Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

great, little less worthy of commemoration than the Cam Ruadh, Gillespie the proud, or the Donalds, whether Egyptian, or descended of Robert the Mighty. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder shall introduce him in his own happy way to your acquaintance. I shall add, at the end of his narration, a few incidents not touched upon by the Baronet.

DONALD LAMONT, THE BRAEMAR DROVER.
BY SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER, BART.

THE late Sir John Inglis was in the habit of receiving regularly every autumn, from Braemar, a flock of Highland wethers, to be fattened on his rich pasture at Cramond, near Edinburgh, for the supply of his table. A certain man of that Highland district, of the name of Donald Lamont, was the person who, for many years, had the charge of driving the sheep; and the care and fidelity which he displayed in the performance of his duty, added to the circumstance of his being remarkably shrewd and sagacious; and having a certain spice of sly humour about him, made Sir John take a great liking to him. So much interest, indeed, did the worthy Baronet take in Donald, that he never arrived at Cramond to make his annual delivery of sheep, that Sir John did not send for him, in order to have a talk with him; after which he always gave orders that every care should be taken of him, and every kindness shown to him in the servants' hall, whilst he remained there; and finally, it was ever his wont to dismiss him with some peculiar mark of his approbation.

Donald's journey to Cramond, therefore, was always regarded with pleasing anticipation for many a long day before the time of his departure arrived; and when it did come, he turned out for the purpose of assuming command of his flock, with his collies at his heels, with all the pride of a general attended by his staff, dressed in his best bonnet and plaid, kilt, hose, and brogues, with his best badger-snouted sporran, or purse, girt before him, with his skien-dhu, or blackhafted knife, sticking in his belt.

Though Donald was a little man, and rather insignificant in appearance, yet he had a dauntless spirit. He, therefore, always made out the journey alone, asking the aid of no other assistants but that of his dogs. Small pitcher as he was, he went and came thus to and from the well for some forty years or so, with:

out ever fulfilling the proverb, by being broken or injured during all that long period of service. He did meet with adventures now and then, however; and one of these I'm now about to tell you.

The weather had been peculiarly sultry, and the roads unusually dusty, during one of Donald's southern trips; and as he invariably made a point of adhering strictly to that laudable economy for which Scotsmen are, for the most part, so justly celebrated, he not only chiefly depended for his own support on the scraps of cakes and cheese afforded by a wallet which he carried at his back, but he also trusted the maintenance of his muttons more to those pickings which Providence provided for them by the wayside, than to any purchased provender. It was not wonderful, then, on the occasion I allude to, that, by the time the creatures had got so far on their journey as halfway between Kinross and Queensferry, they were ready to halt and set their teeth very actively a-nibbling on a piece of most inviting unenclosed pasture, the freshness of which would have been tempting to even the pampered palate of the most apathetical epicure of the wool-bearing race that ever wore one of Mr Culley's flannel jackets, or fed in an English paddock, or even in the fair fields of Phantassie; far more a ragged rout of halfstarved, hairy-coated, Highland wethers, whose black faces and huge horns afforded the very beau ideal of the supposed coun tenance of that alarming personage whom our own immortal Burns addresses as

"Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie."

Donald, fully aware of the urgent necessities of his bleating battalion, beheld them rush upon their forage with a triumphant bra-a-a that rejoiced his very heart.

"Puir beasts!" muttered he to himself, as he heard the gratifying sound produced by their incisors as they cropped the herbage at a rate which would have insured the annihilation of the whole patch in the course of a few hours-" Puir beasts! she's sure ye be sair wantin' meat, and weel are ye wordy o't a'!" and then casting the hesitating glance of a moment over his shoulder, towards an adjacent field of wheat, where a large band of reapers were at work under the eye of the farmer"Hoots!" added he, with a shrug, "she swarrants she'll no be muckle mindin' her; ta puir beasts 'll no dae muckle skaith for a' tat they'll tak.”

So saying, Donald was about to seat himself on a bank, to chew a crust from his wallet, that the animals might have the more leisure to fill themselves, when, having again cast his eyes askance towards the farmer, his Highland honour pricked him.

"Tuts!" said he, with another shrug, "what for wad she be takin' ta man's grass, fan she may ha'e it for ta axin'?”

Giving to his fan-tailed aides-de-camp the temporary charge of his brigade, who were too well occupied not to ensure his finding them at his return, he limped away, with hot feet and tired legs, to where the fat and comfortable farmer was lounging after his reapers with listless steps, and with his hands in his breeches' pockets, but with his eyes sharply occupied on the progress of the important work he was superintending.

Donald, with becoming modesty and deference, took off his bonnet while he was yet afar off; and, as he drew near, he made divers obeisances before the eyes of the farmer yet turned upon him. At length, he "of the broad and furrowed land" caught a sight of him "of the misty mountains."

"Weel, freend, what are ye wantin' ?" said the farmer.

"Wad her honour no be anghery," said Donald, bowing again with an air of great submission, "tat ta sheeps taks a bite o' ta grass yonder?"

"A bite o' my grass!" exclaimed the farmer. "Na, diel ae bit. D'ye think I can be gi'en' bites o' grass to every chield that passes this gate wi' sheep? 'Od, I wad be eaten up wi' them like the locusts o' Egypp! Na, na, friend; gang awa' on wi' your sheep; ye's get nae bites frae me, I promise ye!"

"Hoots!" said Donald, quietly, with a whimsical sort of half smile of entreaty on his countenance, and with another humble bow-"Hoots! she swarrants tat her honour 'll no be sae hard; ta wathers sore hongrie."

"Deil care!" replied the farmer; "hungry or no, they may gang elsewhere to get their bellies filled; deil a pick shall they ha'e frae me."

