flowed upon Tyrrel's mind; "wherefore should loves and friendships have a longer date than our dwellings and our monuments?" As he indulged these sombre recollections, his officious landlady disturbed their tenor by her entrance. "I was thinking to offer you a dish of tea, Maister Francie, just for the sake of anld lang syne, and I'll gar the quean Beenie bring it here, and mask it mysell.-But you arena done with your wine yet?" "I am indeed, Mrs. Dods," answered Tyrrel; "and I beg you will remove the bottle." "Remove the bottle, and the wine no half drunk out!" said Meg, displeasure lowering on her brow; "I hope there is nae fault to be found wi' the wine, Maister Tirl?" To this answer, which was put in a tone resembling defiance, Tyrrel submissively replied, by declaring "the claret not only unexceptionable, but excellent." "And what for dinna ye drink it, then?" said Meg, sharply; "folk should never ask for mair liquor than they can mak a gude use of. Maybe ye think we have the fashion of the table-dot, as they ca' their new-fangled ordinary down-by yonder, where a' the bits of vinegar cruets are put awa into an awmry, as they tell me, and ilk ane wi' the bit dribbles of syndings in it, and a paper about the neck o't, to show which of the customers is aught it-there they stand like doctor's drogs—and no an honest Scottish mutchkin will ane o' their viols haud, granting it were at the fonest." "Perhaps," said Tyrrel, willing to indulge the spleen and prejudice of his old acquaintance, perhaps the wine is not so good as to make full measure desirable." 66 "Ye may say that, lad-and yet them that sell it might afford a gude penniworth, for they hae it for the making-maist feck of it ne'er saw France or Portugal. But as I was saying--this is no ane of their new-fangled places, where wine is put by for them that canna drink it-when the cork's drawn the bottle maun be drunk out-and what for no?--unless it be corkit." "I agree entirely, Meg," said her guest; "but my ride to-day has somewhat heated me--and I think the dish of tea you promise me, will do me more good than to finish my bottle." "Na, then, the best I can do for you is to put it by, to be sauce for the wild-duck the morn; for I think ye said ye were to bide here for a day or twa." "It is my very purpose, Meg, unquestionably," replied Tyrrel. "Sae be it then," said Mrs. Dods; "and then the liquor's no lost-it has been seldom sic claret as that has simmered in a saucepan, let me tell you that, neighbor;-and I mind the day, when headach or nae headach, ye wad hae been at the hinder-end of that bottle, and maybe anither, if ye could have gotten it wiled out of me. But then ye had your cousin to help you-Ah! he was a blythe bairn that Valentine Bulmer!-Ye were a canty callant too, Maister Francie, and muckle ado I had to keep ye baith in order when ye were on the ramble. But ye were a thought doucer than Valentine-But O! he was a bonny laddie!wi' e'en like diamonds, cheeks like roses, a head like a heathertap-he was the first I ever saw wear a crap, as they ca' it, but a' body cheats the barber now-and he had a laugh that wad hae raised the dead!-What wi' flyting on him, and what wi' laughing at him, there was nae minding ony other body when that Valentine was in the house. And how is your cousin, Valentine Bulmer, Maister Francie?" Tyrrel looked down, and only answered with a sigh. "Ay-and is it even sae?" said Meg; "and has the puir bairn been sae soon removed frae this fashious warld?-Ay-ay--we maun a' gang ae gate-crackit quart-stoups and geisen'd barrelsleaky quaighs are we a', and canna keep in the liquor of life-Ohon, sirs !-Was the puir lad Bulmer frae Bu'mer Bay, where they land the Hollands, think ye, Maister Francie ?-They whiles rin a pickle tea there too-I hope that is good that I have made you, Maister Francie ? " "Excellent, my good dame," said Tyrrel; but it was in a tone of voice which intimated that she had pressed upon a subject which awakened some unpleasant reflections. "And when did this puir lad die?" continued Meg, who was not without her share of Eve's qualities, and wished to know something concerning what seemed to affect her guest so particularly; but he disappointed her purpose, and at the same time awakened another train of sentiment in her mind, by turning again to the window, and looking upon the distant buildings of St. Ronan's Well. As if he had observed for the first time these new objects, he said to Mistress Dods, in an indifferent tone, "You have got some gay new neighbors yonder, Mistress." "Neighbors," said Meg, her wrath beginning to arise, as it always did upon any allusion to this sore subject-" Ye may ca' them neighbors, if ye like-but the deil flee awa wi' the neighborhood for Meg Dods!" "I suppose," said Tyrrel, as if he did not observe her displeasure, "that yonder is the Fox Hotel they told me of?" "The Fox!" said Meg; "I am sure it is the fox that has carried off a' my geese.