Twist ye, twine ye! even so
     Mingle shades of joy and woe,
     Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife,
     In the thread of human life.

     While the mystic twist is spinning,
     And the infant's life beginning,
     Dimly seen through twilight bending,
     Lo, what varied shapes attending!

     Passions wild, and Follies vain,
     Pleasures soon exchanged for pain,
     Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear
     In the magic dance appear.

     Now they wax, and now they dwindle,
     Whirling with the whirling spindle.
     Twist ye, twine ye! even so
     Mingle human bliss and woe.

Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged
these stanzas in his head, and while he was yet hammering out a
rhyme for DWINDLE, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, or her
wool was expended. She took the spindle, now charged with her
labours, and, undoing the thread gradually, measured it by casting
it over her elbow and bringing each loop round between her
forefinger and thumb. When she had measured it out, she muttered
to herself--'A hank, but not a haill ane--the full years o' three
score and ten, but thrice broken, and thrice to OOP (i.e. to
unite); he'll be a lucky lad an he win through wi't.'

Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess, when a voice,
hoarse as the waves with which it mingled, hallooed twice, and
with increasing impatience--'Meg, Meg Merrilies! Gipsy--hag--
tausend deyvils!'

'I am coming, I am coming, Captain,' answered Meg; and in a moment
or two the impatient commander whom she addressed made his
appearance from the broken part of the ruins.

He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle size,
and with a countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts with the
north-east wind. His frame was prodigiously muscular, strong, and
thick-set; so that it seemed as if a man of much greater height
would have been an inadequate match in any close personal
conflict. He was hard-favoured, and, which was worse, his face
bore nothing of the insouciance, the careless, frolicsome jollity
and vacant curiosity, of a sailor on shore. These qualities,
perhaps, as much as any others, contribute to the high popularity
of our seamen, and the general good inclination which our society
expresses towards them. Their gallantry, courage, and hardihood
are qualities which excite reverence, and perhaps rather humble
pacific landsmen in their presence; and neither respect nor a
sense of humiliation are feelings easily combined with a familiar
fondness towards those who inspire them. But the boyish frolics,
the exulting high spirits, the unreflecting mirth of a sailor when
enjoying himself on shore, temper the more formidable points of
his character. There was nothing like these in this man's face; on
the contrary, a surly and even savage scowl appeared to darken
features which would have been harsh and unpleasant under any
expression or modification. 'Where are you, Mother Deyvilson?' he
said, with somewhat of a foreign accent, though speaking perfectly
good English. 'Donner and blitzen! we have been staying this half-
hour. Come, bless the good ship and the voyage, and be cursed to
ye for a hag of Satan!'

At this moment he noticed Mannering, who, from the position which
he had taken to watch Meg Merrilies's incantations, had the
appearance of some one who was concealing himself, being half
hidden by the buttress behind which he stood. The Captain, for
such he styled himself, made a sudden and startled pause, and
thrust his right hand into his bosom between his jacket and
waistcoat as if to draw some weapon. 'What cheer, brother? you
seem on the outlook, eh?' Ere Mannering, somewhat struck by the
man's gesture and insolent tone of voice, had made any answer, the
gipsy emerged from her vault and joined the stranger. He
questioned her in an undertone, looking at Mannering--'A shark
alongside, eh?'

She answered in the same tone of under-dialogue, using the cant
language of her tribe--'Cut ben whids, and stow them; a gentry
cove of the ken.' [Footnote: Meaning--Stop your uncivil language;
that is a gentleman from the house below.]

The fellow's cloudy visage cleared up. 'The top of the morning to
you, sir; I find you are a visitor of my friend Mr. Bertram. I beg
pardon, but I took you for another sort of a person.'

Mannering replied, 'And you, sir, I presume, are the master of
that vessel in the bay?'

'Ay, ay, sir; I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick, of the Yungfrauw
Hagenslaapen, well known on this coast; I am not ashamed of my
name, nor of my vessel--no, nor of my cargo neither for that
matter.'

'I daresay you have no reason, sir.'

'Tausend donner, no; I'm all in the way of fair trade. Just loaded
yonder at Douglas, in the Isle of Man--neat cogniac--real hyson
and souchong--Mechlin lace, if you want any--right cogniac--we
bumped ashore a hundred kegs last night.'

'Really, sir, I am only a traveller, and have no sort of occasion
for anything of the kind at present.'

'Why, then, good-morning to you, for business must be minded--
unless ye'll go aboard and take schnaps; you shall have a pouch-
full of tea ashore. Dirk Hatteraick knows how to be civil.'

There was a mixture of impudence, hardihood, and suspicious fear
about this man which was inexpressibly disgusting. His manners
were those of a ruffian, conscious of the suspicion attending his
character, yet aiming to bear it down by the affectation of a
careless and hardy familiarity. Mannering briefly rejected his
proffered civilities; and, after a surly good-morning, Hatteraick
retired with the gipsy to that part of the ruins from which he had
first made his appearance. A very narrow staircase here went down
to the beach, intended probably for the convenience of the
garrison during a siege. By this stair the couple, equally amiable
in appearance and respectable by profession, descended to the sea-
side. The soi-disant captain embarked in a small boat with two
men, who appeared to wait for him, and the gipsy remained on the
shore, reciting or singing, and gesticulating with great
vehemence.




