The next proceeding of Lady Margaret was to hold a solemn court of
justice, to which Harrison and the butler were admitted, partly on the
footing of witnesses, partly as assessors, to enquire into the recusancy
of Cuddie Headrigg the ploughman, and the abetment which he had received
from his mother--these being regarded as the original causes of the
disaster which had befallen the chivalry of Tillietudlem. The charge
being fully made out and substantiated, Lady Margaret resolved to
reprimand the culprits in person, and, if she found them impenitent, to
extend the censure into a sentence of expulsion from the barony. Miss
Bellenden alone ventured to say any thing in behalf of the accused, but
her countenance did not profit them as it might have done on any other
occasion. For so soon as Edith had heard it ascertained that the
unfortunate cavalier had not suffered in his person, his disaster had
affected her with an irresistible disposition to laugh, which, in spite
of Lady Margaret's indignation, or rather irritated, as usual, by
restraint, had broke out repeatedly on her return homeward, until her
grandmother, in no shape imposed upon by the several fictitious causes
which the young lady assigned for her ill-timed risibility, upbraided her
in very bitter terms with being insensible to the honour of her family.
Miss Bellenden's intercession, therefore, had, on this occasion, little
or no chance to be listened to.

As if to evince the rigour of her disposition, Lady Margaret, on this
solemn occasion, exchanged the ivory-headed cane with which she commonly
walked, for an immense gold-headed staff which had belonged to her
father, the deceased Earl of Torwood, and which, like a sort of mace of
office, she only made use of on occasions of special solemnity. Supported
by this awful baton of command, Lady Margaret Bellenden entered the
cottage of the delinquents.

There was an air of consciousness about old Mause, as she rose from her
wicker chair in the chimney-nook, not with the cordial alertness of
visage which used, on other occasions, to express the honour she felt in
the visit of her lady, but with a certain solemnity and embarrassment,
like an accused party on his first appearance in presence of his judge,
before whom he is, nevertheless, determined to assert his innocence. Her
arms were folded, her mouth primmed into an expression of respect,
mingled with obstinacy, her whole mind apparently bent up to the solemn
interview. With her best curtsey to the ground, and a mute motion of
reverence, Mause pointed to the chair, which, on former occasions, Lady
Margaret (for the good lady was somewhat of a gossip) had deigned to
occupy for half an hour sometimes at a time, hearing the news of the
county and of the borough. But at present her mistress was far too
indignant for such condescension. She rejected the mute invitation with a
haughty wave of her hand, and drawing herself up as she spoke, she
uttered the following interrogatory in a tone calculated to overwhelm the
culprit.

"Is it true, Mause, as I am informed by Harrison, Gudyill, and others of
my people, that you hae taen it upon you, contrary to the faith you owe
to God and the king, and to me, your natural lady and mistress, to keep
back your son frae the wappen-schaw, held by the order of the sheriff,
and to return his armour and abulyiements at a moment when it was
impossible to find a suitable delegate in his stead, whereby the barony
of Tullietudlem, baith in the person of its mistress and indwellers, has
incurred sic a disgrace and dishonour as hasna befa'en the family since
the days of Malcolm Canmore?"

Mause's habitual respect for her mistress was extreme; she hesitated, and
one or two short coughs expressed the difficulty she had in defending
herself.

"I am sure--my leddy--hem, hem!--I am sure I am sorry--very sorry that
ony cause of displeasure should hae occurred--but my son's illness"--
"Dinna tell me of your son's illness, Mause! Had he been sincerely
unweel, ye would hae been at the Tower by daylight to get something that
wad do him gude; there are few ailments that I havena medical recipes
for, and that ye ken fu' weel."

"O ay, my leddy! I am sure ye hae wrought wonderful cures; the last thing
ye sent Cuddie, when he had the batts, e'en wrought like a charm."

"Why, then, woman, did ye not apply to me, if there was only real
need?--but there was none, ye fause-hearted vassal that ye are!"

"Your leddyship never ca'd me sic a word as that before. Ohon! that I
suld live to be ca'd sae," she continued, bursting into tears, "and me a
born servant o' the house o' Tillietudlem! I am sure they belie baith
Cuddie and me sair, if they said he wadna fight ower the boots in blude
for your leddyship and Miss Edith, and the auld Tower--ay suld he, and I
would rather see him buried beneath it, than he suld gie way--but thir
ridings and wappenschawings, my leddy, I hae nae broo o' them ava. I can
find nae warrant for them whatsoever."

"Nae warrant for them?" cried the high-born dame. "Do ye na ken, woman,
that ye are bound to be liege vassals in all hunting, hosting, watching,
and warding, when lawfully summoned thereto in my name? Your service is
not gratuitous. I trow ye hae land for it.--Ye're kindly tenants; hae a
cot-house, a kale-yard, and a cow's grass on the common.--Few hae been
brought farther ben, and ye grudge your son suld gie me a day's service
in the field?"

"Na, my leddy--na, my leddy, it's no that," exclaimed Mause, greatly
embarrassed, "but ane canna serve twa maisters; and, if the truth maun
e'en come out, there's Ane abune whase commands I maun obey before your
leddyship's. I am sure I would put neither king's nor kaisar's, nor ony
earthly creature's, afore them."

"How mean ye by that, ye auld fule woman?--D'ye think that I order ony
thing against conscience?"

"I dinna pretend to say that, my leddy, in regard o' your leddyship's
conscience, which has been brought up, as it were, wi' prelatic
principles; but ilka ane maun walk by the light o' their ain; and mine,"
said Mause, waxing bolder as the conference became animated, "tells me
that I suld leave a'--cot, kale-yard, and cow's grass--and suffer a',
rather than that I or mine should put on harness in an unlawfu' cause,"

"Unlawfu'!" exclaimed her mistress; "the cause to which you are called by
your lawful leddy and mistress--by the command of the king--by the writ
of the privy council--by the order of the lordlieutenant--by the warrant
of the sheriff?"