-I might shut up house, Maister Francie, if it was the thing I lived by-me that has seen a' our gentlefolks' bairns, and gien them snaps and sugar-biscuit maist of them wi' my ain hand! They wad hae seen my father's roof-tree fa' down and smoor me before they wad hae gien a boddle a-piece to have propped it up--but they could a' link out their fifty pounds ower head to bigg a bottle at the Well yonder. And muckle they hae made o't-the bankrupt body, Sandie Lawson, hasna paid them a bawbee of four terms' rent." "Surely, mistress, I think if the Well became so famous for its cures, the least the gentlemen could have done was to make you the priest--and some rin up hill and down dale, knapping ess. "Me priestess! I am nae Quaker, I wot, Maister Francie; and I never heard of alewife that turned preacher, except Luckie Buchan in the West. And if I were to preach, I think I have mair the spirit of a Scottishwoman, than to preach in the very room they hae been dancing in ilka night in the week, Saturday itsell not excepted, and that till twal o'clock at night. Na, na, Maister Francie; I leave the like o' that to Mr. Simon Chatterly, as they ca' the bit prelatical sprig of divinity from the town yonder, that plays at cards and dances six days in the week, and on the seventh reads the Common Prayer-book in the ball-room, with Tam Simson, the drunken barber, for his clerk." the chucky stanes to pieces wi' hammers, like sae mony road-makers run daft-they say it is to sce how the warld was made!-and some that play on all manner of ten-stringed instruments-and a wheen sketching souls, that ye may see perched like craws on every craig in the country, e'en working at your ain trade, Maister Francie; forby men that had been in foreign parts, or said they had been there, whilk is a' ane, ye ken, and maybe twa or three draggle-tailed misses, that wear my Leddy Penelope's follies when she has dune wi' them, as her queans of maids wear her secondhand claithes. So, after her leddyship's happy recovery, as they ca'd it, down cam the hail tribe of wild geese, and settled by the Well, to dine thereout on the bare grund, like a wheen tinklers; "I think I have heard of Mr. Chatterly," said and they had sangs, and tunes, and healths, nae Tyrrel. "Ye'll be thinking o' the sermon he has printed," said the angry dame, "where he compares their nasty puddle of a well yonder to the pool of Bethesda, like a foul-mouthed, fleeching, featherheaded fule as he is! He should hae kend that the place got a' its fame in the times of Black Popery; and though they pat it iu St. Ronan's name, I'll never believe for one that the honest man had ony hand in it; for I hae been tell'd by ane that suld ken, that he was nae Roman, but only a Cuddie, or Culdee, or such like.-But will ye not take anither dish of tea, Maister Francie ? and a wee bit of the diet-loaf, raised wi' my ain fresh butter, Maister Francie? and no wi' greasy kitchen-fee, like the seed cake down at the confectioner's yonder, that has as mony dead flees as carvey in it. Set him up for confectioner! Wi' a penniworth of rye-meal, and anither of tryacle, and twa or three carvey-seeds, I will make better confections than ever cam out of his oven." "I have no doubt of that, Mrs. Dods," said the guest; "and I only wish to know how these new comers were able to establish themselves against a house of such good reputation and old standing as yours?-It was the virtues of the mineral, I dare say; but how came the waters to recover a character all at once, mistress ? " "I dinna ken, sir-they used to be thought good for naething, but here and there for a puir body's bairn, that had gotten the cruells,† and could not afford a penniworth of salts. But my Leddy Penelope Penfeather had fa'an ill, it's like, as nae other body ever fell ill, and sae she was to be cured some gate nacbody was ever cured, which was naething mair than was reasonable-and my leddy, ye ken, has wit at wull, and has a' the wise folk out from Edinburgh at her house at Windy. wa's yonder, which it is her leddyship's will and pleasure to call Aircastle-and they have a' their different turns, and some can clink verses, wi' their tale, as weel as Rob Burus or Allan Ramsay The foundress of a sect called Buchanites; a species of Joanna Southcote, who long after death was expected to return and head her disciples on the road