Guy Mannering; or, The Astrologer — Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXII Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, And merrily bend the stile-a, A merry heart goes all the day, A sad one tires in a mile-a.

  --Winter's Tale.

  Let the reader conceive to himself a clear frosty November morning, thescene an open heath, having for the background that huge chain ofmountains in which Skiddaw and Saddleback are preeminent; let him lookalong that BLIND ROAD, by which I mean the track so slightly marked bythe passengers' footsteps that it can but be traced by a slight shade ofverdure from the darker heath around it, and, being only visible to theeye when at some distance, ceases to be distinguished while the foot isactually treading it; along this faintly-traced path advances the objectof our present narrative. His firm step, his erect and free carriage,have a military air which corresponds well with his well-proportionedlimbs and stature of six feet high. His dress is so plain and simple thatit indicates nothing as to rank; it may be that of a gentleman whotravels in this manner for his pleasure, or of an inferior person of whomit is the proper and usual garb. Nothing can be on a more reduced scalethan his travelling equipment. A volume of Shakspeare in each pocket, asmall bundle with a change of linen slung across his shoulders, an oakencudgel in his hand, complete our pedestrian's accommodations, and in thisequipage we present him to our readers.

  Brown had parted that morning from his friend Dudley, and begun hissolitary walk towards Scotland.

  The first two or three miles were rather melancholy, from want of thesociety to which he had of late been accustomed. But this unusual mood ofmind soon gave way to the influence of his natural good spirits, excitedby the exercise and the bracing effects of the frosty air. He whistled ashe went along, not 'from want of thought,' but to give vent to thosebuoyant feelings which he had no other mode of expressing. For eachpeasant whom he chanced to meet he had a kind greeting or a good-humouredjest; the hardy Cumbrians grinned as they passed, and said, 'That's akind heart, God bless un!' and the market-girl looked more than once overher shoulder at the athletic form, which corresponded so well with thefrank and blythe address of the stranger. A rough terrier dog, hisconstant companion, who rivalled his master in glee, scampered at largein a thousand wheels round the heath, and came back to jump up on him andassure him that he participated in the pleasure of the journey. Dr.Johnson thought life had few things better than the excitation producedby being whirled rapidly along in a post-chaise; but he who has in youthexperienced the confident and independent feeling of a stout pedestrianin an interesting country, and during fine weather, will hold the tasteof the great moralist cheap in comparison.

  Part of Brown's view in choosing that unusual track which leads throughthe eastern wilds of Cumberland into Scotland, had been a desire to viewthe remains of the celebrated Roman Wall, which are more visible in thatdirection than in any other part of its extent. His education had beenimperfect and desultory; but neither the busy scenes in which he had beenengaged, nor the pleasures of youth, nor the precarious state of his owncircumstances, had diverted him from the task of mental improvement. 'Andthis then is the Roman Wall,' he said, scrambling up to a height whichcommanded the course of that celebrated work of antiquity. 'What apeople! whose labours, even at this extremity of their empire,comprehended such space, and were executed upon a scale of such grandeur!In future ages, when the science of war shall have changed, how fewtraces will exist of the labours of Vauban and Coehorn, while thiswonderful people's remains will even then continue to interest andastonish posterity! Their fortifications, their aqueducts, theirtheatres, their fountains, all their public works, bear the grave, solid,and majestic character of their language; while our modern labours, likeour modern tongues, seem but constructed out of their fragments.' Havingthus moralised, he remembered that he was hungry, and pursued his walk toa small public-house, at which he proposed to get some refreshment.

  The alehouse, for it was no better, was situated in the bottom of alittle dell, through which trilled a small rivulet. It was shaded by alarge ash tree, against which the clay-built shed that served the purposeof a stable was erected, and upon which it seemed partly to recline. Inthis shed stood a saddled horse, employed in eating his corn. Thecottages in this part of Cumberland partake of the rudeness whichcharacterises those of Scotland. The outside of the house promised littlefor the interior, notwithstanding the vaunt of a sign, where a tankard ofale voluntarily decanted itself into a tumbler, and a hieroglyphicalscrawl below attempted to express a promise of 'good entertainment forman and horse.' Brown was no fastidious traveller: he stopped and enteredthe cabaret. [Footnote: See Note 2.]

  The first object which caught his eye in the kitchen was a tall, stout,country-looking man in a large jockey great-coat, the owner of the horsewhich stood in the shed, who was busy discussing huge slices of coldboiled beef, and casting from time to time an eye through the window tosee how his steed sped with his provender. A large tankard of ale flankedhis plate of victuals, to which he applied himself by intervals. The goodwoman of the house was employed in baking. The fire, as is usual in thatcountry, was on a stone hearth, in the midst of an immensely largechimney, which had two seats extended beneath the vent. On one of thesesat a remarkably tall woman, in a red cloak and slouched bonnet, havingthe appearance of a tinker or beggar. She was busily engaged with a shortblack tobacco-pipe.

  At the request of Brown for some food, the landlady wiped with her mealyapron one corner of the deal table, placed a wooden trencher and knifeand fork before the traveller, pointed to the round of beef, recommendedMr. Dinmont's good example, and finally filled a brown pitcher with herhome-brewed. Brown lost no time in doing ample credit to both. For awhile his opposite neighbour and he were too busy to take much notice ofeach other, except by a good-humoured nod as each in turn raised thetankard to his head. At length, when our pedestrian began to supply thewants of little Wasp, the Scotch store-farmer, for such was Mr. Dinmont,found himself at leisure to enter into conversation.

  'A bonny terrier that, sir, and a fell chield at the vermin, I warranthim; that is, if he's been weel entered, for it a' lies in that.'

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

  'Ay, sir? that's a pity, begging your pardon, it's a great pity that;beast or body, education should aye be minded. I have six terriers athame, forbye twa couple of slow-hunds, five grews, and a wheen otherdogs. There's auld Pepper and auld Mustard, and young Pepper and youngMustard, and little Pepper and little Mustard. I had them a' regularlyentered, first wi' rottens, then wi' stots or weasels, and then wi' thetods and brocks, and now they fear naething that ever cam wi' a hairyskin on't.'

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

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

  'I suppose game is very plenty with you?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Thanks to ye, gudeman; and now ye hae answered a' my questions, andnever speired wherefore I asked them, I'll gie you a bit canny advice,and ye maunna speir what for neither. Tib Mumps will be out wi' thestirrup-dram in a gliffing. She'll ask ye whether ye gang ower Willie'sBrae or through Conscowthart Moss; tell her ony ane ye like, but be sure(speaking low and emphatically) to tak the ane ye dinna tell her.' Thefarmer laughed and promised, and the gipsy retreated.

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

  'That will I no, the randy quean! Na, I had far rather Tib Mumps kenn'dwhich way I was gaun than her, though Tib's no muckle to lippen toneither, and I would advise ye on no account to stay in the house a'night.'

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

  CHAPTER XXIII Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway

  --Winter's Tale.