"Ay, my leddy, nae doubt; but no to displeasure your leddyship, ye'll
mind that there was ance a king in Scripture they ca'd Nebuchadnezzar,
and he set up a golden image in the plain o' Dura, as it might be in the
haugh yonder by the water-side, where the array were warned to meet
yesterday; and the princes, and the governors, and the captains, and the
judges themsells, forby the treasurers, the counsellors, and the
sheriffs, were warned to the dedication thereof, and commanded to fall
down and worship at the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut,
psaltery, and all kinds of music."

"And what o' a' this, ye fule wife? Or what had Nebuchadnezzar to do with
the wappen-schaw of the Upper Ward of Clydesdale?"

"Only just thus far, my leddy," continued Mause, firmly, "that prelacy is
like the great golden image in the plain of Dura, and that as Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego, were borne out in refusing to bow down and
worship, so neither shall Cuddy Headrigg, your leddyship's poor
pleughman, at least wi' his auld mither's consent, make murgeons or
Jenny-flections, as they ca' them, in the house of the prelates and
curates, nor gird him wi' armour to fight in their cause, either at the
sound of kettle-drums, organs, bagpipes, or ony other kind of music
whatever."

Lady Margaret Bellenden heard this exposition of Scripture with the
greatest possible indignation, as well as surprise.

"I see which way the wind blaws," she exclaimed, after a pause of
astonishment; "the evil spirit of the year sixteen hundred and forty-twa
is at wark again as merrily as ever, and ilka auld wife in the
chimley-neuck will be for knapping doctrine wi' doctors o' divinity and
the godly fathers o' the church."

"If your leddyship means the bishops and curates, I'm sure they hae been
but stepfathers to the Kirk o' Scotland. And, since your leddyship is
pleased to speak o' parting wi' us, I am free to tell you a piece o' my
mind in another article. Your leddyship and the steward hae been pleased
to propose that my son Cuddie suld work in the barn wi' a new-fangled
machine [Note: Probably something similar to the barn-fanners now used
for winnowing corn, which were not, however, used in their present shape
until about 1730. They were objected to by the more rigid sectaries on
their first introduction, upon such reasoning as that of honest Mause in
the text.] for dighting the corn frae the chaff, thus impiously thwarting
the will of Divine Providence, by raising wind for your leddyship's ain
particular use by human art, instead of soliciting it by prayer, or
waiting patiently for whatever dispensation of wind Providence was
pleased to send upon the sheeling-hill. Now, my leddy"--"The woman would
drive ony reasonable being daft!" said Lady Margaret; then resuming her
tone of authority and indifference, she concluded, "Weel, Mause, I'll
just end where I sud hae begun--ye're ower learned and ower godly for me
to dispute wi'; sae I have just this to say,--either Cuddie must attend
musters when he's lawfully warned by the ground officer, or the sooner he
and you flit and quit my bounds the better; there's nae scarcity o' auld
wives or ploughmen; but, if there were, I had rather that the rigs of
Tillietudlem bare naething but windle-straes and sandy lavrocks [Note:
Bent-grass and sand-larks.] than that they were ploughed by rebels to the
king."

"Aweel, my leddy," said Mause, "I was born here, and thought to die where
my father died; and your leddyship has been a kind mistress, I'll ne'er
deny that, and I'se ne'er cease to pray for you, and for Miss Edith, and
that ye may be brought to see the error of your ways. But still"--"The
error of my ways!" interrupted Lady Margaret, much incensed--"The error
of my ways, ye uncivil woman?"

"Ou, ay, my leddy, we are blinded that live in this valley of tears and
darkness, and hae a' ower mony errors, grit folks as weel as sma'--but,
as I said, my puir bennison will rest wi' you and yours wherever I am. I
will be wae to hear o' your affliction, and blithe to hear o' your
prosperity, temporal and spiritual. But I canna prefer the commands of an
earthly mistress to those of a heavenly master, and sae I am e'en ready
to suffer for righteousness' sake."

"It is very well," said Lady Margaret, turning her back in great
displeasure; "ye ken my will, Mause, in the matter. I'll hae nae whiggery
in the barony of Tillietudlem--the next thing wad be to set up a
conventicle in my very withdrawing room."

Having said this, she departed, with an air of great dignity; and Mause,
giving way to feelings which she had suppressed during the
interview,--for she, like her mistress, had her own feeling of
pride,--now lifted up her voice and wept aloud.

Cuddie, whose malady, real or pretended, still detained him in bed, lay
perdu during all this conference, snugly ensconced within his boarded
bedstead, and terrified to death lest Lady Margaret, whom he held in
hereditary reverence, should have detected his presence, and bestowed on
him personally some of those bitter reproaches with which she loaded his
mother. But as soon as he thought her ladyship fairly out of hearing, he
bounced up in his nest.

"The foul fa' ye, that I suld say sae," he cried out to his mother, "for
a lang-tongued clavering wife, as my father, honest man, aye ca'd ye!
Couldna ye let the leddy alane wi' your whiggery? And I was e'en as great
a gomeral to let ye persuade me to lie up here amang the blankets like a
hurcheon, instead o' gaun to the wappen-schaw like other folk. Odd, but I
put a trick on ye, for I was out at the window-bole when your auld back
was turned, and awa down by to hae a baff at the popinjay, and I shot
within twa on't. I cheated the leddy for your clavers, but I wasna gaun
to cheat my joe. But she may marry whae she likes now, for I'm clean dung
ower. This is a waur dirdum than we got frae Mr Gudyill when ye garr'd me
refuse to eat the plum-porridge on Yule-eve, as if it were ony matter to
God or man whether a pleughman had suppit on minched pies or sour
sowens."

