To all appearance, the equanimity of Sampson was unshaken. He sought to
assist his parents by teaching a school, and soon had plenty of scholars,
but very few fees. In fact, he taught the sons of farmers for what they
chose to give him, and the poor for nothing; and, to the shame of the
former be it spoken, the pedagogue's gains never equalled those of a
skilful ploughman. He wrote, however, a good hand, and added something to
his pittance by copying accounts and writing letters for Ellangowan. By
degrees, the Laird, who was much estranged from general society, became
partial to that of Dominie Sampson. Conversation, it is true, was out of
the question, but the Dominie was a good listener, and stirred the fire
with some address. He attempted even to snuff the candles, but was
unsuccessful, and relinquished that ambitious post of courtesy after
having twice reduced the parlour to total darkness. So his civilities,
thereafter, were confined to taking off his glass of ale in exactly the
same time and measure with the Laird, and in uttering certain indistinct
murmurs of acquiescence at the conclusion of the long and winding stories
of Ellangowan.

On one of these occasions, he presented for the first time to Mannering
his tall, gaunt, awkward, bony figure, attired in a threadbare suit of
black, with a coloured handkerchief, not over clean, about his sinewy,
scraggy neck, and his nether person arrayed in grey breeches, dark-blue
stockings, clouted shoes, and small copper buckles.

Such is a brief outline of the lives and fortunes of those two persons in
whose society Mannering now found himself comfortably seated.






CHAPTER  III
     Do not the hist'ries of all ages
     Relate miraculous presages
     Of strange turns in the world's affairs,
     Foreseen by astrologers, soothsayers,
     Chaldeans, learned genethliacs,
     And some that have writ almanacks?

          Hudibras.


The circumstances of the landlady were pleaded to Mannering, first, as an
apology for her not appearing to welcome her guest, and for those
deficiencies in his entertainment which her attention might have
supplied, and then as an excuse for pressing an extra bottle of good
wine. 'I cannot weel sleep,' said the Laird, with the anxious feelings of
a father in such a predicament, 'till I hear she's gotten ower with it;
and if you, sir, are not very sleepery, and would do me and the Dominie
the honour to sit up wi' us, I am sure we shall not detain you very late.
Luckie Howatson is very expeditious. There was ance a lass that was in
that way; she did not live far from hereabouts--ye needna shake your head
and groan, Dominie; I am sure the kirk dues were a' weel paid, and what
can man do mair?--it was laid till her ere she had a sark ower her head;
and the man that she since wadded does not think her a pin the waur for
the misfortune. They live, Mr. Mannering, by the shoreside at Annan, and
a mair decent, orderly couple, with six as fine bairns as ye would wish
to see plash in a saltwater dub; and little curlie Godfrey--that's the
eldest, the come o' will, as I may say--he's on board an excise yacht. I
hae a cousin at the board of excise; that's Commissioner Bertram; he got
his commissionership in the great contest for the county, that ye must
have heard of, for it was appealed to the House of Commons. Now I should
have voted there for the Laird of Balruddery; but ye see my father was a
Jacobite, and out with Kenmore, so he never took the oaths; and I ken not
weel how it was, but all that I could do and say, they keepit me off the
roll, though my agent, that had a vote upon my estate, ranked as a good
vote for auld Sir Thomas Kittlecourt. But, to return to what I was
saying, Luckie Howatson is very expeditious, for this lass--'

Here the desultory and long-winded narrative of the Laird was interrupted
by the voice of some one ascending the stairs from the kitchen story, and
singing at full pitch of voice. The high notes were too shrill for a man,
the low seemed too deep for a woman. The words, as far as Mannering could
distinguish them, seemed to run thus:--

    Canny moment, lucky fit!
    Is the lady lighter yet?
    Be it lad, or be it lass,
    Sign wi' cross and sain wi' mass.

'It's Meg Merrilies, the gipsy, as sure as I am a sinner,' said Mr.
Bertram. The Dominie groaned deeply, uncrossed his legs, drew in the huge
splay foot which his former posture had extended, placed it
perpendicularly, and stretched the other limb over it instead, puffing
out between whiles huge volumes of tobacco smoke. 'What needs ye groan,
Dominie? I am sure Meg's sangs do nae ill.'

