stood answerable to the laws for having harboured Burley. The widow Mause
Headrigg, between fear for her son's life and an overstrained and
enthusiastic zeal, which reproached her for consenting even tacitly to
belie her religious sentiments, was in a strange quandary. The other
servants quaked for they knew not well what. Cuddie alone, with the look
of supreme indifference and stupidity which a Scottish peasant can at
times assume as a mask for considerable shrewdness and craft, continued
to swallow large spoonfuls of his broth, to command which he had drawn
within his sphere the large vessel that contained it, and helped himself,
amid the confusion, to a sevenfold portion.
"What is your pleasure here, gentlemen?" said Milnwood, humbling himself
before the satellites of power.
"We come in behalf of the king," answered Bothwell; "why the devil did
you keep us so long standing at the door?"
"We were at dinner," answered Milnwood, "and the door was locked, as is
usual in landward towns [Note: The Scots retain the use of the word town
in its comprehensive Saxon meaning, as a place of habitation. A mansion
or a farm house, though solitary, is called the town. A landward town is
a dwelling situated in the country.] in this country. I am sure,
gentlemen, if I had kend ony servants of our gude king had stood at the
door - But wad ye please to drink some ale - or some brandy - or a cup of
canary sack, or claret wine?" making a pause between each offer as long
as a stingy bidder at an auction, who is loath to advance his offer for a
favourite lot.
"Claret for me," said one fellow.
"I like ale better," said another, "provided it is right juice of John
Barleycorn."
"Better never was malted," said Milnwood; "I can hardly say sae muckle
for the claret. It's thin and cauld, gentlemen."
"Brandy will cure that," said a third fellow; "a glass of brandy to three
glasses of wine prevents the curmurring in the stomach."
"Brandy, ale, sack, and claret? - we'll try them all," said Bothwell, "and
stick to that which is best. There's good sense in that, if the damn'dest
whig in Scotland had said it."
Hastily, yet with a reluctant quiver of his muscles, Milnwood lugged out
two ponderous keys, and delivered them to the governante.
"The housekeeper," said Bothwell, taking a seat, and throwing himself
upon it, "is neither so young nor so handsome as to tempt a man to follow
her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her
place. - What's this? - meat?" (searching with a fork among the broth, and
fishing up a cutlet of mutton) - "I think I could eat a bit - why, it's as
tough as if the devil's dam had hatched it."
"If there is any thing better in the house, sir," said Milnwood, alarmed
at these symptoms of disapprobation - "No, no," said Bothwell, "it's not
worth while, I must proceed to business. - You attend Poundtext, the
presbyterian parson, I understand, Mr Morton?"
Mr Morton hastened to slide in a confession and apology.
"By the indulgence of his gracious majesty and the government, for I wad
do nothing out of law - I hae nae objection whatever to the establishment
of a moderate episcopacy, but only that I am a country-bred man, and the
ministers are a hamelier kind of folk, and I can follow their doctrine
better; and, with reverence, sir, it's a mair frugal establishment for
the country."
"Well, I care nothing about that," said Bothwell; "they are indulged, and
there's an end of it; but, for my part, if I were to give the law, never
a crop-ear'd cur of the whole pack should bark in a Scotch pulpit.
However, I am to obey commands. - There comes the liquor; put it down, my
good old lady."
He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden
quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught.
"You did your good wine injustice, my friend; - it's better than your
brandy, though that's good too. Will you pledge me to the king's health?"
"With pleasure," said Milnwood, "in ale, - but I never drink claret, and
keep only a very little for some honoured friends."
"Like me, I suppose," said Bothwell; and then, pushing the bottle to
Henry, he said, "Here, young man, pledge you the king's health."
Henry filled a moderate glass in silence, regardless of the hints and
pushes of his uncle, which seemed to indicate that he ought to have
followed his example, in preferring beer to wine.
"Well," said Bothwell, "have ye all drank the toast? - What is that old
wife about? Give her a glass of brandy, she shall drink the king's
health, by" - "If your honour pleases," said Cuddie, with great stolidity
of aspect, "this is my mither, stir; and she's as deaf as Corra-linn; we
canna mak her hear day nor door; but if your honour pleases, I am ready
to drink the king's health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye
think neshessary."
