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THE author has stated in the preface to the Chronicles of the Canongate, 1897, that he received from an anonymous correspondent an account of the incident upon which the following story is founded. He is now at liberty to say, that the information was conveyed to him by a late amiable and ingenious lady, whose wit and power of remarking and judging of character still survive in the memory of her friends. Her maiden name was Miss Helen Lawson, of Girthhead, and she was wife of Thomas Goldie, Esq., of Craigmuie, Commissary of Dumfries. Her communication was in these words:

"In short, every answer I received only tended to increase my regret, and raise my opinion of Helen Walker, who could unite so much prudence with so much heroic virtue." This narrative was enclosed in the following letter to the authot, without date or signature:

"SIR,-The occurrence just related happened to me 26 years ago. Helen Walker lies buried in the churchyara of Irongray, about six miles from Dumfries. I once proposed that a small monument should have been erected to commemorate so remarkable a character, but I now prefer leaving it to you to per

"I had taken for summer lodgings a cottage near the old Ab-petuate her memory in a more durable manner."
bey of Lincluden. It had formerly been inhabited by a lady
who had pleasure in embellishing cottages, which she found
perhaps homely and even poor enough; mine therefore possessed
many marks of taste and elegance unusual in this species of
habitation in Scotland, where a cottage is literally what its name
declares.
"From my cottage door I had a partial view of the old Abbey
before mentioned; some of the highest arches were seen over,
and some through, the trees scattered along a lane which led
down to the ruin, and the strange fantastic shapes of almost all
those old ashes accorded wonderfully well with the building
they at once shaded and ornamented.

The reader is now able to judge how far the author has improved upon, or fallen short of, the pleasing and interesting sketch of high principle and steady affection displayed by Helen Walker, the prototype of the fictitious Jeanie Deans. Mrs. Goldie was unfortunately dead before the author had given his name to these volumes, so he lost all opportunity of thanking that lady for her highly valuable communication. But her daughter, Miss Goldie, obliged him with the following additional information.

"The Abbey itself from my door was almost on a level with the cottage; but on coming to the end of the lane, it was disso indissolubly connect her sister's disgrace with her own exercovered to be situated on a high perpendicular bank, at the foot of which run the clear waters of the Cluden, where they hasten to join the sweeping Nith,

Whose distant roaring swells and fa's.'

"Mrs. Goldie endeavoured to collect further particulars of Helen Walker, particularly concerning her journey to London, but found this nearly impossible; as the natural dignity of her character, and a high sense of family respectability, made her tions, that none of her neighbours durst ever question her upon the subject. One old woman, a distant relation of Helen's, and who is still living, says she worked an harvest with her. but that she never ventured to ask her about her sister's trial, or her journey to London; 'Helen,' she added,' was a lofty body, and used a high style o' language. The same old woman says, that every year Helen received a cheese from her sister, who lived at Whitehaven, and that she always sent a liberal portion of it to herself or to her father's family. This fact, though-trivial in itself, strongly marks the affection subsisting between the two sisters, and the complete conviction on the mind of the crimifrom any want of feeling, which another small but characteristic trait will further illustrate. A gentleman, a relation of Mrs. Goldie's, who happened to be travelling in the North of England, on coming to a small inn, was shown into the parlour by a female servant, who, after cautiously shutting the door, said, Sir, I'm Nelly Walker's sister.' Thus practically showing that she considered her sister as better known by her high conduct, than even herself by a different kind of celebrity.

As my kitchen and parlour were not very far distant, I one day went in to purchase some chickens from a person I heard offer ing them for sale. It was a little, rather stout-looking woman, who seemed to be between seventy and eighty years of age; she was almost covered with a tartan plaid, and her cap had over it a black silk hood, tied under the chin, a piece of dress still much in use among elderly women of that rank of life in Scot-nal, that her sister had acted solely from high principle, and not land; her eyes were dark, and remarkably lively and intelligent; I entered into conversation with her, and began by asking how she maintained herself, &c.

"She said that in winter she footed stockings, that is, knit feet to country people's stockings, which bears about the same relation to stocking-knitting that cobbling does to shoe-making, and is of course both less profitable and less dignified; she likewise taught a few children to read, and in summer she whiles reared a few chickens.