CHAPTER V

     You have fed upon my seignories,
     Dispark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods,
     From mine own windows torn my household coat,
     Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign,
     Save men's opinions and my living blood,
     To show the world I am a gentleman.

          Richard II.


When the boat which carried the worthy captain on board his vessel
had accomplished that task, the sails began to ascend, and the
ship was got under way. She fired three guns as a salute to the
house of Ellangowan, and then shot away rapidly before the wind,
which blew off shore, under all the sail she could crowd.

'Ay, ay,' said the Laird, who had sought Mannering for some time,
and now joined him, 'there they go--there go the free-traders--
there go Captain Dirk Hatteraick and the Yungfrauw Hagenslaapen,
half Manks, half Dutchman, half devil! run out the boltsprit, up
mainsail, top and top-gallant sails, royals, and skyscrapers, and
away--follow who can! That fellow, Mr. Mannering, is the terror of
all the excise and custom-house cruisers; they can make nothing of
him; he drubs them, or he distances them;--and, speaking of
excise, I come to bring you to breakfast; and you shall have some
tea, that--'

Mannering by this time was aware that one thought linked strangely
on to another in the concatenation of worthy Mr. Bertram's ideas,

     Like orient pearls at random strung;

and therefore, before the current of his associations had drifted
farther from the point he had left, he brought him back by some
inquiry about Dirk Hatteraick.

'O he's a--a--gude sort of blackguard fellow eneugh; naebody cares
to trouble him--smuggler, when his guns are in ballast--privateer,
or pirate, faith, when he gets them mounted. He has done more
mischief to the revenue folk than ony rogue that ever came out of
Ramsay.'

'But, my good sir, such being his character, I wonder he has any
protection and encouragement on this coast.'

'Why, Mr. Mannering, people must have brandy and tea, and there's
none in the country but what comes this way; and then there's
short accounts, and maybe a keg or two, or a dozen pounds, left at
your stable-door, instead of a d--d lang account at Christmas from
Duncan Robb, the grocer at Kippletringan, who has aye a sum to
make up, and either wants ready money or a short-dated bill. Now,
Hatteraick will take wood, or he'll take bark, or he'll take
barley, or he'll take just what's convenient at the time. I'll
tell you a gude story about that. There was ance a laird--that's
Macfie of Gudgeonford,--he had a great number of kain hens--
that's hens that the tenant pays to the landlord, like a sort of
rent in kind. They aye feed mine very ill; Luckie Finniston sent
up three that were a shame to be seen only last week, and yet she
has twelve bows sowing of victual; indeed her goodman, Duncan
Finniston--that's him that's gone--(we must all die, Mr.
Mannering, that's ower true)--and, speaking of that, let us live
in the meanwhile, for here's breakfast on the table, and the
Dominie ready to say the grace.'

The Dominie did accordingly pronounce a benediction, that exceeded
in length any speech which Mannering had yet heard him utter. The
tea, which of course belonged to the noble Captain Hatteraick's
trade, was pronounced excellent. Still Mannering hinted, though
with due delicacy, at the risk of encouraging such desperate
characters. 'Were it but in justice to the revenue, I should have
supposed--'

'Ah, the revenue lads'--for Mr. Bertram never embraced a general
or abstract idea, and his notion of the revenue was personified in
the commissioners, surveyors, comptrollers, and riding officers
whom he happened to know--'the revenue lads can look sharp eneugh
out for themselves, no ane needs to help them; and they have a'
the soldiers to assist them besides; and as to justice--you'll be
surprised to hear it, Mr. Mannering, but I am not a justice of
peace!'

Mannering assumed the expected look of surprise, but thought
within himself that the worshipful bench suffered no great
deprivation from wanting the assistance of his good-humoured
landlord. Mr. Bertram had now hit upon one of the few subjects on
which he felt sore, and went on with some energy.

'No, sir, the name of Godfrey Bertram of Ellangowan is not in the
last commission, though there's scarce a carle in the country that
has a plough-gate of land, but what he must ride to quarter-
sessions and write J.P. after his name. I ken fu' weel whom I am
obliged to--Sir Thomas Kittlecourt as good as tell'd me he would
sit in my skirts if he had not my interest at the last election;
and because I chose to go with my own blood and third cousin, the
Laird of Balruddery, they keepit me off the roll of freeholders;
and now there comes a new nomination of justices, and I am left
out! And whereas they pretend it was because I let David Mac-
Guffog, the constable, draw the warrants, and manage the business
his ain gate, as if I had been a nose o' wax, it's a main untruth;
for I granted but seven warrants in my life, and the Dominie wrote
every one of them--and if it had not been that unlucky business of
Sandy Mac-Gruthar's, that the constables should have keepit twa or
three days up yonder at the auld castle, just till they could get
conveniency to send him to the county jail--and that cost me
eneugh o' siller. But I ken what Sir Thomas wants very weel--it
was just sic and siclike about the seat in the kirk o'
Kilmagirdle--was I not entitled to have the front gallery facing
the minister, rather than Mac-Crosskie of Creochstone, the son of
Deacon Mac-Crosskie, the Dumfries weaver?'

Mannering expressed his acquiescence in the justice of these
various complaints.

