those
connected with the law, still lived in flats or dungeons of the Old
Town. The manners also of some of the veterans of the law had not
admitted innovation. One or two eminent lawyers still saw their
clients in taverns, as was the general custom fifty years before;
and although their habits were already considered as old-fashioned
by the younger barristers, yet the custom of mixing wine and
revelry with serious business was still maintained by those serious
counsellors, who loved the old road, either because it was such, or
because they had got too well used to it to travel any other. Among
those praisers of the past time, who with ostentatious obstinacy
affected the manners of a former generation, was this same Paulus
Pleydell, Esq., otherwise a good scholar, an excellent lawyer, and
a worthy man.

Under the guidance of his trusty attendant, Colonel Mannering,
after threading a dark lane or two, reached the High Street, then
clanging with the voices of oyster-women and the bells of pie-men;
for it had, as his guide assured him, just "chappit [*struck]
eight upon the Tron." It was long since Mannering had been in the
street of a crowded metropolis, which, with its noise and clamour,
its sounds of trade, of revelry and of licence, its variety of
lights, and the eternally changing bustle of its hundred groups,
offers, by night especially, a spectacle, which, though composed of
the most vulgar materials when they are separately considered, has,
when they are combined, a striking and powerful effect on the
imagination. The extraordinary height of the houses was marked by
lights, which, glimmering irregularly along their front, ascended
so high among the attics, that they seemed at length to twinkle in
the middle sky. This coup d'oeil, which still subsists in a
certain degree, was then more imposing, owing to the uninterrupted
range of buildings on each side, which, broken only at the space
where the North Bridge joins the main street, formed a superb and
uniform Place, extending from the front of the Luckenbooths to the
head of the Canongate, and corresponding in breadth and length to
the uncommon height of the buildings on either side.

Mannering had not much time to look and to admire. His conductor
hurried him across this striking scene, and suddenly dived with him
into a very steep paved lane. Turning to the right, they entered a
scale-staircase, as it is called, the state of which, so far as it
could be judged of by one of his senses, annoyed Mannering's
delicacy not a little. When they had ascended cautiously to a
considerable height, they heard a heavy rap at a door, still two
stories above them. The door opened, and immediately ensued the
sharp and worrying bark of a dog, the squalling of a woman, the
screams of an assaulted cat, and the hoarse voice of a man, who
cried in a most imperative tone, Will ye, Mustard? will ye?--down,
sir! down!"

"Lord preserve us!" said the female voice, "an he had worried our
cat, Mr. Pleydell would ne'er hae forgi'en me!"

"Aweel, my doo, [*dove ] the cat's no a prin the waur--so he's no
in, ye say?"

"Na, Mr. Pleydell's ne'er in the house on Saturday at e'en,"
answered the female voice.

"And the morn's Sabbath too," said the querist "I dinna ken what
will be done."

By this time Mannering appeared, and found a tall strong
countryman, clad in a coat of pepper-and-salt coloured mixture,
with huge metal buttons, a glazed hat and boots, and a large
horsewhip beneath his arm, in colloquy with a slipshod damsel--I,
who had in one hand the lock of the door, and in the other a pail
of whiting, or camstane, as it is called, mixed with water--a
circumstance which indicates Saturday night in Edinburgh.

"So Mr. Pleydell is not at home, my good girl?" said Mannering.

"Ay, sir, he's at hame, but he's no in the house: he's aye out on
Saturday at e'en."

"But, try good girl, I am a stranger, and my business express--Will
you tell me where I can find him?"

"His honour," said the chairman, "will be at Clerihugh's about this
time--Hersell could hae tell'd ye that, but she thought ye wanted
to see his house."

"Well, then, show me to this tavern--I suppose he will see me, as I
come on business of some consequence?"

"I dinna ken, sir," said the girl; "he disna like to be disturbed
on Saturdays wi' business--but he's aye civil to strangers."

"I'll gang to the tavern too," said our friend Dinmont, "for I am a
stranger also, and on business e'en sic like."

"Na," said the handmaiden, "an he see the gentleman, he'll see the
simple body too--but, Lord's sake, dinna say it was me sent ye
there!"