"I said I could venture to guess from her face she had never been married. She laughed heartily at this, and said, 'I maun hae the queerest face that ever was seen, that ye could guess that. Now, do tell me, madam, how ye cam to think sae?' I told her it was from her cheerful disengaged countenance. She said, 'Mem, have ye na far mair reason to be happy than me, wi'a gude husband and a fine family o' bairns, and plenty o' every thing? for me, I'm the puirest o' a' puir bodies, and can hardly contrive to keep mysell alive in a' the wee bits o' ways I hae tell't ye. After some more conversation, during which I was more and more pleased with the old woman's sensible conversation, and the natvete of her remarks, she rose to go away, when I asked her name. Her countenance suddenly clouded, and she said gravely, rather colouring, My name is Helen Walker; but your husband kens weel about me.'

"In the evening I related how much I had been pleased, and inquired what was extraordinary in the history of the poor woman. Mr. said, there were perhaps few more remarkable people than Helen Walker. She had been left an orphan, with the charge of a sister considerably younger than herself, and who was educated and maintained by her exertions. Attached to her by so many ties, therefore, it will not be easy to conceive her feelings, when she found that this only sister must be tried by the laws of her country for child-murder, and upon being called as principal witness against her. The counsel for the prisoner told Helen, that if she could declare that her sister had made any preparations, however slight, or had given her any intimation on the subject, that such a statement would save her sister's life, as she was the principal witness against her. Helen said, 'It is impossible for me to swear to a falsehood; and, whatever may be the consequence, I will give my oath ac cording to my conscience.'

"The trial came on, and the sister was found guilty and condemned; but, in Scotland, six weeks must elapse between the sentence and the execution, and Helen Walker availed herself of it. The very day of her sister's condemnation, she got a petition drawn up, stating the peculiar circumstances of the case, and that very night set out on foot to London.

"Without introduction or recommendation, with her simple (perhaps ill-expressed) petition, drawn up by some inferior clerk of the court, she presented herself, in her tartan plaid and coun: try attire, to the late Duke of Argyle, who immediately procured the pardon she petitioned for, and Helen returned with it, on foot, just in time to save her sister.

Mrs. Goldie was extremely anxious to have a tombstone and an inscription upon it, erected in Irongray churchyard; and if Sir Walter Scott will condescend to write the last, a little subscription could be easily raised in the immediate neighbourhood, and Mrs. Goldie's wish be thus fulfilled."

It is scarcely necessary to add, that the request of Miss Goldie will be most willingly complied with, and without the necessity of any tax on the public. Nor is there much occasion to repeat how much the author conceives himself obliged to his unknown correspondent, who thus afforded him a theme affording such a pleasing view of the moral dignity of virtue, though unaided by birth, beauty, or talent. If the picture has suffered in the execution, it is from the failure of the author's powers to present in detail the same simple and striking portrait, exhibited in Mrs. Goldie's letter.

ABBOTSFORD, April 1, 1830.

TO THE BEST OF PATRONS,

A PLEASED AND INDULGENT READER,
JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM
WISHES HEALTH, AND INCREASE, AND CONTENTMENT.
COURTEOUS READER,

IF ingratitude comprehendeth every vice, surely so foul a stain worst of all beseemeth him whose life has been devoted to instructing youth in virtue and in humane letters. Therefore have I chosen, in this prolegomenon, to unload my burden of thanka at thy feet, for the favour with which thou hast kindly entertained the Tales of my Landlord. Certes, if thou hast chuckled over their facetious and festivous descriptions, or hast thy mind filled with pleasure at the strange and pleasant turns of fortune which they record, verily, I have also simpered when I beheld a second story with attics, that has arisen on the basis of my small domicile at Gandercleugh, the walls having been aforehand pronounced by Deacon Barrow to be capable of enduring such an elevation. Nor has it been without delectation, that have endued a new coat, (snuff brown, and with metal buttons having all nether garments corresponding thereto. We do there. fore lie, in respect of each other, under a reciprocation of bene fits, whereof those received by me being the most solid, (in respect that a new house and a new coat are better than a new tale and an old song,) it is meet that my gratitude should be expressed with the louder voice and more preponderating vehe in words only, but in act and deed. It is with this sole purpose, and disclaiming all intention of purchasing that pendicle of poffle of land called the Carlinescroft, lying adjacent to my gar den, and measuring seven acres, three roods, and four perches, that I have committed to the eyes of those who thought well of the former tomes, these four additional volumes of the Tales of my Landlord. Not the less, if Peter Prayfort be minded to sell the said poffle, it is at his own choice to say so; and, peradventure, he may meet with a purchaser: unless (gentle reader) the pleasing portraictures of Peter Pattieson, now giver anto thos in particular, and unto the public in general, shall have lost thou

"I was so strongly interested by this narrative, that I deter-mence. And how should it be so expressed?-Certainly not mined immediately to prosecute my acquaintance with Helen Walker; but as I was to leave the country next day, I was obliged to defer it till my return in spring, when the first walk 1 took was to Helen Walker's cottage.