"Oich!" said Donald, looking over his shoulder towards the spot where the sheep were making the best possible use of their time, and satisfied in his own mind that the objects of his solicitude had at least had some pickings already, and that the longer he could spin out the negotiation the better it would be for them-"Oich, oich! she's vera hard wi' her. Hoot-toot, but surely she'll let her puir bit wathers take a plok or twa o' grass; ta puir beasts sore hongrie, verra tired.”

Od, but ye're a cunnin' chield," said the honest farmer, at once perceiving Donald's drift, and taking a hearty, good-natured laugh at his ingenuity. "I see what ye're after, billy; sae, while ye stand haverin' there a' day to me, ye think, nae doubt, that your wathers 'll be plockin', as ye ca' it, a' the time. But I tell ye, aince for aye, that deil a plok mair shall they ha'e; sae ye may just pack up your alls and begone directly, sheep an' a'."

"Ta puir beasts like to starve," said the indefatigable Donald,

still preserving the most perfect serenity of countenance, and with eyes still lighted up with a comical smile of entreaty; "Ta puir wathers sore hongrie. Toots! her honour 'll no grodge ta puir beasts ta plok."

"The deil's in ye for an obstinate chield!" said the farmer, extremely tickled with Donald's unconquerable perseverance. “Aweel, I'll tell ye what it is; an ye'll shak a fa' with Jock Meachgh, my bandster there, 'od, but your wathers shall ha'e a pluck till their weames be fu'!"'

Donald cast a look towards the grass, and beheld his muttons feeding busily upon it, and he was resolved. He then eyed the man who was binding-a broad-shouldered fellow, nearly as heavy again as himself and his quickly-formed resolution perished within him as soon as it was born; nor was its death the less sudden, when he remarked the contemptuous glances of the hero of the harvest rig, and heard him mutter to himself"Poof! that bit body!" as if conscious that he could have devoured him.

Donald felt that he had no chance at all; and, turning to the farmer with a piteous visage,

"Hoot, toot," said he, shaking his head; "troths she no be good at fightin'; but, och, hoch! ta puir beasts be verra hongrie—be ta better o' ta plok; and sure, sure, her honour be none ta waur."

"Na, na!" exclaimed the farmer, "I've said my say; an' ye dinna like my bargain, billy, ye're free to let it alane; an' ye may e'en gang your ways on to the ferry. But what do you speak of fightin' man? shakin' a fa' is no fightin'."

"Toots, but she be an auld man!" said Donald, eyeing his proposed opponent with an apprehension which it required all his ingenuity to conceal. "She no be fit to fightin'." "Jock Meachgh

66 Ou, that's a' nonsense!" said the farmer. is about as auld as ye are." "Ou, na!" said Donald. "Sure she be a purty young man ; sure she'll no be fit for her ava, ava.”

“Tut, man, are ye a Hielanman, an' frightit to shak a fa' wi' that chap?" cried the farmer. "Od, I'll tell ye what it is, ye shall have fair play, an' mair nor that, forby the pluck to your beasts whichever chiel throws the ither shall ha'e this haufcrown piece; an' it shall be placed in ony ane's hands ye like to name."

Donald eyed the glittering piece of money; he cast another look at his sheep; and now the advantage beginning to weigh heavily against the dangers of the encounter, and the honour of the Highlands being concerned, his spirit was stirred up within him, and his resolution came again upon him.

"She be an auld man," said he, “an' she's no good at fightin'; but since her honour maun ha'e it sae-tod! but she'll try." "That's a brave chiel!" cried the farmer, giving him a slap on the back. "Weel, wha's to haud the half-crown?"

"Hersel wad like ta bonnie lassie," said Donald, nodding towards a trig, rosy-cheeked, smiling girl, whom his eyes lighted on, and whose blushes manifested that she was by no means, insensible to the compliment which the old man had paid her, though she, at the same time, certainly felt it to be no more than just.

"Wi' a' my heart," said the farmer, handing the girl the coin. "Ha'e, Bess! haud ye the stakes, lass. Come awa, Jock, manlet's see what ye can do against Hieland Donald here."

"Hu! the bit body!" said the bandster, tossing from him the sheaf, the straw ropes of which he had at that moment tightened; and folding his arms across his breast, and looking at his opponent from top to toe, like Shakespeare's Charles the Wrestler, with a gaze of utter despisal, he seemed to convey to him the assurance that he could as easily toss him down in the same manner. But Donald was not to be so daunted; for, throwing off all his former diffidence and knitting his brows, and summoning an expression of desperate determination into his countenance, he strode forward with a few bold paces towards his adversary, like a game-cock, and, eyeing him fiercely, he laid both his hands on the leathern belt of his own sporran, and giving it first a powerful hitch to the right side, and then another to the left side, and then finally settling it forcibly in front by another twitch to the centre, he pulled out his skiandhu, looked at it earnestly, drew the blade of it betwixt his finger and thumb, examined it narrowly again, again fixed his eye fiercely upon his man, stuck the knife energetically into his belt, and, giving a loud "huchhum!" as if to gather all the wind he was master of, he again looked savagely at his man, and called out, in a voice like thunder, "Come noo!"

But the self-confidence of Jock Meachgh the bandster was gone. He had watched Donald's every motion, and he liked not their import.

"Na," said he with a shake of his head, and with an expression of dismay which there was no mistaking; "'od, I'll hae naething ado wi' ye."

"What the deil's the matter wi' ye noo, Jock, man?" exclaimed the farmer, bursting into a roar of laughter at the success of Donald's manoeuvre, while the whole harvest-rig of reapers joined in his shouts of merriment. "What the deil's the matter wi' ye, man? Come, till him! Wad ye be cowed wi' a bit body like that? Come, till him, man!"

« VorigeDoorgaan »