'Really, sir,' said Brown, 'his education has been somewhat
neglected, and his chief property is being a pleasant companion.'

'Ay, sir? that's a pity, begging your pardon, it's a great pity
that; beast or body, education should aye be minded. I have six
terriers at hame, forbye twa couple of slow-hunds, five grews, and
a wheen other dogs. There's auld Pepper and auld Mustard, and
young Pepper and young Mustard, and little Pepper and little
Mustard. I had them a' regularly entered, first wi' rottens, then
wi' stots or weasels, and then wi' the tods and brocks, and now
they fear naething that ever cam wi' a hairy skin on't.'

'I have no doubt, sir, they are thoroughbred; but, to have so many
dogs, you seem to have a very limited variety of names for them?'

'O, that's a fancy of my ain to mark the breed, sir. The Deuke
himsell has sent as far as Charlie's Hope to get ane o' Dandy
Dinmont's Pepper and Mustard terriers. Lord, man, he sent Tam
Hudson [Footnote: The real name of this veteran sportsman is now
restored.] the keeper, and sicken a day as we had wi' the foumarts
and the tods, and sicken a blythe gae-down as we had again e'en!
Faith, that was a night!'

'I suppose game is very plenty with you?'

'Plenty, man! I believe there's mair hares than sheep on my farm;
and for the moor-fowl or the grey-fowl, they lie as thick as doos
in a dookit. Did ye ever shoot a blackcock, man?'

'Really I had never even the pleasure to see one, except in the
museum at Keswick.'

'There now! I could guess that by your Southland tongue. It's very
odd of these English folk that come here, how few of them has seen
a blackcock! I'll tell you what--ye seem to be an honest lad, and
if you'll call on me, on Dandy Dinmont, at Charlie's Hope, ye
shall see a blackcock, and shoot a blackcock, and eat a blackcock
too, man.'

'Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, sir; and
I shall be happy if I can find time to accept your invitation.'

'Time, man? what ails ye to gae hame wi' me the now? How d' ye
travel?'

'On foot, sir; and if that handsome pony be yours, I should find
it impossible to keep up with you.'

'No, unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But ye can
come ower the night as far as Riccarton, where there is a public;
or if ye like to stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, they would
be blythe to see ye, and I am just gaun to stop and drink a dram
at the door wi' him, and I would tell him you're coming up. Or
stay--gudewife, could ye lend this gentleman the gudeman's
galloway, and I'll send it ower the Waste in the morning wi' the
callant?'

The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear to
catch.--'Aweel, aweel, there's nae help for't, but come up the
morn at ony rate. And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to the
Liddel or it be dark, for your Waste has but a kittle character,
ye ken yoursell.'

'Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country an
ill name. I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste since
Sawney Culloch, the travelling-merchant, that Rowley Overdees and
Jock Penny suffered for at Carlisle twa years since. There's no
ane in Bewcastle would do the like o' that now; we be a' true folk
now.'

'Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind; and his een's no
sair yet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist feck o'
Galloway and Dumfries-shire, and I have been round by Carlisle,
and I was at the Staneshiebank Fair the day, and I would like ill
to be rubbit sae near hame, so I'll take the gate.'

'Hae ye been in Dumfries and Galloway?' said the old dame who sate
smoking by the fireside, and who had not yet spoken a word.

'Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o't.'

'Then ye'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan?'

'Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram's? I ken the place weel eneugh.
The Laird died about a fortnight since, as I heard.'

'Died!' said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and rising and
coming forward upon the floor--'died? are you sure of that?'

'Troth, am I,' said Dinmont, 'for it made nae sma' noise in the
country-side. He died just at the roup of the stocking and
furniture; it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed.
They said he was the last of an auld family too, and mony were
sorry; for gude blude's scarcer in Scotland than it has been.'

'Dead!' replied the old woman, whom our readers have already
recognised as their acquaintance Meg Merrilies--'dead! that quits
a' scores. And did ye say he died without an heir?'

'Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate's sell'd by the same token;
for they said they couldna have sell'd it if there had been an
heir-male.'

'Sell'd!' echoed the gipsy, with something like a scream; 'and wha
durst buy Ellangowan that was not of Bertram's blude? and wha
could tell whether the bonny knave-bairn may not come back to
claim his ain? wha durst buy the estate and the castle of
Ellangowan?'

'Troth, gudewife, just ane o' thae writer chields that buys a'
thing; they ca' him Glossin, I think.'

'Glossin! Gibbie Glossin! that I have carried in my creels a
hundred times, for his mother wasna muckle better than mysell--he
to presume to buy the barony of Ellangowan! Gude be wi' us; it is
an awfu' warld! I wished him ill; but no sic a downfa' as a' that
neither. Wae's me! wae's me to think o't!' She remained a moment
silent but still opposing with her hand the farmer's retreat, who
betwixt every question was about to turn his back, but good-
humouredly stopped on observing the deep interest his answers
appeared to excite.

'It will be seen and heard of--earth and sea will not hold their
peace langer! Can ye say if the same man be now the sheriff of the
county that has been sae for some years past?'

'Na, he's got some other birth in Edinburgh, they say; but gude
day, gudewife, I maun ride.' She followed him to his horse, and,
while he drew the girths of his saddle, adjusted the walise, and
put on the bridle, still plied him with questions concerning Mr.
Bertram's death and the fate of his daughter; on which, however,
she could obtain little information from the honest farmer.

'Did ye ever see a place they ca' Derncleugh, about a mile frae
the Place of Ellangowan?'