"Atweel, I am a simple body, that's true, hinny, but I am no come
to steal ony o' his skeel for naething," said the farmer in his
honest pride, and strutted away downstairs, followed by Mannering
and the cadie. Mannering could not help admiring the determined
stride with which the stranger who preceded them divided the press,
shouldering from him, by the mere weight and impetus of his motion,
both drunk and sober passengers. "He'll be a Teviotdale tup tat
ane," said the chairman, "tat's for keeping ta crown o' ta causeway
tat gate--he'll no gang far or he'll get somebody to bell ta cat
wi' him."

His shrewd augury, however, was not fulfilled. Those who recoiled
from the colossal weight of Dinmont, on looking up at his size and
strength, apparently judged him too heavy metal to be rashly
encountered, and suffered him to pursue his course unchallenged.
Following in the wake of this first-rate, Mannering proceeded till
the farmer made a pause, and, looking back to the chairman, said,
"I'm thinking this will be the close, friend?"

"Ay, ay," replied Donald, "tat's ta close."

Dinmont descended confidently, then turned into a dark alley--
then up a dark stair--and then into an open door. While he was
whistling shrilly for the waiter, as if he had been one of his
collie dogs, Mannering looked round him, and could hardly conceive
how a gentleman of a liberal profession, and good society, should
choose such a scene for social indulgence. Besides the miserable
entrance, the house itself seemed paltry and half ruinous. The
passage in which they stood had a window to the close, which
admitted a little light during the daytime, and a villainous
compound of smells at all times, but more especially towards
evening. Corresponding to this window was a borrowed light on the
other side of the passage, looking into the kitchen, which had no
direct communication with the free air, but received in the
daytime, at second hand, such straggling and obscure light as found
its way from the lane through the window opposite. At present, the
interior of the kitchen was visible by its own huge fires--a sort
of Pandemonium, where men and women, half undressed, were busied in
baking, broiling, roasting oysters, and preparing devils on the
gridiron; the mistress of the place, with her shoes slipshod, and
her hair straggling like that of Megaera from under a round-eared
cap, toiling, scolding, receiving orders, giving them, and obeying
them all at once, seemed the presiding enchantress of that gloomy
and fiery region.

Loud and repeated bursts of laughter, from different quarters of
the house, proved that her labours were acceptable, and not
unrewarded by a generous public. With some difficulty a waiter was
prevailed upon to show Colonel Mannering and Dinmont the room where
their friend, learned in the law, held his hebdomadal carousals.
The scene which it exhibited, and particularly the attitude of the
counsellor himself, the principal figure therein, struck his two
clients with amazement.

Mr. Pleydell was a lively, sharp-looking gentleman, with a
professional shrewdness in his eye, and, generally speaking, a
professional formality in his manners. But this, like his
three-tailed wig and black coat, he could slip off on a Saturday
evening, when surrounded by a party of jolly companions, and
disposed for what he called his altitudes. On the present occasion,
the revel had lasted since four o'clock, and, at length, under the
direction of a venerable compotater, who had shared the sports and
festivity of three generations, the frolicsome company had begun to
practise the ancient and now forgotten pastime of High-jinks. This
game was played in several different ways. Most frequently the
dice were thrown by the company, and those upon whom the lot fell
were obliged to assume and maintain, for a time, a certain
fictitious character, or to repeat a certain number of fescennine
verses in a particular order. If they departed from the characters
assigned, or if their memory proved treacherous in the repetition,
they incurred forfeits, which were either compounded for by
swallowing an additional bumper, or by paying a small sum towards
the reckoning. At this sport the jovial company were closely
engaged, when Mannering entered the room.

Mr. Counsellor Pleydell, such as we have described him, was
enthroned as a monarch, in an elbow-chair, placed, on the
dining-table, his scratch wig on one side, his head crowned with a
bottle-slider, his eye leering with an expression betwixt fun and
the effects of wine, while his court around him resounded with such
crambo scraps of verse as these .

  Where is Gerunto now? and what's become of him?

  Gerunto's drowned because he could not swim, etc. etc.

Such, O Themis, were anciently the sports of thy Scottish children!
Dinmont was first in the room. He stood aghast a moment,--and then
exclaimed, "It's him, sure enough-Deil o' the like o' that ever
saw!"