"I dare swear you are," answered Bothwell; "you look like a fellow that
would stick to brandy - help thyself, man; all's free where'er I come. -
Tom, help the maid to a comfortable cup, though she's but a dirty jilt
neither. Fill round once more - Here's to our noble commander, Colonel
Graham of Claverhouse! - What the devil is the old woman groaning for? She
looks as very a whig as ever sate on a hill-side - Do you renounce the
Covenant, good woman?"
"Whilk Covenant is your honour meaning? Is it the Covenant of Works, or
the Covenant of Grace?" said Cuddie, interposing.
"Any covenant; all covenants that ever were hatched," answered the
trooper.
"Mither," cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as to a deaf person, "the
gentleman wants to ken if ye will renunce the Covenant of Works?"
"With all my heart, Cuddie," said Mause, "and pray that my feet may be
delivered from the snare thereof."
"Come," said Bothwell, "the old dame has come more frankly off than I
expected. Another cup round, and then we'll proceed to business. - You
have all heard, I suppose, of the horrid and barbarous murder committed
upon the person of the Archbishop of St Andrews, by ten or eleven armed
fanatics?"
All started and looked at each other; at length Milnwood himself
answered, "They had heard of some such misfortune, but were in hopes it
had not been true."
"There is the relation published by government, old gentleman; what do
you think of it?"
"Think, sir? Wh - wh - whatever the council please to think of it,"
stammered Milnwood.
"I desire to have your opinion more explicitly, my friend," said the
dragoon, authoritatively.
Milnwood's eyes hastily glanced through the paper to pick out the
strongest expressions of censure with which it abounded, in gleaning
which he was greatly aided by their being printed in italics.
"I think it a - bloody and execrable - murder and parricide - devised by
hellish and implacable cruelty - utterly abominable, and a scandal to the
land."
"Well said, old gentleman!" said the querist - "Here's to thee, and I wish
you joy of your good principles. You owe me a cup of thanks for having
taught you them; nay, thou shalt pledge me in thine own sack - sour ale
sits ill upon a loyal stomach. - Now comes your turn, young man; what
think you of the matter in hand?"
"I should have little objection to answer you," said Henry, "if I knew
what right you had to put the question."
"The Lord preserve us!" said the old housekeeper, "to ask the like o'
that at a trooper, when a' folk ken they do whatever they like through
the haill country wi' man and woman, beast and body."
The old gentleman exclaimed, in the same horror at his nephew's audacity,
"Hold your peace, sir, or answer the gentleman discreetly. Do you mean to
affront the king's authority in the person of a sergeant of the
Life-Guards?"
"Silence, all of you!" exclaimed Bothwell, striking his hand fiercely on
the table - "Silence, every one of you, and hear me! - You ask me for my
right to examine you, sir (to Henry); my cockade and my broadsword are my
commission, and a better one than ever Old Nol gave to his roundheads;
and if you want to know more about it, you may look at the act of council
empowering his majesty's officers and soldiers to search for, examine,
and apprehend suspicious persons; and, therefore, once more, I ask you
your opinion of the death of Archbishop Sharpe - it's a new touch-stone we
have got for trying people's metal."
Henry had, by this time, reflected upon the useless risk to which he
would expose the family by resisting the tyrannical power which was
delegated to such rude hands; he therefore read the narrative over, and
replied, composedly, "I have no hesitation to say, that the perpetrators
of this assassination have committed, in my opinion, a rash and wicked
action, which I regret the more, as I foresee it will be made the cause
of proceedings against many who are both innocent of the deed, and as far
from approving it as myself."
While Henry thus expressed himself, Bothwell, who bent his eyes keenly
upon him, seemed suddenly to recollect his features.
"Aha! my friend Captain Popinjay, I think I have seen you before, and in
very suspicious company."
"I saw you once," answered Henry, "in the public-house of the town of - ."
"And with whom did you leave that public-house, youngster? - Was it not
with John Balfour of Burley, one of the murderers of the Archbishop?"
"I did leave the house with the person you have named," answered Henry,
"I scorn to deny it; but, so far from knowing him to be a murderer of the
primate, I did not even know at the time that such a crime had been
committed."
"Lord have mercy on me, I am ruined! - utterly ruined and undone!"
exclaimed Milnwood. "That callant's tongue will rin the head aff his ain
shoulders, and waste my gudes to the very grey cloak on my back!"