'I wot weel have I, gudewife. A wild-looking den it is, wi' a whin
auld wa's o' shealings yonder; I saw it when I gaed ower the
ground wi' ane that wanted to take the farm.'

'It was a blythe bit ance!' said Meg, speaking to herself. 'Did ye
notice if there was an auld saugh tree that's maist blawn down,
but yet its roots are in the earth, and it hangs ower the bit
burn? Mony a day hae I wrought my stocking and sat on my sunkie
under that saugh.'

'Hout, deil's i' the wife, wi' her saughs, and her sunkies, and
Ellangowans. Godsake, woman, let me away; there's saxpence t' ye
to buy half a mutchkin, instead o' clavering about thae auld-warld
stories.'

'Thanks to ye, gudeman; and now ye hae answered a' my questions,
and never speired wherefore I asked them, I'll gie you a bit canny
advice, and ye maunna speir what for neither. Tib Mumps will be
out wi' the stirrup-dram in a gliffing. She'll ask ye whether ye
gang ower Willie's Brae or through Conscowthart Moss; tell her ony
ane ye like, but be sure (speaking low and emphatically) to tak
the ane ye dinna tell her.' The farmer laughed and promised, and
the gipsy retreated.

'Will you take her advice?' said Brown, who had been an attentive
listener to this conversation.

'That will I no, the randy quean! Na, I had far rather Tib Mumps
kenn'd which way I was gaun than her, though Tib's no muckle to
lippen to neither, and I would advise ye on no account to stay in
the house a' night.'

In a moment after Tib, the landlady, appeared with her stirrup-
cup, which was taken off. She then, as Meg had predicted, inquired
whether he went the hill or the moss road. He answered, the
latter; and, having bid Brown good-bye, and again told him, 'he
depended on seeing him at Charlie's Hope, the morn at latest,' he
rode off at a round pace.




CHAPTER XXIII

     Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway

        --Winter's Tale.


The hint of the hospitable farmer was not lost on Brown. But while
he paid his reckoning he could not avoid repeatedly fixing his
eyes on Meg Merrilies. She was in all respects the same witch-like
figure as when we first introduced her at Ellangowan Place. Time
had grizzled her raven locks and added wrinkles to her wild
features, but her height remained erect, and her activity was
unimpaired. It was remarked of this woman, as of others of the
same description, that a life of action, though not of labour,
gave her the perfect command of her limbs and figure, so that the
attitudes into which she most naturally threw herself were free,
unconstrained, and picturesque. At present she stood by the window
of the cottage, her person drawn up so as to show to full
advantage her masculine stature, and her head somewhat thrown
back, that the large bonnet with which her face was shrouded might
not interrupt her steady gaze at Brown. At every gesture he made
and every tone he uttered she seemed to give an almost
imperceptible start. On his part, he was surprised to find that he
could not look upon this singular figure without some emotion.
'Have I dreamed of such a figure?' he said to himself, 'or does
this wild and singular-looking woman recall to my recollection
some of the strange figures I have seen in our Indian pagodas?'

While he embarrassed himself with these discussions, and the
hostess was engaged in rummaging out silver in change of half-a-
guinea, the gipsy suddenly made two strides and seized Brown's
hand. He expected, of course, a display of her skill in palmistry,
but she seemed agitated by other feelings.

'Tell me,' she said, 'tell me, in the name of God, young man, what
is your name, and whence you came?'

'My name is Brown, mother, and I come from the East Indies.'

'From the East Indies!' dropping his hand with a sigh; 'it cannot
be then. I am such an auld fool, that everything I look on seems
the thing I want maist to see. But the East Indies! that cannot
be. Weel, be what ye will, ye hae a face and a tongue that puts me
in mind of auld times. Good day; make haste on your road, and if
ye see ony of our folk, meddle not and make not, and they'll do
you nae harm.'

Brown, who had by this time received his change, put a shilling
into her hand, bade his hostess farewell, and, taking the route
which the farmer had gone before, walked briskly on, with the
advantage of being guided by the fresh hoof-prints of his horse.
Meg Merrilies looked after him for some time, and then muttered to
herself, 'I maun see that lad again; and I maun gang back to
Ellangowan too. The Laird's dead! aweel, death pays a' scores; he
was a kind man ance. The Sheriff's flitted, and I can keep canny
in the bush; so there's no muckle hazard o' scouring the cramp-
ring. I would like to see bonny Ellangowan again or I die.'

Brown meanwhile proceeded northward at a round pace along the
moorish tract called the Waste of Cumberland. He passed a solitary
house, towards which the horseman who preceded him had apparently
turned up, for his horse's tread was evident in that direction. A
little farther, he seemed to have returned again into the road.
Mr. Dinmont had probably made a visit there either of business or
pleasure. 'I wish,' thought Brown, 'the good farmer had staid till
I came up; I should not have been sorry to ask him a few questions
about the road, which seems to grow wilder and wilder.'