'And then, Mr. Mannering, there was the story about the road and
the fauld-dike. I ken Sir Thomas was behind there, and I said
plainly to the clerk to the trustees that I saw the cloven foot,
let them take that as they like. Would any gentleman, or set of
gentlemen, go and drive a road right through the corner of a
fauld-dike and take away, as my agent observed to them, like twa
roods of gude moorland pasture? And there was the story about
choosing the collector of the cess--'

'Certainly, sir, it is hard you should meet with any neglect in a
country where, to judge from the extent of their residence, your
ancestors must have made a very important figure.'

'Very true, Mr. Mannering; I am a plain man and do not dwell on
these things, and I must needs say I have little memory for them;
but I wish ye could have heard my father's stories about the auld
fights of the Mac-Dingawaies--that's the Bertrams that now is--wi'
the Irish and wi' the Highlanders that came here in their berlings
from Ilay and Cantire; and how they went to the Holy Land--that
is, to Jerusalem and Jericho, wi' a' their clan at their heels--
they had better have gaen to Jamaica, like Sir Thomas
Kittlecourt's uncle--and how they brought hame relics like those
that Catholics have, and a flag that's up yonder in the garret. If
they had been casks of muscavado and puncheons of rum it would
have been better for the estate at this day; but there's little
comparison between the auld keep at Kittlecourt and the castle o'
Ellangowan; I doubt if the keep's forty feet of front. But ye make
no breakfast, Mr. Mannering; ye're no eating your meat; allow me
to recommend some of the kipper. It was John Hay that catcht it,
Saturday was three weeks, down at the stream below Hempseed ford,'
etc. etc. etc.

The Laird, whose indignation had for some time kept him pretty
steady to one topic, now launched forth into his usual roving
style of conversation, which gave Mannering ample time to reflect
upon the disadvantages attending the situation which an hour
before he had thought worthy of so much envy. Here was a country
gentleman, whose most estimable quality seemed his perfect good-
nature, secretly fretting himself and murmuring against others for
causes which, compared with any real evil in life, must weigh like
dust in the balance. But such is the equal distribution of
Providence. To those who lie out of the road of great afflictions
are assigned petty vexations which answer all the purpose of
disturbing their serenity; and every reader must have observed
that neither natural apathy nor acquired philosophy can render
country gentlemen insensible to the grievances which occur at
elections, quarter-sessions, and meetings of trustees.

Curious to investigate the manners of the country, Mannering took
the advantage of a pause in good Mr. Bertram's string of stories
to inquire what Captain Hatteraick so earnestly wanted with the
gipsy woman.

'O, to bless his ship, I suppose. You must know, Mr. Mannering,
that these free-traders, whom the law calls smugglers, having no
religion, make it all up in superstition; and they have as many
spells and charms and nonsense--'

'Vanity and waur!' said the Dominie;' it is a trafficking with
the Evil One. Spells, periapts, and charms are of his device--
choice arrows out of Apollyon's quiver.'

'Hold your peace, Dominie; ye're speaking for ever'--by the way,
they were the first words the poor man had uttered that morning,
excepting that he said grace and returned thanks--'Mr. Mannering
cannot get in a word for ye! And so, Mr. Mannering, talking of
astronomy and spells and these matters, have ye been so kind as to
consider what we were speaking about last night?'

'I begin to think, Mr. Bertram, with your worthy friend here, that
I have been rather jesting with edge-tools; and although neither
you nor I, nor any sensible man, can put faith in the predictions
of astrology, yet, as it has sometimes happened that inquiries
into futurity, undertaken in jest, have in their results produced
serious and unpleasant effects both upon actions and characters, I
really wish you would dispense with my replying to your question.'

It was easy to see that this evasive answer only rendered the
Laird's curiosity more uncontrollable. Mannering, however, was
determined in his own mind not to expose the infant to the
inconveniences which might have arisen from his being supposed the
object of evil prediction. He therefore delivered the paper into
Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep it for five years
with the seal unbroken, until the month of November was expired.
After that date had intervened he left him at liberty to examine
the writing, trusting that, the first fatal period being then
safely overpassed, no credit would be paid to its farther
contents. This Mr. Bertram was content to promise, and Mannering,
to ensure his fidelity, hinted at misfortunes which would
certainly take place if his injunctions were neglected. The rest
of the day, which Mannering, by Mr. Bertram's invitation, spent at
Ellangowan, passed over without anything remarkable; and on the
morning of that which followed the traveller mounted his palfrey,
bade a courteous adieu to his hospitable landlord and to his
clerical attendant, repeated his good wishes for the prosperity of
the family, and then, turning his horse's head towards England,
disappeared from the sight of the inmates of Ellangowan. He must
also disappear from that of our readers, for it is to another and
later period of his life that the present narrative relates.




CHAPTER VI

     Next, the Justice,
     In fair round belly with good capon lined,
     With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
     Full of wise saws and modern instances--
     And so he plays his part

         --As You Like It


When Mrs. Bertram of Ellangowan was able to hear the news of what
had passed during her confinement, her apartment rung with all
manner of gossiping respecting the handsome young student from
Oxford who had told such a fortune by the stars to the young
Laird, 'blessings on his dainty face.' The form, accent, and
manners of the stranger were expatiated upon. His horse, bridle,
saddle, and stirrups did not remain unnoticed. All this made a
great impression upon the mind of Mrs. Bertram, for the good lady
had no small store of superstition.

