Redgauntlet: A Tale Of The Eighteenth Century

by Walter Scott

  LETTER XI

  THE SAME TO THE SAME

  You are now to conceive us proceeding in our different directions acrossthe bare downs. Yonder flies little Benjie to the northward with Hempscampering at his heels, both running as if for dear life so long as therogue is within sight of his employer, and certain to take the walk veryeasy so soon as he is out of ken. Stepping westward, you see Maggie'stall form and high-crowned hat, relieved by the fluttering of her plaidupon the left shoulder, darkening as the distance diminishes her sizeand as the level sunbeams begin to sink upon the sea. She is taking herquiet journey to the Shepherd's Bush.

  Then, stoutly striding over the lea, you have a full view of DarsieLatimer, with his new acquaintance, Wandering Willie, who, bating thathe touched the ground now and then with his staff, not in a doubtfulgroping manner, but with the confident air of an experienced pilot,heaving the lead when he has the soundings by heart, walks as firmly andboldly as if he possessed the eyes of Argus. There they go, each withhis violin slung at his back, but one of them at least totally ignorantwhither their course is directed.

  And wherefore did you enter so keenly into such a mad frolic? saysmy wise counsellor.--Why, I think, upon the whole, that as a sense ofloneliness, and a longing for that kindness which is interchanged insociety, led me to take up my temporary residence at Mount Sharon, themonotony of my life there, the quiet simplicity of the conversation ofthe Geddeses, and the uniformity of their amusements and employments,wearied out my impatient temper, and prepared me for the first escapadewhich chance might throw in my way.

  What would I have given that I could have procured that solemn gravevisage of thine, to dignify this joke, as it has done full many a one ofthine own! Thou hast so happy a knack of doing the most foolish thingsin the wisest manner, that thou mightst pass thy extravagances forrational actions, even in the eyes of Prudence herself.

  From the direction which my guide observed, I began to suspect that thedell at Brokenburn was our probable destination; and it became importantto me to consider whether I could, with propriety, or even perfectsafety, intrude myself again upon the hospitality of my former host. Itherefore asked Willie whether we were bound for the laird's, as folkcalled him.

  'Do ye ken the laird?' said Willie, interrupting a sonata of Corelli, ofwhich he had whistled several bars with great precision.

  'I know the laird a little,' said I; 'and therefore I was doubtingwhether I ought to go to his town in disguise.'

  'I should doubt, not a little only, but a great deal, before I took yethere, my chap,' said Wandering Willie; 'for I am thinking it wad beworth little less than broken banes baith to you and me. Na, na,chap, we are no ganging to the laird's, but to a blithe birling at theBrokenburn-foot, where there will be mony a braw lad and lass; andmaybe there may be some of the laird's folks, for he never comes to sicsplores himsell. He is all for fowling-piece and salmon-spear, now thatpike and musket are out of the question.'

  'He has been at soldier, then?' said I.

  'I'se warrant him a soger,' answered Willie; 'but take my advice, andspeer as little about him as he does about you. Best to let sleepingdogs lie. Better say naething about the laird, my man, and tell meinstead, what sort of a chap ye are that are sae ready to cleik in withan auld gaberlunzie fiddler? Maggie says ye're gentle, but a shillingmaks a' the difference that Maggie kens between a gentle and a semple,and your crowns wad mak ye a prince of the blood in her een. But I amane that ken full weel that ye may wear good claithes, and have a safthand, and yet that may come of idleness as weel as gentrice.'

  I told him my name, with the same addition I had formerly given toMr. Joshua Geddes; that I was a law-student, tired of my studies, andrambling about for exercise and amusement.

  'And are ye in the wont of drawing up wi' a' the gangrel bodies thatye meet on the high-road, or find cowering in a sand-bunker upon thelinks?' demanded Willie.

  'Oh, no; only with honest folks like yourself, Willie,' was my reply.

  'Honest folks like me! How do ye ken whether I am honest, or what I am?I may be the deevil himsell for what ye ken; for he has power to comedisguised like an angel of light; and besides he is a prime fiddler. Heplayed a sonata to Corelli, ye ken.'

  There was something odd in this speech, and the tone in which it wassaid. It seemed as if my companion was not always in his constant mind,or that he was willing to try if he could frighten me. I laughed at theextravagance of his language, however, and asked him in reply, if hewas fool enough to believe that the foul fiend would play so silly amasquerade.

  'Ye ken little about it--little about it,' said the old man, shaking hishead and beard, and knitting his brows, 'I could tell ye something aboutthat.'

  What his wife mentioned of his being a tale-teller, as well asa musician, now occurred to me; and as you know I like tales ofsuperstition, I begged to have a specimen of his talent as we wentalong.

  'It is very true,' said the blind man, 'that when I am tired of scrapingthairm or singing ballants, I whiles mak a tale serve the turn amongthe country bodies; and I have some fearsome anes, that make the auldcarlines shake on the settle, and the bits o' bairns skirl on theirminnies out frae their beds. But this that I am gaun to tell you wasa thing that befell in our ain house in my father's time--that is, myfather was then a hafflins callant; and I tell it to you that it may bea lesson to you, that are but a young, thoughtless chap, wha ye draw upwi' on a lonely road; for muckle was the dool and care that came o't tomy gudesire.'