"She had died a short time before. My regret was extreme, and I endeavoured to obtain some account of Helen from an old woman who inhabited the other end of her cottage. I inquired if Helen ever spoke of her past history, her journey to London, &c. 'Na,' the old woman said, 'Helen was a wily body, and whene'er ony o' the neebors asked any thing about it, she aye turned the conversation.'

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favour in thine eyes, whereof I am no way distrustful. And so much confidence do I repose in thy continued favour, that, should thy lawful occasions call thee to the town of Gandercleugh, a place frequented by most at one time or other in their lives, I will enrich thine eyes with a sight of those precious manuscripts whence thou hast derived so much delectation thy nose with a snuff from my mull, and thy palate with a dram from my bottle of strong waters, called, by the learned of Gan dercleugh, the Dominie's Dribble o' Drink.

It is there, O highly esteemed and beloved reader, thou wilt be able to bear testimony, through the medium of thine own senses, against the children of vanity, who have sought to identify thy friend and servant with I know not what inditer of vain fables; who hath cumbered the world with his devices, but shrunken from the responsibility thereof. Truly, this hath been well termed a generation hard of faith; since what can a man do to assert his property in a printed tome, saving to put his name in the title-page thereof, with his description, or designation, as the lawyers term it, and place of abode? Of a surety I would have such sceptics consider how they themselves would brook to have their works ascribed to others, their names and professions imputed as forgeries, and their very existence brought into question; even although, peradventure, it may be it is of little consequence to any but themselves, not only whether they are living or dead, but even whether they ever lived or no. Yet have my maligners carried their uncharitable censures still further. These cavillers have not only doubted mine identity, although thus plainly proved, but they have impeaclied my veracity and the authenticity of my historical narratives! Verily, I can only say in answer, that I have been cautelous in quoting mine authorities. It is true, indeed, that if I had hearkened with only one ear, I might have rehearsed my tale with more acceptation from those who love to hear but half the truth. It is, it may hap, not altogether to the discredit of our kindly uation of Scotland, that we are apt to take an interest, warm, yea partial, in the deeds and sentiments of our forefathers. He whom his adversa ries describe as a perjured prelatist, is desirous that his prede cessors should be held moderate in their power, and just in their execution of its privileges, when, truly, the unimpassioned pe ruser of the Annals of those times shall deem them sanguinary, violent, and tyrannical. Again, the representatives of the suf fering nonconformists desire that their ancestors, the Cameronians, shall be represented not simply as honest enthusiasts, op. pressed for conscience-sake, but persons of fine breeding, and valiant heroes. Truly, the historian cannot gratify these predilections. He must needs describe the cavaliers as proud and high-spirited, cruel, remorseless, and vindictive; the suffering party as honourably tenacious of their opinions under persecution; their own tempers being, however, sullen, fierce, and rude; their opinions absurd and extravagant, and their whole course of conduct that of persons whom hellebore would better have suited than prosecutions unto death for high-treason. Natheless, while such and so preposterous were the opinions on either side, there were, it cannot be doubted, men of virtue and worth on both, to entitle either party to claim merit from its martyrs. has been demanded of me, Jedediah Cleishbotham, by what right I am entitled to constitute myself an impartial judge of their discrepances of opinions, seeing (as it is stated) that I must necessarily have descended from one or other of the contending parties, and be, of course, wedded for better or for worse, according to the reasonable practice of Scotland, to its dogmata, or opinions, and bound, as it were, by the tie matrimonial, or, to speak without metaphor, ez jure sanguinis, to maintain them in preference to all others. But, nothing denying the rationality of the rule, which calls on all now living to rule their political and religious opinions by those of their great-grandfathers, and inevitable as seems the one or the other horn of the dilemma betwixt which my adversaries conceive they have pinned me to the wall, I yet spy some means of refuge, and claim a privilege to write and speak of both parties with impartiality. For, O ye powers of logic! when the Prelatists and Presbyterians of old times went together by the ears in this unlucky country, my ancestor (venerated be his memory!) was one of the people called Quakers, and suffered severe handling from either side, even to the extenuation of his purse and the incarceration of his person.