At the sound of "Mr. Dinmont and Colonel Mannering wanted to speak
to you, sir," Pleydell turned his head, and blushed a little when
he saw the very genteel figure of the English stranger. He was,
however, of the opinion of Falstaff, "Out, ye villains, play out
the play!" wisely judging it the better way to appear totally
unconcerned. "Where be our guards?" exclaimed this second
Justinian; "see ye not a stranger knight from foreign parts arrived
at this our court of Holyrood--with our bold yeoman Andrew Dinmont,
who has succeeded to the keeping of our royal flocks within the
forest of Jedwood, where, thanks to our royal care in the
administration of justice, they feed as safe as if they were within
the bounds of Fife? Where be our heralds, our pursuivants, our
Lyon, our Marchmount, our Carrick, and our Snowdown? Let the
strangers be placed at our board, and regaled as beseemeth their
quality, and this our high holiday--to-morrow we will hear their
tidings."

"So please you, my liege, to-morrow's Sunday," said one of the
company.

"Sunday, is it? then we will give no offence to the assembly of the
kirk--on Monday shall be. their audience."

Mannering, who had stood at first uncertain whether to advance or
retreat, now resolved to enter for the moment into the whim of the
scene, though internally fretting at Mac-Morlan for sending him to
consult with a crack-brained humorist. He therefore advanced with
three profound congees, and craved permission to lay his
credentials at the feet of the Scottish monarch, in order to be
perused at his best leisure. The gravity with which he
accommodated himself to the humour of the moment, and the deep and
humble inclination with which he at first declined, and then
accepted, a seat presented by the master of the ceremonies,
procured him three rounds of applause.

"Deil hae me, if they arena a' mad thegither!" said Dinmont,
occupying with less ceremony a seat at the bottom of the table, "or
else they hae taen Yule before it comes, and are gaun
a-guisarding."

A large glass of claret was offered to Mannering, who drank it to
the health of the reigning prince. "You are, I presume to guess,"
said the monarch, "that celebrated Sir Miles Mannering, so renowned
in the French wars, and may well pronounce to us if the wines of
Gascony lose their flavour in our more northern realm."

Mannering, agreeably flattered by this allusion to the fame of his
celebrated ancestor, replied, by professing himself only a distant
relation of the preux chevalier, and added, "that in his opinion
the wine was superlatively good."

"It's owre cauld for my stamach," said Dinmont, setting down the
glass (empty, however).

"We will correct that quality," answered King Paulus, the first of
the name; "we have not forgotten that the moist and humid air of
our valley of Liddel inclines to stronger potations.--Seneschal,
let our faithful yeoman have a cup of brandy; it will be more
germain to the matter."

"And now," said Mannering, "since we have unwarily intruded upon
your majesty at a moment of mirthful retirement, be pleased to say
when you will indulge a stranger with an audience on those affairs
of weight which have brought him to your northern capital."

The monarch opened Mac-Morlan's letter, and, running it hastily
over, exclaimed, with his natural voice and. manner, "Lucy Bertram
of Ellangowan, poor dear lassie!"

"A forfeit! a forfeit!" exclaimed a dozen voices; his majesty has
forgot his kingly character."

"Not a whit! not a whit!" replied the king; "I'll be judged by this
courteous knight. May not a monarch love a maid of low degree? Is
not King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid, an adjudged case in point?"

"Professional! professional!--another forfeit," exclaimed the
tumultuary nobility.

"Had not our royal predecessors," continued the monarch, exalting
his sovereign voice to drown these disaffected clamours,--"Had they
not their Jean Logies, their Bessie Carmichaels, their Oliphants,
their Sandilands, and their Weirs, and shall it be denied to us
even to name a maiden whom we delight to honour? Nay, then, sink
state and perish sovereignty! for, like a second Charles V., we
will abdicate, and seek in the private shades of life those
pleasures which are denied to a throne."

So saying, he flung away his crown, and sprung from his exalted
station with more agility than could have been expected from his
age, ordered lights and a wash-hand basin and towel, with a cup of
green tea, into another room, and made a sign to Mannering to
accompany him. In less than two minutes he washed his face and
hands, settled his wig in the glass, and, to Mannering's great
surprise, looked quite a different man from the childish Bacchanal
he bad seen a moment before.

"There are folks," he said, "Mr. Mannering, before whom one should
take care how they play the fool--because they have either too much
malice, or too little wit, as the poet says. The best compliment I
can pay Colonel Mannering, is to show I am not ashamed to expose
myself before him--and truly I think it is a compliment I have not
spared to-night on your good-nature.--But what's that great strong
fellow wanting?"