"But you knew Burley," continued Bothwell, still addressing Henry, and
regardless of his uncle's interruption, "to be an intercommuned rebel and
traitor, and you knew the prohibition to deal with such persons. You
knew, that, as a loyal subject, you were prohibited to reset, supply, or
intercommune with this attainted traitor, to correspond with him by word,
writ, or message, or to supply him with meat, drink, house, harbour, or
victual, under the highest pains - you knew all this, and yet you broke
the law." (Henry was silent.) "Where did you part from him?" continued
Bothwell; "was it in the highway, or did you give him harbourage in this
very house?"
"In this house!" said his uncle; "he dared not for his neck bring ony
traitor into a house of mine."
"Dare he deny that he did so?" said Bothwell.
"As you charge it to me as a crime," said Henry, "you will excuse my
saying any thing that will criminate myself."
"O, the lands of Milnwood! - the bonny lands of Milnwood, that have been
in the name of Morton twa hundred years!" exclaimed his uncle; "they are
barking and fleeing, outfield and infield, haugh and holme!"
"No, sir," said Henry, "you shall not suffer on my account. - I own," he
continued, addressing Bothwell, "I did give this man a night's lodging,
as to an old military comrade of my father. But it was not only without
my uncle's knowledge, but contrary to his express general orders. I
trust, if my evidence is considered as good against myself, it will have
some weight in proving my uncle's innocence."
"Come, young man," said the soldier, in a somewhat milder tone, "you're a
smart spark enough, and I am sorry for you; and your uncle here is a fine
old Trojan, kinder, I see, to his guests than himself, for he gives us
wine and drinks his own thin ale - tell me all you know about this Burley,
what he said when you parted from him, where he went, and where he is
likely now to be found; and, d - n it, I'll wink as hard on your share of
the business as my duty will permit. There's a thousand merks on the
murdering whigamore's head, an I could but light on it - Come, out with
it - where did you part with him?"
"You will excuse my answering that question, sir," said Morton; "the same
cogent reasons which induced me to afford him hospitality at considerable
risk to myself and my friends, would command me to respect his secret,
if, indeed, he had trusted me with any."
"So you refuse to give me an answer?" said Bothwell.
"I have none to give," returned Henry.
"Perhaps I could teach you to find one, by tying a piece of lighted match
betwixt your fingers," answered Bothwell.
"O, for pity's sake, sir," said old Alison apart to her master, "gie them
siller - it's siller they're seeking - they'll murder Mr Henry, and
yoursell next!"
Milnwood groaned in perplexity and bitterness of spirit, and, with a tone
as if he was giving up the ghost, exclaimed, "If twenty p - p - punds would
make up this unhappy matter" - "My master," insinuated Alison to the
sergeant, "would gie twenty punds sterling" - "Punds Scotch, ye b - h!"
interrupted Milnwood; for the agony of his avarice overcame alike his
puritanic precision and the habitual respect he entertained for his
housekeeper.
"Punds sterling," insisted the housekeeper, "if ye wad hae the gudeness
to look ower the lad's misconduct; he's that dour ye might tear him to
pieces, and ye wad ne'er get a word out o' him; and it wad do ye little
gude, I'm sure, to burn his bonny fingerends."
"Why," said Bothwell, hesitating, "I don't know - most of my cloth would
have the money, and take off the prisoner too; but I bear a conscience,
and if your master will stand to your offer, and enter into a bond to
produce his nephew, and if all in the house will take the test-oath, I do
not know but" - "O ay, ay, sir," cried Mrs Wilson, "ony test, ony oaths ye
please!" And then aside to her master, "Haste ye away, sir, and get the
siller, or they will burn the house about our lugs."
Old Milnwood cast a rueful look upon his adviser, and moved off, like a
piece of Dutch clockwork, to set at liberty his imprisoned angels in this
dire emergency. Meanwhile, Sergeant Bothwell began to put the test-oath
with such a degree of solemn reverence as might have been expected, being
just about the same which is used to this day in his majesty's
custom-house.
"You - what's your name, woman?"
"Alison Wilson, sir."
"You, Alison Wilson, solemnly swear, certify, and declare, that you judge
it unlawful for subjects, under pretext of reformation, or any other
pretext whatsoever, to enter into Leagues and Covenants" - Here the
ceremony was interrupted by a strife between Cuddie and his mother,
which, long conducted in whispers, now became audible.
"Oh, whisht, mither, whisht! they're upon a communing - Oh! whisht, and
they'll agree weel eneuch e'enow."
"I will not whisht, Cuddie," replied his mother, "I will uplift my voice
and spare not - I will confound the man of sin, even the scarlet man, and
through my voice shall Mr Henry be freed from the net of the fowler."
