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highly-gifted author. The scene where Steenie receives the receipt from Sir Robert, is wonderfully told and produces a most powerful effect on the feelings of the reader. It is altogether one of the finest “auld warld stories” which his pen has produced ; and is introduced by a blind fiddler, named Wandering Willie, (who is drawn in the authors best manner after Wilkie), and who relates it to the hero of the novel, who has exe pressed his doubts as to the agency of the world of spirits. As the nature of the tale appears highly appropriate to that of our work, we have enriched our pages with it, only making such trifling alterations as were deemed necessary.
“ YE maun have heard of Sir Robert pose, of whilk mair anon. The best Redgauntlet of that Ilk, who lived in blessing they wared on him was, De'il these parts before the dear years.
The scowp wi' Redgauntlet!' He wasna a country will lang mind him; and our bad master to his ain folk though, and fathers used to draw breath thick if ever was weel aneugh liked by his tenants ; they heard him named. He was out wi' and as for the lackies and troopers that the Hielandmen in Montrose's time; and raid out wi' him to the persecutions, as again he was in the hills wi’ Glencairn the Whigs ca'ad these killing times, in the yearsaxteen hundred and fifty-twa; they wad hae drunken themsels blind to and sae when King Charles the Second his health at ony time. came in, wha was in sic favour as the “ Now ye are to ken that my gudeLaird of Redgauntlet ? He was knighted sire lived on Redgauntlet's grund—they at Lonon court, wi' the king's ain sword; ca’ the place Primrose-Knowe. We had and being a red-hot prelatist, he came lived on the grund, and under the Reddown here, rampauging like a lion, with gauntlets, since the riding days, and lang commissions of lieutenancy, and of lu- before. It was a pleasant bit; and i nacy for what I ken, to put down a' the think the air is callerer and fresher there Whigs and Covenanters in the country. than onywhere else in the country. It's Wild wark they made of it; for the a' deserted now; and I sat on the broWhigs were as dour as the Cavaliers ken door-cheek three days since, and were fierce, and it was which should was glad I couldna see the plight the first tire the other. Redgauntlet was place was in; but that's a wide o' the aye for the strong hand; and his name mark. There dwelt my gudesire, Steenie is kenn'd as wide in the country as Cla- Steenson, a rambling, rattling chiel he verhouse's or Tam Dalywell's. Glen, had been in his young days, and could nordargle, nor mountain, norcave, could play weel on the pipes; he was famous hide the puir hill-folk when Redgauntlet at • Hoopers and Girders'-a’ Cumberwas out with bugle and bloodhound land couldna touch him at • Jockie after them, as if they had been sae mony Lattin'. .and he had the finest finger for deer. And troth when they found them, the back-lill between Berwick and Carthey didna mak muckle mair ceremony lisle. The like o' Steenie wasna the than a Hieland man wi' a roe-buck- sort that they made Whigs o'. And so It was just, Will ye tak the test ?'-if he became a Tory, as they ca' it, which not, Make ready-present-fire ! we now ca' Jacobites, just out of a kind and there lay the recusant.
of needcessity, that he might belang to • Far and wide was Sir Robert hated some side or other. He had nae illand feared. Men thought he had a will to the Whig bodies, and likedna to direct compact with Satan---that he was see the blude rin, though, being obliged proof against steel-and that bullets to follow Sir Robert in hunting and hopped off his buff-coat like hail-stones hosting, watching and warding, he saw from a hearth— that he had a mear that muckle mischief, and ybe did some, would turn a hare on the side of Carrifra- that he couldna avoid. gawns—and muckle to the same pur- Now Steenie was a kind of favou.
rite with his master, and kenn'd a'the freended, and at last he got the whole folks about the castle, and was often scraped thegether—a thousand merkssent for to play the pipes when they were the maist of it was from a neighbour at their merriment. "Auld Dougal Mac they ca'ad Laurie Lapraik-a sly tod. Callum, the butler, that had followed Laurie had walth o' gear—could hunt Sir Robert through gude and ill, thick wi’ the hound and rin wi’ the hareand thin, pool and stream, was specially and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, fond of the pipes, and aye gae my gude- as the wind stood. He was a professor of sire his gude word wi the Laird; for religious music in this Revolution warld, '
, Dougal could turn his master round but he liked another sound and a tuneon his finger.