"O, whisht, my bairn, whisht," replied Mause; "thou kensna about thae
things--It was forbidden meat, things dedicated to set days and holidays,
which are inhibited to the use of protestant Christians."

"And now," continued her son, "ye hae brought the leddy hersell on our
hands!--An I could but hae gotten some decent claes in, I wad hae spanged
out o' bed, and tauld her I wad ride where she liked, night or day, an
she wad but leave us the free house and the yaird, that grew the best
early kale in the haill country, and the cow's grass."

"O wow! my winsome bairn, Cuddie," continued the old dame, "murmur not at
the dispensation; never grudge suffering in the gude cause."

"But what ken I if the cause is gude or no, mither," rejoined Cuddie,
"for a' ye bleeze out sae muckle doctrine about it? It's clean beyond my
comprehension a'thegither. I see nae sae muckle difference atween the twa
ways o't as a' the folk pretend. It's very true the curates read aye the
same words ower again; and if they be right words, what for no? A gude
tale's no the waur o' being twice tauld, I trow; and a body has aye the
better chance to understand it. Every body's no sae gleg at the uptake as
ye are yoursell, mither."

"O, my dear Cuddie, this is the sairest distress of a'," said the anxious
mother--"O, how aften have I shown ye the difference between a pure
evangelical doctrine, and ane that's corrupt wi' human inventions? O, my
bairn, if no for your ain saul's sake, yet for my grey hairs"--"Weel,
mither," said Cuddie, interrupting her, "what need ye mak sae muckle din
about it? I hae aye dune whate'er ye bade me, and gaed to kirk whare'er
ye likit on the Sundays, and fended weel for ye in the ilka days besides.
And that's what vexes me mair than a' the rest, when I think how I am to
fend for ye now in thae brickle times. I am no clear if I can pleugh ony
place but the Mains and Mucklewhame, at least I never tried ony other
grund, and it wadna come natural to me. And nae neighbouring heritors
will daur to take us, after being turned aff thae bounds for
non-enormity."

"Non-conformity, hinnie," sighed Mause, "is the name that thae warldly
men gie us."

"Weel, aweel--we'll hae to gang to a far country, maybe twall or fifteen
miles aff. I could be a dragoon, nae doubt, for I can ride and play wi'
the broadsword a bit, but ye wad be roaring about your blessing and your
grey hairs." (Here Mause's exclamations became extreme.) "Weel, weel, I
but spoke o't; besides, ye're ower auld to be sitting cocked up on a
baggage-waggon wi' Eppie Dumblane, the corporal's wife. Sae what's to
come o' us I canna weel see--I doubt I'll hae to tak the hills wi' the
wild whigs, as they ca' them, and then it will be my lo to be shot down
like a mawkin at some dikeside, or to be sent to heaven wi' a Saint
Johnstone's tippit about my hause."

"O, my bonnie Cuddie," said the zealous Mause, "forbear sic carnal,
self-seeking language, whilk is just a misdoubting o' Providence--I have
not seen the son of the righteous begging his bread, sae says the text;
and your father was a douce honest man, though somewhat warldly in his
dealings, and cumbered about earthly things, e'en like yoursell, my jo!"

"Aweel," said Cuddie, after a little consideration, "I see but ae gate
for't, and that's a cauld coal to blaw at, mither. Howsomever, mither, ye
hae some guess o' a wee bit kindness that's atween Miss Edith and young
Mr Henry Morton, that suld be ca'd young Milnwood, and that I hae whiles
carried a bit book, or maybe a bit letter, quietly atween them, and made
believe never to ken wha it cam frae, though I kend brawly. There's
whiles convenience in a body looking a wee stupid--and I have aften seen
them walking at e'en on the little path by Dinglewood-burn; but naebody
ever kend a word about it frae Cuddie; I ken I'm gay thick in the head,
but I'm as honest as our auld fore-hand ox, puir fallow, that I'll ne'er
work ony mair--I hope they'll be as kind to him that come ahint me as I
hae been.--But, as I was saying, we'll awa down to Milnwood and tell Mr
Harry our distress They want a pleughman, and the grund's no unlike our
ain--I am sure Mr Harry will stand my part, for he's a kind-hearted
gentleman.--I'll get but little penny-fee, for his uncle, auld Nippie
Milnwood, has as close a grip as the deil himsell. But we'l, aye win a
bit bread, and a drap kale, and a fire-side and theeking ower our heads,
and that's a' we'll want for a season.--Sae get up, mither, and sort your
things to gang away; for since sae it is that gang we maun, I wad like
ill to wait till Mr Harrison and auld Gudyill cam to pu' us out by the
lug and the horn."





CHAPTER VIII.

     The devil a puritan, or any thing else he is, but a time-server.
                                                  Twelfth Night.

It was evening when Mr Henry Morton perceived an old woman, wrapped in
her tartan plaid, supported by a stout, stupid-looking fellow, in
hoddin-grey, approach the house of Milnwood. Old Mause made her courtesy,
but Cuddie took the lead in addressing Morton. Indeed, he had previously
stipulated with his mother that he was to manage matters his own way; for
though he readily allowed his general inferiority of understanding, and
filially submitted to the guidance of his mother on most ordinary
occasions, yet he said, "For getting a service, or getting forward in the
warld, he could somegate gar the wee pickle sense he had gang muckle
farther than hers, though she could crack like ony minister o' them a'."

Accordingly, he thus opened the conversation with young Morton: "A braw
night this for the rye, your honour; the west park will be breering
bravely this e'en."

"I do not doubt it, Cuddie; but what can have brought your mother--this
is your mother, is it not?" (Cuddie nodded.) "What can have brought your
mother and you down the water so late?"

"Troth, stir, just what gars the auld wives trot--neshessity, stir--I'm
seeking for service, stir."

"For service, Cuddie, and at this time of the year? how comes that?"