Dinmont, who had pushed after Mannering into the room, began with a
scrape with his foot and a scratch of his head in unison. "I am
Dandie Dinmont, sir, of the Charlies-hope--the Liddesdale
lad--ye'll mind me?--it was for me ye won yon grand plea."

"What plea, you loggerhead" said the lawyer "d'ye think I can
remember all the fools that come to plague me?"

"Lord, sir, it was the grand plea about the grazing o' the Langtae
Head!" said the farmer.

"Well, curse thee, never mind; give me the memorial [*The Scottish
memorial corresponds to the English brief.] and come to me on
Monday at ten," replied the learned counsel.

"But, sir, I haena got ony distinct memorial."

"No memorial, man?" said Pleydell.

"Na, sir, nae memorial," answered Dandie "for your honour said
before, Mr. Pleydell, ye'll mind, that ye liked best to bear us
hill-folk tell our ain tale by word o' mounts"

"Beshrew my tongue that said so!" answered the counsellor; "it will
cost my ears a dinning.--Well, say in two words what you've got to
say--you see the gentleman waits."

"Ou, sir, if the gentleman likes he may play his ain spring first;
it's a' ane to Dandie."

"Now, you looby," said the lawyer, "cannot you conceive that your
business can be nothing to Colonel Mannering, but that he may not
choose to have these great ears of thine regaled with his matters?"

"Aweel, sir, just as you and he like--so ye see to my business,"
said Dandie, not a whit disconcerted by the roughness of this
reception. "We're at the auld wark o' the marches again, Jock o'
Dawston Cleugh and me. Ye see we march on the tap o' Touthop Rigg
after we pass the Pomoragrains; for the Pomoragrains, and
Slackenspool, and Bloodylaws, they come in there, and they belang
to the Peel; but after ye pass Pomoragrains at a muckle great
saucer-headed cutlugged stane, that they ca' Charlie's Chuckie,
there Dawston Cleugh and Charlies-hope they march. Now, I say, the
march rins on the tap o' the hill where the wind and water shears;
but Jock o' Dawston Cleugh again, he contravenes that, and says,
that it hauds down by the auld drove-road that gaes awa by the Knot
o' the Gate ower to Keeldar Ward--and that makes an unco [*Uncommon
] difference."

"And what difference does it make, friend?" said Pleydell. "How
many sheep will it feed?"

"Ou, no mony," said Dandie, scratching his head, it's lying high
and exposed--it may feed a hog, or aiblins [*Perhaps ] twa in a
good year."

"And for this grazing, which may be worth about five shillings a
year, you are willing to throw away a hundred pound or two?"

"Na, sir, it's no for the value of the grass," replied Dinmont;
"it's for justice."

"My good friend," said Pleydell, "justice, like charity, should
begin at home. Do you justice to your wife and family, and think
no more about-the matter."

Dinmont still lingered, twisting his hat in his hand-" It's no for
that, sir--but I would like ill to be bragged wi' him--he threeps
[*Declares ] he'll bring a score o' witnesses and mair--and I'm
sure there's as mony will swear for me as for him, folk that lived
a' their days upon the Charlies-hope, and wadna like to see the
land lose its right."

"Zounds, man, if it be a point of honour," said the lawyer, "why
don't your landlords take it up?"

"I dinna ken, sir" (scratching his head again), "there's been nae
election-dusts lately, and the lairds are unco neighbourly, and
Jock and me canna get them to yoke thegither about it a' that we
can say--but if ye thought we might keep up the rent--"

"No! no! that will never do," said Pleydell,--"confound you, why
don't you take good cudgels and settle it?"

"Odd, sir," answered the farmer, "we tried that three times
already--that's twice on the land add ance at Lockerby fair.--But I
dinna ken--we're baith gey good at single-stick, and it couldna
weel be judged."

"Then take broadswords, and be d-d to you, as your fathers did
before you," said the counsel learned in the law.

"Aweel, sir, if ye think it wadna be again the law, it's a' ane to
Dandie."

"Hold! Hold!" exclaimed Pleydell, "we shall have another Lord
Soulis' mistake--Pr'ythee, man, comprehend me; I wish you to
consider how very trifling and foolish a lawsuit you wish to engage
in."

"Ay, sir?" said Dandie, in a disappointed tone. "So ye winna take
on wi' me, I'm doubting?"

"Me! not I--go home, go home, take a pint and agree." Dandie looked
but half contented, and still remained stationary. "Anything more,
my friend?"