'Nor good neither,' answered Dominie Sampson, in a voice whose untuneable
harshness corresponded with the awkwardness of his figure. They were the
first words which Mannering had heard him speak; and as he had been
watching with some curiosity when this eating, drinking, moving, and
smoking automaton would perform the part of speaking, he was a good deal
diverted with the harsh timber tones which issued from him. But at this
moment the door opened, and Meg Merrilies entered.

Her appearance made Mannering start. She was full six feet high, wore a
man's great-coat over the rest of her dress, had in her hand a goodly
sloethorn cudgel, and in all points of equipment, except her petticoats,
seemed rather masculine than feminine. Her dark elf-locks shot out like
the snakes of the gorgon between an old-fashioned bonnet called a
bongrace, heightening the singular effect of her strong and
weather-beaten features, which they partly shadowed, while her eye had a
wild roll that indicated something like real or affected insanity.

'Aweel, Ellangowan,' she said, 'wad it no hae been a bonnie thing, an the
leddy had been brought to bed, and me at the fair o' Drumshourloch, no
kenning, nor dreaming a word about it? Wha was to hae keepit awa the
worriecows, I trow? Ay, and the elves and gyre-carlings frae the bonnie
bairn, grace be wi' it? Ay, or said Saint Colme's charm for its sake, the
dear?' And without waiting an answer she began to sing--

     Trefoil, vervain, John's-wort, dill,
     Hinders witches of their
     will, Weel is them, that weel may
     Fast upon Saint Andrew's day.

     Saint Bride and her brat,
     Saint Colme and his cat,
     Saint Michael and his spear,
     Keep the house frae reif and wear.

This charm she sung to a wild tune, in a high and shrill voice, and,
cutting three capers with such strength and agility as almost to touch
the roof of the room, concluded, 'And now, Laird, will ye no order me a
tass o' brandy?'

'That you shall have, Meg. Sit down yont there at the door and tell us
what news ye have heard at the fair o' Drumshourloch.'

'Troth, Laird, and there was muckle want o' you, and the like o' you; for
there was a whin bonnie lasses there, forbye mysell, and deil ane to gie
them hansels.'

'Weel, Meg, and how mony gipsies were sent to the tolbooth?'

'Troth, but three, Laird, for there were nae mair in the fair, bye
mysell, as I said before, and I e'en gae them leg-bail, for there's nae
ease in dealing wi' quarrelsome fowk. And there's Dunbog has warned the
Red Rotten and John Young aff his grunds--black be his cast! he's nae
gentleman, nor drap's bluid o' gentleman, wad grudge twa gangrel puir
bodies the shelter o' a waste house, and the thristles by the roadside
for a bit cuddy, and the bits o' rotten birk to boil their drap parritch
wi'. Weel, there's Ane abune a'; but we'll see if the red cock craw not
in his bonnie barn-yard ae morning before day-dawing.'

'Hush! Meg, hush! hush! that's not safe talk.'

'What does she mean?' said Mannering to Sampson, in an undertone.

'Fire-raising,' answered the laconic Dominie.

'Who, or what is she, in the name of wonder?'

'Harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy,' answered Sampson again.

'O troth, Laird,' continued Meg, during this by-talk, 'it's but to the
like o' you ane can open their heart; ye see, they say Dunbog is nae mair
a gentleman than the blunker that's biggit the bonnie house down in the
howm. But the like o' you, Laird, that's a real gentleman for sae mony
hundred years, and never hunds puir fowk aff your grund as if they were
mad tykes, nane o' our fowk wad stir your gear if ye had as mony capons
as there's leaves on the trysting-tree. And now some o' ye maun lay down
your watch, and tell me the very minute o' the hour the wean's born, an
I'll spae its fortune.'

'Ay, but, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here's a   student
from Oxford that kens much better than you how to spae its fortune; he
does it by the stars.'

'Certainly, sir,' said Mannering, entering into the simple humour of his
landlord, 'I will calculate his nativity according to the rule of the
"triplicities," as recommended by Pythagoras, Hippocrates, Diocles, and
Avicenna. Or I will begin ab hora questionis, as Haly, Messahala,
Ganwehis, and Guido Bonatus have recommended.'