Mause could forbear no longer. Proud alike of her cause and her
sufferings, she commenced with an affected humility of tone, "It has
pleased Heaven, an it like your honour, to distinguish us by a
visitation"--"Deil's in the wife and nae gude!" whispered Cuddie to his
mother, "an ye come out wi' your whiggery, they'll no daur open a door to
us through the haill country!" Then aloud and addressing Morton, "My
mother's auld, stir, and she has rather forgotten hersell in speaking to
my leddy, that canna weel bide to be contradickit, (as I ken nae-body
likes it if they could help themsells,) especially by her ain folk,--and
Mr Harrison the steward, and Gudyill the butler, they're no very fond o'
us, and it's ill sitting at Rome and striving wi' the Pope; sae I thought
it best to flit before ill came to waur--and here's a wee bit line to
your honour frae a friend will maybe say some mair about it."

Morton took the billet, and crimsoning up to the ears, between joy and
surprise, read these words: "If you can serve these poor helpless people,
you will oblige E. B."

It was a few instants before he could attain composure enough to ask,
"And what is your object, Cuddie? and how can I be of use to you?"

"Wark, stir, wark, and a service, is my object--a bit beild for my mither
and mysell--we hae gude plenishing o' our ain, if we had the cast o' a
cart to bring it down--and milk and meal, and greens enow, for I'm gay
gleg at meal-time, and sae is my mither, lang may it be sae--And, for the
penny-fee and a' that, I'll just leave it to the laird and you. I ken
ye'll no see a poor lad wranged, if ye can help it."

Morton shook his head. "For the meat and lodging, Cuddie, I think I can
promise something; but the penny-fee will be a hard chapter, I doubt."

"I'll tak my chance o't, stir," replied the candidate for service,
"rather than gang down about Hamilton, or ony sic far country."

"Well; step into the kitchen, Cuddie, and I'll do what I can for you."

The negotiation was not without difficulties. Morton had first to bring
over the housekeeper, who made a thousand objections, as usual, in order
to have the pleasure of being besought and entreated; but, when she was
gained over, it was comparatively easy to induce old Milnwood to accept
of a servant, whose wages were to be in his own option. An outhouse was,
therefore, assigned to Mause and her son for their habitation, and it was
settled that they were for the time to be admitted to eat of the frugal
fare provided for the family, until their own establishment should be
completed. As for Morton, he exhausted his own very slender stock of
money in order to make Cuddie such a present, under the name of arles, as
might show his sense of the value of the recommendation delivered to him.

"And now we're settled ance mair," said: Cuddie to his mother, "and if
we're no sae bien and comfortable as we were up yonder, yet life's life
ony gate, and we're wi' decent kirk-ganging folk o' your ain persuasion,
mither; there will be nae quarrelling about that."

"Of my persuasion, hinnie!" said the too-enlightened Mause; "wae's me for
thy blindness and theirs. O, Cuddie, they are but in the court of the
Gentiles, and will ne'er win farther ben, I doubt; they are but little
better than the prelatists themsells. They wait on the ministry of that
blinded man, Peter Poundtext, ance a precious teacher of the Word, but
now a backsliding pastor, that has, for the sake of stipend and family
maintenance, forsaken the strict path, and gane astray after the black
Indulgence. O, my son, had ye but profited by the gospel doctrines ye hae
heard in the Glen of Bengonnar, frae the dear Richard Rumbleberry, that
sweet youth, who suffered martyrdom in the Grassmarket, afore Candlemas!
Didna ye hear him say, that Erastianism was as bad as Prelacy, and that
the Indulgence was as bad as Erastianism?"

"Heard ever ony body the like o' this!" interrupted Cuddie; "we'll be
driven out o' house and ha' again afore we ken where to turn oursells.
Weej, mither, I hae just ae word mair--An I hear ony mair o' your
din--afore folk, that is, for I dinna mind your clavers mysell, they aye
set me sleeping--but if I hear ony mair din afore folk, as I was saying,
about Poundtexts and Rumbleberries, and doctrines and malignants, I'se
e'en turn a single sodger mysell, or maybe a sergeant or a captain, if ye
plague me the mair, and let Rumbleberry and you gang to the deil
thegither. I ne'er gat ony gude by his doctrine, as ye ca't, but a sour
fit o' the batts wi' sitting amang the wat moss-hags for four hours at a
yoking, and the leddy cured me wi' some hickery-pickery; mair by token,
an she had kend how I came by the disorder, she wadna hae been in sic a
hurry to mend it."

Although groaning in spirit over the obdurate and impenitent state, as
she thought it, of her son Cuddie, Mause durst neither urge him farther
on the topic, nor altogether neglect the warning he had given her. She
knew the disposition of her deceased helpmate, whom this surviving pledge
of their union greatly resembled, and remembered, that although
submitting implicitly in most things to her boast of superior acuteness,
he used on certain occasions, when driven to extremity, to be seized with
fits of obstinacy, which neither remonstrance, flattery, nor threats,
were capable of overpowering. Trembling, therefore, at the very
possibility of Cuddie's fulfilling his threat, she put a guard over her
tongue, and even when Poundtext was commended in her presence, as an able
and fructifying preacher, she had the good sense to suppress the
contradiction which thrilled upon her tongue, and to express her
sentiments no otherwise than by deep groans, which the hearers charitably
construed to flow from a vivid recollection of the more pathetic parts of
his homilies. How long she could have repressed her feelings it is
difficult to say. An unexpected accident relieved her from the necessity.