the pipes weel aneughat a bye-time; and “ Weel, round came the Revolution, abune a’, he thought he had gude secuand it like to have broken the hearts rity for the siller he lent my gudesire baith of Dougal and his master. But over the stocking at Primrose-Knowe. the change was not a'thegether sae great “ Away trots my gudesire to Redas they feared, and other folk thought gauntlet Castle wi' a heavy purse and a for. The Whigs made an unca crawing light heart, glad to be out ofthe Laird's what they wad do with their auld ene- danger. Weel, the first thing he learnmies, and in special wi' Sir Robert Red- ed at the castle was, that Sir Robert had gauntlet. But there were ower mony
fretted himself into a fit of the gout, great folks dipped in the same doings, because he did not appear before twelve to make a spick and span new warld. o'clock. It wasna a'thegether for the So Parliament passed it a' ower easy ; sake of the money, Dougal thought; but and Sir Robert, bating that he was held because he didna like to part wi' my to hunting foxes instead of Covenanters, gudesire aff the grund. Dougal was remained just the man he was. His glad to see Steenie, and brought him revel was as loud, and his hall as weel into the great oak parlour, and there sat lighted, as ever it had been, though the Laird his leesome lane, excepting maybe he lacked the fines of the non- that he had beside him a great, ill-faconformists, that used to come to stock voured jack-an-ape, that was a special larder and cellar; for it is certain he be- pet of his ; a cankered beast it was, and gan to bekeener about the rents than his many an ill-natured trick it played-ill tenants used to find him before, and it be- to please it was, and easily angered hoved them to be prompt to the rent-day, ran about the whole castle, chattering and or else the laird wasna pleased. And he yowling, and pinching, and biting folk, was sic an awsome body, that naebody especially before ill-weather, or disturcared to anger him; for the oaths he bances in the state. Sir Robert ca'ad swore, and the rage that he used to get it Major Weir, after the warlock that into, and the looks that he put on, made was burned ; and few folk liked either men sometimes think him a devil in- the name or the conditions of the cream carnate.
ture—they thought there was something “ Weel, my gudesire was nae ma- in it by ordinar—and my gudesire was nager-no that he was a very great mis- not just easy in mind when the door shut guider-but he hadna the saving gift, on him, and he saw himself in the room and he got two terms rent in arrear. He wi' naebody but the Laird, Dougal Mac got the first brash at Whitsunday put Allum, and the Major, a thing that hadna ower wi' fair words and piping; but chanced to him before. when Martinmas came, there was a
“ Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, summons from the grand-officer to come in a great armed chair, wi' his grand wi' the rent on a day precese, or else velvet gown, and his feet on a cradle ; Steenie behoved to flitt. Sair wark he for be had baith gout and gravel, and had to get the siller ; but he was weel- his face looked as gash and ghastly as
Satan's. Major Weir sat opposite to on yell gied the Laird, ilk ane mair him, in a red laced coat, and the Laird's awfu' than the ither. My gudesire knew wig on his head ; and aye as Sir Robert not whether to stand or flee, but he vengrinned wi' pain the jack-an-ape grinned tured back into the parlour, where a ' too, like a sheep's-head between a pair was gaun hirdy-girdiêm-naebody to say of tongs--an ill-faur’d, fearsome couple come in,' or gae out.' 'Terribly the they were. The Laird's buff-coat was Laird roared for cauld water to his feet, hung on a pin behind him, and his and wine to cool his throat; and Hell, broadsword and his pistols within reach; hell, hell, and its fames, was aye the for he keepit up the old fashion of havo word in his mouth. They bronght him ing the weapons ready, and a horse water, and when they plunged his swoln saddled day and night, just as he used feet into the tub, he cried out it was to do when he was able to loup on horse-burning; and folks say that it did bubback, and sway after any of the hill-folk ble and sparkle like a seething cauldron. he could get speerings of. Some said He flung the cup at Dougal's head, and it was for fear of the Whigs taking ven- said he had given him blood instead of geance, but I judge it was just his auld burgundy ; and sure aneugh, the lass custom—he wasna gien to fear onything. washed clottered blood of the carpet The rental-book wi' its black cover and the next day. The jack-an-ape they brass clasps, was lying beside him; and ca’ad Major Weir, it jibbered and cried a book of sculduddry songs was put be- as if it was mocking its master; my twist the leaves, to keep it open at the çudesire's head was like to turn-he place where it bore evidence against the forgot baith siller and receipt, and doan Goodman of Primrose-Knowe, as be- stairs he banged; but as he ran, the hind the hand with his mails and duties. shrieks came faint and fainter; there Sir Robert gave my gudesire a look, as was a deep-drawn shivering groan, and if he would have withered his heart in word gaed through the castle, that the his bosom. Ye maun ken he had a way Laird was dead. of bending his brows, that men saw the “ Weel, away came my gudesire, wie visible mark of a horse-shoe in his fore- his finger in his mouth, and his best head, deep-dinted, as if it had been hope was, that Dougal had seen the stamped there.