"She has her leg ower the harrows now," said Cuddie, "stop her wha can - I
see her cocked up behint a dragoon on her way to the Tolbooth - I find my
ain legs tied below a horse's belly - Ay - she has just mustered up her
sermon, and there - wi' that grane - out it comes, and we are a'ruined,
horse and foot!"
"And div ye think to come here," said Mause, her withered hand shaking in
concert with her keen, though wrinkled visage, animated by zealous wrath,
and emancipated, by the very mention of the test, from the restraints of
her own prudence, and Cuddie's admonition - "Div ye think to come here,
wi' your soul-killing, saint-seducing, conscience-confounding oaths, and
tests, and bands - your snares, and your traps, and your gins? - Surely it
is in vain that a net is spread in the sight of any bird."
"Eh! what, good dame?" said the soldier. "Here's a whig miracle, egad!
the old wife has got both her ears and tongue, and we are like to be
driven deaf in our turn. - Go to, hold your peace, and remember whom you
talk to, you old idiot."
"Whae do I talk to! Eh, sirs, ower weel may the sorrowing land ken what
ye are. Malignant adherents ye are to the prelates, foul props to a
feeble and filthy cause, bloody beasts of prey, and burdens to the
earth."
"Upon my soul," said Bothwell, astonished as a mastiff-dog might be
should a hen-partridge fly at him in defence of her young, "this is the
finest language I ever heard! Can't you give us some more of it?"
"Gie ye some mair o't?" said Mause, clearing her voice with a preliminary
cough, "I will take up my testimony against you ance and again. -
Philistines ye are, and Edomites - leopards are ye, and foxes - evening
wolves, that gnaw not the bones till the morrow - wicked dogs, that
compass about the chosen - thrusting kine, and pushing bulls of
Bashan - piercing serpents ye are, and allied baith in name and nature
with the great Red Dragon; Revelations, twalfth chapter, third and
fourth verses."
Here the old lady stopped, apparently much more from lack of breath than
of matter.
"Curse the old hag!" said one of the dragoons, "gag her, and take her to
head-quarters."
"For shame, Andrews," said Bothwell; "remember the good lady belongs to
the fair sex, and uses only the privilege of her tongue. - But, hark ye,
good woman, every bull of Bashan and Red Dragon will not be so civil as I
am, or be contented to leave you to the charge of the constable and
ducking-stool. In the meantime I must necessarily carry off this young
man to head-quarters. I cannot answer to my commanding-officer to leave
him in a house where I have heard so much treason and fanaticism."
"Se now, mither, what ye hae dune," whispered Cuddie; "there's the
Philistines, as ye ca' them, are gaun to whirry awa' Mr Henry, and a' wi'
your nash-gab, deil be on't!"
"Haud yere tongue, ye cowardly loon," said the mother, "and layna the
wyte on me; if you and thae thowless gluttons, that are sitting staring
like cows bursting on clover, wad testify wi' your hands as I have
testified wi' my tongue, they should never harle the precious young lad
awa' to captivity."
While this dialogue passed, the soldiers had already bound and secured
their prisoner. Milnwood returned at this instant, and, alarmed at the
preparations he beheld, hastened to proffer to Bothwell, though with many
a grievous groan, the purse of gold which he had been obliged to rummage
out as ransom for his nephew. The trooper took the purse with an air of
indifference, weighed it in his hand, chucked it up into the air, and
caught it as it fell, then shook his head, and said, "There's many a
merry night in this nest of yellow boys, but d - n me if I dare venture
for them - that old woman has spoken too loud, and before all the men
too. - Hark ye, old gentleman," to Milnwood, "I must take your nephew to
head-quarters, so I cannot, in conscience, keep more than is my due as
civility-money;" then opening the purse, he gave a gold piece to each of
the soldiers, and took three to himself. "Now," said he, "you have the
comfort to know that your kinsman, young Captain Popinjay, will be
carefully looked after and civilly used; and the rest of the money I
return to you."
Milnwood eagerly extended his hand.
"Only you know," said Bothwell, still playing with the purse, "that every
landholder is answerable for the conformity and loyalty of his household,
and that these fellows of mine are not obliged to be silent on the
subject of the fine sermon we have had from that old puritan in the
tartan plaid there; and I presume you are aware that the consequences of
delation will be a heavy fine before the council."