One of Sampson's great recommendations to the favour of Mr. Bertram was,
that he never detected the most gross attempt at imposition, so that the
Laird, whose humble efforts at jocularity were chiefly confined to what
were then called bites and bams, since denominated hoaxes and quizzes,
had the fairest possible subject of wit in the unsuspecting Dominie. It
is true, he never laughed, or joined in the laugh which his own
simplicity afforded--nay, it is said, he never laughed but once in his
life, and on that memorable occasion his landlady miscarried, partly
through surprise at the event itself, and partly from terror at the
hideous grimaces which attended this unusual cachinnation. The only
effect which the discovery of such impositions produced upon this
saturnine personage was, to extort an ejaculation of 'Prodigious!' or
'Very facetious!' pronounced syllabically, but without moving a muscle of
his own countenance.

On the present occasion, he turned a gaunt and ghastly stare upon the
youthful astrologer, and seemed to doubt if he had rightly understood his
answer to his patron.

'I am afraid, sir,' said Mannering, turning towards him, 'you may be one
of those unhappy persons who, their dim eyes being unable to penetrate
the starry spheres, and to discern therein the decrees of heaven at a
distance, have their hearts barred against conviction by prejudice and
misprision.'

'Truly,' said Sampson, 'I opine with Sir Isaac Newton, Knight, and
umwhile master of his Majesty's mint, that the (pretended) science of
astrology is altogether vain, frivolous, and unsatisfactory.' And here he
reposed his oracular jaws.

'Really,' resumed the traveller, 'I am sorry to see a gentleman of your
learning and gravity labouring under such strange blindness and delusion.
Will you place the brief, the modern, and, as I may say, the vernacular
name of Isaac Newton in opposition to the grave and sonorous authorities
of Dariot, Bonatus, Ptolemy, Haly, Eztler, Dieterick, Naibob, Harfurt,
Zael, Taustettor, Agrippa, Duretus, Maginus, Origen, and Argol? Do not
Christians and Heathens, and Jews and Gentiles, and poets and
philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences?'

'Communis error--it is a general mistake,' answered the inflexible
Dominie Sampson.

'Not so,' replied the young Englishman; 'it is a general and
well-grounded belief.'

'It is the resource of cheaters, knaves, and cozeners,' said Sampson.

'Abusus non tollit usum.--The abuse of anything doth not abrogate the
lawful use thereof.'

During this discussion Ellangowan was somewhat like a woodcock caught in
his own springe. He turned his face alternately from the one spokesman to
the other, and began, from the gravity with which Mannering plied his
adversary, and the learning which he displayed in the controversy, to
give him credit for being half serious. As for Meg, she fixed her
bewildered eyes upon the astrologer, overpowered by a jargon more
mysterious than her own.

Mannering pressed his advantage, and ran over all the hard terms of art
which a tenacious memory supplied, and which, from circumstances
hereafter to be noticed, had been familiar to him in early youth.

Signs and planets, in aspects sextile, quartile, trine, conjoined, or
opposite; houses of heaven, with their cusps, hours, and minutes;
almuten, almochoden, anabibazon, catabibazon; a thousand terms of equal
sound and significance, poured thick and threefold upon the unshrinking
Dominie, whose stubborn incredulity bore him out against the pelting of
this pitiless storm.

At length the joyful annunciation that the lady had presented her husband
with a fine boy, and was (of course) as well as could be expected, broke
off this intercourse. Mr. Bertram hastened to the lady's apartment, Meg
Merrilies descended to the kitchen to secure her share of the groaning
malt and the 'ken-no,' [Footnote: See Note i.] and Mannering, after
looking at his watch, and noting with great exactness the hour and minute
of the birth, requested, with becoming gravity, that the Dominie would
conduct him to some place where he might have a view of the heavenly
bodies.

The schoolmaster, without further answer, rose and threw open a door half
sashed with glass, which led to an old-fashioned terrace-walk behind the
modern house, communicating with the platform on which the ruins of the
ancient castle were situated. The wind had arisen, and swept before it
the clouds which had formerly obscured the sky. The moon was high, and at
the full, and all the lesser satellites of heaven shone forth in
cloudless effulgence. The scene which their light presented to Mannering
was in the highest degree unexpected and striking.