money-bag, and heard the Laird speak “ i Are ye come light-handed, ye son of writing the receipt. The young of a toom whistle ?' said Sir Robert. Laird, now Sir John, came from Edin• Zounds ! if ye are-?
burgh, to see things put to rights. Sir “ My gudesire, with as gude a coun- John and his father never gree'd weel tenance as he could put on, made a leg, he had been bred an advocate, and afand placed the bag of money on the terwards sat in the last Scots Parliament table wi' a dash, like a man that does and voted for the Union, having gotten, something clever. The Laird drew it it was thought, a rug of the compensato him hastily-Is it all here, Steenie, tions—if his father could have come ont man?'
of his grave, he would have brained him «« Your honour will find it right,' for it on his own hearth-stone. Some said my gudesire.
thought it was easier counting with the “Here, Dougal,' said the Laird, auld rough Knight than the fair-spoken • gie Steenie a tass of brandy down young ane
- but inair of that anon. stairs, till I count the siller and write “ Dougal Mac Callum, poor body, the receipt.'
neither grat por graned, but gaed about “ But they werena weel out of the the house looking like a corpse, and diroom, when Sir Robert gied a yelloch recting, as was his ontv, a' ihe order of that shook the castle rock. Back ran the grand funeral. Now, Dougal lookDougal-in flew the livery-men-yell ed aye waur and wavr when night was
coming, and was aye the last to gang to sitting on the Laird's coffin! Over he bis bed, whilk was in a little round just cowped as if he had been dead. He opposite the chamber of dais, whilk his could not tell how lang he lay in a trance master occupied while he was living, at the door, but when he gathered himand where he now lay ina state as they self, he cried on his neighbour, and getca'ad it, well-a-day! The night before ting no answer, raised the house, when the funeral, Dougal could keep his awn Dougal was found lying dead within counsel nae langer; he came doun with two steps of the bed where his master's his proud spirit, and fairly asked auld coffin was placed. As for the whistle, Hatcheon to sit in his room with him it was gaen anes and aye ; but many a for an hour. When they were in the time was it heard on the top of the house round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy to in the bartizan, and amang the auld himsel, and gave another to Hutcheon, chimnies and turrets, where the howlets and wished him all health and lang life, have their nests. Sir John hushed the and said that, for himsel, he wasna lang matter up, and the funeral passed over for this world; for that, every night without mair bogle-wark. since Sir Robert's death, his silver call " But when a' was over, and the had sounded from the state chamber, Laird was beginning to settle his affairs, just as it used to do at nights in his life every tenant was called up for his arrears, time, to call Dougal to help to turn him and my gudesire for the full sum that apin his bed. Dougal said, that being peared against him in the rental-book. alone with the dead on that floor of the Weel, away he trots to the Castle, to tell tower, (for naebody cared to wake Sir his story, and there he is introduced to Robert Redgauntlet like another corpse,) Sir John, sitting in his father's chair, in he had never daured to answer the call, deep mourning, with weepers and hangbut that now his conscience checked ing cravat, and a small walking rapier him for neglecting his duty; for though by his side, instead of the auld broaddeath breaks service,' said Mac Callum, sword that had a hundred-weight of steel it shall never break my service to Sir about it, what with blade, chape, and Robert; and I will answer his next basket-hilt. I have heard their comwhistle, so be you will stand by me, muning so often tauld ower, that I alHutcheon.'