"Good sergeant, - worthy captain!" exclaimed the terrified miser, "I am
sure there is no person in my house, to my knowledge, would give cause of
offence."
"Nay," answered Bothwell, "you shall hear her give her testimony, as she
calls it, herself. - You fellow," (to Cuddie,) "stand back, and let your
mother speak her mind. I see she's primed and loaded again since her
first discharge."
"Lord! noble sir," said Cuddie, "an auld wife's tongue's but a feckless
matter to mak sic a fash about. Neither my father nor me ever minded
muckle what our mither said."
"Hold your peace, my lad, while you are well," said Bothwell; "I promise
you I think you are slyer than you would like to be supposed. - Come, good
dame, you see your master will not believe that you can give us so bright
a testimony."
Mause's zeal did not require this spur to set her again on full career.
"Woe to the compliers and carnal self-seekers," she said, "that daub over
and drown their consciences by complying with wicked exactions, and
giving mammon of unrighteousness to the sons of Belial, that it may make
their peace with them! It is a sinful compliance, a base confederacy with
the Enemy. It is the evil that Menahem did in the sight of the Lord, when
he gave a thousand talents to Pul, King of Assyria, that his hand might
be with him; Second Kings, feifteen chapter, nineteen verse. It is the
evil deed of Ahab, when he sent money to Tiglath-Peleser; see the saame
Second Kings, saxteen and aught. And if it was accounted a backsliding
even in godly Hezekiah, that he complied with Sennacherib, giving him
money, and offering to bear that which was put upon him, (see the saame
Second Kings, aughteen chapter, fourteen and feifteen verses,) even so it
is with them that in this contumacious and backsliding generation pays
localities and fees, and cess and fines, to greedy and unrighteous
publicans, and extortions and stipends to hireling curates, (dumb dogs
which bark not, sleeping, lying down, loving to slumber,) and gives gifts
to be helps and hires to our oppressors and destroyers. They are all like
the casters of a lot with them - like the preparing of a table for the
troop, and the furnishing a drink-offering to the number."
"There's a fine sound of doctrine for you, Mr Morton! How like you that?"
said Bothwell; "or how do you think the Council will like it? I think we
can carry the greatest part of it in our heads without a kylevine pen and
a pair of tablets, such as you bring to conventicles. She denies paying
cess, I think, Andrews?"
"Yes, by G - ," said Andrews; "and she swore it was a sin to give a
trooper a pot of ale, or ask him to sit down to a table."
"You hear," said Bothwell, addressing Milnwood; "but it's your own
affair;" and he proffered back the purse with its diminished contents,
with an air of indifference.
Milnwood, whose head seemed stunned by the accumulation of his
misfortunes, extended his hand mechanically to take the purse.
"Are ye mad?" said his housekeeper, in a whisper; "tell them to keep
it; - they will keep it either by fair means or foul, and it's our only
chance to make them quiet."
"I canna do it, Ailie - I canna do it," said Milnwood, in the bitterness
of his heart. "I canna part wi' the siller I hae counted sae often ower,
to thae blackguards."
"Then I maun do it mysell, Milnwood," said the housekeeper, "or see a'
gang wrang thegither. - My master, sir," she said, addressing Bothwell,
"canna think o' taking back ony thing at the hand of an honourable
gentleman like you; he implores ye to pit up the siller, and be as kind
to his nephew as ye can, and be favourable in reporting our dispositions
to government, and let us tak nae wrang for the daft speeches of an auld
jaud," (here she turned fiercely upon Mause, to indulge herself for the
effort which it cost her to assume a mild demeanour to the soldiers,) "a
daft auld whig randy, that ne'er was in the house (foul fa' her) till
yesterday afternoon, and that sall ne'er cross the door-stane again an
anes I had her out o't."
"Ay, ay," whispered Cuddie to his parent, "e'en sae! I kend we wad be put
to our travels again whene'er ye suld get three words spoken to an end. I
was sure that wad be the upshot o't, mither."
"Whisht, my bairn," said she, "and dinna murmur at the cross - cross their
door-stane! weel I wot I'll ne'er cross their door-stane. There's nae
mark on their threshold for a signal that the destroying angel should
pass by. They'll get a back-cast o' his hand yet, that think sae muckle
o' the creature and sae little o' the Creator - sae muckle o' warld's gear
and sae little o' a broken covenant - sae muckle about thae wheen pieces
o' yellow muck, and sae little about the pure gold o' the Scripture - sae
muckle about their ain friend and kinsman, and sae little about the
elect, that are tried wi' hornings, harassings, huntings, searchings,
chasings, catchings, imprisonments, torturings, banishments, headings,
hangings, dismemberings, and quarterings quick, forby the hundreds forced
from their ain habitations to the deserts, mountains, muirs, mosses,
moss-flows, and peat-hags, there to hear the word like bread eaten in
secret."