The Laird of Milnwood kept up all old fashions which were connected with
economy. It was, therefore, still the custom in his house, as it had been
universal in Scotland about fifty years before, that the domestics, after
having placed the dinner on the table, sate down at the lower end of the
board, and partook of the share which was assigned to them, in company
with their masters. On the day, therefore, after Cuddie's arrival, being
the third from the opening of this narrative, old Robin, who was butler,
valet-de-chambre, footman, gardener, and what not, in the house of
Milnwood, placed on the table an immense charger of broth, thickened with
oatmeal and colewort, in which ocean of liquid was indistinctly
discovered, by close observers, two or three short ribs of lean mutton
sailing to and fro. Two huge baskets, one of bread made of barley and
pease, and one of oat-cakes, flanked this standing dish. A large boiled
salmon would now-a-days have indicated more liberal house-keeping; but at
that period salmon was caught in such plenty in the considerable rivers
in Scotland, that instead of being accounted a delicacy, it was generally
applied to feed the servants, who are said sometimes to have stipulated
that they should not be required to eat a food so luscious and surfeiting
in its quality above five times a-week. The large black jack, filled with
very small beer of Milnwood's own brewing, was allowed to the company at
discretion, as were the bannocks, cakes, and broth; but the mutton was
reserved for the heads of the family, Mrs Wilson included: and a measure
of ale, somewhat deserving the name, was set apart in a silver tankard
for their exclusive use. A huge kebbock, (a cheese, that is, made with
ewemilk mixed with cow's milk,) and a jar of salt butter, were in common
to the company.

To enjoy this exquisite cheer, was placed, at the head of the table, the
old Laird himself, with his nephew on the one side, and the favourite
housekeeper on the other. At a long interval, and beneath the salt of
course, sate old Robin, a meagre, half-starved serving-man, rendered
cross and cripple by rheumatism, and a dirty drab of a housemaid, whom
use had rendered callous to the daily exercitations which her temper
underwent at the hands of her master and Mrs Wilson. A barnman, a
white-headed cow-herd boy, with Cuddie the new ploughman and his mother,
completed the party. The other labourers belonging to the property
resided in their own houses, happy at least in this, that if their cheer
was not more delicate than that which we have described, they could eat
their fill, unwatched by the sharp, envious grey eyes of Milnwood, which
seemed to measure the quantity that each of his dependents swallowed, as
closely as if their glances attended each mouthful in its progress from
the lips to the stomach. This close inspection was unfavourable to
Cuddie, who sustained much prejudice in his new master's opinion, by the
silent celerity with which he caused the victuals to disappear before
him. And ever and anon Milnwood turned his eyes from the huge feeder to
cast indignant glances upon his nephew, whose repugnance to rustic labour
was the principal cause of his needing a ploughman, and who had been the
direct means of his hiring this very cormorant.

"Pay thee wages, quotha?" said Milnwood to himself,--"Thou wilt eat in a
week the value of mair than thou canst work for in a month."

These disagreeable ruminations were interrupted by a loud knocking at the
outer-gate. It was a universal custom in Scotland, that, when the family
was at dinner, the outer-gate of the courtyard, if there was one, and if
not, the door of the house itself, was always shut and locked, and only
guests of importance, or persons upon urgent business, sought or received
admittance at that time.

     [Note:  Locking the Door during Dinner. The custom of keeping the
     door of a house or chateau locked during the time of dinner,
     probably arose from the family being anciently assembled in the hall
     at that meal, and liable to surprise. But it was in many instances
     continued as a point of high etiquette, of which the following is an
     example:

     A considerable landed proprietor in Dumfries-shire, being a
     bachelor, without near relations, and determined to make his will,
     resolved previously to visit his two nearest kinsmen, and decide
     which should be his heir, according to the degree of kindness with
     which he should be received. Like a good clansman, he first visited
     his own chief, a baronet in rank, descendant and representative of
     one of the oldest families in Scotland. Unhappily the dinner-bell
     had rung, and the door of the castle had been locked before his
     arrival. The visitor in vain announced his name and requested
     admittance; but his chief adhered to the ancient etiquette, and
     would on no account suffer the doors to be unbarred. Irritated at
     this cold reception, the old Laird rode on to Sanquhar Castle, then
     the residence of the Duke of Queensberry, who no sooner heard his
     name, than, knowing well he had a will to make, the drawbridge
     dropped, and the gates flew open--the table was covered anew--his
     grace's bachelor and intestate kinsman was received with the utmost
     attention and respect; and it is scarcely necessary to add, that
     upon his death some years after, the visitor's considerable landed
     property went to augment the domains of the Ducal House of
     Queensberry. This happened about the end of the seventeenth
     century.]

The family of Milnwood were therefore surprised, and, in the unsettled
state of the times, something alarmed, at the earnest and repeated
knocking with which the gate was now assailed. Mrs Wilson ran in person
to the door, and, having reconnoitred those who were so clamorous for
admittance, through some secret aperture with which most Scottish
door-ways were furnished for the express purpose, she returned wringing
her hands in great dismay, exclaiming, "The red-coats! the red-coats!"

"Robin--Ploughman--what ca' they ye?--Barnsman--Nevoy Harry--open the
door, open the door!" exclaimed old Milnwood, snatching up and slipping
into his pocket the two or three silver spoons with which the upper end
of the table was garnished, those beneath the salt being of goodly horn.
"Speak them fair, sirs--Lord love ye, speak them fair--they winna bide
thrawing--we're a' harried--we're a' harried!"

While the servants admitted the troopers, whose oaths and threats already
indicated resentment at the delay they had been put to, Cuddie took the
opportunity to whisper to his mother, "Now, ye daft auld carline, mak
yoursell deaf--ye hae made us a' deaf ere now--and let me speak for ye. I
wad like ill to get my neck raxed for an auld wife's clashes, though ye
be our mither."

"O, hinny, ay; I'se be silent or thou sall come to ill," was the
corresponding whisper of Mause "but bethink ye, my dear, them that deny
the Word, the Word will deny"--Her admonition was cut short by the
entrance of the Life-Guardsmen, a party of four troopers, commanded by
Bothwell.