to Jerusalem. Escrouelles, King's Evil. doubt, in praise of the fountain, as they ca'd the Well, and of Leddy Penelope Penfeather; and, lastly, they behoved a' to take a solemn bumper of the spring, which, as I'm tauld, made unco havoc amang them or they wan hame; and this they ca'd Picknick, and a plague to them: And sae the jig was begun after her leddyship's pipe, and mony a mad measure has been danced sin' syne; for down cam masons and murgeon-makers, and preachers and player-folk, and Episcopalians, and Methodists, and fools and fiddlers, and Papists and pie-bakers, and doctors and drugsters; by the shop-folk, that sell trash and trumpery at three prices-and so up got the bonny new Well, and down fell the honest aald town of St. Ronan's, where blythe decent folk had been heartsome enough for mony a day before ony o' them were born, or ony sic vaporing fancies kittled in their cracked brains." "What said your landlord, the Laird of St. Ronan's, to all this?" said Tyrrel. "Is't my landlord ye are asking after, Maister Francie ?-the Laird of St. Ronan's is nae landlord of mine, and I think ye might hae minded that.-Na, na, thanks be to Praise! Meg Dods is baith landlord and landleddy. Ill eneugh to keep the doors open as it is, let be facing Whitsunday and Martinmas-an auld leather pock there is, Maister Francie, in ane of worthy Maister Bindloose the sheriff-clerk's pigeon-holes, in his dowcot of a closet in the burgh; and therein is baith charter and sasine, and special service to boot: and that will be chapter and verse, speer when ye list." "I had quite forgotten," said Tyrrel, “that the inn was your own; though I remember you were a considerable landed proprietor." 'Maybe I am," replied Meg, "maybe I am not; and if I be, what for no?-But as to what the Laird, whose grandfather was my father's landlord, said to the new doings yonder-he just jumped at the ready penny, like a cock at a grossart, and feu'd the bonny holm beside the Well, that they ca'd Saints-Well-holm, that was like the best land in his aught, to be carved, and biggit, and powkit up, just at the pleasure of Jock Ash ler the stane-mason, that ca's himsell an arkiteck -there's nae living for new words in this new warld neither, and that is another vex to auld folk such as me. It's a shame o' the young Laird to let his auld patrimony gang the gate it's like to gang, and my heart is sair to see't, though it has but little cause to care what comes of him or his." "Is it the same Mr. Mowbray," said Mr. Tyr. rel, "who still holds the estate?-the old gentleman, you know, whom I had some dispute with "About hunting moor-fowl upon the Springwell-head muirs?" said Meg. "Ah, lad! honest Maister Bindicose brought you neatly off thereNa, it's no that honest man, but his son John Mowbray-the t'other has slept down-by in St. Ronan's Kirk for these six or seven years." "Did he leave," asked Tyrrel, with something of a faltering voice, “no other child than the present laird?" "No other son," said Meg; "and there's e'en enengh, unless he could have left a better ane." "He died then," said Tyrrel, excepting this son, without children?" *"By your leave, no," said Meg; "there is the lassie, Miss Clara, that keeps house for the laird, if it can be ca'd keeping house, for he is almost aye down at the Well yonder-so a sma' kitchen serves them at the Shaws." "Miss Clara will have but a dull time of it there during her brother's absence," said the str. nger. "Out no-he has her aften jinketing about, and back and forward wi' a' the fine flichtering fools that come yonder; and clapping palms wi' them, and linking at their dances and daffings. I wuss nae ill come o't, but it's a shame her father's daughter should keep company wi' a' that scauff and raff of physic-students, and writers' prentices, and bagmen, and siclike trash as are down at the Well yonder." "You are severe, Mrs. Dods," replied the guest. "No doubt Miss Clara's conduct deserves all sort of freedom." "I am saying naething against her conduct," said the dame; and there's nae ground to say ony thing that I ken of-But I wad hae like to draw to like, Maister Francie. I never quarrelled the ball that the gentry used to hae at my bit house a gude wheen years bygane-when they came, the auld folk in their coaches, wi' lang-tailed black horses, and a wheen galliard gallants on their hunting horses, and mony a decent leddy behind her ain good-man, and mony a bonny smirking lassie on her pownie, and wha sae happy as they-And what for no? And then there was the farmers' ball, wi' the tight lads of yocmen with the brank new blues and the buckskinsThese were decent meetings-but then they were