In truth, nature, as if she had designed this tract of country to
be the barrier between two hostile nations, has stamped upon it a
character of wildness and desolation. The hills are neither high
nor rocky, but the land is all heath and morass; the huts poor and
mean, and at a great distance from each other. Immediately around
them there is generally some little attempt at cultivation; but a
half-bred foal or two, straggling about with shackles on their
hind legs, to save the trouble of inclosures, intimate the
farmer's chief resource to be the breeding of horses. The people,
too, are of a ruder and more inhospitable class than are elsewhere
to be found in Cumberland, arising partly from their own habits,
partly from their intermixture with vagrants and criminals, who
make this wild country a refuge from justice. So much were the men
of these districts in early times the objects of suspicion and
dislike to their more polished neighbours, that there was, and
perhaps still exists, a by-law of the corporation of Newcastle
prohibiting any freeman of that city to take for apprentice a
native of certain of these dales. It is pithily said, 'Give a dog
an ill name and hang him'; and it may be added, if you give a man,
or race of men, an ill name they are very likely to do something
that deserves hanging. Of this Brown had heard something, and
suspected more, from the discourse between the landlady, Dinmont,
and the gipsy; but he was naturally of a fearless disposition, had
nothing about him that could tempt the spoiler, and trusted to get
through the Waste with daylight. In this last particular, however,
he was likely to be disappointed. The way proved longer than he
had anticipated, and the horizon began to grow gloomy just as he
entered upon an extensive morass.

Choosing his steps with care and deliberation, the young officer
proceeded along a path that sometimes sunk between two broken
black banks of moss earth, sometimes crossed narrow but deep
ravines filled with a consistence between mud and water, and
sometimes along heaps of gravel and stones, which had been swept
together when some torrent or waterspout from the neighbouring
hills overflowed the marshy ground below. He began to ponder how a
horseman could make his way through such broken ground; the traces
of hoofs, however, were still visible; he even thought he heard
their sound at some distance, and, convinced that Mr. Dinmont's
progress through the morass must be still slower than his own, he
resolved to push on, in hopes to overtake him and have the benefit
of his knowledge of the country. At this moment his little terrier
sprung forward, barking most furiously.

Brown quickened his pace, and, attaining the summit of a small
rising ground, saw the subject of the dog's alarm. In a hollow
about a gunshot below him a man whom he easily recognised to be
Dinmont was engaged with two others in a desperate struggle. He
was dismounted, and defending himself as he best could with the
butt of his heavy whip. Our traveller hastened on to his
assistance; but ere he could get up a stroke had levelled the
farmer with the earth, and one of the robbers, improving his
victory, struck him some merciless blows on the head. The other
villain, hastening to meet Brown, called to his companion to come
along, 'for that one's CONTENT,' meaning, probably, past
resistance or complaint. One ruffian was armed with a cutlass, the
other with a bludgeon; but as the road was pretty narrow, 'bar
fire-arms,' thought Brown, 'and I may manage them well enough.'
They met accordingly, with the most murderous threats on the part
of the ruffians. They soon found, however, that their new opponent
was equally stout and resolute; and, after exchanging two or three
blows, one of them told him to 'follow his nose over the heath, in
the devil's name, for they had nothing to say to him.'

Brown rejected this composition as leaving to their mercy the
unfortunate man whom they were about to pillage, if not to murder
outright; and the skirmish had just recommenced when Dinmont
unexpectedly recovered his senses, his feet, and his weapon, and
hastened to the scene of action. As he had been no easy
antagonist, even when surprised and alone, the villains did not
choose to wait his joining forces with a man who had singly proved
a match for them both, but fled across the bog as fast as their
feet could carry them, pursued by Wasp, who had acted gloriously
during the skirmish, annoying the heels of the enemy, and
repeatedly effecting a moment's diversion in his master's favour.

'Deil, but your dog's weel entered wi' the vermin now, sir!' were
the first words uttered by the jolly farmer as he came up, his
head streaming with blood, and recognised his deliverer and his
little attendant.

'I hope, sir, you are not hurt dangerously?'

'O, deil a bit, my head can stand a gay clour; nae thanks to them,
though, and mony to you. But now, hinney, ye maun help me to catch
the beast, and ye maun get on behind me, for we maun off like
whittrets before the whole clanjamfray be doun upon us; the rest
o' them will no be far off.' The galloway was, by good fortune,
easily caught, and Brown made some apology for overloading the
animal.

'Deil a fear, man,' answered the proprietor; 'Dumple could carry
six folk, if his back was lang eneugh; but God's sake, haste ye,
get on, for I see some folk coming through the slack yonder that
it may be just as weel no to wait for.'

Brown was of opinion that this apparition of five or six men, with
whom the other villains seemed to join company, coming across the
moss towards them, should abridge ceremony; he therefore mounted
Dumple en croupe, and the little spirited nag cantered away with
two men of great size and strength as if they had been children of
six years old. The rider, to whom the paths of these wilds seemed
intimately known, pushed on at a rapid pace, managing with much
dexterity to choose the safest route, in which he was aided by the
sagacity of the galloway, who never failed to take the difficult
passes exactly at the particular spot, and in the special manner,
by which they could be most safely crossed. Yet, even with these
advantages, the road was so broken, and they were so often thrown
out of the direct course by various impediments, that they did not
gain much on their pursuers. 'Never mind,' said the undaunted
Scotchman to his companion, 'if we were ance by Withershins'
Latch, the road's no near sae soft, and we'll show them fair play
for't.'

They soon came to the place he named, a narrow channel, through
which soaked, rather than flowed, a small stagnant stream, mantled
over with bright green mosses. Dinmont directed his steed towards
a pass where the water appeared to flow with more freedom over a
harder bottom; but Dumple backed from the proposed crossing-place,
put his head down as if to reconnoitre the swamp more nearly,
stretching forward his fore-feet, and stood as fast as if he had
been cut out of stone.

'Had we not better,' said Brown, 'dismount, and leave him to his
fate; or can you not urge him through the swamp?'