In they tramped, making a tremendous clatter upon the stone-floor with
the iron-shod heels of their large jack-boots, and the clash and clang of
their long, heavy, basket-hilted broadswords. Milnwood and his
housekeeper trembled, from well-grounded apprehensions of the system of
exaction and plunder carried on during these domiciliary visits. Henry
Morton was discomposed with more special cause, for he remembered that he
stood answerable to the laws for having harboured Burley. The widow Mause
Headrigg, between fear for her son's life and an overstrained and
enthusiastic zeal, which reproached her for consenting even tacitly to
belie her religious sentiments, was in a strange quandary. The other
servants quaked for they knew not well what. Cuddie alone, with the look
of supreme indifference and stupidity which a Scottish peasant can at
times assume as a mask for considerable shrewdness and craft, continued
to swallow large spoonfuls of his broth, to command which he had drawn
within his sphere the large vessel that contained it, and helped himself,
amid the confusion, to a sevenfold portion.

"What is your pleasure here, gentlemen?" said Milnwood, humbling himself
before the satellites of power.

"We come in behalf of the king," answered Bothwell; "why the devil did
you keep us so long standing at the door?"

"We were at dinner," answered Milnwood, "and the door was locked, as is
usual in landward towns [Note: The Scots retain the use of the word town
in its comprehensive Saxon meaning, as a place of habitation. A mansion
or a farm house, though solitary, is called the town. A landward town is
a dwelling situated in the country.] in this country. I am sure,
gentlemen, if I had kend ony servants of our gude king had stood at the
door--But wad ye please to drink some ale--or some brandy--or a cup of
canary sack, or claret wine?" making a pause between each offer as long
as a stingy bidder at an auction, who is loath to advance his offer for a
favourite lot.

"Claret for me," said one fellow.

"I like ale better," said another, "provided it is right juice of John
Barleycorn."

"Better never was malted," said Milnwood; "I can hardly say sae muckle
for the claret. It's thin and cauld, gentlemen."

"Brandy will cure that," said a third fellow; "a glass of brandy to three
glasses of wine prevents the curmurring in the stomach."

"Brandy, ale, sack, and claret?--we'll try them all," said Bothwell, "and
stick to that which is best. There's good sense in that, if the damn'dest
whig in Scotland had said it."

Hastily, yet with a reluctant quiver of his muscles, Milnwood lugged out
two ponderous keys, and delivered them to the governante.

"The housekeeper," said Bothwell, taking a seat, and throwing himself
upon it, "is neither so young nor so handsome as to tempt a man to follow
her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her
place.--What's this?--meat?" (searching with a fork among the broth, and
fishing up a cutlet of mutton)--"I think I could eat a bit--why, it's as
tough as if the devil's dam had hatched it."

"If there is any thing better in the house, sir," said Milnwood, alarmed
at these symptoms of disapprobation--"No, no," said Bothwell, "it's not
worth while, I must proceed to business.--You attend Poundtext, the
presbyterian parson, I understand, Mr Morton?"

Mr Morton hastened to slide in a confession and apology.

"By the indulgence of his gracious majesty and the government, for I wad
do nothing out of law--I hae nae objection whatever to the establishment
of a moderate episcopacy, but only that I am a country-bred man, and the
ministers are a hamelier kind of folk, and I can follow their doctrine
better; and, with reverence, sir, it's a mair frugal establishment for
the country."

"Well, I care nothing about that," said Bothwell; "they are indulged, and
there's an end of it; but, for my part, if I were to give the law, never
a crop-ear'd cur of the whole pack should bark in a Scotch pulpit.
However, I am to obey commands.--There comes the liquor; put it down, my
good old lady."

He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden
quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught.

"You did your good wine injustice, my friend;--it's better than your
brandy, though that's good too. Will you pledge me to the king's health?"

"With pleasure," said Milnwood, "in ale,--but I never drink claret, and
keep only a very little for some honoured friends."

"Like me, I suppose," said Bothwell; and then, pushing the bottle to
Henry, he said, "Here, young man, pledge you the king's health."

Henry filled a moderate glass in silence, regardless of the hints and
pushes of his uncle, which seemed to indicate that he ought to have
followed his example, in preferring beer to wine.

"Well," said Bothwell, "have ye all drank the toast?--What is that old
wife about? Give her a glass of brandy, she shall drink the king's
health, by"--"If your honour pleases," said Cuddie, with great stolidity
of aspect, "this is my mither, stir; and she's as deaf as Corra-linn; we
canna mak her hear day nor door; but if your honour pleases, I am ready
to drink the king's health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye
think neshessary."

"I dare swear you are," answered Bothwell; "you look like a fellow that
would stick to brandy--help thyself, man; all's free where'er I come.--
Tom, help the maid to a comfortable cup, though she's but a dirty jilt
neither. Fill round once more--Here's to our noble commander, Colonel
Graham of Claverhouse!--What the devil is the old woman groaning for? She
looks as very a whig as ever sate on a hill-side--Do you renounce the
Covenant, good woman?"

"Whilk Covenant is your honour meaning? Is it the Covenant of Works, or
the Covenant of Grace?" said Cuddie, interposing.

"Any covenant; all covenants that ever were hatched," answered the
trooper.

"Mither," cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as to a deaf person, "the
gentleman wants to ken if ye will renunce the Covenant of Works?"

"With all my heart, Cuddie," said Mause, "and pray that my feet may be
delivered from the snare thereof."

"Come," said Bothwell, "the old dame has come more frankly off than I
expected. Another cup round, and then we'll proceed to business.--You
have all heard, I suppose, of the horrid and barbarous murder committed
upon the person of the Archbishop of St Andrews, by ten or eleven armed
fanatics?"

All started and looked at each other; at length Milnwood himself
answered, "They had heard of some such misfortune, but were in hopes it
had not been true."

"There is the relation published by government, old gentleman; what do
you think of it?"