most think I was there myself, though “Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, I couldna be born at the time. Howbut he had stood by Dougal in battle ever my grandfather in a half flattering, and broil, and he wad not fail him at half conciliating tone, addressed the this pinch ; so down the carles sat over Laird, who, during the commencement a stoup of brandy, and Hutcheon, who of the conversation, often sighed deeply, was something of a clerk, would have and hypocritically lifted his napkin to read a chapter of the Bible; but Dougal his eyes. My grandfather had, while he would hear naething but a song of spoke, his eye fixed on the rental-book, Davie Lindsay, whilk was the waur as if it were a mastiff-dog that he was preparation.
afraid would spring up and bite him. " When midnight came, and the “ I wuss ye joy, Sir, of the headhouse was quiet as the grave, sure
seat, and the white loaf and the braid aneugh the silver whistle sounded as lairdship. Your father was a kind man sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was to friends and followers; muckle grace blowing it, and up got the two auld to you, Sir John, to fill his shoon-his serving-men, and tottered into the room boots, I suld say, for he seldom wore where the dead man lay. Hutcheon shoon, unless it were muils when he had saw aneugh at the first glance; for there were torches in the room, which shewed “Aye, Steenie,' quoth the Laird, him the foul fiend, in his ain shape, sighing deeply, and putting his napkin
to his face, his was a sudden call, and note of the very coins ; for, God help he will be missed in the country ; no me! I had to borrow out of twenty time to set his house in order-weel pre- purses; and I am sure that ilk man there pared God-ward, nodoubt, which is the set down will take his grit oath for what root of the matter—but left us behind purpose I borrowed the money.' a tangled hesp to wind, Steenie.—Hem ! " Sir John. • I have little doubt ye hem! We maun go to business, Stee- borrowed the money, Steenie. It is the nie; much to do, and little time to do payment that I want to have some proof it in.'
of “ Here he opened the fatal volume ; “ Stephen. · The siller maun be I have heard of a thing they call Dooms- about the house, Sir John.. And since day-book-I am clear it has been a your honour never got it, and his ho'rental of back-ganging tenants.
nour that was canna have taen it wil “ • Stephen, said Sir John, still in him, maybe some of the family may the same soft, sleekit tone of voice-have seen it.' • Stephen Stevenson, or Steenson, ye “ Sir John. • We will examine the are down here for a year's rent behind servants, Stephen ; that is but reasonthe hand-due at last term.'
able.' “ Stephen. Please your honour. “ But lackey and lass, and page and Sir John, I paid it to your father.' groom, all denied stoutly that they had
“ “ Sir John. "Ye took a receipt ever seen such a bag of money as my then, doubtless, Stephen; and can pro- gudesire described. What was waur, duce it?
he had unluckily not mentioned to any “ Stephen. Indeed I hadna time, living soul of them his purpose of payan it like your honour; for nae sooner ing his rent. One quean had noticed had I set doun the siller, and just as his something under his arm, but she took honour, Sir Robert, that's gaen, drew it it for the pipes. to him to count it, and write out the “ Sir John Redgauntlet ordered the receipt, he was ta'en wi' the pains servants out of the room, and then said that removed him.'
to my gudesire, . Now, Steenie, ye see « • That was unlucky,' said Sir John, you have fair play ; and as I have little after a pause. • But ye maybe paid it doubt ye ken better where to find the in the presence of somebody. - I want siller than any other body, I beg, in bat a talis qualis evidence, Stephen. I fair terms, and for your own sake, that would go ower strictly to work with no you will end this fasherie ; for, Stephen, poor man.'
ye maun pay or Aitt.' “ Stephen. Troth, Sir John, there “ • The Lord forgie your opinion, was naebody in the room but Dougal said Stephen, driven almost to his wits' Mac Callum the butier. But, as your end—I am an honest man.' honour kens, he has e'en followed his
“So am I, Stephen,' said his hoauld master.'
and so are all the folks in the • Very unlucky again, Stephen,' house, I hope. But if therefbe a knave said Sir John, without altering his voice amongst us, it must be he that tells the a single note. The man to whom ye story he cannot prove.' He tpaused, paid the money is dead—and the man and then added, mair sternly, . If I unwho witnessed the payment is dead too derstand your trick, Sir, you want to -and the siller, which should have take advantage of some malicious rebeen to the fore, is neither seen nor ports concerning things in this family, heard tell of in the repositories. How and particularly respecting my father's am I to believe a' this?
sudden death, thereby to cheat me out “ • Stephen. • I didna ken, your of the money,, and perhaps take away honour; but there is a bit memorandum my character, by insinuating that I have