CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
Baron of Bucklivie, May the foul fiend drive ye, And a' to pieces rive ye, For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat, Nor man's meat, Nor a chair to sit down. Scottish Popular Rhymes on a bad Inn.
The night was pleasant, and the moon afforded us good light for ourjourney. Under her rays, the ground over which we passed assumed a moreinteresting appearance than during the broad daylight, which discoveredthe extent of its wasteness. The mingled light and shadows gave it aninterest which naturally did not belong to it; and, like the effect of aveil flung over a plain woman, irritated our curiosity on a subject whichhad in itself nothing gratifying.
The descent, however, still continued, turned, winded, left the more openheaths, and got into steeper ravines, which promised soon to lead us tothe banks of some brook or river, and ultimately made good their presage.We found ourselves at length on the bank of a stream, which ratherresembled one of my native English rivers than those I had hitherto seenin Scotland. It was narrow, deep, still, and silent; although theimperfect light, as it gleamed on its placid waters, showed also that wewere now among the lofty mountains which formed its cradle. "That's theForth," said the Bailie, with an air of reverence, which I have observedthe Scotch usually pay to their distinguished rivers. The Clyde, theTweed, the Forth, the Spey, are usually named by those who dwell on theirbanks with a sort of respect and pride, and I have known duels occasionedby any word of disparagement. I cannot say I have the least quarrel withthis sort of harmless enthusiasm. I received my friend's communicationwith the importance which he seemed to think appertained to it. In fact,I was not a little pleased, after so long and dull a journey, to approacha region which promised to engage the imagination. My faithful squire,Andrew, did not seem to be quite of the same opinion, for he received thesolemn information, "That is the Forth," with a "Umph!--an he had saidthat's the public-house, it wad hae been mair to the purpose."
The Forth, however, as far as the imperfect light permitted me to judge,seemed to merit the admiration of those who claimed an interest in itsstream. A beautiful eminence of the most regular round shape, and clothedwith copsewood of hazels, mountain-ash, and dwarf-oak, intermixed with afew magnificent old trees, which, rising above the underwood, exposedtheir forked and bared branches to the silver moonshine, seemed toprotect the sources from which the river sprung. If I could trust thetale of my companion, which, while professing to disbelieve every word ofit, he told under his breath, and with an air of something likeintimidation, this hill, so regularly formed, so richly verdant, andgarlanded with such a beautiful variety of ancient trees and thrivingcopsewood, was held by the neighbourhood to contain, within its unseencaverns, the palaces of the fairies--a race of airy beings, who formed anintermediate class between men and demons, and who, if not positivelymalignant to humanity, were yet to be avoided and feared, on account oftheir capricious, vindictive, and irritable disposition.*
* Note H. Fairy Superstition.
"They ca' them," said Mr. Jarvie, in a whisper, "_Daoine Schie,_--whilksignifies, as I understand, men of peace; meaning thereby to make theirgudewill. And we may e'en as weel ca' them that too, Mr. Osbaldistone,for there's nae gude in speaking ill o' the laird within his ain bounds."But he added presently after, on seeing one or two lights which twinkledbefore us, "It's deceits o' Satan, after a', and I fearna to say it--forwe are near the manse now, and yonder are the lights in the Clachan ofAberfoil."
I own I was well pleased at the circumstance to which Mr. Jarvie alluded;not so much that it set his tongue at liberty, in his opinion, with allsafety to declare his real sentiments with respect to the _Daoine Schie,_or fairies, as that it promised some hours' repose to ourselves and ourhorses, of which, after a ride of fifty miles and upwards, both stood insome need.
We crossed the infant Forth by an old-fashioned stone bridge, very highand very narrow. My conductor, however, informed me, that to get throughthis deep and important stream, and to clear all its tributarydependencies, the general pass from the Highlands to the southward lay bywhat was called the Fords of Frew, at all times deep and difficult ofpassage, and often altogether unfordable. Beneath these fords, there wasno pass of general resort until so far east as the bridge of Stirling; sothat the river of Forth forms a defensible line between the Highlands andLowlands of Scotland, from its source nearly to the Firth, or inlet ofthe ocean, in which it terminates. The subsequent events which wewitnessed led me to recall with attention what the shrewdness of BailieJarvie suggested in his proverbial expression, that "Forth bridles thewild Highlandman."