"Think, sir? Wh--wh--whatever the council please to think of it,"
stammered Milnwood.

"I desire to have your opinion more explicitly, my friend," said the
dragoon, authoritatively.

Milnwood's eyes hastily glanced through the paper to pick out the
strongest expressions of censure with which it abounded, in gleaning
which he was greatly aided by their being printed in italics.

"I think it a--bloody and execrable--murder and parricide--devised by
hellish and implacable cruelty--utterly abominable, and a scandal to the
land."

"Well said, old gentleman!" said the querist--"Here's to thee, and I wish
you joy of your good principles. You owe me a cup of thanks for having
taught you them; nay, thou shalt pledge me in thine own sack--sour ale
sits ill upon a loyal stomach.--Now comes your turn, young man; what
think you of the matter in hand?"

"I should have little objection to answer you," said Henry, "if I knew
what right you had to put the question."

"The Lord preserve us!" said the old housekeeper, "to ask the like o'
that at a trooper, when a' folk ken they do whatever they like through
the haill country wi' man and woman, beast and body."

The old gentleman exclaimed, in the same horror at his nephew's audacity,
"Hold your peace, sir, or answer the gentleman discreetly. Do you mean to
affront the king's authority in the person of a sergeant of the
Life-Guards?"

"Silence, all of you!" exclaimed Bothwell, striking his hand fiercely on
the table--"Silence, every one of you, and hear me!--You ask me for my
right to examine you, sir (to Henry); my cockade and my broadsword are my
commission, and a better one than ever Old Nol gave to his roundheads;
and if you want to know more about it, you may look at the act of council
empowering his majesty's officers and soldiers to search for, examine,
and apprehend suspicious persons; and, therefore, once more, I ask you
your opinion of the death of Archbishop Sharpe--it's a new touch-stone we
have got for trying people's metal."

Henry had, by this time, reflected upon the useless risk to which he
would expose the family by resisting the tyrannical power which was
delegated to such rude hands; he therefore read the narrative over, and
replied, composedly, "I have no hesitation to say, that the perpetrators
of this assassination have committed, in my opinion, a rash and wicked
action, which I regret the more, as I foresee it will be made the cause
of proceedings against many who are both innocent of the deed, and as far
from approving it as myself."

While Henry thus expressed himself, Bothwell, who bent his eyes keenly
upon him, seemed suddenly to recollect his features.

"Aha! my friend Captain Popinjay, I think I have seen you before, and in
very suspicious company."

"I saw you once," answered Henry, "in the public-house of the town of--."

"And with whom did you leave that public-house, youngster?--Was it not
with John Balfour of Burley, one of the murderers of the Archbishop?"

"I did leave the house with the person you have named," answered Henry,
"I scorn to deny it; but, so far from knowing him to be a murderer of the
primate, I did not even know at the time that such a crime had been
committed."

"Lord have mercy on me, I am ruined!--utterly ruined and undone!"
exclaimed Milnwood. "That callant's tongue will rin the head aff his ain
shoulders, and waste my gudes to the very grey cloak on my back!"

"But you knew Burley," continued Bothwell, still addressing Henry, and
regardless of his uncle's interruption, "to be an intercommuned rebel and
traitor, and you knew the prohibition to deal with such persons. You
knew, that, as a loyal subject, you were prohibited to reset, supply, or
intercommune with this attainted traitor, to correspond with him by word,
writ, or message, or to supply him with meat, drink, house, harbour, or
victual, under the highest pains--you knew all this, and yet you broke
the law." (Henry was silent.) "Where did you part from him?" continued
Bothwell; "was it in the highway, or did you give him harbourage in this
very house?"

"In this house!" said his uncle; "he dared not for his neck bring ony
traitor into a house of mine."

"Dare he deny that he did so?" said Bothwell.

"As you charge it to me as a crime," said Henry, "you will excuse my
saying any thing that will criminate myself."

"O, the lands of Milnwood!--the bonny lands of Milnwood, that have been
in the name of Morton twa hundred years!" exclaimed his uncle; "they are
barking and fleeing, outfield and infield, haugh and holme!"

"No, sir," said Henry, "you shall not suffer on my account.--I own," he
continued, addressing Bothwell, "I did give this man a night's lodging,
as to an old military comrade of my father. But it was not only without
my uncle's knowledge, but contrary to his express general orders. I
trust, if my evidence is considered as good against myself, it will have
some weight in proving my uncle's innocence."

"Come, young man," said the soldier, in a somewhat milder tone, "you're a
smart spark enough, and I am sorry for you; and your uncle here is a fine
old Trojan, kinder, I see, to his guests than himself, for he gives us
wine and drinks his own thin ale--tell me all you know about this Burley,
what he said when you parted from him, where he went, and where he is
likely now to be found; and, d--n it, I'll wink as hard on your share of
the business as my duty will permit. There's a thousand merks on the
murdering whigamore's head, an I could but light on it--Come, out with
it--where did you part with him?"

"You will excuse my answering that question, sir," said Morton; "the same
cogent reasons which induced me to afford him hospitality at considerable
risk to myself and my friends, would command me to respect his secret,
if, indeed, he had trusted me with any."

"So you refuse to give me an answer?" said Bothwell.

"I have none to give," returned Henry.

"Perhaps I could teach you to find one, by tying a piece of lighted match
betwixt your fingers," answered Bothwell.

"O, for pity's sake, sir," said old Alison apart to her master, "gie them
siller--it's siller they're seeking--they'll murder Mr Henry, and
yoursell next!"

Milnwood groaned in perplexity and bitterness of spirit, and, with a tone
as if he was giving up the ghost, exclaimed, "If twenty p--p--punds would
make up this unhappy matter"--"My master," insinuated Alison to the
sergeant, "would gie twenty punds sterling"--"Punds Scotch, ye b--h!"
interrupted Milnwood; for the agony of his avarice overcame alike his
puritanic precision and the habitual respect he entertained for his
housekeeper.