"Only, sir, about the succession of this leddy that's dead, auld
Miss Margaret Bertram o' Singleside."

"Ay, what about her?" said the counsellor, rather surprised.

"Ou, we have nae connection at a' wi' the Bertrams," said
Dandie,--"they were grand folk by the like o' us.--But Jean Liltup,
that was auld Singleside's housekeeper, and the mother of these twa
young ladies that are gane--the last o' them's dead at a ripe age,
I trow--Jean Liltup came out o' Liddel water, and she was as near
our connection as second cousin to my mother's half-sister--She
drew up wi' Singleside, nae doubt, when she was his housekeeper,
and it was a sair vex and grief to a' her kith and kin. But he
acknowledged a marriage, and satisfied the kirk--and now I wad ken
frae you if we hae not some claim by law?"

"Not the shadow of a claim."

"Aweel, we're nae puirer," said Dandie,--"but she may hae thought
on us if she was minded to make a testament.--Weel, sir, I've
said my say--I'se e'en wish you good-night, and--"putting his hand
in his pocket.

"No, no, my friend; I never take fees on Saturday nights, or
without a memorial--away with you, Dandie." And Dandie made his
reverence, and departed accordingly.


CHAPTER XXXVII.

  But this poor farce has neither truth, nor art,
  To please the fancy or to touch the heart.
  Dark but not awful, dismal but yet mean,
  With anxious bustle moves the cumbrous scene,
  Presents no objects tender or profound,
  But spreads its cold unmeaning gloom around.
    Parish Register.

"Your majesty," said Mannering, laughing, "has solemnised your
abdication by an act of mercy and charity--That fellow will scarce
think of going to law."

"Oh, you are quite wrong," said the experienced lawyer. "The only
difference is, I have lost my client and my fee. He'll never rest
till he finds somebody to encourage him to commit the folly he has
predetermined--No! no! I have only shown you another weakness of my
character--I always speak truth of a Saturday night."

"And sometimes through the week, I should think," said Mannering,
continuing the same tone.

"Why, yes; as far as my vocation will permit. I am, as Hamlet
says, indifferent honest, when my clients and their solicitors do
not make me the medium of conveying their double-distilled lies to
the bench. But oportet vivere! it is a sad thing.--And now to our
business. I am glad my old friend MacMorlan has sent you to me;
he is an active, honest, and intelligent man, long
Sheriff-substitute of the county of--under me, and still holds the
office. He knows I have a regard for that unfortunate family of
Ellangowan, and for poor Lucy. I have not seen her since she was
twelve years old, and she was then a sweet pretty girl under the
management of a very silly father. But my interest in her is of an
early date. I was called upon, Mr. Mannering, being then Sheriff
of that county, to investigate the particulars of a murder which
had been committed near Ellangowan the day on which this poor child
was born; and which, by a strange combination that I was unhappily
not able to trace, involved the death or abstraction of her only
brother, a boy of about five years old. No, Colonel, I shall never
forget the misery of the house of Ellangowan that morning!--the
father half distracted--the mother dead in premature travail--the
helpless infant, with scarce any one to attend it, coming wawling
and crying into this miserable world at such a moment of
unutterable misery. We lawyers are not of iron, sir, or of brass,
any more than you soldiers are of steel. We are conversant with
the crimes and distresses of civil society, as you are with those
that occur in a state of war, and to do our duty in either case a
little apathy is perhaps necessary--But the devil take a soldier
whose heart can be as hard as his sword, and his dam catch the
lawyer who bronzes his bosom instead of his forehead!--But come, I
am losing my Saturday at e'en--will you have the kindness to trust
me with these papers which relate to Miss Bertram's business? --
and stay--to-morrow you'll take a bachelor's dinner with an old
lawyer,--I insist upon it, at three precisely--and come an hour
sooner.--The old lady is to be buried on Monday; it is the orphan's
cause, and we'll borrow an hour from the Sunday to talk over this
business--although I fear nothing can be done if she has altered
her settlement--unless perhaps it occurs within the sixty days,
and then if Miss Bertram can show that she possesses the character
of heir-at-law, why--

"But, hark! my lieges are impatient of their inter-regnum--I do
not invite you to rejoin us, Colonel; it would be a trespass on
your complaisance, unless you had begun the day with us, and
gradually glided on front wisdom to mirth, and from mirth
to--to--to--extravagance.--Good-night-Harry, go home with Mr.
Mannering to his lodging-Colonel, I expect you at a little past two
to-morrow."