About half a mile's riding, after we crossed the bridge, placed us at thedoor of the public-house where we were to pass the evening. It was ahovel rather worse than better than that in which we had dined; but itslittle windows were lighted up, voices were heard from within, and allintimated a prospect of food and shelter, to which we were by no meansindifferent. Andrew was the first to observe that there was a peeledwillow-wand placed across the half-open door of the little inn. He hungback and advised us not to enter. "For," said Andrew, "some of theirchiefs and grit men are birling at the usquebaugh in by there, and dinnawant to be disturbed; and the least we'll get, if we gang ramstam in onthem, will be a broken head, to learn us better havings, if we dinna comeby the length of a cauld dirk in our wame, whilk is just as likely."
I looked at the Bailie, who acknowledged, in a whisper, "that the gowkhad some reason for singing, ance in the year."
Meantime a staring half-clad wench or two came out of the inn and theneighbouring cottages, on hearing the sound of our horses' feet. No onebade us welcome, nor did any one offer to take our horses, from which wehad alighted; and to our various inquiries, the hopeless response of "Haniel Sassenach," was the only answer we could extract. The Bailie,however, found (in his experience) a way to make them speak English. "IfI gie ye a bawbee," said he to an urchin of about ten years old, with afragment of a tattered plaid about him, "will you understand Sassenach?"
"Ay, ay, that will I," replied the brat, in very decent English. "Thengang and tell your mammy, my man, there's twa Sassenach gentlemen come tospeak wi' her."
The landlady presently appeared, with a lighted piece of split firblazing in her hand. The turpentine in this species of torch (which isgenerally dug from out the turf-bogs) makes it blaze and sparkle readily,so that it is often used in the Highlands in lieu of candles. On thisoccasion such a torch illuminated the wild and anxious features of afemale, pale, thin, and rather above the usual size, whose soiled andragged dress, though aided by a plaid or tartan screen, barely served thepurposes of decency, and certainly not those of comfort. Her black hair,which escaped in uncombed elf-locks from under her coif, as well as thestrange and embarrassed look with which she regarded us, gave me the ideaof a witch disturbed in the midst of her unlawful rites. She plainlyrefused to admit us into the house. We remonstrated anxiously, andpleaded the length of our journey, the state of our horses, and thecertainty that there was not another place where we could be receivednearer than Callander, which the Bailie stated to be seven Scots milesdistant. How many these may exactly amount to in English measurement, Ihave never been able to ascertain, but I think the double _ratio_ may bepretty safely taken as a medium computation. The obdurate hostess treatedour expostulation with contempt. "Better gang farther than fare waur,"she said, speaking the Scottish Lowland dialect, and being indeed anative of the Lennox district--"Her house was taen up wi' them wadna liketo be intruded on wi' strangers. She didna ken wha mair might bethere--red-coats, it might be, frae the garrison." (These last words shespoke under her breath, and with very strong emphasis.) "The night," shesaid, "was fair abune head--a night amang the heather wad caller ourbloods--we might sleep in our claes, as mony a gude blade does in thescabbard--there wasna muckle flowmoss in the shaw, if we
took up ourquarters right, and we might pit up our horses to the hill, naebody wadsay naething against it."
"But, my good woman," said I, while the Bailie groaned and remainedundecided, "it is six hours since we dined, and we have not taken amorsel since. I am positively dying with hunger, and I have no taste fortaking up my abode supperless among these mountains of yours. Ipositively must enter; and make the best apology you can to your guestsfor adding a stranger or two to their number. Andrew, you will see thehorses put up."
The Hecate looked at me with surprise, and then ejaculated--"A wilfu' manwill hae his way--them that will to Cupar maun to Cupar!--To see thaeEnglish belly-gods! he has had ae fu' meal the day already, and he'llventure life and liberty, rather than he'll want a het supper! Setroasted beef and pudding on the opposite side o' the pit o' Tophet, andan Englishman will mak a spang at it--But I wash my hands o't--Follow mesir" (to Andrew), "and I'se show ye where to pit the beasts."
I own I was somewhat dismayed at my landlady's expressions, which seemedto be ominous of some approaching danger. I did not, however, choose toshrink back after having declared my resolution, and accordingly I boldlyentered the house; and after narrowly escaping breaking my shins over aturf back and a salting tub, which stood on either side of the narrowexterior passage, I opened a crazy half-decayed door, constructed not ofplank, but of wicker, and, followed by the Bailie, entered into theprincipal apartment of this Scottish caravansary.