  He commenced his tale accordingly, in a distinct narrative tone of voicewhich he raised and depressed with considerable skill; at times sinkingalmost into a whisper, and turning his clear but sightless eyeballs uponmy face, as if it had been possible for him to witness the impressionwhich his narrative made upon my features. I will not spare you asyllable of it, although it be of the longest; so I make a dash--andbegin

  WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE.

  Ye maun have heard of Sir Robert Redgauntlet of that Ilk, who lived inthese parts before the dear years. The country will lang mind him; andour fathers used to draw breath thick if ever they heard him named. Hewas out wi' the Hielandmen in Montrose's time; and again he was in thehills wi' Glencairn in the saxteen hundred and fifty-twa; and sae whenKing Charles the Second came in, wha was in sic favour as the Laird ofRedgauntlet? He was knighted at Lonon court, wi' the king's ain sword;and being a redhot prelatist, he came down here, rampauging like a lion,with commissions of lieutenancy (and of lunacy, for what I ken) to putdown a' the Whigs and Covenanters in the country. Wild wark they made ofit; for the Whigs were as dour as the Cavaliers were fierce, and it waswhich should first tire the other. Redgauntlet was ay for the stronghand; and his name is kend as wide in the country as Claverhouse's orTam Dalyell's. Glen, nor dargle, nor mountain, nor cave, could hide thepuir hill-folk when Redgauntlet was out with bugle and bloodhound afterthem, as if they had been sae mony deer. And troth when they fand them,they didna mak muckle mair ceremony than a Hielandman wi' aroebuck--it was just, 'Will ye tak the test?'--if not, 'Makeready--present--fire!'--and there lay the recusant.

  Far and wide was Sir Robert hated and feared. Men thought he had adirect compact with Satan--that he was proof against steel--and thatbullets happed aff his buff-coat like hailstanes from a hearth--thathe had a mear that would turn a hare on the side of Carrifra-gawns [Aprecipitous side of a mountain in Moffatdale.]--and muckle to the samepurpose, of whilk mair anon. The best blessing they wared on him was,'Deil scowp wi' Redgauntlet!' He wasna a bad master to his ain folk,though, and was weel aneugh liked by his tenants; and as for the lackiesand troopers that raid out wi' him to the persecutions, as the Whigscaa'd those killing times, they wad hae drunken themsells blind to hishealth at ony time.

  Now you are to ken that my gudesire lived on Redgauntlet's grund--theyca' the place Primrose Knowe. We had lived on the grund, and under theRedgauntlets, since the riding days, and lang before. It was a pleasantbit; and I think the air is callerer and fresher there than onywhereelse in
the country. It's a' deserted now; and I sat on the brokendoor-cheek three days since, and was glad I couldna see the plight theplace was in; but that's a' wide o' the mark. There dwelt my gudesire,Steenie Steenson, a rambling, rattling chiel' he had been in his youngdays, and could play weel on the pipes; he was famous at 'Hoopers andGirders'--a' Cumberland couldna, touch him at 'Jockie Lattin'--and hehad the finest finger for the back-lilt between Berwick and Carlisle.The like o' Steenie wasna the sort that they made Whigs o'. And so hebecame a Tory, as they ca' it, which we now ca' Jacobites, just out of akind of needcessity, that he might belang to some side or other. He hadnae ill will to the Whig bodies, and liked little to see the blude rin,though, being obliged to follow Sir Robert in hunting and hoisting,watching and warding, he saw muckle mischief, and maybe did some, thathe couldna avoid.

  Now Steenie was a kind of favourite with his master, and kend a' thefolks about the castle, and was often sent for to play the pipes whenthey were at their merriment. Auld Dougal MacCallum, the butler, thathad followed Sir Robert through gude and ill, thick and thin, pool andstream, was specially fond of the pipes, and ay gae my gudesire his gudeword wi' the laird; for Dougal could turn his master round his finger.

  Weel, round came the Revolution, and it had like to have brokenthe hearts baith of Dougal and his master. But the change was nota'thegether sae great as they feared, and other folk thought for. TheWhigs made an unco crawing what they wad do with their auld enemies, andin special wi' Sir Robert Redgauntlet. But there were ower mony greatfolks dipped in the same doings, to mak a spick and span new warld. SoParliament passed it a' ower easy; and Sir Robert, bating that he washeld to hunting foxes instead of Covenanters, remained just the man hewas. [The caution and moderation of King William III, and his principlesof unlimited toleration, deprived the Cameronians of the opportunitythey ardently desired, to retaliate the injuries which they had receivedduring the reign of prelacy, and purify the land, as they called it,from the pollution of blood. They esteemed the Revolution, therefore,only a half measure, which neither comprehended the rebuilding the Kirkin its full splendour, nor the revenge of the death of the Saints ontheir persecutors.] His revel was as loud, and his hall as weellighted, as ever it had been, though maybe he lacked the fines of thenonconformists, that used to come to stock his larder and cellar; for itis certain he began to be keener about the rents than his tenants usedto find him before, and they behoved to be prompt to the rent-day,or else the laird wasna pleased. And he was sic an awsome body, thatnaebody cared to anger him; for the oaths he swore, and the rage that heused to get into, and the looks that he put on, made men sometimes thinkhim a devil incarnate.