a' ae man's bairns that were at them, ilk ane kend ilk other they danced farmers wi' farmers' daughters at the tane, and gentles wi' gentle blood, at the t'other, unless may be when some of the gentlemen of the Killnakelty Club would gie me a round of the floor mysell, in the way of daffing and fun, and me no able to flyte on them for laughing-I am sure I never grudged these innocent pleasures, although it has cost me maybe a week's redding up, ere I got the better of the confusion." "But dame," said Tyrrel, "This ceremonial would be a little hard upon strangers like myself, for how were we to find partners in these family parties of yours? "Never you fash your thumb about that, Maister Francie," returned the landlady, with a knowing wink.-"Every Jack will find a Jill, gang the world as it may-and, at the warst on't, better hae some fashery in finding a partner for the night, than get yoked with ane that you may not be able to shake off the morn." "And does that sometimes happen?" asked the stranger. Happen!--and it's amang the Well folk that ye mean?" exclaimed the hostess. Was it not the last season, as they ca't, no farther gane, that young Sir Bingo Binks, the English lad wi' the red coat, that keeps a mail-coach, and drives it himsell, gat cleekit with Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg, the anld Leddy Loupengirth's lang-legged daughter-and they danced sae lang thegither, that there was mair said than suld hae been said about it-and the lad would fain have louped back, but the auld leddy held him to his tackle, and the Commissary Court and somebody else made her Leddy Binks in spite of Sir Bingo's heart-and he never has daured take her to his friends in England, but they have just wintered and summered it at the Well ever since-and that is what the Well is good for!” "And does Clara,-I mean does Miss Mow bray, keep company with such women as these ? ". said Tyrrel, with a tone of interest which he checked as he proceeded with the question. "What can she do, puir thing?" said the dame. "She maun keep the company that her brother keeps, for she is clearly dependent.-But, speaking of that, I ken what I have to do, and that is no little, before it darkens. I have sat clavering with you ower lang, Maister Francie." And away she marched with a resolved step, and soon the clear octaves of her voice were heard in shrill admonition to her handmaidens. Tyrrel paused a moment in deep thought, then took his hat, paid a visit to the stable, where his horse saluted him with feathering ears, and that low amicable neigh, with which that animal acknowledges the approach of a loving and beloved friend. Having seen that the faithful creature was in every respect attended to, Tyrrel availed himself of the continued and lingering twilight, to visit the old castle, which, upon former occasions, had been his favorite evening walk. He remained while the light permitted, admiring the prospect we attempted to describe in the first chapter, and comparing, as in his former reverie, the faded hues of the glimmering landscape to 16 Tyrrel's painting, as Meg called it, went on equally slowly. He often, indeed, showed her the sketches which he brought from his walks, and used to finish at home; but Meg held them very cheap. What signified, she said, a wheen bits of paper, wi' black and white scarts upon them, that he ca'd bushes, and trees, and craigs?— Couldna he paint them wi' green, and blue, and yellow, like the other folk? "Ye will never mak Ye sul! your bread that way, Maister Francie. munt up a muckle square of canvas, like Dick Tinto, and paint folk's ainsells, that they like muckle better to see than ony craig in the haill water; and I wadna muckle objeck even to some of the Wallers coming up and sitting to ye. They waste their time waur, I wis-and, I warrant, ye might mak a guinea a-head of them. Dick made twa, but he was an auld used hand, and folk maun creep before they gang.” In answer to these remonstrances, Tyrrel assured her, that the sketches with which he busied himself were held of such considerable value, that very often an artist in that line received much higher remuneration for these, than for portraits or colored drawings. He added, that they were often taken for the purpose of illustrating popular poems, and hinted as if he himself were engaged in some labor of that nature. FRANCIS TYRREL was, in the course of the next day, formally settled in his own old quarters, where he announced his purpose of remaining for several days. The old-established carrier of the place brought his fishing-rod and travelling trunk, with a letter to Meg, dated a week previously, desiring