We have observed, that in the latter part of his journey our traveller
approached the sea-shore, without being aware how nearly. He now
perceived that the ruins of Ellangowan Castle were situated upon a
promontory, or projection of rock, which formed one side of a small and
placid bay on the sea-shore. The modern mansion was placed lower, though
closely adjoining, and the ground behind it descended to the sea by a
small swelling green bank, divided into levels by natural terraces, on
which grew some old trees, and terminating upon the white sand. The other
side of the bay, opposite to the old castle, was a sloping and varied
promontory, covered chiefly with copsewood, which on that favoured coast
grows almost within water-mark. A fisherman's cottage peeped from among
the trees. Even at this dead hour of night there were lights moving upon
the shore, probably occasioned by the unloading a smuggling lugger from
the Isle of Man which was lying in the bay. On the light from the sashed
door of the house being observed, a halloo from the vessel of 'Ware hawk!
Douse the glim!' alarmed those who were on shore, and the lights
instantly disappeared.

It was one hour after midnight, and the prospect around was lovely. The
grey old towers of the ruin, partly entire, partly broken, here bearing
the rusty weather-stains of ages, and there partially mantled with ivy,
stretched along the verge of the dark rock which rose on Mannering's
right hand. In his front was the quiet bay, whose little waves, crisping
and sparkling to the moonbeams, rolled successively along its surface,
and dashed with a soft and murmuring ripple against the silvery beach. To
the left the woods advanced far into the ocean, waving in the moonlight
along ground of an undulating and varied form, and presenting those
varieties of light and shade, and that interesting combination of glade
and thicket, upon which the eye delights to rest, charmed with what it
sees, yet curious to pierce still deeper into the intricacies of the
woodland scenery. Above rolled the planets, each, by its own liquid orbit
of light, distinguished from the inferior or more distant stars. So
strangely can imagination deceive even those by whose volition it has
been excited, that Mannering, while gazing upon these brilliant bodies,
was half inclined to believe in the influence ascribed to them by
superstition over human events. But Mannering was a youthful lover, and
might perhaps be influenced by the feelings so exquisitely expressed by a
modern poet:--

     For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace:
     Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays, and talismans,
     And spirits, and delightedly believes
     Divinities, being himself divine
     The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
     The fair humanities of old religion,
     The power,the beauty, and the majesty,
     That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
     Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
     Or chasms and wat'ry depths--all these have vanish'd;
     They live no longer in the faith of reason!
     But still the heart doth need a language, still
     Doth the old instinct bring back the old names.
     And to yon starry world they now are gone,
     Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
     With man as with their friend, and to the lover
     Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
     Shoot influence down; and even at this day
     'T is Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
     And Venus who brings everything that's fair.

Such musings soon gave way to others. 'Alas!' he muttered, 'my good old
tutor, who used to enter so deep into the controversy between Heydon and
Chambers on the subject of astrology, he would have looked upon the scene
with other eyes, and would have seriously endeavoured to discover from
the respective positions of these luminaries their probable effects on
the destiny of the new-born infant, as if the courses or emanations of
the stars superseded, or at least were co-ordinate with, Divine
Providence. Well, rest be with him! he instilled into me enough of
knowledge for erecting a scheme of nativity, and therefore will I
presently go about it.' So saying, and having noted the position of the
principal planetary bodies, Guy Mannering returned to the house. The
Laird met him in the parlour, and, acquainting him with great glee that
the boy was a fine healthy little fellow, seemed rather disposed to press
further conviviality. He admitted, however, Mannering's plea of
weariness, and, conducting him to his sleeping apartment, left him to
repose for the evening.






CHAPTER  IV
    Come and see' trust thine own eyes
    A fearful sign stands in the house of life,
    An enemy a fiend lurks close behind
    The radiance of thy planet O be warned!

         COLERIDGE, from SCHILLER


The belief in astrology was almost universal in the middle of the
seventeenth century; it began to waver and become doubtful towards the
close of that period, and in the beginning of the eighteenth the art fell
into general disrepute, and even under general ridicule. Yet it still
retained many partizans even in the seats of learning. Grave and studious
men were both to relinquish the calculations which had early become the
principal objects of their studies, and felt reluctant to descend from
the predominating height to which a supposed insight into futurity, by
the power of consulting abstract influences and conjunctions, had exalted
them over the rest of mankind.

Among those who cherished this imaginary privilege with undoubting faith
was an old clergyman with whom Mannering was placed during his youth. He
wasted his eyes in observing the stars, and his brains in calculations
upon their various combinations. His pupil, in early youth, naturally
caught some portion of his enthusiasm, and laboured for a time to make
himself master of the technical process of astrological research; so
that, before he became convinced of its absurdity, William Lilly himself
would have allowed him 'a curious fancy and piercing judgment in
resolving a question of nativity.'