  Weel, my gudesire was nae manager--no that he was a very greatmisguider--but he hadna the saving gift, and he got twa terms' rent inarrear. He got the first brash at Whitsunday put ower wi' fair wordand piping; but when Martinmas came, there was a summons from thegrund-officer to come wi' the rent on a day preceese, or else Steeniebehoved to flit. Sair wark he had to get the siller; but he wasweel-freended, and at last he got the haill scraped thegether--athousand merks--the maist of it was from a neighbour they ca'd LaurieLapraik--a sly tod. Laurie had walth o' gear--could hunt wi' the houndand rin wi' the hare--and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, as the windstood. He was a professor in this Revolution warld, but he liked an orrasough of this warld, and a tune on the pipes weel aneugh at a bytime;and abune a', he thought he had gude security for the siller he lent mygudesire ower the stocking at Primrose Knowe.

  Away trots my gudesire to Redgauntlet Castle wi' a heavy purse and alight heart, glad to be out of the laird's danger. Weel, the first thinghe learned at the castle was, that Sir Robert had fretted himsell intoa fit of the gout, because he did not appear before twelve' o'clock. Itwasna a'thegether for sake of the money, Dougal thought; but because hedidna like to part wi' my gudesire aff the grund. Dougal was glad to seeSteenie, and brought him into the great oak parlour, and there satthe laird his leesome lane, excepting that he had beside him a great,ill-favoured jackanape, that was a special pet of his; a cankered beastit was, and mony an ill-natured trick it played--ill to please it was,and easily angered--ran about the haill castle, chattering and yowling,and pinching, and biting folk, specially before ill weather, ordisturbances in the state. Sir Robert caa'd it Major Weir, after thewarlock that was burnt; [A celebrated wizard, executed at Edinburgh forsorcery and other crimes.] and few folk liked either the name or theconditions of the creature--they thought there was something in it byordinar--and my gudesire was not just easy in mind when the door shuton him, and he saw himself in the room wi' naebody but the laird, DougalMacCallum, and the major, a thing that hadna chanced to him before.

  Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, in a great armed chair, wi' hisgrand velvet gown, and his feet on a cradle; for he had baith gout andgravel, and his face looked as gash and ghastly as Satan's. Major Weirsat opposite to him, in a red laced coat, and the laird's wig on hishead; and ay as Sir Robert girned wi' pain, the jackanape girned too,like a sheep's-head between a pair of tangs--an ill-faur'd, fearsomecouple they were. The laird's buff-coat was hung on a pin behind him,and his broadsword and his pistols within reach; for he keepit up theauld fashion of having the weapons ready, and a horse saddled day andnight, just as he used to do when he was able to loup on horseback, andaway after ony of the hill-folk he could get speerings of. Some said itwas for fear of the Whigs taking vengeance, but I judge it was just hisauld custom--he wasna, gien to fear onything. The rental-book, wi'its black cover and brass clasps, was lying beside him; and a book ofsculduddry sangs was put betwixt the leaves, to keep it open at theplace where it bore evidence against the Goodman of Primrose Knowe, asbehind the hand with his mails and duties. Sir Robert gave my gudesirea look, as if he would have withered his heart in his bosom. Ye maun kenhe had a way of bending his brows, that men saw the visible mark of ahorseshoe in his forehead, deep dinted, as if it had been stamped there.

  'Are ye come light-handed, ye son of a toom whistle?' said Sir Robert.'Zounds! if you are'--

  My gudesire, with as gude acountenance as he could put on, made a leg,and placed the bag of money on the table wi' a dash, like a man thatdoes something clever. The laird drew it to him hastily--'Is it allhere, Steenie, man?'

  'Your honour will find it right,' said my gudesire.

  'Here, Dougal,' said the laird, 'gie Steenie a tass of brandydownstairs, till I count the siller and write the receipt.'

  But they werena weel out of the room, when Sir Robert gied ayelloch that garr'd the castle rock. Back ran Dougal--in flew thelivery-men--yell on yell gied the laird, ilk ane mair awfu' than theither. My gudesire knew not whether to stand or flee, but he venturedback into the parlour, where a' was gaun hirdy-girdie--naebody to say'come in,' or 'gae out.' Terribly the laird roared for cauld water tohis feet, and wine to cool his throat; and Hell, hell, hell, and itsflames, was ay the word in his mouth. They brought him water, and whenthey plunged his swollen feet into the tub, he cried out it was burning;and folk say that it DID bubble and sparkle like a seething cauldron. Heflung the cup at Dougal's head, and said he had given him blood insteadof burgundy; and, sure aneugh, the lass washed clotted blood aff thecarpet; the neist day. The jackanape they caa'd Major Weir, it jibberedand cried as if it was mocking its master; my gudesire's head was liketo turn--he forgot baith siller and receipt, and downstairs hebanged; but as he ran, the shrieks came faint and fainter; there was adeep-drawn shivering groan, and word gaed through the castle that thelaird was dead.

  Weel, away came my gudesire, wi' his finger in his mouth, and his besthope was that Dougal had seen the money-bag, and heard the lairdspeak of writing the receipt. The young laird, now Sir John, came fromEdinburgh, to see things put to rights. Sir John and his father nevergree'd weel. Sir John had been bred an advocate, and afterwards sat inthe last Scots Parliament and voted for the Union, having gotten, it wasthought, a rug of the compensations--if his father could have come outof his grave, he would have brained him for it on his
awn hearthstane.Some thought it was easier counting with the auld rough knight than thefair-spoken young ane--but mair of that anon.

  Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat nor grained, but gaed aboutthe house looking like a corpse, but directing, as was his duty, a'the order of the grand funeral. Now Dougal looked ay waur and waur whennight was coming, and was ay the last to gang to his bed, whilk was ina little round just opposite the chamber of dais, whilk his masteroccupied while he was living, and where he now lay in state, as theycaa'd it, weel-a-day! The night before the funeral, Dougal could keephis awn counsel nae langer; he came doun with his proud spirit, andfairly asked auld Hutcheon to sit in his room with him for an hour. Whenthey were in the round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy to himsell, andgave another to Hutcheon, and wished him all health and lang life, andsaid that, for himsell, he wasna lang for this world; for that, everynight since Sir Robert's death, his silver call had sounded from thestate chamber, just as it used to do at nights in his lifetime, to callDougal to help to turn him in his bed. Dougal said that being alonewith the dead on that floor of the tower (for naebody cared to wake SirRobert Redgauntlet like another corpse) he had never daured to answerthe call, but that now his conscience checked him for neglecting hisduty; for, 'though death breaks service,' said MacCallum, 'it shallnever break my service to Sir Robert; and I will answer his nextwhistle, so be you will stand by me, Hutcheon.'

  Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, but he had stood by Dougal in battleand broil, and he wad not fail him at this pinch; so down the carlessat ower a stoup of brandy, and Hutcheon, who was something of a clerk,would have read a chapter of the Bible; but Dougal would hear naethingbut a blaud of Davie Lindsay, whilk was the waur preparation.

  When midnight came, and the house was quiet as the grave, sure enoughthe silver whistle sounded as sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert wasblowing it, and up got the twa auld serving-men, and tottered into theroom where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw aneugh at the first glance;for there were torches in the room, which showed him the foul fiend, inhis ain shape, sitting on the laird's coffin! Ower he cowped as if hehad been dead. He could not tell how lang he lay in a trance at thedoor, but when he gathered himself, he cried on his neighbour, andgetting nae answer, raised the house, when Dougal was found lying deadwithin twa steps of the bed where his master's coffin was placed. As forthe whistle, it was gaen anes and ay; but mony a time was it heard atthe top of the house on the bartizan, and amang the auld chimneys andturrets where the howlets have their nests. Sir John hushed the matterup, and the funeral passed over without mair bogle-wark.

  But when a' was ower, and the laird was beginning to settle his affairs,every tenant was called up for his arrears, and my gudesire for the fullsum that stood against him in the rental-book. Weel, away he trots tothe castle, to tell his story, and there he is introduced to Sir John,sitting in his father's chair, in deep mourning, with weepers andhanging cravat, and a small wallring rapier by his side, instead of theauld broadsword that had a hundredweight of steel about it, what withblade, chape, and basket-hilt. I have heard their communing so oftentauld ower, that I almost think I was there mysell, though I couldnabe born at the time. (In fact, Alan, my companion mimicked, with agood deal of humour, the flattering, conciliating tone of the tenant'saddress, and the hypocritical melancholy of the laird's reply. Hisgrandfather, he said, had, while he spoke, his eye fixed on therental-book, as if it were a mastiff-dog that he was afraid would springup and bite him).

  'I wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the white loaf, and the braidlairdship. Your father was a kind man to friends and followers; mucklegrace to you, Sir John, to fill his shoon--his boots, I suld say, for heseldom wore shoon, unless it were muils when he had the gout.'

  'Aye, Steenie,' quoth the laird, sighing deeply, and putting hisnapkin to his een, 'his was a sudden call, and he will be missed in thecountry; no time to set his house in order--weel prepared Godward, nodoubt, which is the root of the matter--but left us behind a tangledheap to wind, Steenie.--Hem! hem! We maun go to business, Steenie; muchto do, and little time to do it in.'

  Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard of a thing they callDoomsday Book--I am clear it has been a rental of back-ganging tenants.

  'Stephen,' said Sir John, still in the same soft, sleekit tone ofvoice--'Stephen Stevenson, or Steenson, ye are down here for a year'srent behind the hand--due at last term.'

  STEPHEN. 'Please your honour, Sir John, I paid it to your father.'

  SIR JOHN. 'Ye took a receipt, then, doubtless, Stephen; and can produceit?'

  STEPHEN. 'Indeed I hadna time, an it like your honour; for nae soonerhad I set doun the siller, and just as his honour, Sir Robert, that'sgaen, drew it till him to count it, and write out the receipt, he wasta'en wi' the pains that removed him.'

  'That was unlucky,' said Sir John, after a pause. 'But ye maybe paidit in the presence of somebody, I want but a TALIS QUALIS evidence,Stephen. I would go ower strictly to work with no poor man.'

  STEPHEN. 'Troth, Sir John, there was naebody in the room but DougalMacCallum the butler. But, as your honour kens, he has e'en followed hisauld master.

  'Very unlucky again, Stephen,' said Sir John, without altering his voicea single note. 'The man to whom ye paid the money is dead--and the manwho witnessed the payment is dead too--and the siller, which should havebeen to the fore, is neither seen nor heard tell of in the repositories.How am I to believe a' this?'

  STEPHEN. 'I dinna, ken, your honour; but there is a bit memorandumnote of the very coins; for, God help me! I had to borrow out of twentypurses; and I am sure that ilka man there set down will take his gritoath for what purpose I borrowed the money.'

  SIR JOHN. 'I have little doubt ye BORROWED the money, Steenie. It is thePAYMENT to my father that I want to have some proof of.'