'Na, na,' said his pilot, 'we maun cross Dumple at no rate, he has
mair sense than mony a Christian.' So saying, he relaxed the
reins, and shook them loosely. 'Come now, lad, take your ain way
o't, let's see where ye'll take us through.'

Dumple, left to the freedom of his own will, trotted briskly to
another part of the latch, less promising, as Brown thought, in
appearance, but which the animal's sagacity or experience
recommended as the safer of the two, and where, plunging in, he
attained the other side with little difficulty.

'I'm glad we're out o' that moss,' said Dinmont, 'where there's
mair stables for horses than change-houses for men; we have the
Maiden-way to help us now, at ony rate.' Accordingly, they
speedily gained a sort of rugged causeway so called, being the
remains of an old Roman road which traverses these wild regions in
a due northerly direction. Here they got on at the rate of nine or
ten miles an hour, Dumple seeking no other respite than what arose
from changing his pace from canter to trot. 'I could gar him show
mair action,' said his master, 'but we are twa lang-legged chields
after a', and it would be a pity to stress Dumple; there wasna the
like o' him at Staneshiebank Fair the day.'

Brown readily assented to the propriety of sparing the horse, and
added that, as they were now far out of the reach of the rogues,
he thought Mr. Dintnont had better tie a handkerchief round his
head, for fear of the cold frosty air aggravating the wound.

'What would I do that for?' answered the hardy farmer; 'the best
way's to let the blood barken upon the cut; that saves plasters,
hinney.'

Brown, who in his military profession had seen a great many hard
blows pass, could not help remarking, 'he had never known such
severe strokes received with so much apparent indifference.'

'Hout tout, man! I would never be making a humdudgeon about a
scart on the pow; but we'll be in Scotland in five minutes now,
and ye maun gang up to Charlie's Hope wi' me, that's a clear
case.'

Brown readily accepted the offered hospitality. Night was now
falling when they came in sight of a pretty river winding its way
through a pastoral country. The hills were greener and more abrupt
than those which Brown had lately passed, sinking their grassy
sides at once upon the river. They had no pretensions to
magnificence of height, or to romantic shapes, nor did their
smooth swelling slopes exhibit either rocks or woods. Yet the view
was wild, solitary, and pleasingly rural. No inclosures, no roads,
almost no tillage; it seemed a land which a patriarch would have
chosen to feed his flocks and herds. The remains of here and there
a dismantled and ruined tower showed that it had once harboured
beings of a very different description from its present
inhabitants; those freebooters, namely, to whose exploits the wars
between England and Scotland bear witness.

Descending by a path towards a well-known ford, Dumple crossed the
small river, and then, quickening his pace, trotted about a mile
briskly up its banks, and approached two or three low thatched
houses, placed with their angles to each other, with a great
contempt of regularity. This was the farm-steading of Charlie's
Hope, or, in the language of the country, 'the town.' A most
furious barking was set up at their approach by the whole three
generations of Mustard and Pepper, and a number of allies, names
unknown. The farmer [Footnote: See Note 3.] made his well-known
voice lustily heard to restore order; the door opened, and a half-
dressed ewe-milker, who had done that good office, shut it in
their faces, in order that she might run 'ben the house' to cry
'Mistress, mistress, it's the master, and another man wi' him.'
Dumple, turned loose, walked to his own stable-door, and there
pawed and whinnied for admission, in strains which were answered
by his acquaintances from the interior. Amid this bustle Brown was
fain to secure Wasp from the other dogs, who, with ardour
corresponding more to their own names than to the hospitable
temper of their owner, were much disposed to use the intruder
roughly.

In about a minute a stout labourer was patting Dumple, and
introducing him into the stable, while Mrs. Dinmont, a well-
favoured buxom dame, welcomed her husband with unfeigned rapture.
'Eh, sirs! gudeman, ye hae been a weary while away!'




CHAPTER XXIV

     Liddell till now, except in Doric lays,
     Tuned to her murmurs by her love-sick swains,
     Unknown in song, though not a purer stream
     Rolls towards the western main

          Art of Preserving Health.


The present store-farmers of the south of Scotland are a much more
refined race than their fathers, and the manners I am now to
describe have either altogether disappeared or are greatly
modified. Without losing the rural simplicity of manners, they now
cultivate arts unknown to the former generation, not only in the
progressive improvement of their possessions but in all the
comforts of life. Their houses are more commodious, their habits
of life regulated so as better to keep pace with those of the
civilised world, and the best of luxuries, the luxury of
knowledge, has gained much ground among their hills during the
last thirty years. Deep drinking, formerly their greatest failing,
is now fast losing ground; and, while the frankness of their
extensive hospitality continues the same, it is, generally
speaking, refined in its character and restrained in its excesses.

'Deil's in the wife,' said Dandie Dinmont, shaking off his
spouse's embrace, but gently and with a look of great affection;
'deil's in ye, Ailie; d'ye no see the stranger gentleman?'

Ailie turned to make her apology--'Troth, I was sae weel pleased
to see the gudeman, that--but, gude gracious! what's the matter
wi' ye baith?' for they were now in her little parlour, and the
candle showed the streaks of blood which Dinmont's wounded head
had plentifully imparted to the clothes of his companion as well
as to his own. 'Ye've been fighting again, Dandie, wi' some o' the
Bewcastle horse-coupers! Wow, man, a married man, wi' a bonny
family like yours, should ken better what a father's life's worth
in the warld'; the tears stood in the good woman's eyes as she
spoke.