On the present occasion he arose as early in the morning as the shortness
of the day permitted, and proceeded to calculate the nativity of the
young heir of Ellangowan. He undertook the task secundum artem, as well
to keep up appearances as from a sort of curiosity to know whether he yet
remembered, and could practise, the imaginary science. He accordingly
erected his scheme, or figure of heaven, divided into its twelve houses,
placed the planets therein according to the ephemeris, and rectified
their position to the hour and moment of the nativity. Without troubling
our readers with the general prognostications which judicial astrology
would have inferred from these circumstances, in this diagram there was
one significator which pressed remarkably upon our astrologer's
attention. Mars, having dignity in the cusp of the twelfth house,
threatened captivity or sudden and violent death to the native; and
Mannering, having recourse to those further rules by which diviners
pretend to ascertain the vehemency of this evil direction, observed from
the result that three periods would be particularly hazardous--his fifth,
his tenth, his twenty-first year.

It was somewhat remarkable that Mannering had once before tried a similar
piece of foolery at the instance of Sophia Wellwood, the young lady to
whom he was attached, and that a similar conjunction of planetary
influence threatened her with death or imprisonment in her thirty-ninth
year. She was at this time eighteen; so that, according to the result of
the scheme in both cases, the same year threatened her with the same
misfortune that was presaged to the native or infant whom that night had
introduced into the world. Struck with this coincidence, Mannering
repeated his calculations; and the result approximated the events
predicted, until at length the same month, and day of the month, seemed
assigned as the period of peril to both.

It will be readily believed that, in mentioning this circumstance, we lay
no weight whatever upon the pretended information thus conveyed. But it
often happens, such is our natural love for the marvellous, that we
willingly contribute our own efforts to beguile our better judgments.
Whether the coincidence which I have mentioned was really one of those
singular chances which sometimes happen against all ordinary
calculations; or whether Mannering, bewildered amid the arithmetical
labyrinth and technical jargon of astrology, had insensibly twice
followed the same clue to guide him out of the maze; or whether his
imagination, seduced by some point of apparent resemblance, lent its aid
to make the similitude between the two operations more exactly accurate
than it might otherwise have been, it is impossible to guess; but the
impression upon his mind that the results exactly corresponded was
vividly and indelibly strong.

He could not help feeling surprise at a coincidence so singular and
unexpected. 'Does the devil mingle in the dance, to avenge himself for
our trifling with an art said to be of magical origin? Or is it possible,
as Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne admit, that there is some truth in a sober
and regulated astrology, and that the influence of the stars is not to be
denied, though the due application of it by the knaves who pretend to
practise the art is greatly to be suspected?' A moment's consideration of
the subject induced him to dismiss this opinion as fantastical, and only
sanctioned by those learned men either because they durst not at once
shock the universal prejudices of their age, or because they themselves
were not altogether freed from the contagious influence of a prevailing
superstition. Yet the result of his calculations in these two instances
left so unpleasing an impression on his mind that, like Prospero, he
mentally relinquished his art, and resolved, neither in jest nor earnest,
ever again to practise judicial astrology.

He hesitated a good deal what he should say to the Laird of Ellangowan
concerning the horoscope of his first-born; and at length resolved
plainly to tell him the judgment which he had formed, at the same time
acquainting him with the futility of the rules of art on which he had
proceeded. With this resolution he walked out upon the terrace.

If the view of the scene around Ellangowan had been pleasing by
moonlight, it lost none of its beauty by the light of the morning sun.
The land, even in the month of November, smiled under its influence. A
steep but regular ascent led from the terrace to the neighbouring
eminence, and conducted Mannering to the front of the old castle. It
consisted of two massive round towers projecting deeply and darkly at the
extreme angles of a curtain, or flat wall, which united them, and thus
protecting the main entrance, that opened through a lofty arch in the
centre of the curtain into the inner court of the castle. The arms of the
family, carved in freestone, frowned over the gateway, and the portal
showed the spaces arranged by the architect for lowering the portcullis
and raising the drawbridge. A rude farm-gate, made of young fir-trees
nailed together, now formed the only safeguard of this once formidable
entrance. The esplanade in front of the castle commanded a noble
prospect.