Her first employment, when she became capable of a little work,
was to make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity which
she had obtained from her husband. Her fingers itched to break the
seal, but credulity proved stronger than curiosity; and she had
the firmness to inclose it, in all its integrity, within two slips
of parchment, which she sewed round it to prevent its being
chafed. The whole was then put into the velvet bag aforesaid, and
hung as a charm round the neck of the infant, where his mother
resolved it should remain until the period for the legitimate
satisfaction of her curiosity should arrive.

The father also resolved to do his part by the child in securing
him a good education; and, with the view that it should commence
with the first dawnings of reason, Dominie Sampson was easily
induced to renounce his public profession of parish schoolmaster,
make his constant residence at the Place, and, in consideration of
a sum not quite equal to the wages of a footman even at that time,
to undertake to communicate to the future Laird of Ellangowan all
the erudition which he had, and all the graces and accomplishments
which--he had not indeed, but which he had never discovered that
he wanted. In this arrangement the Laird found also his private
advantage, securing the constant benefit of a patient auditor, to
whom he told his stories when they were alone, and at whose
expense he could break a sly jest when he had company.

About four years after this time a great commotion took place in
the county where Ellangowan is situated.

Those who watched the signs of the times had long been of opinion
that a change of ministry was about to take place; and at length,
after a due proportion of hopes, fears, and delays, rumours from
good authority and bad authority, and no authority at all; after
some clubs had drank Up with this statesman and others Down with
him; after riding, and running, and posting, and addressing, and
counter-addressing, and proffers of lives and fortunes, the blow
was at length struck, the administration of the day was dissolved,
and parliament, as a natural consequence, was dissolved also.

Sir Thomas Kittlecourt, like other members in the same situation,
posted down to his county, and met but an indifferent reception.
He was a partizan of the old administration; and the friends of
the new had already set about an active canvass in behalf of John
Featherhead, Esq., who kept the best hounds and hunters in the
shire. Among others who joined the standard of revolt was Gilbert
Glossin, writer in--, agent for the Laird of Ellangowan. This
honest gentleman had either been refused some favour by the old
member, or, what is as probable, he had got all that he had the
most distant pretension to ask, and could only look to the other
side for fresh advancement. Mr. Glossin had a vote upon
Ellangowan's property; and he was now determined that his patron
should have one also, there being no doubt which side Mr. Bertram
would embrace in the contest. He easily persuaded Ellangowan that
it would be creditable to him to take the field at the head of as
strong a party as possible; and immediately went to work, making
votes, as every Scotch lawyer knows how, by splitting and
subdividing the superiorities upon this ancient and once powerful
barony. These were so extensive that, by dint of clipping and
paring here, adding and eking there, and creating over-lords upon
all the estate which Bertram held of the crown, they advanced at
the day of contest at the head of ten as good men of parchment as
ever took the oath of trust and possession. This strong
reinforcement turned the dubious day of battle. The principal and
his agent divided the honour; the reward fell to the latter
exclusively. Mr. Gilbert Glossin was made clerk of the peace, and
Godfrey Bertram had his name inserted in a new commission of
justices, issued immediately upon the sitting of the parliament.

This had been the summit of Mr. Bertram's ambition; not that he
liked either the trouble or the responsibility of the office, but
he thought it was a dignity to which he was well entitled, and
that it had been withheld from him by malice prepense. But there
is an old and true Scotch proverb, 'Fools should not have chapping
sticks'; that is, weapons of offence. Mr. Bertram was no sooner
possessed of the judicial authority which he had so much longed
for than he began to exercise it with more severity than mercy,
and totally belied all the opinions which had hitherto been formed
of his inert good-nature. We have read somewhere of a justice of
peace who, on being nominated in the commission, wrote a letter to
a bookseller for the statutes respecting his official duty in the
following orthography--'Please send the ax relating to a gustus
pease.' No doubt, when this learned gentleman had possessed
himself of the axe, he hewed the laws with it to some purpose. Mr.
Bertram was not quite so ignorant of English grammar as his
worshipful predecessor; but Augustus Pease himself could not have
used more indiscriminately the weapon unwarily put into his hand.

In good earnest, he considered the commission with which he had
been entrusted as a personal mark of favour from his sovereign;
forgetting that he had formerly thought his being deprived of a
privilege, or honour, common to those of his rank was the result
of mere party cabal. He commanded his trusty aid-de-camp, Dominie
Sampson, to read aloud the commission; and at the first words,
'The King has been pleased to appoint'--'Pleased!' he exclaimed
in a transport of gratitude; 'honest gentleman! I'm sure he cannot
be better pleased than I am.'

Accordingly, unwilling to confine his gratitude to mere feelings
or verbal expressions, he gave full current to the new-born zeal
of office, and endeavoured to express his sense of the honour
conferred upon him by an unmitigated activity in the discharge of
his duty. New brooms, it is said, sweep clean; and I myself can
bear witness that, on the arrival of a new housemaid, the ancient,
hereditary, and domestic spiders who have spun their webs over the
lower division of my bookshelves (consisting chiefly of law and
divinity) during the peaceful reign of her predecessor, fly at
full speed before the probationary inroads of the new mercenary.
Even so the Laird of Ellangowan ruthlessly commenced his
magisterial reform, at the expense of various established and
superannuated pickers and stealers who had been his neighbours for
half a century. He wrought his miracles like a second Duke
Humphrey; and by the influence of the beadle's rod caused the lame
to walk, the blind to see, and the palsied to labour. He detected
poachers, black-fishers, orchard-breakers, and pigeon-shooters;
had the applause of the bench for his reward, and the public
credit of an active magistrate.