'Whisht! whisht! gudewife,' said her husband, with a smack that
had much more affection than ceremony in it; 'never mind, never
mind; there's a gentleman that will tell you that, just when I had
ga'en up to Lourie Lowther's, and had bidden the drinking of twa
cheerers, and gotten just in again upon the moss, and was whigging
cannily awa hame, twa landloupers jumpit out of a peat-hag on me
or I was thinking, and got me down, and knevelled me sair aneuch,
or I could gar my whip walk about their lugs; and troth, gudewife,
if this honest gentleman hadna come up, I would have gotten mair
licks than I like, and lost mair siller than I could weel spare;
so ye maun be thankful to him for it, under God.' With that he
drew from his side-pocket a large greasy leather pocket-book, and
bade the gudewife lock it up in her kist.

'God bless the gentleman, and e'en God bless him wi' a' my heart;
but what can we do for him, but to gie him the meat and quarters
we wadna refuse to the poorest body on earth--unless (her eye
directed to the pocketbook, but with a feeling of natural
propriety which made the inference the most delicate possible),
unless there was ony other way--' Brown saw, and estimated at its
due rate, the mixture of simplicity and grateful generosity which
took the downright way of expressing itself, yet qualified with so
much delicacy; he was aware his own appearance, plain at best, and
now torn and spattered with blood, made him an object of pity at
least, and perhaps of charity. He hastened to say his name was
Brown, a captain in the----regiment of cavalry, travelling for
pleasure, and on foot, both from motives of independence and
economy; and he begged his kind landlady would look at her
husband's wounds, the state of which he had refused to permit him
to examine. Mrs. Dinmont was used to her husband's broken heads
more than to the presence of a captain of dragoons. She therefore
glanced at a table-cloth not quite clean, and conned over her
proposed supper a minute or two, before, patting her husband on
the shoulder, she bade him sit down for 'a hard-headed loon, that
was aye bringing himsell and other folk into collie-shangies.'

When Dandie Dinmont, after executing two or three caprioles, and
cutting the Highland fling, by way of ridicule of his wife's
anxiety, at last deigned to sit down and commit his round, black,
shaggy bullet of a head to her inspection, Brown thought he had
seen the regimental surgeon look grave upon a more trifling case.
The gudewife, however, showed some knowledge of chirurgery; she
cut away with her scissors the gory locks whose stiffened and
coagulated clusters interfered with her operations, and clapped on
the wound some lint besmeared with a vulnerary salve, esteemed
sovereign by the whole dale (which afforded upon fair nights
considerable experience of such cases); she then fixed her plaster
with a bandage, and, spite of her patient's resistance, pulled
over all a night-cap, to keep everything in its right place. Some
contusions on the brow and shoulders she fomented with brandy,
which the patient did not permit till the medicine had paid a
heavy toll to his mouth. Mrs. Dinmont then simply, but kindly,
offered her assistance to Brown.

He assured her he had no occasion for anything but the
accommodation of a basin and towel.

'And that's what I should have thought of sooner,' she said; 'and
I did think o't, but I durst na open the door, for there's a' the
bairns, poor things, sae keen to see their father.'

This explained a great drumming and whining at the door of the
little parlour, which had somewhat surprised Brown, though his
kind landlady had only noticed it by fastening the bolt as soon as
she heard it begin. But on her opening the door to seek the basin
and towel (for she never thought of showing the guest to a
separate room), a whole tide of white-headed urchins streamed in,
some from the stable, where they had been seeing Dumple, and
giving him a welcome home with part of their four-hours scones;
others from the kitchen, where they had been listening to old
Elspeth's tales and ballads; and the youngest, half-naked, out of
bed, all roaring to see daddy, and to inquire what he had brought
home for them from the various fairs he had visited in his
peregrinations. Our knight of the broken head first kissed and
hugged them all round, then distributed whistles, penny-trumpets,
and gingerbread, and, lastly, when the tumult of their joy and
welcome got beyond bearing, exclaimed to his guest--'This is a'
the gude-wife's fault, Captain; she will gie the bairns a' their
ain way.'

'Me! Lord help me,' said Ailie, who at that instant entered with
the basin and ewer, 'how can I help it? I have naething else to
gie them, poor things!'

Dinmont then exerted himself, and, between coaxing, threats, and
shoving, cleared the room of all the intruders excepting a boy and
girl, the two eldest of the family, who could, as he observed,
behave themselves 'distinctly.' For the same reason, but with less
ceremony, all the dogs were kicked out excepting the venerable
patriarchs, old Pepper and Mustard, whom frequent castigation and
the advance of years had inspired with such a share of passive
hospitality that, after mutual explanation and remonstrance in the
shape of some growling, they admitted Wasp, who had hitherto
judged it safe to keep beneath his master's chair, to a share of a
dried-wedder's skin, which, with the wool uppermost and unshorn,
served all the purposes of a Bristol hearth-rug.

The active bustle of the mistress (so she was called in the
kitchen, and the gudewife in the parlour) had already signed the
fate of a couple of fowls, which, for want of time to dress them
otherwise, soon appeared reeking from the gridiron, or brander, as
Mrs. Dinmont denominated it. A huge piece of cold beef-ham, eggs,
butter, cakes, and barley-meal bannocks in plenty made up the
entertainment, which was to be diluted with home-brewed ale of
excellent quality and a case-bottle of brandy. Few soldiers would
find fault with such cheer after a day's hard exercise and a
skirmish to boot; accordingly Brown did great honour to the
eatables. While the gudewife partly aided, partly instructed, a
great stout servant girl, with cheeks as red as her top-knot, to
remove the supper matters and supply sugar and hot water (which,
in the damsel's anxiety to gaze upon an actual live captain, she
was in some danger of forgetting), Brown took an opportunity to
ask his host whether he did not repent of having neglected the
gipsy's hint.