The Colonel returned to his inn, equally surprised at the childish
frolics in which he had found his learned counsellor engaged, at
the candour and sound sense which he had in a moment summoned up to
meet the exigencies of his profession, and at the tone of feeling
which he displayed when he spoke of the friendless orphan.

In the morning, while the Colonel and his most quiet and silent of
all retainers, Dominie Sampson, were finishing the breakfast which
Barnes had made and poured out, after the Dominie had scalded
himself in the attempt, Mr. Pleydell was suddenly ushered in. A
nicely dressed bob-wig, upon every hair of which a zealous and
careful barber had bestowed its proper allowance of powder; a
well-brushed black suit, with very clean shoes and gold buckles and
stock-buckle; a manner rather reserved and formal than intrusive,
but, withal, showing only the formality of manner, by no means that
of awkwardness; a countenance, the expressive and somewhat comic
features of which were in complete repose,--all showed a being
perfectly different from the choice spirit of the evening before. A
glance of shrewd and piercing fire in his eye was the only marked
expression which recalled the man of "Saturday at e'en."

"I am come," said he, with a very polite address, "to use my regal
authority in your behalf in spirituals as well as temporals--can I
accompany you to the Presbyterian kirk, or Episcopal
meeting-house?--Tros Tyriusve" a lawyer, you know, is of both
religions, or rather I should say of both forms--or can I assist in
passing the forenoon otherwise? You'll excuse my old-fashioned
importunity--I was born in a time when a Scotchman was thought
inhospitable if he left a guest alone a moment, except when he
slept--but I trust you will tell me at once if I intrude."

"Not at all, my dear sir," answered Colonel Mannering--"I am
delighted to put myself under your pilotage. I should wish much to
hear some of your Scottish preachers whose talents have done such
honour to your country--your Blair, your Robertson, or your Henry;
and I embrace--your kind offer with all my heart.--Only," drawing
the lawyer a little aside, and turning his eye towards Sampson, "my
worthy friend there in the reverie is a little helpless and
abstracted, and my servant, Barnes, who is his pilot in ordinary,
cannot well assist him here, especially as he has expressed his
determination of going to some of your darker and more remote
places of worship."

The lawyer's eye glanced at Dominie Sampson. "A curiosity worth
preserving--and I'll find you a fit custodier.--Here you, sir (to
the waiter), go to Luckie Finlayson's in the Cowgate for Miles
Macfin the cadie, he'll be there about this time, and tell him I
wish to speak to him."

The person wanted soon arrived. "I will commit your friend to this
man's charge," said Pleydell; "he'll attend him, or conduct him,
wherever he chooses to go, with a happy indifference as to kirk or
market, meeting or court of justice, or any other place
whatever--and bring him safe home at whatever hour you appoint; so
that Mr. Barnes there may be left to the freedom of his own will."

This was easily arranged, and the Colonel committed the Dominie to
the charge of this man while they should remain in Edinburgh.

"And now, sir, if you please, we shall go to the Greyfriars church,
to hear our historian of Scotland, of the Continent, and of
America."

They were disappointed--he did not preach that morning.--"Never
mind," said the counsellor, "I have a moment's patience, and we
shall do very well."

The colleague of Dr. Robertson ascended the pulpit. [*This was the
celebrated Dr. Rescan, a distinguished clergyman. and a most
excellent man. ] His external appearance was not prepossessing. A
remarkably fair complexion, strangely contrasted with a black wig
without a grain of powder; a narrow chest and a stooping posture;
hands which, placed like props on either side of the pulpit, seemed
necessary rather to support the person than to assist the
gesticulation of the preacher,--no gown, not even that of Geneva, a
tumbled band, and a gesture which seemed scarce voluntary, were the
first circumstances which struck a stranger. "The preacher seems a
very ungainly person," whispered Mannering to his new friend.

"Never fear; he's the son of an excellent Scottish lawyer [*The
father of Dr. Erskine was an eminent lawyer, and his Institutes of
the Law of Scotland are to this day the text-hook of students of
that science.]--he'll show blood, I'll warrant him."