her to prepare to receive an old acquaintance. This annunciation, though something of the latest, Meg received with great complacency, observing, it was a civil attention in Maister Tirl; and that John Hislop, though he Eagerly did Meg long to pour forth to Nelly was not just sae fast, was far surer than ony post Trotter, the fish-woman-whose cart formed the of them a', or express either. She also observed only neutral channel of communication between with satisfaction, that there was no gun-case the Auld Town and the Well, and who was in along with her guest's baggage; "for that weary favor with Meg, because, as Nelly passed gunning had brought him and her into troubledoor in her way to the Well, she always had the the lairds had cried out upon't, as if she made first choice of her fish,-the merits of her lodger her house a howff for common fowlers and poachas an artist. Luckie Dods had, in.truth, been so ers; and yet how could she hinder twa daft hemmuch annoyed and bullied, as it were, with the pie callants from taking a start and an owerreport of clever persons, accomplished in all sorts loup? * They had been ower the neighbor's of excellence, arriving day after day at the Hotel, ground they had leave on up to the march, and that she was overjoyed in this fortunate opportuthey werena just to ken meiths when the moor-nity to triumph over them in their own way; and fowl got up." In a day or two, her guest fell into such quiet and solitary habits, that Meg, herself the most restless and bustling of human creatures, began to be vexed, for want of the trouble which she expected to have had with him, experiencing, perhaps, the same sort of feeling from his extreme and passive indifference on all points, that a good horseman has for the over-patient steed, which he can scarce feel under him. His walks were devoted to the most solitary recesses among the neighboring woods and hills-his fishing-rod was often left behind him, or carried merely as an apology for sauntering slowly by the banks of some little brooklet-and his success so indifferent, that Meg said the piper of Peebles + would have caught a creelfu' before Maister Francie had made out the half dozen; so that he was obliged, for peace's sake, to vindicate his character, by killing a handsome salmon. The usual expression for a slight encroachment on a neighbor's property. The said piper was famous at the mystery. it may be believed, that the excellences of her lodger lost nothing by being trumpeted through her mouth. "I maun hae the best of the cart, Nelly-if you and me can gree-for it is for ane of the best of painters. Your fine folk down yonder would gie their lugs to look at what he has been doinghe gets gowd in goupins, for three downright scarts and tree cross anes-And he is no an ungrateful loon, like Dick Tinto, that had nae sooner my good five-and-twenty shillings in his pocket. than he gaed down to birl it awa at their bonny hottle yonder, but a decent quiet lad, that kens when he is weel aff, and bides still at the ank howff-And what for no?-Tell them all this, and hear what they will say till't." "Indeed, mistress, I can tell ye that already, without stirring my shanks for the matter," answered Nelly Trotter; "they will e'en say that ye are ae auld fule, and me anither, that may hae some judgment in cockbree or in scate-rumples, but mauna fash our beards about ony thing else." "Wad they say sae, the frontless villains? and me been a housekeeper this thirty year!" exclaimed Meg; "I wadna hae them say it to my face! But I am no speaking without warrantfor what an I had spoken to the minister, lass, and shown him ane of the loose scarts of paper that Maister Tirl leaves fleeing about his room? --and what an he had said he had kend Lord Bidmore gie five guineas for the waur on't? and a' the warld kens he was lang tutor in the Bidmore family." "Troth," answered her gossip, "I doubt if I was to tell a' this they would hardly believe me, mistress; for there are sae mony judges amang them, and they think sae muckle of themsells, and sae little of other folk, that unless ye were to send down the bit picture, I am no thinking they will believe a word that I can tell them." "No believe what an honest woman says-let abee to say twa o' them?" exclaimed Meg; "O the unbelieving generation!-Weel, Nelly, since my back is up, ye sall tak down the picture, or sketching, or whatever it is (though I thought sketchers* were aye made of airn), and shame wi' it the conceited crew that they are.-But see ■ and bring't back wi' ye again, Nelly, for it's a thing of value; and trustna it out o' your hand, that I charge you, for I lippen no muckle to their honesty.