'Wha kens?' answered he; 'they're queer deevils; maybe I might
just have 'scaped ae gang to meet the other. And yet I 'll no say
that neither; for if that randy wife was coming to Charlie's Hope,
she should have a pint bottle o' brandy and a pound o' tobacco to
wear her through the winter. They're queer deevils; as my auld
father used to say, they're warst where they're warst guided.
After a', there's baith gude and ill about the gipsies.'

This, and some other desultory conversation, served as a 'shoeing-
horn' to draw on another cup of ale and another 'cheerer,' as
Dinmont termed it in his country phrase, of brandy and water.
Brown then resolutely declined all further conviviality for that
evening, pleading his own weariness and the effects of the
skirmish, being well aware that it would have availed nothing to
have remonstrated with his host on the danger that excess might
have occasioned to his own raw wound and bloody coxcomb. A very
small bed-room, but a very clean bed, received the traveller, and
the sheets made good the courteous vaunt of the hostess, 'that
they would be as pleasant as he could find ony gate, for they were
washed wi' the fairy-well water, and bleached on the bonny white
gowans, and bittled by Nelly and herself, and what could woman, if
she was a queen, do mair for them?'

They indeed rivalled snow in whiteness, and had, besides, a
pleasant fragrance from the manner in which they had been
bleached. Little Wasp, after licking his master's hand to ask
leave, couched himself on the coverlet at his feet; and the
traveller's senses were soon lost in grateful oblivion.




CHAPTER XXV

     Give ye, Britons, then,
     Your sportive fury, pitiless to pour
     Loose on the nightly robber of the fold.
     Him from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd,
     Let all the thunder of the chase pursue.

           THOMSON'S Seasons.


Brown rose early in the morning and walked out to look at the
establishment of his new friend. All was rough and neglected in
the neighbourhood of the house;--a paltry garden, no pains taken
to make the vicinity dry or comfortable, and a total absence of
all those little neatnesses which give the eye so much pleasure in
looking at an English farm-house. There were, notwithstanding,
evident signs that this arose only from want of taste or
ignorance, not from poverty or the negligence which attends it. On
the contrary, a noble cow-house, well filled with good milk-cows,
a feeding-house, with ten bullocks of the most approved breed, a
stable, with two good teams of horses, the appearance of domestics
active, industrious, and apparently contented with their lot; in a
word, an air of liberal though sluttish plenty indicated the
wealthy fanner. The situation of the house above the river formed
a gentle declivity, which relieved the inhabitants of the
nuisances that might otherwise have stagnated around it. At a
little distance was the whole band of children playing and
building houses with peats around a huge doddered oak-tree, which
was called Charlie's Bush, from some tradition respecting an old
freebooter who had once inhabited the spot. Between the farm-house
and the hill-pasture was a deep morass, termed in that country a
slack; it had once been the defence of a fortalice, of which no
vestiges now remained, but which was said to have been inhabited
by the same doughty hero we have now alluded to. Brown endeavoured
to make some acquaintance with the children, but 'the rogues fled
from him like quicksilver,' though the two eldest stood peeping
when they had got to some distance. The traveller then turned his
course towards the hill, crossing the foresaid swamp by a range of
stepping-stones, neither the broadest nor steadiest that could be
imagined. He had not climbed far up the hill when he met a man
descending.

He soon recognised his worthy host, though a 'maud,' as it is
called, or a grey shepherd's plaid, supplied his travelling
jockey-coat, and a cap, faced with wild-cat's fur, more
comrhodiously covered his bandaged head than a hat would have
done. As he appeared through the morning mist, Brown, accustomed
to judge of men by their thewes and sinews, could not help
admiring his height, the breadth of his shoulders, and the steady
firmness of his step. Dinmont internally paid the same compliment
to Brown, whose athletic form he now perused somewhat more at
leisure than he had done formerly. After the usual greetings of
the morning, the guest inquired whether his host found any
inconvenient consequences from the last night's affray.

'I had maist forgotten't,' said the hardy Borderer; 'but I think
this morning, now that I am fresh and sober, if you and I were at
the Withershins' Latch, wi' ilka ane a gude oak souple in his
hand, we wadna turn back, no for half a dizzen o' yon scaff-raff.'

'But are you prudent, my good sir,' said Brown, 'not to take an
hour or two's repose after receiving such severe contusions?'

'Confusions!' replied the farmer, laughing in derision. 'Lord,
Captain, naething confuses my head. I ance jumped up and laid the
dogs on the fox after I had tumbled from the tap o' Christenbury
Craig, and that might have confused me to purpose. Na, naething
confuses me, unless it be a screed o' drink at an orra time.
Besides, I behooved to be round the hirsel this morning and see
how the herds were coming on; they're apt to be negligent wi'
their footballs, and fairs, and trysts, when ane's away. And there
I met wi' Tarn o' Todshaw, and a wheen o' the rest o' the billies
on the water side; they're a' for a fox-hunt this morning,--ye'll
gang? I 'll gie ye Dumple, and take the brood mare mysell.'

'But I fear I must leave you this morning, Mr. Dinmont,' replied
Brown.