The interior presented a view which seemed singular enough to southerneyes. The fire, fed with blazing turf and branches of dried wood, blazedmerrily in the centre; but the smoke, having no means to escape butthrough a hole in the roof, eddied round the rafters of the cottage, andhung in sable folds at the height of about five feet from the floor. Thespace beneath was kept pretty clear by innumerable currents of air whichrushed towards the fire from the broken panel of basket-work which servedas a door--from two square holes, designed as ostensible windows, throughone of which was thrust a plaid, and through the other a tatteredgreat-coat--and moreover, through various less distinguishable aperturesin the walls of the tenement, which, being built of round stones andturf, cemented by mud, let in the atmosphere at innumerable crevices.
At an old oaken table, adjoining to the fire, sat three men, guestsapparently, whom it was impossible to regard with indifference. Two werein the Highland dress; the one, a little dark-complexioned man, with alively, quick, and irritable expression of features, wore the trews, orclose pantaloons wove out of a sort of chequered stocking stuff. TheBailie whispered me, that "he behoved to be a man of some consequence,for that naebody but their Duinhe'wassels wore the trews--they were illto weave exactly to their Highland pleasure."
The other mountaineer was a very tall, strong man, with a quantity ofreddish hair, freckled face, high cheek-bones, and long chin--a sort ofcaricature of the national features of Scotland. The tartan which he worediffered from that of his companion, as it had much more scarlet in it,whereas the shades of black and dark-green predominated in the chequersof the other. The third, who sate at the same table, was in the Lowlanddress,--a bold, stout-looking man, with a cast of military daring in hiseye and manner, his riding-dress showily and profusely laced, and hiscocked hat of formidable dimensions. His hanger and a pair of pistols layon the table before him. Each of the Highlanders had their naked dirksstuck upright in the board beside him,--an emblem, I was afterwardsinformed, but surely a strange one, that their computation was not to beinterrupted by any brawl. A mighty pewter measure, containing about anEnglish quart of usquebaugh, a liquor nearly as strong as brandy, whichthe Highlanders distil from malt, and drink undiluted in excessivequantities, was placed before these worthies. A broken glass, with awooden foot, served as a drinking cup to the whole party, and circulatedwith a rapidity, which, considering the potency of the liquor, seemedabsolutely marvellous. These men spoke loudly and eagerly together,sometimes in Gaelic, at other times in English. Another Highlander, wraptin his plaid, reclined on the floor, his head resting on a stone, fromwhich it was only separated by a wisp of straw, and slept or seemed tosleep, without attending to what was going on around him. He also wasprobably a stranger, for he lay in full dress, and accoutred with thesword and target, the usual arms of his countrymen when on a journey.Cribs there were of different dimensions beside the walls, formed, someof fractured boards, some of shattered wicker-work or plaited boughs, inwhich slumbered the family of the house, men, women, and children, theirplaces of repose only concealed by the dusky wreaths of vapour whicharose above, below, and around them.
Our entrance was made so quietly, and the carousers I have described wereso eagerly engaged in their discussions, that we escaped their notice fora minute or two. But I observed the Highlander who lay beside the fireraise himself on his elbow as we entered, and, drawing his plaid over thelower part of his face, fix his look on us for a few seconds, after whichhe resumed his recumbent posture, and seemed again to betake himself tothe repose which our entrance had interrupted,
We advanced to the fire, which was an agreeable spectacle after our lateride, during the chillness of an autumn evening among the mountains, andfirst attracted the attention of the guests who had preceded us, bycalling for the landlady. She approached, looking doubtfully and timidly,now at us, now at the other party, and returned a hesitating and doubtfulanswer to our request to have something to eat.
"She didna ken," she said, "she wasna sure there was onything in thehouse," and then modified her refusal with the qualification--"that is,onything fit for the like of us."
I assured her we were indifferent to the quality of our supper; andlooking round for the means of accommodation, which were not easily to befound, I arranged an old hen-coop as a seat for Mr. Jarvie, and turneddown a broken tub to serve for my own. Andrew Fairservice enteredpresently afterwards, and took a place in silence behind our backs. Thenatives, as I may call them, continued staring at us with an air as ifconfounded by our assurance, and we, at least I myself, disguised as wellas we could, under an appearance of indifference, any secret anxiety wemight feel concerning the mode in which we were to be received by thosewhose privacy we had disturbed.
At length, the lesser Highlander, addressing himself to me said, in verygood English, and in a tone of great haughtiness, "Ye make yourself athome, sir, I see."
"I usually do so," I replied, "when I come into a house of publicentertainment."
"And did she na see," said the taller man, "by the white wand at thedoor, that gentlemans had taken up the public-house on their ainbusiness?"