  STEPHEN. 'The siller maun be about the house, Sir John. And since yourhonour never got it, and his honour that was canna have taen it wi' him,maybe some of the family may have seen it.'

  SIR JOHN. 'We will examine the servants, Stephen; that is butreasonable.'

  But lackey and lass, and page and groom, all denied stoutly that theyhad ever seen such a bag of money as my gudesire described. What waswaur, he had unluckily not mentioned to any living soul of them hispurpose of paying his rent. Ae quean had noticed something under hisarm, but she took it for the pipes.

  Sir John Redgauntlet ordered the servants out of the room, and then saidto my gudesire, 'Now, Steenie, ye see ye have fair play; and, as I havelittle doubt ye ken better where to find the siller than ony other body,I beg, in fair terms, and for your own sake, that you will end thisfasherie; for, Stephen, ye maun pay or flit.'

  'The Lord forgie your opinion,' said Stephen, driven almost to his wit'send--'I am an honest man.'

  'So am I, Stephen,' said his honour; 'and so are all the folks in thehouse, I hope. But if there be a knave amongst us, it must be he thattells the story he cannot prove.' He paused, and then added, mairsternly, 'If I understand your trick, sir, you want to take advantageof some malicious reports concerning things in this family, andparticularly respecting my father's sudden death, thereby to cheat meout of the money, and perhaps take away my character, by insinuatingthat I have received the rent I am demanding. Where do you suppose thismoney to be? I insist upon knowing.'

  My gudesire saw everything look so muckle against him, that he grewnearly desperate--however, he shifted from one foot to another, lookedto every corner of the room, and made no answer.

  'Speak out, sirrah,' said the laird, assuming a look of his father's, avery particular ane, which he had when he was angry--it seemed as if thewrinkles of his frown made that selfsame fearful shape of a horse'sshoe in the middle of his brow;--'Speak out, sir! I WILL know yourthoughts;--do you suppose that I have this money?'

  'Far be it frae me to say so,' said Stephen.

  'Do you charge any of my people with having taken it?'

  'I wad be laith to charge them that may be innocent,' said my gudes
ire;'and if there be any one that is guilty, I have nae proof.'

  'Somewhere the money must be, if there is a word of truth in yourstory,' said Sir John; 'I ask where you think it is--and demand acorrect answer?'

  'In HELL, if you will have my thoughts of it,' said my gudesire, drivento extremity, 'in hell! with your father, his jackanape, and his silverwhistle.'

  Down the stairs he ran (for the parlour was nae place for him after sucha word) and he heard the laird swearing blood and wounds behind him,as fast; as ever did Sir Robert, and roaring for the bailie and thebaron-officer.

  Away rode my gudesire to his chief creditor (him they ca'd LaurieLapraik) to try if he could make onything out of him; but when he tauldhis story, he got but the worst word in his wame--thief, beggar, anddyvour, were the saftest terms; and to the boot of these hard terms,Laurie brought up the auld story of his dipping his hand in the bloodof God's saunts, just as if a tenant could have helped riding with thelaird, and that a laird like Sir Robert Redgauntlet. My gudesire was, bythis time, far beyond the bounds of patience, and, while he andLaurie were at deil speed the liars, he was wanchancie aneugh to abuseLapraik's doctrine as weel as the man, ond said things that garr'dfolks' flesh grue that heard them;--he wasna just himsell, and he hadlived wi' a wild set in his day.

  At last they parted, and my gudesire was to ride hame through the woodof Pitmurkie, that is a' fou of black firs, as they say.--I ken thewood, but the firs may be black or white for what I can tell.--At theentry of the wood there is a wild common, and on the edge of the common,a little lonely change-house, that was keepit then by an ostler-wife,they suld hae caa'd her Tibbie Faw, and there puir Steenie cried for amutchkin of brandy, for he had had no refreshment the haill day. Tibbiewas earnest wi' him to take a bite of meat, but he couldna think o't,nor would he take his foot out of the stirrup, and took off the brandywholely at twa draughts, and named a toast at each:--the first was thememory of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, and might he never lie quiet in hisgrave till he had righted his poor bond-tenant; and the second was ahealth to Man's Enemy, if he would but get him back the pock of silleror tell him what came o't, for he saw the haill world was like to regardhim as a thief and a cheat, and he took that waur than even the ruin ofhis house and hauld.

  On he rode, little caring where. It was a dark night turned, and thetrees made it yet darker, and he let the beast take its ain road throughthe wood; when all of a sudden, from tired and wearied that it wasbefore, the nag began to spring and flee, and stend, that my gudesirecould hardly keep the saddle. Upon the whilk, a horseman, suddenlyriding up beside him, said, 'That's a mettle beast of yours, freend;will you sell him?' So saying, he touched the horse's neck with hisriding-wand, and it fell into its auld heigh-ho of a stumbling trot.'But his spunk's soon out of him, I think,' continued the stranger, 'andthat is like mony a man's courage, that thinks he wad do great thingstill he come to the proof.'

  My gudesire scarce listened to this, but spurred his horse, with 'Gudee'en to you, freend.'

  But it's like the stranger was ane that doesna lightly yield his point;for, ride as Steenie liked, he was ay beside him at the selfsame pace.At last my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, grew half angry, and, to say thetruth, half feared.