'The fient a bit o' that,' exclaimed the Borderer. 'I'll no part
wi' ye at ony rate for a fortnight mair. Na, na; we dinna meet sic
friends as you on a Bewcastle moss every night.'

Brown had not designed his journey should be a speedy one; he
therefore readily compounded with this hearty invitation by
agreeing to pass a week at Charlie's Hope.

On their return to the house, where the goodwife presided over an
ample breakfast, she heard news of the proposed fox-hunt, not
indeed with approbation, but without alarm or surprise. 'Dand!
ye're the auld man yet; naething will make ye take warning till
ye're brought hame some day wi' your feet foremost.'

'Tut, lass!' answered Dandle, 'ye ken yoursell I am never a prin
the waur o' my rambles.'

So saying, he exhorted Brown to be hasty in despatching his
breakfast, as, 'the frost having given way, the scent would lie
this morning primely.'

Out they sallied accordingly for Otterscope Scaurs, the farmer
leading the way. They soon quitted the little valley, and involved
themselves among hills as steep as they could be without being
precipitous. The sides often presented gullies, down which, in the
winter season, or after heavy rain, the torrents descended with
great fury. Some dappled mists still floated along the peaks of
the hills, the remains of the morning clouds, for the frost had
broken up with a smart shower. Through these fleecy screens were
seen a hundred little temporary streamlets, or rills, descending
the sides of the mountains like silver threads. By small sheep-
tracks along these steeps, over which Dinmont trotted with the
most fearless confidence, they at length drew near the scene of
sport, and began to see other men, both on horse and foot, making
toward the place of rendezvous. Brown was puzzling himself to
conceive how a fox-chase could take place among hills, where it
was barely possible for a pony, accustomed to the ground, to trot
along, but where, quitting the track for half a yard's breadth,
the rider might be either bogged or precipitated down the bank.
This wonder was not diminished when he came to the place of
action.

They had gradually ascended very high, and now found themselves on
a mountain-ridge, overhanging a glen of great depth, but extremely
narrow. Here the sportsmen had collected, with an apparatus which
would have shocked a member of the Pychely Hunt; for, the object
being the removal of a noxious and destructive animal, as well as
the pleasures of the chase, poor Reynard was allowed much less
fair play than when pursued in form through an open country. The
strength of his habitation, however, and the nature of the ground
by which it was surrounded on all sides, supplied what was wanting
in the courtesy of his pursuers. The sides of the glen were broken
banks of earth and rocks of rotten stone, which sunk sheer down to
the little winding stream below, affording here and there a tuft
of scathed brushwood or a patch of furze. Along the edges of this
ravine, which, as we have said, was very narrow, but of profound
depth, the hunters on horse and foot ranged themselves; almost
every farmer had with him at least a brace of large and fierce
greyhounds, of the race of those deer-dogs which were formerly
used in that country, but greatly lessened in size from being
crossed with the common breed. The huntsman, a sort of provincial
officer of the district, who receives a certain supply of meal,
and a reward for every fox he destroys, was already at the bottom
of the dell, whose echoes thundered to the chiding of two or three
brace of foxhounds. Terriers, including the whole generation of
Pepper and Mustard, were also in attendance, having been sent
forward under the care of a shepherd. Mongrel, whelp, and cur of
low degree filled up the burden of the chorus. The spectators on
the brink of the ravine, or glen, held their greyhounds in leash
in readiness to slip them at the fox as soon as the activity of
the party below should force him to abandon his cover.

The scene, though uncouth to the eye of a professed sportsman, had
something in it wildly captivating. The shifting figures on the
mountain-ridge, having the sky for their background, appeared to
move in the air. The dogs, impatient of their restraint, and
maddened with the baying beneath, sprung here and there, and
strained at the slips, which prevented them from joining their
companions. Looking down, the view was equally striking. The thin
mists were not totally dispersed in the glen, so that it was often
through their gauzy medium that the eye strove to discover the
motions of the hunters below. Sometimes a breath of wind made the
scene visible, the blue rill glittering as it twined itself
through its rude and solitary dell. They then could see the
shepherds springing with fearless activity from one dangerous
point to another, and cheering the dogs on the scent, the whole so
diminished by depth and distance that they looked like pigmies.
Again the mists close over them, and the only signs of their
continued exertions are the halloos of the men and the clamours of
the hounds, ascending as it were out of the bowels of the earth.
When the fox, thus persecuted from one stronghold to another, was
at length obl'ged to abandon his valley, and to break away for a
more distant retreat, those who watched his motions from the top
slipped their greyhounds, which, excelling the fox in swiftness,
and equalling him in ferocity and spirit, soon brought the
plunderer to his life's end.

In this way, without any attention to the ordinary rules and
decorums of sport, but apparently as much to the gratification
both of bipeds and quadrupeds as if all due ritual had been
followed, four foxes were killed on this active morning; and even
Brown himself, though he had seen the princely sports of India,
and ridden a-tiger-hunting upon an elephant with the Nabob of
Arcot, professed to have received an excellent morning's
amusement. When the sport was given up for the day, most of the
sportsmen, according to the established hospitality of the
country, went to dine at Charlie's Hope.