All this good had its rateable proportion of evil. Even an
admitted nuisance of ancient standing should not be abated without
some caution. The zeal of our worthy friend now involved in great
distress sundry personages whose idle and mendicant habits his own
lachesse had contributed to foster, until these habits had become
irreclaimable, or whose real incapacity for exertion rendered them
fit objects, in their own phrase, for the charity of all well-
disposed Christians. The 'long-remembered beggar,' who for twenty
years had made his regular rounds within the neighbourhood,
received rather as an humble friend than as an object of charity,
was sent to the neighbouring workhouse. The decrepit dame, who
travelled round the parish upon a hand-barrow, circulating from
house to house like a bad shilling, which every one is in haste to
pass to his neighbour,--she, who used to call for her bearers as
loud, or louder, than a traveller demands post-horses,--even she
shared the same disastrous fate. The 'daft Jock,' who, half knave,
half idiot, had been the sport of each succeeding race of village
children for a good part of a century, was remitted to the county
bridewell, where, secluded from free air and sunshine, the only
advantages he was capable of enjoying, he pined and died in the
course of six months. The old sailor, who had so long rejoiced the
smoky rafters of every kitchen in the country by singing 'Captain
Ward' and 'Bold Admiral Benbow,' was banished from the county for
no better reason than that he was supposed to speak with a strong
Irish accent. Even the annual rounds of the pedlar were abolished
by the Justice, in his hasty zeal for the administration of rural
police.

These things did not pass without notice and censure. We are not
made of wood or stone, and the things which connect themselves
with our hearts and habits cannot, like bark or lichen, be rent
away without our missing them. The farmer's dame lacked her usual
share of intelligence, perhaps also the self-applause which she
had felt while distributing the awmous (alms), in shape of a
gowpen (handful) of oatmeal, to the mendicant who brought the
news. The cottage felt inconvenience from interruption of the
petty trade carried on by the itinerant dealers. The children
lacked their supply of sugarplums and toys; the young women wanted
pins, ribbons, combs, and ballads; and the old could no longer
barter their eggs for salt, snuff, and tobacco. All these
circumstances brought the busy Laird of Ellangowan into discredit,
which was the more general on account of his former popularity.
Even his lineage was brought up in judgment against him. They
thought 'naething of what the like of Greenside, or Burnville, or
Viewforth might do, that were strangers in the country; but
Ellangowan! that had been a name amang them since the Mirk
Monanday, and lang before--HIM to be grinding the puir at that
rate! They ca'd his grandfather the Wicked Laird; but, though he
was whiles fractious aneuch, when he got into roving company and
had ta'en the drap drink, he would have scorned to gang on at this
gate. Na, na, the muckle chumlay in the Auld Place reeked like a
killogie in his time, and there were as mony puir folk riving at
the banes in the court, and about the door, as there were gentles
in the ha'. And the leddy, on ilka Christmas night as it came
round, gae twelve siller pennies to ilka puir body about, in
honour of the twelve apostles like. They were fond to ca' it
papistrie; but I think our great folk might take a lesson frae the
papists whiles. They gie another sort o' help to puir folk than
just dinging down a saxpence in the brod on the Sabbath, and
kilting, and scourging, and drumming them a' the sax days o' the
week besides.'

Such was the gossip over the good twopenny in every ale-house
within three or four miles of Ellangowan, that being about the
diameter of the orbit in which our friend Godfrey Bertram, Esq.,
J. P., must be considered as the principal luminary. Still greater
scope was given to evil tongues by the removal of a colony of
gipsies, with one of whom our reader is somewhat acquainted, and
who had for a great many years enjoyed their chief settlement upon
the estate of Ellangowan.




CHAPTER VII

     Come, princes of the ragged regiment,
     You of the blood! PRIGS, my most upright lord,
     And these, what name or title e'er they bear,
     JARKMAN, or PATRICO, CRANKE or CLAPPER-DUDGEON,
     PRATER or ABRAM-MAN--I speak of all.

          Beggar's Bush.


Although the character of those gipsy tribes which formerly
inundated most of the nations of Europe, and which in some degree
still subsist among them as a distinct people, is generally
understood, the reader will pardon my saying a few words
respecting their situation in Scotland.

It is well known that the gipsies were at an early period
acknowledged as a separate and independent race by one of the
Scottish monarchs, and that they were less favourably
distinguished by a subsequent law, which rendered the character of
gipsy equal in the judicial balance to that of common and habitual
thief, and prescribed his punishment accordingly. Notwithstanding
the severity of this and other statutes, the fraternity prospered
amid the distresses of the country, and received large accessions
from among those whom famine, oppression, or the sword of war had
deprived of the ordinary means of subsistence. They lost in a
great measure by this intermixture the national character of
Egyptians, and became a mingled race, having all the idleness and
predatory habits of their Eastern ancestors, with a ferocity which
they probably borrowed from the men of the north who joined their
society. They travelled in different bands, and had rules among
themselves, by which each tribe was confined to its own district.
The slightest invasion of the precincts which had been assigned to
another tribe produced desperate skirmishes, in which there was
often much blood shed.