  'What is it that ye want with me, freend?' he said. 'If ye be a robber,I have nae money; if ye be a leal man, wanting company, I have nae heartto mirth or speaking; and if ye want to ken the road, I scarce ken itmysell.'

  'If you will tell me your grief,' said the stranger, 'I am one that,though I have been sair miscaa'd in the world, am the only hand forhelping my freends.'

  So my gudesire, to ease his ain heart, mair than from any hope of help,told him the story from beginning to end.

  'It's a hard pinch,' said the stranger; 'but I think I can help you.'

  'If you could lend the money, sir, and take a lang day--I ken nae otherhelp on earth,' said my gudesire.

  'But there may be some under the earth,' said the stranger. 'Come, I'llbe frank wi' you; I could lend you the money on bond, but you wouldmaybe scruple my terms. Now, I can tell you, that your auld laird isdisturbed in his grave by your curses, and the wailing of your family,and if ye daur venture to go to see him, he will give you the receipt.'

  My gudesire's hair stood on end at this proposal, but he thought hiscompanion might be some humoursome chield that was trying to frightenhim, and might end with lending him the money. Besides, he was bauld wi'brandy, and desperate wi' distress; and he said he had courage to goto the gate of hell, and a step farther, for that receipt. The strangerlaughed.

  Weel, they rode on through the thickest of the wood, when, all of asudden, the horse stopped at the door of a great house; and, but that heknew the place was ten miles off, my father would have thought he wasat Redgauntlet Castle. They rode into the outer courtyard, through themuckle faulding yetts and aneath the auld portcullis; and the wholefront of the house was lighted, and there were pipes and fiddles, andas much dancing and deray within as used to be at Sir Robert's house atPace and Yule, and such high seasons. They lap off, and my gudesire, asseemed to him, fastened his horse to the very ring he had tied him tothat morning, when he gaed to wait on the young Sir John.

  'God!' said my gudesire, 'if Sir Robert's death be but a dream!'

  He knocked at the ha' door just as he was wont, and his auldacquaintance, Dougal MacCallum--just after his wont, too,--came to openthe door, and said, 'Piper Steenie, are ye there, lad? Sir Robert hasbeen crying for you.'

  My gudesire was like a man in a dream--he looked for the stranger, buthe was gane for the time. At last he just tried to say, 'Ha! DougalDriveower, are ye living? I thought ye had been dead.'

  'Never fash yoursell wi' me,' said Dougal, 'but look to yoursell; andsee ye tak naethlng frae ony body here, neither meat, drink, or siller,except just the receipt that is your ain.'

  So saying, he led the way out through halls and trances that were weelkend to my gudesire, and into the auld oak parlour; and there was asmuch singing of profane sangs, and birling of red wine, and speakingblasphemy and sculduddry, as had ever been in Redgauntlet Castle when itwas at the blithest.

  But, Lord take us in keeping, what a set of ghastly revellers they werethat sat around that table! My gudesire kend mony that had long beforegane to their place, for often had he piped to the most part in thehall of Redgauntlet. There was the fierce Middleton, and the dissoluteRothes, and the crafty Lauderdale; and Dalyell, with his bald head anda beard to his girdle; and Earlshall, with Cameron's blude on his hand;and wild Bonshaw, that tied blessed Mr. Cargill's limbs till the bludesprung; and Dunbarton Douglas, the twice-turned traitor baith to countryand king. There was the Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his worldlywit and wisdom had been to the rest as a god. And there was Claverhouse,as beautiful as when he lived, with his long, dark, curled locksstreaming down over his laced buff-coat, and his left hand always on hisright spule-blade, to hide the wound that the silver bullet had made.[See Note 2.] He sat apart from them all, and looked at them with amelancholy, haughty countenance; while the rest hallooed, and sang, andlaughed, that the room rang. But their smiles were fearfully contortedfrom time to time; and their laugh passed into such wild sounds as mademy gudesire's very nails grow blue, and chilled the marrow in his banes.

  They that waited at the table were just the wicked serving-men andtroopers, that had done their work and cruel bidding on earth. Therewas the Lang Lad of the Nethertown, that helped to take Argyle; andthe bishop's summoner, that they called the Deil's Rattle-bag; and thewicked guardsmen in their laced coats; and the savage Highland Amorites,that shed blood like water; and many a proud serving-man, haughty ofheart and bloody of hand, cringing to the rich, and making them wickederthan they would be; grinding the poor to powder, when the rich hadbroken them to fragments. And mony, mony mair were coming and ganging,a' as busy in their vocation as if they had been alive.

  Sir Robert Redgauntlet, in the midst of a' this fearful riot, cried, wi'a voice like thunder, on Steenie Piper to come t
o the board-head wherehe was sitting; his legs stretched out before him, and swathed up withflannel, with his holster pistols aside him, while the great broadswordrested against his chair, just as my gudesire had seen him the last timeupon earth--the very cushion for the jackanape was close to him, but thecreature itself was not there--it wasna its hour, it's likely; for heheard them say as he came forward, 'Is not the major come yet?' Andanother answered, 'The jackanape will be here betimes the morn.' Andwhen my gudesire came forward, Sir Robert, or his ghaist, or the deevilin his likeness, said, 'Weel, piper, hae ye settled wi' my son for theyear's rent?'

  With much ado my father gat breath to say that Sir John would not settlewithout his honour's receipt.

  'Ye shall hae that for a tune of the pipes, Steenie,' said theappearance of Sir Robert--'Play us up "Weel hoddled, Luckie".'