During their return homeward Brown rode for a short time beside
the huntsman, and asked him some questions concerning the mode in
which he exercised his profession. The man showed an unwillingness
to meet his eye, and a disposition to be rid of his company and
conversation, for which Brown could not easily account. He was a
thin, dark, active fellow, well framed for the hardy profession
which he exercised. But his face had not the frankness of the
jolly hunter; he was down-looked, embarrassed, and avoided the
eyes of those who looked hard at him. After some unimportant
observations on the success of the day, Brown gave him a trifling
gratuity, and rode on with his landlord. They found the goodwife
prepared for their reception; the fold and the poultry-yard
furnished the entertainment, and the kind and hearty welcome made
amends for all deficiencies in elegance and fashion.




CHAPTER XXVI

     The Elliots and Armstrongs did convene,
     They were a gallant company!

          Ballad of Johnnie Armstrong


Without noticing the occupations of an intervening day or two,
which, as they consisted of the ordinary silvan amusements of
shooting and coursing, have nothing sufficiently interesting to
detain the reader, we pass to one in some degree peculiar to
Scotland, which may be called a sort of salmon-hunting. This
chase, in which the fish is pursued and struck with barbed spears,
or a sort of long-shafted trident, called a waster, is much
practised at the mouth of the Esk and in the other salmon rivers
of Scotland. The sport is followed by day and night, but most
commonly in the latter, when the fish are discovered by means of
torches, or fire-grates, filled with blazing fragments of tar-
barrels, which shed a strong though partial light upon the water.
On the present occasion the principal party were embarked in a
crazy boat upon a part of the river which was enlarged and
deepened by the restraint of a mill-wear, while others, like the
ancient Bacchanals in their gambols, ran along the banks,
brandishing their torches and spears, and pursuing the salmon,
some of which endeavoured to escape up the stream, while others,
shrouding themselves under roots of trees, fragments of stones,
and large rocks, attempted to conceal themselves from the
researches of the fishermen. These the party in the boat detected
by the slightest indications; the twinkling of a fin, the rising
of an airbell, was sufficient to point out to these adroit
sportsmen in what direction to use their weapon.

The scene was inexpressibly animating to those accustomed to it;
but, as Brown was not practised to use the spear, he soon tired of
making efforts which were attended with no other consequences than
jarring his arms against the rocks at the bottom of the river,
upon which, instead of the devoted salmon, he often bestowed his
blow. Nor did he relish, though he concealed feelings which would
not have been understood, being quite so near the agonies of the
expiring salmon, as they lay flapping about in the boat, which
they moistened with their blood. He therefore requested to be put
ashore, and, from the top of a heugh or broken bank, enjoyed the
scene much more to his satisfaction. Often he thought of his
friend Dudley the artist, when he observed the effect produced by
the strong red glare on the romantic banks under which the boat
glided. Now the light diminished to a distant star that seemed to
twinkle on the waters, like those which, according to the legends
of the country, the water-kelpy sends for the purpose of
indicating the watery grave of his victims. Then it advanced
nearer, brightening and enlarging as it again approached, till the
broad flickering flame rendered bank and rock and tree visible as
it passed, tingeing them with its own red glare of dusky light,
and resigning them gradually to darkness, or to pale moonlight, as
it receded. By this light also were seen the figures in the boat,
now holding high their weapons, now stooping to strike, now
standing upright, bronzed by the same red glare into a colour
which might have befitted the regions of Pandemonium.

Having amused himself for some time with these effects of light
and shadow, Brown strolled homewards towards the farm-house,
gazing in his way at the persons engaged in the sport, two or
three of whom are generally kept together, one holding the torch,
the others with their spears, ready to avail themselves of the
light it affords to strike their prey. As he observed one man
struggling with a very weighty salmon which he had speared, but
was unable completely to raise from the water, Brown advanced
close to the bank to see the issue of his exertions. The man who
held the torch in this instance was the huntsman, whose sulky
demeanour Brown had already noticed with surprise. 'Come here,
sir! come here, sir! look at this ane! He turns up a side like a
sow.' Such was the cry from the assistants when some of them
observed Brown advancing.

'Ground the waster weel, man! ground the waster weel! Haud him
down! Ye haena the pith o' a cat!' were the cries of advice,
encouragement, and expostulation from those who were on the bank
to the sportsman engaged with the salmon, who stood up to his
middle in water, jingling among broken ice, struggling against the
force of the fish and the strength of the current, and dubious in
what manner he should attempt to secure his booty. As Brown came
to the edge of the bank, he called out--'Hold up your torch,
friend huntsman!' for he had already distinguished his dusky
features by the strong light cast upon them by the blaze. But the
fellow no sooner heard his voice, and saw, or rather concluded, it
was Brown who approached him, than, instead of advancing his
light, he let it drop, as if accidentally, into the water.

'The deil's in Gabriel!' said the spearman, as the fragments of
glowing wood floated half-blazing, half-sparkling, but soon
extinguished, down the stream. 'The deil's in the man! I'll never
master him without the light; and a braver kipper, could I but
land him, never reisted abune a pair o' cleeks.'[Footnote: See
Note 4] Some dashed into the water to lend their assistance, and
the fish, which was afterwards found to weigh nearly thirty
pounds, was landed in safety.

The behaviour of the huntsman struck Brown, although he had no
recollection of his face, nor could conceive why he should, as it
appeared he evidently did, shun his observation. Could he be one
of the footpads he had encountered a few days before? The
supposition was not altogether improbable, although unwarranted by
any observation he was able to make upon the man's figure and
face. To be sure the villains wore their hats much slouched, and
had loose coats, and their size was not in any way so peculiarly
discriminated as to enable him to resort to that criterion. He
resolved to speak to his host Dinmont on the subject, but for
obvious reasons concluded it were best to defer the explanation
until a cool hour in the morning.