"She's at the Covenant now, sergeant, shall we not have her away?" said
one of the soldiers.
"You be d - d!" said Bothwell, aside to him; "cannot you see she's better
where she is, so long as there is a respectable, sponsible, money-broking
heritor, like Mr Morton of Milnwood, who has the means of atoning her
trespasses? Let the old mother fly to raise another brood, she's too
tough to be made any thing of herself - Here," he cried, "one other round
to Milnwood and his roof-tree, and to our next merry meeting with
him! - which I think will not be far distant, if he keeps such a fanatical
family."
He then ordered the party to take their horses, and pressed the best in
Milnwood's stable into the king's service to carry the prisoner. Mrs
Wilson, with weeping eyes, made up a small parcel of necessaries for
Henry's compelled journey, and as she bustled about, took an opportunity,
unseen by the party, to slip into his hand a small sum of money. Bothwell
and his troopers, in other respects, kept their promise, and were civil.
They did not bind their prisoner, but contented themselves with leading
his horse between a file of men. They then mounted, and marched off with
much mirth and laughter among themselves, leaving the Milnwood family in
great confusion. The old Laird himself, overpowered by the loss of his
nephew, and the unavailing outlay of twenty pounds sterling, did nothing
the whole evening but rock himself backwards and forwards in his great
leathern easy-chair, repeating the same lamentation, of "Ruined on a'
sides, ruined on a' sides - harried and undone - harried and undone - body
and gudes, body and gudes!"
Mrs Alison Wilson's grief was partly indulged and partly relieved by the
torrent of invectives with which she accompanied Mause and Cuddie's
expulsion from Milnwood.
"Ill luck be in the graning corse o' thee! the prettiest lad in
Clydesdale this day maun be a sufferer, and a' for you and your daft
whiggery!"
"Gae wa'," replied Mause; "I trow ye are yet in the bonds of sin, and in
the gall of iniquity, to grudge your bonniest and best in the cause of
Him that gave ye a' ye hae - I promise I hae dune as muckle for Mr Harry
as I wad do for my ain; for if Cuddie was found worthy to bear testimony
in the Grassmarket" - "And there's gude hope o't," said Alison, "unless
you and he change your courses."
" - And if," continued Mause, disregarding the interruption, "the bloody
Doegs and the flattering Ziphites were to seek to ensnare me with a
proffer of his remission upon sinful compliances, I wad persevere,
natheless, in lifting my testimony against popery, prelacy,
antinomianism, erastianism, lapsarianism, sublapsarianism, and the sins
and snares of the times - I wad cry as a woman in labour against the black
Indulgence, that has been a stumbling-block to professors - I wad uplift
my voice as a powerful preacher."
"Hout tout, mither," cried Cuddie, interfering and dragging her off
forcibly, "dinna deave the gentlewoman wi' your testimony! ye hae
preached eneugh for sax days. Ye preached us out o' our canny free-house
and gude kale-yard, and out o' this new city o' refuge afore our hinder
end was weel hafted in it; and ye hae preached Mr Harry awa to the
prison; and ye hae preached twenty punds out o' the Laird's pocket that
he likes as ill to quit wi'; and sae ye may haud sae for ae wee while,
without preaching me up a ladder and down a tow. Sae, come awa, come awa;
the family hae had eneugh o' your testimony to mind it for ae while."
So saying he dragged off Mause, the words,
"Testimony - Covenant - malignants - indulgence," still thrilling upon her
tongue, to make preparations for instantly renewing their travels in
quest of an asylum.
"Ill-fard, crazy, crack-brained gowk, that she is!" exclaimed the
housekeeper, as she saw them depart, "to set up to be sae muckle better
than ither folk, the auld besom, and to bring sae muckle distress on a
douce quiet family! If it hadna been that I am mair than half a
gentlewoman by my station, I wad hae tried my ten nails in the wizen'd
hide o' her!"
CHAPTER IX.
I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Burns.