The patriotic Fletcher of Saltoun drew a picture of these banditti
about a century ago, which my readers will peruse with
astonishment:--

'There are at this day in Scotland (besides a great many poor
families very meanly provided for by the church boxes, with others
who, by living on bad food, fall into various diseases) two
hundred thousand people begging from door to door. These are not
only no way advantageous, but a very grievous burden to so poor a
country. And though the number of them be perhaps double to what
it was formerly, by reason of this present great distress, yet in
all times there have been about one hundred thousand of those
vagabonds, who have lived without any regard or subjection either
to the laws of the land or even those of God and nature ... No
magistrate could ever discover, or be informed, which way one in a
hundred of these wretches died, or that ever they were baptized.
Many murders have been discovered among them; and they are not
only a most unspeakable oppression to poor tenants (who, if they
give not bread or some kind of provision to perhaps forty such
villains in one day, are sure to be insulted by them), but they
rob many poor people who live in houses distant from any
neighbourhood. In years of plenty, many thousands of them meet
together in the mountains, where they feast and riot for many
days; and at country weddings, markets, burials, and other the
like public occasions, they are to be seen, both man and woman,
perpetually drunk, cursing, blaspheming, and fighting together.'

Notwithstanding the deplorable picture presented in this extract,
and which Fletcher himself, though the energetic and eloquent
friend of freedom, saw no better mode of correcting than by
introducing a system of domestic slavery, the progress of time,
and increase both of the means of life and of the power of the
laws, gradually reduced this dreadful evil within more narrow
bounds. The tribes of gipsies, jockies, or cairds--for by all
these denominations such banditti were known--became few in
number, and many were entirely rooted out. Still, however, a
sufficient number remained to give, occasional alarm and constant
vexation. Some rude handicrafts were entirely resigned to these
itinerants, particularly the art of trencher-making, of
manufacturing horn-spoons, and the whole mystery of the tinker. To
these they added a petty trade in the coarse sorts of earthenware.
Such were their ostensible means of livelihood. Each tribe had
usually some fixed place of rendezvous, which they occasionally
occupied and considered as their standing camp, and in the
vicinity of which they generally abstained from depredation. They
had even talents and accomplishments, which made them occasionally
useful and entertaining. Many cultivated music with success; and
the favourite fiddler or piper of a district was often to be found
in a gipsy town. They understood all out-of-door sports,
especially otter-hunting, fishing, or finding game. They bred the
best and boldest terriers, and sometimes had good pointers for
sale. In winter the women told fortunes, the men showed tricks of
legerdemain; and these accomplishments often helped to while away
a weary or stormy evening in the circle of the 'farmer's ha'.' The
wildness of their character, and the indomitable pride with which
they despised all regular labour, commanded a certain awe, which
was not diminished by the consideration that these strollers were
a vindictive race, and were restrained by no check, either of fear
or conscience, from taking desperate vengeance upon those who had
offended them. These tribes were, in short, the pariahs of
Scotland, living like wild Indians among European settlers, and,
like them, judged of rather by their own customs, habits, and
opinions, than as if they had been members of the civilised part
of the community. Some hordes of them yet remain, chiefly in such
situations as afford a ready escape either into a waste country or
into another Jurisdiction. Nor are the features of their character
much softened. Their numbers, however, are so greatly diminished
that, instead of one hundred thousand, as calculated by Fletcher,
it would now perhaps be impossible to collect above five hundred
throughout all Scotland.

A tribe of these itinerants, to whom Meg Merrilies appertained,
had long been as stationary as their habits permitted in a glen
upon the estate of Ellangowan. They had there erected a few huts,
which they denominated their 'city of refuge,' and where, when not
absent on excursions, they harboured unmolested, as the crows that
roosted in the old ash-trees around them. They had been such long
occupants that they were considered in some degree as proprietors
of the wretched shealings which they inhabited. This protection
they were said anciently to have repaid by service to the Laird in
war, or more frequently, by infesting or plundering the lands of
those neighbouring barons with whom he chanced to be at feud.
Latterly their services were of a more pacific nature. The women
spun mittens for the lady, and knitted boot-hose for the Laird,
which were annually presented at Christmas with great form. The
aged sibyls blessed the bridal bed of the Laird when he married,
and the cradle of the heir when born. The men repaired her
ladyship's cracked china, and assisted the Laird in his sporting
parties, wormed his dogs, and cut the ears of his terrier puppies.
The children gathered nuts in the woods, and cranberries in the
moss, and mushrooms on the pastures, for tribute to the Place.
These acts of voluntary service, and acknowledgments of
dependence, were rewarded by protection on some occasions,
connivance on others, and broken victuals, ale, and brandy when
circumstances called for a display of generosity; and this mutual
intercourse of good offices, which had been carried on for at
least two centuries, rendered the inhabitants of Derncleugh a kind
of privileged retainers upon the estate of Ellangowan. 'The
knaves' were the Laird's 'exceeding good friends'; and he would
have deemed himself very ill used if his countenance could not now
and then have borne them out against the law of the country and
the local magistrate. But this friendly union was soon to be
dissolved.

The community of Derncleugh, who cared for no rogues but their
own, were wholly without alarm at the severity of the Justice's
proceedings towards other itinerants. They had no doubt that he
determined to suffer no mendicants or strollers in the country but
what resided on his own property, and practised their trade by his
immediate permission, implied or expressed. Nor was Mr. Bertram in
a hurry to exert his newly-acquired authority at the expense of
these old settlers. But he was driven on by circumstances.