"I do not pretend to understand the customs of this country but I am yetto learn," I replied, "how three persons should be entitled to excludeall other travellers from the only place of shelter and refreshment formiles round."
"There's nae reason for't, gentlemen," said the Bailie; "we mean naeoffence--but there's neither law nor reason for't; but as far as a stoupo' gude brandy wad make up the quarrel, we, being peaceable folk, wad bewilling."
"Damn your brandy, sir!" said the Lowlander, adjusting his cocked hatfiercely upon his head; "we desire neither your brandy nor your company,"and up he rose from his seat. His companions also arose, muttering toeach other, drawing up their plaids, and snorting and snuffing the airafter the mariner of their countrymen when working themselves into apassion.
"I tauld ye what wad come, gentlemen," said the landlady, "an ye wad haebeen tauld:--get awa' wi' ye out o' my house, and make nae disturbancehere--there's nae gentleman be disturbed at Jeanie MacAlpine's an she canhinder. A wheen idle English loons, gaun about the country under cloud o'night, and disturbing honest peaceable gentlemen that are drinking theirdrap drink at the fireside!"
At another time I should have thought of the old Latin adage,
"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censure columbas"--
But I had not any time for classical quotation, for there was obviously afray about to ensue, at which, feeling myself indiginant at theinhospitable insolence with which I was treated, I was total
lyindifferent, unless on the Bailie's account, whose person and qualitieswere ill qualified for such an adventure. I started up, however, onseeing the others rise, and dropped my cloak from my shoulders, that Imight be ready to stand on the defensive.
"We are three to three," said the lesser Highlander, glancing his eyes atour party: "if ye be pretty men, draw!" and unsheathing his broadsword,he advanced on me. I put myself in a posture of defence, and aware of thesuperiority of my weapon, a rapier or small-sword, was little afraid ofthe issue of the contest. The Bailie behaved with unexpected mettle. Ashe saw the gigantic Highlander confront him with his weapon drawn, hetugged for a second or two at the hilt of his _shabble,_ as he called it;but finding it loth to quit the sheath, to which it had long been securedby rust and disuse, he seized, as a substitute, on the red-hot coulter ofa plough which had been employed in arranging the fire by way of a poker,and brandished it with such effect, that at the first pass he set theHighlander's plaid on fire, and compelled him to keep a respectfuldistance till he could get it extinguished. Andrew, on the contrary, whoought to have faced the Lowland champion, had, I grieve to say it,vanished at the very commencement of the fray. But his antagonist, crying"Fair play, fair play!" seemed courteously disposed to take no share inthe scuffle. Thus we commenced our rencontre on fair terms as to numbers.My own aim was, to possess myself, if possible, of my antagonist'sweapon; but I was deterred from closing, for fear of the dirk which heheld in his left hand, and used in parrying the thrusts of my rapier.Meantime the Bailie, notwithstanding the success of his first onset, wassorely bested. The weight of his weapon, the corpulence of his person,the very effervescence of his own passions, were rapidly exhausting bothhis strength and his breath, and he was almost at the mercy of hisantagonist, when up started the sleeping Highlander from the floor onwhich he reclined, with his naked sword and target in his hand, and threwhimself between the discomfited magistrate and his assailant, exclaiming,"Her nainsell has eaten the town pread at the Cross o' Glasgow, and pyher troth she'll fight for Bailie Sharvie at the Clachan of Aberfoil--tatwill she e'en!" And seconding his words with deeds, this unexpectedauxiliary made his sword whistle about the ears of his tall countryman,who, nothing abashed, returned his blows with interest. But being bothaccoutred with round targets made of wood, studded with brass, andcovered with leather, with which they readily parried each other'sstrokes, their combat was attended with much more noise and clatter thanserious risk of damage. It appeared, indeed, that there was more ofbravado than of serious attempt to do us any injury; for the Lowlandgentleman, who, as I mentioned, had stood aside for want of an antagonistwhen the brawl commenced, was now pleased to act the part of moderatorand peacemaker.
Fray at Jeannie MacAlpine's--154]
"Hand your hands! haud your hands!--eneugh done!--eneugh done! thequarrel's no mortal. The strange gentlemen have shown themselves men ofhonour, and gien reasonable satisfaction. I'll stand on mine honour askittle as ony man, but I hate unnecessary bloodshed."
It was not, of course, my wish to protract the fray--my adversary seemedequally disposed to sheathe his sword--the Bailie, gasping for breath,might be considered as _hors de combat,_ and our two sword-and-bucklermen gave up their contest with as much indifference as they had enteredinto it.