"Don't be too much cast down," said Sergeant Bothwell to his prisoner as
they journeyed on towards the head-quarters; "you are a smart pretty lad,
and well connected; the worst that will happen will be strapping up for
it, and that is many an honest fellow's lot. I tell you fairly your
life's within the compass of the law, unless you make submission, and get
off by a round fine upon your uncle's estate; he can well afford it."
"That vexes me more than the rest," said Henry. "He parts with his money
with regret; and, as he had no concern whatever with my having given this
person shelter for a night, I wish to Heaven, if I escape a capital
punishment, that the penalty may be of a kind I could bear in my own
person."
"Why, perhaps," said Bothwell, "they will propose to you to go into one
of the Scotch regiments that are serving abroad. It's no bad line of
service; if your friends are active, and there are any knocks going, you
may soon get a commission."
"I am by no means sure," answered Morton, "that such a sentence is not
the best thing that can happen to me."
"Why, then, you are no real whig after all?" said the sergeant.
"I have hitherto meddled with no party in the state," said Henry, "but
have remained quietly at home; and sometimes I have had serious thoughts
of joining one of our foreign regiments."
"Have you?" replied Bothwell; "why, I honour you for it; I have served in
the Scotch French guards myself many a long day; it's the place for
learning discipline, d - n me. They never mind what you do when you are
off duty; but miss you the roll-call, and see how they'll arrange
you - D - n me, if old Captain Montgomery didn't make me mount guard upon
the arsenal in my steel-back and breast, plate-sleeves and head-piece,
for six hours at once, under so burning a sun, that gad I was baked like
a turtle at Port Royale. I swore never to miss answering to Francis
Stewart again, though I should leave my hand of cards upon the
drum-head - Ah! discipline is a capital thing."
"In other respects you liked the service?" said Morton,
"Par excellence," said Bothwell; "women, wine, and wassail, all to be had
for little but the asking; and if you find it in your conscience to let a
fat priest think he has some chance to convert you, gad he'll help you to
these comforts himself, just to gain a little ground in your good
affection. Where will you find a crop-eared whig parson will be so
civil?"
"Why, nowhere, I agree with you," said Henry; "but what was your chief
duty?"
"To guard the king's person," said Bothwell, "to look after the safety of
Louis le Grand, my boy, and now and then to take a turn among the
Huguenots (protestants, that is.) And there we had fine scope; it brought
my hand pretty well in for the service in this country. But, come, as you
are to be a bon camerado, as the Spaniards say, I must put you in cash
with some of your old uncle's broad-pieces. This is cutter's law; we must
not see a pretty fellow want, if we have cash ourselves."
Thus speaking, he pulled out his purse, took out some of the contents,
and offered them to Henry without counting them. Young Morton declined
the favour; and, not judging it prudent to acquaint the sergeant,
notwithstanding his apparent generosity, that he was actually in
possession of some money, he assured him he should have no difficulty in
getting a supply from his uncle.
"Well," said Bothwell, "in that case these yellow rascals must serve to
ballast my purse a little longer. I always make it a rule never to quit
the tavern (unless ordered on duty) while my purse is so weighty that I
can chuck it over the signpost. [Note: A Highland laird, whose
peculiarities live still in the recollection of his countrymen, used to
regulate his residence at Edinburgh in the following manner: Every day he
visited the Water-gate, as it is called, of the Canongate, over which is
extended a wooden arch. Specie being then the general currency, he threw
his purse over the gate, and as long as it was heavy enough to be thrown
over, he continued his round of pleasure in the metropolis; when it was
too light, he thought it time to retire to the Highlands. Query - How
often would he have repeated this experiment at Temple Bar?] When it is
so light that the wind blows it back, then, boot and saddle, - we must
fall on some way of replenishing. - But what tower is that before us,
rising so high upon the steep bank, out of the woods that surround it on
every side?"
"It is the tower of Tillietudlem," said one of the soldiers. "Old Lady
Margaret Bellenden lives there. She's one of the best affected women in
the country, and one that's a soldier's friend. When I was hurt by one of
the d - d whig dogs that shot at me from behind a fauld-dike, I lay a
month there, and would stand such another wound to be in as good quarters
again."
"If that be the case," said Bothwell, "I will pay my respects to her as
we pass, and request some refreshment for men and horses; I am as thirsty
already as if I had drunk nothing at Milnwood. But it is a good thing in
these times," he continued, addressing himself to Henry, "that the King's
soldier cannot pass a house without getting a refreshment. In such houses
as Tillie - what d'ye call it? you are served for love; in the houses of
the avowed fanatics you help yourself by force; and among the moderate
presbyterians and other suspicious persons, you are well treated from
fear; so your thirst is always quenched on some terms or other."