At the quarter-sessions our new Justice was publicly upbraided by
a gentleman of the opposite party in county politics, that, while
he affected a great zeal for the public police, and seemed
ambitious of the fame of an active magistrate, he fostered a tribe
of the greatest rogues in the country, and permitted them to
harbour within a mile of the house of Ellangowan. To this there
was no reply, for the fact was too evident and well known. The
Laird digested the taunt as he best could, and in his way home
amused himself with speculations on the easiest method of ridding
himself of these vagrants, who brought a stain upon his fair fame
as a magistrate. Just as he had resolved to take the first
opportunity of quarrelling with the pariahs of Derncleugh, a cause
of provocation presented itself.

Since our friend's advancement to be a conservator of the peace,
he had caused the gate at the head of his avenue, which formerly,
having only one hinge, remained at all times hospitably open--he
had caused this gate, I say, to be newly hung and handsomely
painted. He had also shut up with paling, curiously twisted with
furze, certain holes in the fences adjoining, through which the
gipsy boys used to scramble into the plantations to gather birds'
nests, the seniors of the village to make a short cut from one
point to another, and the lads and lasses for evening rendezvous--
all without offence taken or leave asked. But these halcyon days
were now to have an end, and a minatory inscription on one side of
the gate intimated 'prosecution according to law' (the painter had
spelt it 'persecution'--l'un vaut bien l'autre) to all who should
be found trespassing on these inclosures. On the other side, for
uniformity's sake, was a precautionary annunciation of spring-guns
and man-traps of such formidable powers that, said the rubrick,
with an emphatic nota bene--'if a man goes in they will break a
horse's leg.'

In defiance of these threats, six well-grown gipsy boys and girls
were riding cock-horse upon the new gate, and plaiting may-
flowers, which it was but too evident had been gathered within the
forbidden precincts. With as much anger as he was capable of
feeling, or perhaps of assuming, the Laird commanded them to
descend;--they paid no attention to his mandate: he then began to
pull them down one after another;--they resisted, passively at
least, each sturdy bronzed varlet making himself as heavy as he
could, or climbing up as fast as he was dismounted.

The Laird then called in the assistance of his servant, a surly
fellow, who had immediate recourse to his horsewhip. A few lashes
sent the party a-scampering; and thus commenced the first breach
of the peace between the house of Ellangowan and the gipsies of
Derncleugh.

The latter could not for some time imagine that the war was real;
until they found that their children were horsewhipped by the
grieve when found trespassing; that their asses were poinded by
the ground-officer when left in the plantations, or even when
turned to graze by the roadside, against the provision of the
turnpike acts; that the constable began to make curious inquiries
into their mode of gaining a livelihood, and expressed his
surprise that the men should sleep in the hovels all day, and be
abroad the greater part of the night.

When matters came to this point, the gipsies, without scruple,
entered upon measures of retaliation. Ellangowan's hen-roosts were
plundered, his linen stolen from the lines or bleaching-ground,
his fishings poached, his dogs kidnapped, his growing trees cut or
barked. Much petty mischief was done, and some evidently for the
mischief's sake. On the other hand, warrants went forth, without
mercy, to pursue, search for, take, and apprehend; and,
notwithstanding their dexterity, one or two of the depredators
were unable to avoid conviction. One, a stout young fellow, who
sometimes had gone to sea a-fishing, was handed over to the
captain of the impress service at D--; two children were soundly
flogged, and one Egyptian matron sent to the house of correction.

Still, however, the gipsies made no motion to leave the spot which
they had so long inhabited, and Mr. Bertram felt an unwillingness
to deprive them of their ancient 'city of refuge'; so that the
petty warfare we have noticed continued for several months,
without increase or abatement of hostilities on either side.




CHAPTER VIII

     So the red Indian, by Ontario's side,
     Nursed hardy on the brindled panther's hide,
     As fades his swarthy race, with anguish sees
     The white man's cottage rise beneath the trees;
     He leaves the shelter of his native wood,
     He leaves the murmur of Ohio's flood,
     And forward rushing in indignant grief,
     Where never foot has trod the fallen leaf,
     He bends his course where twilight reigns sublime.
     O'er forests silent since the birth of time.

          SCENES OF INFANCY.


In tracing the rise and progress of the Scottish Maroon war, we
must not omit to mention that years had rolled on, and that little
Harry Bertram, one of the hardiest and most lively children that
ever made a sword and grenadier's cap of rushes, now approached
his fifth revolving birthday. A hardihood of disposition, which
early developed itself, made him already a little wanderer; he was
well acquainted with every patch of lea ground and dingle around
Ellangowan, and could tell in his broken language upon what baulks
grew the bonniest flowers, and what copse had the ripest nuts. He
repeatedly terrified his attendants by clambering about the ruins
of the old castle, and had more than once made a stolen excursion
as far as the gipsy hamlet.