  Now this was a tune my gudesire learned frae a warlock, that heard itwhen they were worshipping Satan at their meetings, and my gudesire hadsometimes played it at the ranting suppers in Redgauntlet Castle, butnever very willingly; and now he grew cauld at the very name of it, andsaid, for excuse, he hadna his pipes wi' him.

  'MacCallum, ye limb of Beelzebub,' said the fearfu' Sir Robert, 'bringSteenie the pipes that I am keeping for him!'

  MacCallum brought a pair of pipes might have served the piper of Donaldof the Isles. But he gave my gudesire a nudge as he offered them; andlooking secretly and closely, Steenie saw that the chanter was of steel,and heated to a white heat; so he had fair warning not to trust hisfingers with it. So he excused himself again, and said he was faint andfrightened, and had not wind aneugh to fill the bag.

  'Then ye maun eat and drink, Steenie,' said the figure; 'for wedo little else here; and it's ill speaking between a fou man and afasting.'

  Now these were the very words that the bloody Earl of Douglas said tokeep the king's messenger in hand while he cut the head off MacLellan ofBombie, at the Threave Castle, [The reader is referred for particularsto Pitscottie's HISTORY OF SCOTLAND.] and that put Steenie mair and mairon his guard. So he spoke up like a man, and said he came neither toeat, or drink or make minstrelsy; but simply for his ain--to ken whatwas come o' the money he had paid, and to get a discharge for it; andhe was so stout-hearted by this time that he charged Sir Robert forconscience-sake (he had no power to say the holy name) and as he hopedfor peace and rest, to spread no snares for him, but just to give himhis ain.

  The appearance gnashed its teeth and laughed, but it took from a largepocket-book the receipt, and handed it to Steenie. 'There is yourreceipt, ye pitiful cur; and for the money, my dog-whelp of a son may golook for it in the Cat's Cradle.'

  My gudesire uttered mony thanks, and was about to retire when Sir Robertroared aloud, 'Stop, though, thou sack-doudling son of a whore! I am notdone with thee. HERE we do nothing for nothing; and you must return onthis very day twelvemonth, to pay your master the homage that you owe mefor my protection.'

  My father's tongue was loosed of a suddenty, and he said aloud, 'I refermysell to God's pleasure, and not to yours.'

  He had no sooner uttered the word than all was dark around him; and hesank on the earth with such a sudden shock, that he lost both breath andsense.

  How lang Steenie lay there, he could not tell; but when he came tohimsell, he was lying in the auld kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine justat the door of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the auld knight,Sir Robert, hanging over his head. There was a deep morning fog on grassand gravestane around him, and his horse was feeding quietly beside theminister's twa cows. Steenie would have thought the whole was a dream,but he had the receipt in his hand, fairly written and signed by theauld laird; only the last letters of his name were a little disorderly,written like one seized with sudden pain.

  Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary place, rode throughthe mist to Redgauntlet Castle, and with much ado he got speech of thelaird.

  'Well, you dyvour bankrupt,' was the first word, 'have you brought me myrent?'

  'No,' answered my gudesire, 'I have not; but I have brought your honourSir Robert's receipt for it.'

  'Wow, sirrah? Sir Robert's receipt! You told me he had not given youone.'

  'Will your honour please to see if that bit line is right?'

  Sir John looked at every line, and at every letter, with much attention;and at last, at the date, which my gudesire had not observed,--'FROM MYAPPOINTED PLACE,' he read, 'THIS TWENTY-FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.'--'What!That is yesterday!--Villain, thou must have gone to hell for this!'

  'I got it from your honour's father--whether he be in heaven or hell, Iknow not,' said Steenie.

  'I will delate you for a warlock to the Privy Council!' said SirJohn. 'I will send you to your master, the devil, with the help of atar-barrel and a torch!'

  'I intend to delate mysell to the Presbytery,' said Steenie, 'and tellthem all I have seen last night, whilk are things fitter for them tojudge of than a borrel man like me.'

  Sir John paused, composed himsell, and desired to hear the full history;and my gudesire told it him from point to point, as I have told ityou--word for word, neither more nor less.

  Sir John was silent again for a long time, and at last he said, verycomposedly, 'Steenie, this story of yours concerns the honour of manya noble family besides mine; and if it be a leasing-making, to keepyourself out of my danger, the least you can expect is to have a redhotiron driven through your tongue, and that will be as bad as scaudingyour fingers wi' a redhot chanter. But yet it may be true, Steenie; andif the money cast up I shall not know what to think of it. But whereshall we find the Cat's Cradle? There are cats enough about the oldhouse, but I think they kitten without the ceremony of bed or cradle.'

  'We were best ask Hutcheon,' said my gudesire; 'he kens a' the oddcorners about as weel as--another serving-man that is now gane, and thatI wad not like to name.'

  Aweel, Hutcheon, when he was asked, told them, that a ruinous turret,lang disused, next to the clock-house, only accessible by a ladder,for the opening was on the outside, and far above the battlements, wascalled of old the Cat's Cradle.

  'There will I go immediately,' said Sir John; and he took (with whatpurpose, Heaven kens) one of his father's pistols from the hall-table,where they had lain since the night he died, and hastened to thebattlements.