"Punds sterling," insisted the housekeeper, "if ye wad hae the gudeness
to look ower the lad's misconduct; he's that dour ye might tear him to
pieces, and ye wad ne'er get a word out o' him; and it wad do ye little
gude, I'm sure, to burn his bonny fingerends."

"Why," said Bothwell, hesitating, "I don't know--most of my cloth would
have the money, and take off the prisoner too; but I bear a conscience,
and if your master will stand to your offer, and enter into a bond to
produce his nephew, and if all in the house will take the test-oath, I do
not know but"--"O ay, ay, sir," cried Mrs Wilson, "ony test, ony oaths ye
please!" And then aside to her master, "Haste ye away, sir, and get the
siller, or they will burn the house about our lugs."

Old Milnwood cast a rueful look upon his adviser, and moved off, like a
piece of Dutch clockwork, to set at liberty his imprisoned angels in this
dire emergency. Meanwhile, Sergeant Bothwell began to put the test-oath
with such a degree of solemn reverence as might have been expected, being
just about the same which is used to this day in his majesty's
custom-house.

"You--what's your name, woman?"

"Alison Wilson, sir."

"You, Alison Wilson, solemnly swear, certify, and declare, that you judge
it unlawful for subjects, under pretext of reformation, or any other
pretext whatsoever, to enter into Leagues and Covenants"--Here the
ceremony was interrupted by a strife between Cuddie and his mother,
which, long conducted in whispers, now became audible.

"Oh, whisht, mither, whisht! they're upon a communing--Oh! whisht, and
they'll agree weel eneuch e'enow."

"I will not whisht, Cuddie," replied his mother, "I will uplift my voice
and spare not--I will confound the man of sin, even the scarlet man, and
through my voice shall Mr Henry be freed from the net of the fowler."

"She has her leg ower the harrows now," said Cuddie, "stop her wha can--I
see her cocked up behint a dragoon on her way to the Tolbooth--I find my
ain legs tied below a horse's belly--Ay--she has just mustered up her
sermon, and there--wi' that grane--out it comes, and we are a'ruined,
horse and foot!"

"And div ye think to come here," said Mause, her withered hand shaking in
concert with her keen, though wrinkled visage, animated by zealous wrath,
and emancipated, by the very mention of the test, from the restraints of
her own prudence, and Cuddie's admonition--"Div ye think to come here,
wi' your soul-killing, saint-seducing, conscience-confounding oaths, and
tests, and bands--your snares, and your traps, and your gins?--Surely it
is in vain that a net is spread in the sight of any bird."

"Eh! what, good dame?" said the soldier. "Here's a whig miracle, egad!
the old wife has got both her ears and tongue, and we are like to be
driven deaf in our turn.--Go to, hold your peace, and remember whom you
talk to, you old idiot."

"Whae do I talk to! Eh, sirs, ower weel may the sorrowing land ken what
ye are. Malignant adherents ye are to the prelates, foul props to a
feeble and filthy cause, bloody beasts of prey, and burdens to the
earth."

"Upon my soul," said Bothwell, astonished as a mastiff-dog might be
should a hen-partridge fly at him in defence of her young, "this is the
finest language I ever heard! Can't you give us some more of it?"

"Gie ye some mair o't?" said Mause, clearing her voice with a preliminary
cough, "I will take up my testimony against you ance and again.--
Philistines ye are, and Edomites--leopards are ye, and foxes--evening
wolves, that gnaw not the bones till the morrow--wicked dogs, that
compass about the chosen--thrusting kine, and pushing bulls of
Bashan--piercing serpents ye are, and allied baith in name and nature
with the great Red Dragon; Revelations, twalfth chapter, third and
fourth verses."

Here the old lady stopped, apparently much more from lack of breath than
of matter.

"Curse the old hag!" said one of the dragoons, "gag her, and take her to
head-quarters."

"For shame, Andrews," said Bothwell; "remember the good lady belongs to
the fair sex, and uses only the privilege of her tongue.--But, hark ye,
good woman, every bull of Bashan and Red Dragon will not be so civil as I
am, or be contented to leave you to the charge of the constable and
ducking-stool. In the meantime I must necessarily carry off this young
man to head-quarters. I cannot answer to my commanding-officer to leave
him in a house where I have heard so much treason and fanaticism."

"Se now, mither, what ye hae dune," whispered Cuddie; "there's the
Philistines, as ye ca' them, are gaun to whirry awa' Mr Henry, and a' wi'
your nash-gab, deil be on't!"

"Haud yere tongue, ye cowardly loon," said the mother, "and layna the
wyte on me; if you and thae thowless gluttons, that are sitting staring
like cows bursting on clover, wad testify wi' your hands as I have
testified wi' my tongue, they should never harle the precious young lad
awa' to captivity."

While this dialogue passed, the soldiers had already bound and secured
their prisoner. Milnwood returned at this instant, and, alarmed at the
preparations he beheld, hastened to proffer to Bothwell, though with many
a grievous groan, the purse of gold which he had been obliged to rummage
out as ransom for his nephew. The trooper took the purse with an air of
indifference, weighed it in his hand, chucked it up into the air, and
caught it as it fell, then shook his head, and said, "There's many a
merry night in this nest of yellow boys, but d--n me if I dare venture
for them--that old woman has spoken too loud, and before all the men
too.--Hark ye, old gentleman," to Milnwood, "I must take your nephew to
head-quarters, so I cannot, in conscience, keep more than is my due as
civility-money;" then opening the purse, he gave a gold piece to each of
the soldiers, and took three to himself. "Now," said he, "you have the
comfort to know that your kinsman, young Captain Popinjay, will be
carefully looked after and civilly used; and the rest of the money I
return to you."