The learned counsellor predicted truly. A lecture was delivered,
fraught with new, striking, and entertaining views of Scripture
history--a sermon, in which the Calvinism of the Kirk of Scotland
was ably supported, yet made the basis of a sound system of
practical morals, which should neither shelter the sinner under the
cloak of speculative faith or of peculiarity of opinion, nor leave
him loose to the waves of unbelief and schism. Something there was
of an antiquated turn of argument and metaphor, but it only served
to give zest and peculiarity to the style of elocution. The sermon
was not read--a scrap of paper containing the heads of the
discourse was occasionally referred to, and the enunciation, which
at first seemed imperfect and embarrassed, became, as the preacher
warmed in his progress, animated and distinct, and although the
discourse could not be quoted as a correct specimen of pulpit
eloquence, yet Mannering had seldom heard so much learning,
metaphysical acuteness, and energy of argument, brought into the
service of Christianity.

"Such," he said, going out of the church, "must have been the
preachers, to whose uncaring minds, and acute, though sometimes
rudely exercised talents, we own the Reformation."

"And yet that reverend gentleman," said Pleydell, "whom I love for
his father's sake and his own, has nothing of the sour or
pharisaical pride which has been imputed to some of the early
fathers of the Calvinistic Kirk of Scotland. His colleague and he
differ, and head different parties in the kirk, about particular
points of church discipline; but without for a moment losing
personal regard or respect for each other, or suffering malignity
to interfere in an opposition, steady, constant, and apparently
conscientious on both sides."

"And you, Mr. Pleydell, what do you think of their points of
difference?"

"Why, I hope, Colonel, a plain man may go to heaven without
thinking about them at all--besides, inter nos, I am a member of
the suffering and Episcopal Church of Scotland--the shadow of a
shade now, and fortunately so--but I love to pray where my fathers
prayed before me, without thinking worse of the Presbyterian forms,
because they do not affect me with the same associations." And with
this remark they parted until dinner-time.

From the awkward access to the lawyer's mansion, Mannering was
induced to form very moderate expectations of the entertainment
which he was to receive. The approach looked even more dismal by
daylight than on the preceding evening. The houses on each side of
the lane were so close, that the neighbours might have shaken hands
with each other from the different sides, and occasionally the
space between was traversed by wooden galleries, and thus entirely
closed up. The stair, the scale-stair, was not well cleaned; and on
entering the house, Mannering was struck with the narrowness and
meanness of the wainscotted passage. But the library, into which
he was shown by an elderly respectable looking man-servant, was a
complete contrast to these unpromising appearances. It was a
well-proportioned room, hung with a portrait or two of Scottish
characters of eminence, by Jamieson, the Caledonian Vandyke, and
surrounded with books, the best editions of the best authors, and,
in particular, an admirable collection of classics.

"These," said Pleydell, "are my tools of trade. A lawyer without
history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working mason; if he
possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture to call himself
an architect."

But Mannering was chiefly delighted with the view from the windows,
which commanded that incomparable prospect of the ground between
Edinburgh and the sea; the Firth of Forth, with its islands; the
embayment which is terminated by the Law of North Berwick; and the
varied shores of Fife to the northward, indenting with a hilly
outline the clear blue horizon.

When Mr. Pleydell had sufficiently enjoyed the surprise of his
guest, he called his attention to Miss Bertram's affairs. "I was
in hopes," he said, "though but faint, to have discovered some
means of ascertaining her indefeasible right to this property of
Singleside; but my researches have been in vain. The old lady was
certainly absolute fiar, and might dispose of it in full right of
property. All that we have to hope is, that the devil may not have
tempted her to alter this very proper settlement. You must attend
the old girl's funeral to-morrow, to which you will receive an
invitation, for I have acquainted her agent with your being here on
Miss Bertram's part; and I will meet you afterwards at the house
she inhabited, and be present to see fair play at the opening of
the settlement. The old cat had a little girl, the orphan of some
relation, who lived with her as a kind of slavish companion. I
hope she has had the conscience to make her independent, in
consideration of the peine forte et dure to which she subjected her
during her lifetime."

Three gentlemen now appeared, and were introduced to the stranger.
They were men of good sense, gaiety, and general information, so
that the day passed very pleasantly over; and Colonel Mannering
assisted, about eight o'clock at night, in discussing the
landlord's bottle, which was, of course, a magnum. Upon his return
to the inn, he found a card inviting him to the funeral of Miss
Margaret Bertram, late of Singleside, which was to proceed from her
own house to the place of interment in the Greyfriars churchyard,
at one o'clock afternoon.