Craving thy pardon, gentle Reader, for these few words concerning me and mine, I rest, as above expressed, thy sure and obligated friend,*

GANDERCLEUGH, this 131 of April, 1818.

J. C.

It is an old proverb, that "many a true word is spoken in jest." The existence of Walter Scott, third son of Sir William Scott of Harden, is instructed, as it is called, by a charter under the great seal, Domino WilTelmo Scott de Harden Militi, et Waltero Scott suo filio legitimo tertio genito, terraram de Roberton. The munificent old gentleman left all his four sons considerable estates, and settled those of Eilrig and Raeburn, together with valuable possessions around Leasudden, upon Walter, his third son, who is ancestor of the Scotts of Raeburn, and of the Author of Waverley. He appears to have become a convert to the doctrine of the Auakers, or Friends, and a great assertor of their peculiar tenets. This was probably at the time when George Fox, the celebrated apostle of the ct, made an expedition into the south of Scotland about 1657, on which ccasion. he boasts, that "as he first set his horse's feet upon Scottish ground, he felt the seed of grace to sparkle about him like innumerable sparks of fire." Upon the same occasion, probably, Sir Gideon Scott of Highchester, second son of Sir William, immediate elder brother Walter, and ancestor of the author's friend and kirsman, the preBent representative of the family of Harden, also embraced the tenets of Quaterim. This last convert, Gideon, entered into a controversy with the Rev. James Kirkton, author of the Secret and True History of me Church of Scotland, which is noticed by my ingenious friend Mr. Charles Kirkpatricke Sharpe, in his valuable and curious edition of that work, 4to, 1817. Sir William Scott, eldest of the brothers, remained, said the defection of his two younger brethren, an orthodox member of the Presbyterian Church, and used such means for reclaiming Walof Raeburn from his heresy, az savoured far more of persecution han persuasion. In this he was assisted by MacDougal of Makerston, ith See Douglas's Baronsge, page 215.