"And you purpose," said Henry, anxiously, "to go upon that errand up to
the tower younder?"
"To be sure I do," answered Bothwell. "How should I be able to report
favourably to my officers of the worthy lady's sound principles, unless I
know the taste of her sack, for sack she will produce - that I take for
granted; it is the favourite consoler of your old dowager of quality, as
small claret is the potation of your country laird."
"Then, for heaven's sake," said Henry, "if you are determined to go
there, do not mention my name, or expose me to a family that I am
acquainted with. Let me be muffled up for the time in one of your
soldier's cloaks, and only mention me generally as a prisoner under your
charge."
"With all my heart," said Bothwell; "I promised to use you civilly, and I
scorn to break my word. - Here, Andrews, wrap a cloak round the prisoner,
and do not mention his name, nor where we caught him, unless you would
have a trot on a horse of wood."
[Note: Wooden Mare. The punishment of riding the wooden mare was,
in the days of Charles and long after, one of the various and cruel
modes of enforcing military discipline. In front of the old
guard-house in the High Street of Edinburgh, a large horse of this
kind was placed, on which now and then, in the more ancient times, a
veteran might be seen mounted, with a firelock tied to each foot,
atoning for some small offence.
There is a singular work, entitled Memoirs of Prince William Henry,
Duke of Gloucester, (son of Queen Anne,) from his birth to his ninth
year, in which Jenkin Lewis, an honest Welshman in attendance on the
royal infant's person, is pleased to record that his Royal Highness
laughed, cried, crow'd, and said Gig and Dy, very like a babe of
plebeian descent. He had also a premature taste for the discipline
as well as the show of war, and had a corps of twenty-two boys,
arrayed with paper caps and wooden swords. For the maintenance of
discipline in this juvenile corps, a wooden horse was established in
the Presence-chamber, and was sometimes employed in the punishment
of offences not strictly military. Hughes, the Duke's tailor, having
made him a suit of clothes which were too tight, was appointed, in
an order of the day issued by the young prince, to be placed on this
penal steed. The man of remnants, by dint of supplication and
mediation, escaped from the penance, which was likely to equal the
inconveniences of his brother artist's equestrian trip to Brentford.
But an attendant named Weatherly, who had presumed to bring the
young Prince a toy, (after he had discarded the use of them,) was
actually mounted on the wooden horse without a saddle, with his face
to the tail, while he was plied by four servants of the household
with syringes and squirts, till he had a thorough wetting. "He was a
waggish fellow," says Lewis, "and would not lose any thing for the
joke's sake when he was putting his tricks upon others, so he was
obliged to submit cheerfully to what was inflicted upon him, being
at our mercy to play him off well, which we did accordingly." Amid
much such nonsense, Lewis's book shows that this poor child, the
heir of the British monarchy, who died when he was eleven years old,
was, in truth, of promising parts, and of a good disposition. The
volume, which rarely occurs, is an octavo, published in 1789, the
editor being Dr Philip Hayes of Oxford.]
They were at this moment at an arched gateway, battlemented and flanked
with turrets, one whereof was totally ruinous, excepting the lower story,
which served as a cow-house to the peasant, whose family inhabited the
turret that remained entire. The gate had been broken down by Monk's
soldiers during the civil war, and had never been replaced, therefore
presented no obstacle to Bothwell and his party. The avenue, very steep
and narrow, and causewayed with large round stones, ascended the side of
the precipitous bank in an oblique and zigzag course, now showing now
hiding a view of the tower and its exterior bulwarks, which seemed to
rise almost perpendicularly above their heads. The fragments of Gothic
defences which it exhibited were upon such a scale of strength, as
induced Bothwell to exclaim, "It's well this place is in honest and loyal
hands. Egad, if the enemy had it, a dozen of old whigamore wives with
their distaffs might keep it against a troop of dragoons, at least if
they had half the spunk of the old girl we left at Milnwood. Upon my
life," he continued, as they came in front of the large double tower and
its surrounding defences and flankers, "it is a superb place, founded,
says the worn inscription over the gate - unless the remnant of my Latin
has given me the slip - by Sir Ralph de Bellenden in 1350 - a respectable