On these occasions he was generally brought back by Meg Merrilies,
who, though she could not be prevailed upon to enter the Place of
Ellangowan after her nephew had been given up to the press-gang,
did not apparently extend her resentment to the child. On the
contrary, she often contrived to waylay him in his walks, sing him
a gipsy song, give him a ride upon her jackass, and thrust into
his pocket a piece of gingerbread or a red-cheeked apple. This
woman's ancient attachment to the family, repelled and checked in
every other direction, seemed to rejoice in having some object on
which it could yet repose and expand itself. She prophesied a
hundred times, 'that young Mr. Harry would be the pride o' the
family, and there hadna been sic a sprout frae the auld aik since
the death of Arthur Mac-Dingawaie, that was killed in the battle
o' the Bloody Bay; as for the present stick, it was good for
nothing but fire-wood.' On one occasion, when the child was ill,
she lay all night below the window, chanting a rhyme which she
believed sovereign as a febrifuge, and could neither be prevailed
upon to enter the house nor to leave the station she had chosen
till she was informed that the crisis was over.

The affection of this woman became matter of suspicion, not indeed
to the Laird, who was never hasty in suspecting evil, but to his
wife, who had indifferent health and poor spirits. She was now far
advanced in a second pregnancy, and, as she could not walk abroad
herself, and the woman who attended upon Harry was young and
thoughtless, she prayed Dominie Sampson to undertake the task of
watching the boy in his rambles, when he should not be otherwise
accompanied. The Dominie loved his young charge, and was
enraptured with his own success in having already brought him so
far in his learning as to spell words of three syllables. The idea
of this early prodigy of erudition being carried off by the
gipsies, like a second Adam Smith,[Footnote: The father of
Economical Philosophy was, when a child, actually carried off by
gipsies, and remained some hours in their possession.] was not to
be tolerated; and accordingly, though the charge was contrary to
all his habits of life, he readily undertook it, and might be seen
stalking about with a mathematical problem in his head, and his
eye upon a child of five years old, whose rambles led him into a
hundred awkward situations. Twice was the Dominie chased by a
cross-grained cow, once he fell into the brook crossing at the
stepping-stones, and another time was bogged up to the middle in
the slough of Lochend, in attempting to gather a water-lily for
the young Laird. It was the opinion of the village matrons who
relieved Sampson on the latter occasion, 'that the Laird might as
weel trust the care o' his bairn to a potatoe bogle'; but the good
Dominie bore all his disasters with gravity and serenity equally
imperturbable. 'Pro-di-gi-ous!' was the only ejaculation they ever
extorted from the much-enduring man.

The Laird had by this time determined to make root-and-branch work
with the Maroons of Derncleugh. The old servants shook their heads
at his proposal, and even Dominie Sampson ventured upon an
indirect remonstrance. As, however, it was couched in the oracular
phrase, 'Ne moveas Camerinam,' neither the allusion, nor the
language in which it was expressed, were calculated for Mr.
Bertram's edification, and matters proceeded against the gipsies
in form of law. Every door in the hamlet was chalked by the
ground-officer, in token of a formal warning to remove at next
term. Still, however, they showed no symptoms either of submission
or of compliance. At length the term-day, the fatal Martinmas,
arrived, and violent measures of ejection were resorted to. A
strong posse of peace-officers, sufficient to render all
resistance vain, charged the inhabitants to depart by noon; and,
as they did not obey, the officers, in terms of their warrant,
proceeded to unroof the cottages, and pull down the wretched doors
and windows--a summary and effectual mode of ejection still
practised in some remote parts of Scotland when a tenant proves
refractory. The gipsies for a time beheld the work of destruction
in sullen silence and inactivity; then set about saddling and
loading their asses, and making preparations for their departure.
These were soon accomplished, where all had the habits of
wandering Tartars; and they set forth on their journey to seek new
settlements, where their patrons should neither be of the quorum
nor custos rotulorum.

Certain qualms of feeling had deterred Ellangowan from attending
in person to see his tenants expelled. He left the executive part
of the business to the officers of the law, under the immediate
direction of Frank Kennedy, a supervisor, or riding-officer,
belonging to the excise, who had of late become intimate at the
Place, and of whom we shall have more to say in the next chapter.
Mr. Bertram himself chose that day to make a visit to a friend at
some distance. But it so happened, notwithstanding his
precautions, that he could not avoid meeting his late tenants
during their retreat from his property.

It was in a hollow way, near the top of a steep ascent, upon the
verge of the Ellangowan estate, that Mr. Bertram met the gipsy
procession. Four or five men formed the advanced guard, wrapped in
long loose great-coats that hid their tall slender figures, as the
large slouched hats, drawn over their brows, concealed their wild
features, dark eyes, and swarthy faces. Two of them carried long
fowling-pieces, one wore a broadsword without a sheath, and all
had the Highland dirk, though they did not wear that weapon openly
or ostentatiously. Behind them followed the train of laden asses,
and small carts or TUMBLERS, as they were called in that country,
on which were laid the decrepit and the helpless, the aged and
infant part of the exiled community. The women in their red cloaks
and straw hats, the elder children with bare heads and bare feet,
and almost naked bodies, had the immediate care of the little
caravan. The road was narrow, running between two broken banks of
sand, and Mr. Bertram's servant rode forward, smacking his whip
with an air of authority, and motioning to the drivers to allow
free passage to their betters. His signal was unattended to. He
then called to the men who lounged idly on before, 'Stand to your
beasts' heads, and make room for the Laird to pass.'

'He shall have his share of the road,' answered a male gipsy from
under his slouched and large-brimmed hat, and without raising his
face, 'and he shall have nae mair; the highway is as free to our
cuddies as to his gelding.'