At the appointed hour, Mannering went to a small house in the
suburbs to the southward of the city, where he found the place of
mourning, indicated, as usual in Scotland, by two rueful figures
with long black cloaks, white crapes and hatbands, holding in their
hands poles, adorned with melancholy streamers of the same
description. By two other mutes, who, from their visages, seemed
suffering under the pressure of some strange calamity, he was
ushered into the dining-parlour of the defunct, where the company
were assembled for the funeral.

In Scotland, the custom, now disused in England, of inviting the
relations of the deceased to the interment, is universally
retained. On many occasions this has a singular and striking
effect, but it degenerates into mere empty form and grimace, in
cases where the defunct has had the misfortune to live unbeloved
and die unlamented. The English service for the dead, one of the
most beautiful and impressive parts of the ritual of the church,
would have, in such cases, the effect of fixing the attention, and
uniting the thoughts and feelings of the audience present, in an
exercise of devotion so peculiarly adapted to such an occasion. But
according to the Scottish custom, if there be not real feeling
among the assistants, there is nothing to supply the deficiency,
and exalt or rouse the attention; so that a sense of tedious form,
and almost hypocritical restraint, is too apt to pervade the
company assembled for the mournful solemnity. Mrs. Margaret
Bertram was unluckily one of those whose good qualities had
attached no general friendship. She had no near relations who
might have mourned from natural affection, and therefore her
funeral exhibited merely the exterior trappings of sorrow.

Mannering, therefore, stood among this lugubrious company of
cousins in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth degree, composing
his countenance to the decent solemnity of all who were around him,
and looking as much concerned on Mrs. Margaret Bertram's account,
as if the deceased lady of Singleside had been his own sister or
mother. After a deep and awful pause, the company began to talk
aside under their breaths, however, and as if in the chamber of a
dying person.

"Our poor friend," said one grave gentleman, scarcely opening his
mouth, for fear of deranging the necessary solemnity of his
features, and sliding his whisper from between his lips, which were
as little unclosed as possible,--"Our poor friend has died well
to pass in the world."

"Nae doubt," answered the person addressed, with half-closed eyes;
"poor Mrs. Margaret was aye careful of the gear."

"Any news to-day, Colonel Mannering?" said one of the gentlemen
whom he had dined with the day before, but in a tone which might,
for its impressive gravity, have communicated the death of his
whole generation.

"Nothing particular, I believe, sir," said Mannering, in the
cadence which was, he observed, appropriated to the house of
mourning.

"I understand," continued the first speaker emphatically, and with
the air of one who is well informed--"I understand there is a
settlement."

"And what does little Jenny Gibson get?"

"A hundred, and the auld repeater."

"That's but sma' gear, puir thing; she had a sair time o't with the
auld leddy. But it's ill waiting for deadfolk's shoon."

"I am afraid," said the politician, who was close by Mannering," we
have not done with your old friend Tippoo Saib yet--I doubt he'll
give the Company more plague; and I am told, but you'll know for
certain that East India Stock is not rising."

"I trust it will, sir, soon."

"Mrs. Margaret," said another person, mingling in the conversation,
"had some India bonds. I know that, for I drew the interest for
her--it would be desirable now for the trustees and legatees to
have the Colonel's advice about the time and mode of converting
them into money. For my part I think--But there's Mr. Mortcloke to
tell us they are gaun to lift."

Mr. Mortcloke the undertaker did accordingly, with a visage of
professional length and most grievous solemnity, distribute among
the pall-bearers little cards, assigning their respective
situations in attendance upon the coffin. As this precedence is
supposed to be regulated by propinquity to the defunct, the
undertaker, however skilful a master of these lugubrious
ceremonies, did not escape giving some offence. To be related to
Mrs. Bertram was to be of kin to the lands of Singleside, and was a
propinquity of which each relative present at that moment was
particularly jealous. Some murmurs there were on the occasion, and
our friend Dinmont gave more open offence, being unable either to
repress his discontent, or to utter it in the key properly
modulated to the solemnity. "I think ye might hae at least gi'en
me a leg o' her to carry," he exclaimed, in a voice considerably
louder than propriety admitted; "God! an it hadna been for the rigs
o' land, I would hae gotten her a' to carry mysell, for as mony
gentles as are here."