-And Nelly, ve may tell them he has an illustrated poem illustrated mind the word, Nelly-that is to be stuck as fou o' the like o' that, as ever turkey was larded wi' dabs o' bacon. Thus furnished with her credentials, and acting part of a herald betwixt two hostile countries, honest Nelly switched her little fish-cart downwards to St. Ronan's Well. In watering-places, as in other congregated assemblies of the human species, various kinds of government have been dictated by chance, caprice, or convenience; but in almost all of them, some sort of direction has been adopted, to prevent the consequences of anarchy. Sometimes the sole power has been vested in a Master of Ceremonies; but this, like other despotisms, has been of late unfashionable, and the powers of this great officer have been much limited even at Bath, where Nash once ruled with undisputed supremacy. Committees of management, chosen from among the most steady guests, have been in general resorted to as a more liberal mode of sway, and to such was confided the administration of the infant republic of St. Ronan's Well. This little Senate, it must be observed, had the more difficult task in discharging their high duties, that, like those of other republics, their subjects were divided into two jarring and contending factions, who every day ate, drank, danced, and made merry together, hating each other all the while with all the animosity of political party, endeavoring by every art, to secure the adherence of each guest who arrived, and ridiculing the absurdities and follies of each other, with all the wit and bitterness of which they were masters. *Skates are called sketchers in Scotland. At the head of one of these parties was no less a personage than Lady Penelope Penfeather, to whom the establishment owed its fame, nay, its existence; and whose influence could only have been balanced by that of the Lord of the Manor, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, or, as he was called usually by the company who affected what Meg called knapping English, The Squire, who was leader of the opposite faction. The rank and fortune of the lady, her pretensions to beauty as well as talent (though the former was something faded), and the consequence which she arrogated to herself as a woman of fashion, drew around her painters, and poets, and philosophers, and men of science, and lecturers, and foreign adventurers, et hoc genus omne. On the contrary, the Squire's influence, as a man of family and property in the immediate neighborhood, who actually kept greyhounds and pointers, and at least talked of hunters and of racers, ascertained him the support of the whole class of bucks, half and whole bred, from the three next counties; and if more inducements were wanting, he could grant his favorites the privilege of shooting over his moors, which is enough to turn the head of a young Scottishman at any time. Mr. Mowbray was of late especially supported in his pre-eminence, by a close alliance with Sir Bingo Binks, a sapient English Baronet, who, ashamed, as many thought, to return to his own country, had set him down at the well of St. Ronan's, to enjoy the blessing which the Caledonian Hymen had so kindly forced on him, in the person of Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg. As this gentleman actually drove a regular-built mail-coach, not in any respect differing from that of his Majesty, only that it was more frequently overturned, his influence with a certain set was irresistible, and the Squire of St. Ronan's, having the better sense of the two, contrived to reap the full benefit of the consequence attached to his friendship. These two contending parties were so equally balanced, that the predominance of the influence of either was often determined by the course of the sun. Thus, in the morning and forenoon, when Lady Penelope led forth her herd to lawn and shady bower, whether to visit some ruined monument of ancient times, or eat their pic-nic luncheon, to spoil good paper with bad drawings, and good verses with repetition-in a word, "To rave, recite, and madden round the land," her ladyship's empire over the loungers seemed uncontrolled and absolute, and all things were engaged in the tourbillon, of which she formed the pivot and centre. Even the hunters, and shooters, and hard drinkers, were sometimes fain reluctantly to follow in her train, sulking, and quizzing, and flouting at her solemn festivals, be sides encouraging the younger nymphs to giggle when they should have looked sentimental. But after dinner the scene was changed, and her ladyship's sweetest smiles, and softest invitations, |