"And now," said the worthy gentleman who acted as umpire, "let us drinkand gree like honest fellows--The house will haud us a'. I propose thatthis good little gentleman, that seems sair forfoughen, as I may say, inthis tuilzie, shall send for a tass o' brandy and I'll pay for another,by way of archilowe,* and then we'll birl our bawbees a' round about,like brethren."
"And fa's to pay my new ponnie plaid," said the larger Highlander, "wi' ahole burnt in't ane might put a kail-pat through? Saw ever onybody adecent gentleman fight wi' a firebrand before?"
"Let that be nae hinderance," said the Bailie, who had now recovered hisbreath, and was at once disposed to enjoy the triumph of having behavedwith spirit, and avoid the necessity of again resorting to such hard anddoubtful arbitrament--"Gin I hae broken the head," he said, "I sall findthe plaister. A new plaid sall ye hae, and o' the best--your ainclan-colours, man,--an ye will tell me where it can be sent t'ye fraeGlasco."
"I needna name my clan--I am of a king's clan, as is weel ken'd," saidthe Highlander; "but ye may tak a bit o' the plaid--figh! she smells likea singit sheep's head!--and that'll learn ye the sett--and a gentleman,that's a cousin o' my ain, that carries eggs doun frae Glencroe, will ca'for't about Martimas, an ye will tell her where ye bide. But, honestgentleman, neist time ye fight, an ye hae ony respect for yourathversary, let it be wi' your sword, man, since ye wear ane, and no wi'thae het culters and fireprands, like a wild Indian."
"Conscience!" replied the Bailie, "every man maun do as he dow. My swordhasna seen the light since Bothwell Brigg, when my father that's dead andgane, ware it; and I kenna weel if it was forthcoming then either, forthe battle was o' the briefest--At ony rate, it's glued to the scabbardnow beyond my power to part them; and, finding that, I e'en grippit atthe first thing I could make a fend wi'. I trow my fighting days is done,though I like ill to take the scorn, for a' that.--But where's the honestlad that tuik my quarrel on himself sae frankly?--I'se bestow a gill o'aquavitae on him, an I suld never ca' for anither."
* Archilowe, of unknown derivation, signifies a peace-offering.
The champion for whom he looked around was, however, no longer to beseen. He had escaped unobserved by the Bailie, immediately when the brawlwas ended, yet not before I had recognised, in his wild features andshaggy red hair, our acquaintance Dougal, the fugitive turnkey of theGlasgow jail. I communicated this observation in a whisper to the Bailie,who answered in the same tone, "Weel, weel,--I see that him that ye keno' said very right; there _is_ some glimmering o' common sense about thatcreature Dougal; I maun see and think o' something will do him somegude."
Thus saying, he sat down, and fetching one or two deep aspirations, byway of recovering his breath, called to the landlady--"I think, Luckie,now that I find that there's nae hole in my wame, whilk I had mucklereason to doubt frae the doings o' your house, I wad be the better o'something to pit intill't."
The dame, who was all officiousness so soon as the storm had blown over,immediately undertook to broil something comfortable for our supper.Indeed, nothing surprised me more, in the course of the whole matter,than the extreme calmness with which she and her household seemed toregard the martial tumult that had taken place. The good woman was onlyheard to call to some of her assistants--"Steek the door! steek the door!kill or be killed, let naebody pass out till they hae paid the lawin."And as for the slumberers in those lairs by the wall, which served thefamily for beds, they only raised their shirtless bodies to look at thefray, ejaculated, "Oigh! oigh!" in the tone suitable to their respectivesex and ages, and were, I believe, fast asleep again, ere our swords werewell returned to their scabbards.
Our landlady, however, now made a great bustle to get some victualsready, and, to my surprise, very soon began to prepare for us in thefrying-pan a savoury mess of venison collops, which she dressed in amanner that might well satisfy hungry men, if not epicures. In themeantime the brandy was placed on the table, to which the Highlanders,however partial to their native strong waters, showed no objection, butmuch the contrary; and the Lowland gentleman, after the first cup hadpassed round, became desirous to know our profession, and the object ofour journey.
"We are bits o' Glasgow bodies, if it please your honour," said theBailie, with an affectation of great humility, "travelling to Stirling toget in some siller that is awing us."