  It was a dangerous place to climb, for the ladder was auld and frail,and wanted ane or twa rounds. However, up got Sir John, and entered atthe turret-door, where his body stopped the only little light that wasin the bit turret. Something flees at him wi' a vengeance, maist danghim back ower--bang gaed the knight's pistol, and Hutcheon, thatheld the ladder, and my gudesire that stood beside him, hears a loudskelloch. A minute after, Sir John flings the body of the jackanape downto them, and cries that the siller is fund, and that they should come upand help him. And there was the bag of siller sure aneugh, and mony orrathing besides, that had been missing for mony a day. And Sir John, whenhe had riped the turret weel, led my gudesire into the dining-parlour,and took him by the hand and spoke kindly to him, and said he was sorryhe should have doubted his word and that he would hereafter be a goodmaster to him to make amends.

  'And now, Steenie,' said Sir John, 'although this vision of yours tend,on the whole, to my father's credit, as an honest man, that he should,even after his death, desire to see justice done to a poor man likeyou, yet you are sensible that ill-dispositioned men might make badconstructions upon it, concerning his soul's health. So, I think, we hadbetter lay the haill dirdum on that ill-deedie creature, Major Weir, andsay naething about your dream in the wood of Pitmurkie. You had takenower muckle brandy to be very certain about onything; and, Steenie, thisreceipt' (his hand shook while he held it out),--'it's but a queer kindof document, and we will do best, I think, to put it quietly in thefire.'

  'Od, but for as queer as it is, it's a' the voucher I have for my rent,'said my gudesire, who was afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit ofSir Robert's discharge.

  'I will bear the contents to your credit in t
he rental-book, and giveyou a discharge under my own hand,' said Sir John, 'and that on thespot. And, Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this matter, youshall sit, from this term downward, at an easier rent.'

  'Mony thanks to your honour,' said Steenie, who saw easily in whatcorner the wind was; 'doubtless I will be comformable to all yourhonour's commands; only I would willingly speak wi' some powerfulminister on the subject, for I do not like the sort of sommons ofappointment whilk your honour's father'--

  'Do not call the phantom my father!' said Sir John, interrupting him.

  'Weel, then, the thing that was so like him,' said my gudesire; 'hespoke of my coming back to see him this time twelvemonth, and it's aweight on my conscience.'

  'Aweel, then,' said Sir John, 'if you be so much distressed in mind, youmay speak to our minister of the parish; he is a douce man, regards thehonour of our family, and the mair that he may look for some patronagefrom me.'

  Wi' that, my father readily agreed that the receipt should be burnt, andthe laird threw it into the chimney with his ain hand. Burn it wouldnot for them, though; but away it flew up the lum, wi' a lang train ofsparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib.

  My gudesire gaed down to the Manse, and the minister, when he had heardthe story, said it was his real opinion that though my gudesire had gaenvery far in tampering with dangerous matters, yet, as he had refused thedevil's arles (for such was the offer of meat and drink) and had refusedto do homage by piping at his bidding, he hoped, that if he held acircumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advantage by whatwas come and gane. And, indeed, my gudesire, of his ain accord, langforeswore baith the pipes and the brandy--it was not even till theyear was out, and the fatal day past, that he would so much as take thefiddle, or drink usquebaugh or tippeny.

  Sir John made up his story about the jackanape as he liked himsell;and some believe till this day there was no more in the matter than thefilching nature of the brute. Indeed, ye'll no hinder some to threapthat it was nane o' the auld Enemy that Dougal and my gudesire saw inthe laird's room, but only that wanchancy creature, the major, caperingon the coffin; and that, as to the blawing on the laird's whistle thatwas heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do that as weel asthe laird himsell, if no better. But Heaven kens the truth, whilk firstcame out by the minister's wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman werebaith in the moulds. And then my gudesire, wha was failed in his limbs,but not in his judgement or memory--at least nothing to speak of--wasobliged to tell the real narrative to his friends, for the credit of hisgood name. He might else have been charged for a warlock. [See Note 3.]

  The shades of evening were growing thicker around us as my conductorfinished his long narrative with this moral--'Ye see, birkie, it is naechancy thing to tak a stranger traveller for a guide, when you are in anuncouth land.'

  'I should not have made that inference,' said I. 'Your grandfather'sadventure was fortunate for himself, whom it saved from ruin anddistress; and fortunate for his landlord also, whom it prevented fromcommitting a gross act of injustice.'

  'Aye, but they had baith to sup the sauce o't sooner or later,' saidWandering Willie--'what was fristed wasna forgiven. Sir John diedbefore he was much over three-score; and it was just like of a moment'sillness. And for my gudesire, though he departed in fullness of life,yet there was my father, a yauld man of forty-five, fell down betwixtthe stilts of his pleugh, and rase never again, and left nae bairn butme, a puir sightless, fatherless, motherless creature, could neitherwork nor want. Things gaed weel aneugh at first; for Sir RedwaldRedgauntlet, the only son of Sir John, and the oye of auld Sir Robert,and, waes me! the last of the honourable house, took the farm aff ourhands, and brought me into his household to have care of me. He likedmusic, and I had the best teachers baith England and Scotland could gieme. Mony a merry year was I wi' him; but waes me! he gaed out with otherpretty men in the Forty-five--I'll say nae mair about it--My head neversettled weel since I lost him; and if I say another word about it, deila bar will I have the heart to play the night.--Look out, my gentlechap,' he resumed in a different tone, 'ye should see the lights atBrokenburn glen by this time.'