The dreary scene of desolation through which Mannering's road had lain on
the preceding evening was excluded from the view by some rising ground,
and the landscape showed a pleasing alternation of hill and dale,
intersected by a river, which was in some places visible, and hidden in
others, where it rolled betwixt deep and wooded banks. The spire of a
church and the appearance of some houses indicated the situation of a
village at the place where the stream had its junction with the ocean.
The vales seemed well cultivated, the little inclosures into which they
were divided skirting the bottom of the hills, and sometimes carrying
their lines of straggling hedgerows a little way up the ascent. Above
these were green pastures, tenanted chiefly by herds of black cattle,
then the staple commodity of the country, whose distant low gave no
unpleasing animation to the landscape. The remoter hills were of a
sterner character, and, at still greater distance, swelled into mountains
of dark heath, bordering the horizon with a screen which gave a defined
and limited boundary to the cultivated country, and added at the same
time the pleasing idea that it was sequestered and solitary. The
sea-coast, which Mannering now saw in its extent, corresponded in variety
and beauty with the inland view. In some places it rose into tall rocks,
frequently crowned with the ruins of old buildings, towers, or beacons,
which, according to tradition, were placed within sight of each other,
that, in times of invasion or civil war, they might communicate by signal
for mutual defence and protection. Ellangowan Castle was by far the most
extensive and important of these ruins, and asserted from size and
situation the superiority which its founders were said once to have
possessed among the chiefs and nobles of the district. In other places
the shore was of a more gentle description, indented with small bays,
where the land sloped smoothly down, or sent into the sea promontories
covered with wood.







A scene so different from what last night's journey had presaged produced
a proportional effect upon Mannering. Beneath his eye lay the modern
house--an awkward mansion, indeed, in point of architecture, but well
situated, and with a warm, pleasant exposure. 'How happily,' thought our
hero, 'would life glide on in such a retirement! On the one hand, the
striking remnants of ancient grandeur, with the secret consciousness of
family pride which they inspire; on the other, enough of modern elegance
and comfort to satisfy every moderate wish. Here then, and with thee,
Sophia!'

We shall not pursue a lover's day-dream any farther. Mannering stood a
minute with his arms folded, and then turned to the ruined castle.

On entering the gateway, he found that the rude magnificence of the inner
court amply corresponded with the grandeur of the exterior. On the one
side ran a range of windows lofty and large, divided by carved mullions
of stone, which had once lighted the great hall of the castle; on the
other were various buildings of different heights and dates, yet so
united as to present to the eye a certain general effect of uniformity of
front. The doors and windows were ornamented with projections exhibiting
rude specimens of sculpture and tracery, partly entire and partly broken
down, partly covered by ivy and trailing plants, which grew luxuriantly
among the ruins. That end of the court which faced the entrance had also
been formerly closed by a range of buildings; but owing, it was said, to
its having been battered by the ships of the Parliament under Deane,
during the long civil war, this part of the castle was much more ruinous
than the rest, and exhibited a great chasm, through which Mannering could
observe the sea, and the little vessel (an armed lugger), which retained
her station in the centre of the bay. [Footnote: The outline of the above
description, as far as the supposed ruins are concerned, will be found
somewhat to resemble the noble remains of Carlaverock Castle, six or
seven miles from Dumfries, and near to Lochar Moss.] While Mannering was
gazing round the ruins, he heard from the interior of an apartment on the
left hand the voice of the gipsy he had seen on the preceding evening. He
soon found an aperture through which he could observe her without being
himself visible; and could not help feeling that her figure, her
employment, and her situation conveyed the exact impression of an ancient
sibyl.

She sate upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved apartment,
part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth space for the
evolutions of her spindle. A strong sunbeam through a lofty and narrow
window fell upon her wild dress and features, and afforded her light for
her occupation; the rest of the apartment was very gloomy. Equipt in a
habit which mingled the national dress of the Scottish common people with
something of an Eastern costume, she spun a thread drawn from wool of
three different colours, black, white, and grey, by assistance of those
ancient implements of housewifery now almost banished from the land, the
distaff and spindle. As she spun, she sung what seemed to be a charm.
Mannering, after in vain attempting to make himself master of the exact
words of her song, afterwards attempted the following paraphrase of what,
from a few intelligible phrases, he concluded to be its purport:--

     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  IV
     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.