I was so silly as to feel a little disconcerted at the unassuming accountwhich he chose to give of us; but I recollected my promise to be silent,and allow the Bailie to manage the matter his own way. And really, when Irecollected, Will, that I had not only brought the honest man a longjourney from home, which even in itself had been some inconvenience (if Iwere to judge from the obvious pain and reluctance with which he took hisseat, or arose fro
m it), but had also put him within a hair's-breadth ofthe loss of his life, I could hardly refuse him such a compliment. Thespokesman of the other party, snuffing up his breath through his nose,repeated the words with a sort of sneer;--"You Glasgow tradesfolks haenaething to do but to gang frae the tae end o' the west o' Scotland tothe ither, to plague honest folks that may chance to be awee ahint thehand, like me."
"If our debtors were a' sic honest gentlemen as I believe you to be,Garschattachin," replied the Bailie, "conscience! we might save ourselvesa labour, for they wad come to seek us."
"Eh! what! how!" exclaimed the person whom he had addressed,--"as I shalllive by bread (not forgetting beef and brandy), it's my auld friend NicolJarvie, the best man that ever counted doun merks on a band till adistressed gentleman. Were ye na coming up my way?--were ye na coming upthe Endrick to Garschattachin?"
"Troth no, Maister Galbraith," replied the Bailie, "I had other eggs onthe spit--and I thought ye wad be saying I cam to look about the annualrent that's due on the bit heritable band that's between us."
"Damn the annual rent!" said the laird, with an appearance of greatheartiness--"Deil a word o' business will you or I speak, now that ye'reso near my country. To see how a trot-cosey and a joseph can disguise aman--that I suldna ken my auld feal friend the deacon!"
"The Bailie, if ye please," resumed my companion; "but I ken what gars yemistak--the band was granted to my father that's happy, and he wasdeacon; but his name was Nicol as weel as mine. I dinna mind that there'sbeen a payment of principal sum or annual rent on it in my day, anddoubtless that has made the mistake."
"Weel, the devil take the mistake and all that occasioned it!" repliedMr. Galbraith. "But I am glad ye are a bailie. Gentlemen, fill abrimmer--this is my excellent friend, Bailie Nicol Jarvie's health--Iken'd him and his father these twenty years. Are ye a' cleared keltyaff?--Fill anither. Here's to his being sune provost--I sayprovost--Lord Provost Nicol Jarvie!--and them that affirms there's a manwalks the Hie-street o' Glasgow that's fitter for the office, they willdo weel not to let me, Duncan Galbraith of Garschattachin, hear them saysae--that's all." And therewith Duncan Galbraith martially cocked hishat, and placed it on one side of his head with an air of defiance.
The brandy was probably the best recommendation of there complimentarytoasts to the two Highlanders, who drank them without appearing anxiousto comprehend their purport. They commenced a conversation with Mr.Galbraith in Gaelic, which he talked with perfect fluency, being, as Iafterwards learned, a near neighbour to the Highlands.
"I ken'd that Scant-o'-grace weel eneugh frae the very outset," said theBailie, in a whisper to me; "but when blude was warm, and swords were outat ony rate, wha kens what way he might hae thought o' paying his debts?it will be lang or he does it in common form. But he's an honest lad, andhas a warm heart too; he disna come often to the Cross o' Glasgow, butmony a buck and blackcock he sends us doun frae the hills. And I can wantmy siller weel eneugh. My father the deacon had a great regard for thefamily of Garschattachin."
Supper being now nearly ready, I looked round for Andrew Fairservice; butthat trusty follower had not been seen by any one since the beginning ofthe rencontre. The hostess, however, said that she believed our servanthad gone into the stable, and offered to light me to the place, sayingthat "no entreaties of the bairns or hers could make him give any answer;and that truly she caredna to gang into the stable herself at this hour.She was a lone woman, and it was weel ken'd how the Brownie ofBen-ye-gask guided the gudewife of Ardnagowan; and it was aye judgedthere was a Brownie in our stable, which was just what garr'd me gie owerkeeping an hostler."
As, however, she lighted me towards the miserable hovel into which theyhad crammed our unlucky steeds, to regale themselves on hay, every fibreof which was as thick as an ordinary goose-quill, she plainly showed methat she had another reason for drawing me aside from the company thanthat which her words implied. "Read that," she said, slipping a piece ofpaper into my hand, as we arrived at the door of the shed; "I bless God Iam rid o't. Between sogers and Saxons, and caterans and cattle-lifters,and hership and bluidshed, an honest woman wad live quieter in hell thanon the Hieland line."
So saying, she put the pine-torch into my hand, and returned into thehouse,