briner to Isabella MacDougal, the wife of the sald Walter, and whe like her husband, had conformed to the Quaker tenets. The interest possessed by Sir William Scott and Makerston was power ful enough to procure the two following acts of the Privy Council of Scot land, directed against Walter of Raeburn as an heretic and convert to then in of hired first in Edinburgh jail, and then in that of Jedburgh, and his children to be taken by force from them, besides the assignment of a sum for their maintenance, sufficien the society and direction of their parents, and educated at a distance from in those times to be burdensome to a moderate Scottish estate." "Apud Edin. vigesimo Junil 1665 tion that Scott of Raeburn, and Isobel Mackdougall, his wife, being "The Lords of his Magesty's Privy Council having receaved informa infected with the error of Quakerism, doe endeavour, to breid and traine up William, Walter, and Isobel Scotts, their children, in the same profession, doe therefore give order and command to Sir William Scott of Harden, the said Raeburn's brother, to seperat and take away the saids children from the custody and society of the saids parents, and to cause educat and bring them up in his owne house, or any other convenient place, and ordaines letters to be direct at the said Sir Wil liam's instance against Raeburn, for a maintenance to the saids chil dren, and that the said Sir Wm. give ane account of his diligence with all conveniency, "sutava ja fun Lead "Edinburgh, 5th July 1666. "Anent a petition presented be Sir Wm. Scout of Harden, for himself and in name and behalf of the three children of Walter Scott of Raeburn, his brother, showing that the Lords of Connell, by ane act of the 22d day of Junii 1665, did grant power and warrand to the petition er, to separat and take away Raeburn's children, from his family and education, and to breed them in some convenient place, where they might be free from all 'nfection in their younger years, from the princ palls of Quakerism, and, for maintenance of the saids children, did ordain letters to be direct against Raeburn; and, seeing the Petitioner, in obedience to the sail order, did take away the saids children, being two sonnes and a daughter, and after some paines taken upon them in his owne family, hes sent them to the city of Glasgow, to be bread religion, and that it is necessary the Councill determine what shall at schooles, and there to be principled with the knowledge of the true ed, as likewise that Raeburn himself, being now in the Tolbooth of be the maintenance for which Raeburn's three children may be charg Edinburgh, where he dayley converses with all the Quakers who are prisoners there, and others who daily resort to them, whereby he is recovery, unlesse he be separat from such pernitious company, humbly hardened in his pernitious opinions and principles, without all hope of therefore, desyring that the Councell might determine upon the soume of money to be payed be Raeburn, for the education of his children, to the petitioner, who will be countable therefore; and that, in order to his conversion, the place of his imprisonment may be changed. The Lords of his Maj. Privy Councell having at length heard and considered the foresaid petition, doe modifie the soume of two thousand pounds Scots, to be payed yearly at the terme of Whitsunday be the said Waltainment and education of the said children, beginning the first termes ter Scott of Raeburn, furth of his estate to the petitioner, for the enter payment therof at Whitsunday last for the half year preceding, and so furth yearly, at the said terme of Whitsunday in tym comeing till transported from the tolbooth of Edinburgh to the prison of Jedburgh, furder orders; and ordaines the said Walter Scout of Raeburn to be where his friends and others may have occasion to convert him. And to the effect he may be secured from the practice of other Quakers, the said Lords doe hereby discharge the magistrates of Jedburgh to suffer any persons suspect of these principles to have access to him; and in case any contraveen, that they secure ther persons till they be therfore puniest; and ordaines letters to be direct heírupon in form, as effeirs." Both the sons, thus harshly separated from their father, proved good scholars. The eldest, William, who carried on the line of Raeburn, was, like his father, a deep Orientalist; the younger, Walter, became a good classical scholar, a great friend and correspondent of the cele brated Dr. Pitcairn, and a Jacobite so distinguished for zeal, that he made a voly never to shave his beard till the restoration of the exiled family. This last Walter Scott was the author's great grandfather. and excellent Society of Friends, through a proselyte of much more There is yet another link betwixt the author and the simple-minded importance than Walter Scott of Raeburn. The celebrated John Swinton of Swinton, xixth baron in descent of that ancient and once powerful family, was, with Sir William Lockhart of Lee, the person whom Cromwell chiefly trusted in the management of the Scottish affairs dur ing his usurpation. After the Restoration, Swinton was devoted as a victim to the new order of things, and was brought down in the same vessel which conveyed the Marquis of Argyle to Edinburgh, where that nobleman was tried and executed. Swinton was destined to the same fate. He had assumed the habit, and entered into the society of the Quakers, and appeared as one of their number before the Parliament of Scotland. He renounced all legal defence, though several pleas were open to him, and answered, in conformity to the principles of his sect, that at the time these crimes were imputed to him, he was in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity; but that God Almighty having since called him to the light, he saw and acknowledged these errors, ment of the Parliament, it should extend to life itself. and did not refuse to pay the forfeit of them, even though, in the Judg

Respect to fallen greatness, and to the patience and calm resignation change of fortune, found Swinton friends; family connexions, and with which a man once in high power expressed himself under such a some interested considerations of Middleton the commissioner, joined ment, and much dilapidation of his estates. It is said, that Swinton's to procure his safety, and he was dismissed, but after a long imprison admonitions, while confined in the Castle of Edinburgh, had a consi derable share in converting to the tenets of the Friends Colonel David Barclay, then lying there in garrison. This was the father of Robert Barclay, author of the celebrated Apology for the Quakers. It may be Wodrow, and other Presbyterian authors, who have detailed the suffer observed among the inconsistencies of human nature, that Kirkton, ings of their own sect for non-conformity with the established church, against the peaceful enthusiasts we have treated of, and some express censure the government of the time for not exerting the civil power particular chagrin at the escape of Swinton. Whatever might be his them faithfully till the close of his life. motives for assuming the tenets of the Friends, the old man retained

Swinton, as the Quaker was usually termed, was mother of Anne RuthJean Swinton, grand-daughter of Sir John Swinton, son of Judge erford, the author's mother.

And thus, as in the play of the Anti-Jacobin, the ghost of the author's clude, lest the reader should remonstrate that his desire to know the grandmother having arisen to speak the Epilogue, it is full time to con Author of Waverley never included a wish to be acquainted with b whole ancestry.

THE

HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN.

CHAPTER I.

BEING INTRODUCTORY.

FRERE.

intelligence from the mart of news:

The grand debate,
The popular harangue,-the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh,-I long to know them all
I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance again.'

It was a fine summer day, and our little school had obtained a half holiday, by the intercession of a goodhumoured visiter. I expected by the coach a new So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides number of an interesting periodical publication, and The Derby dilly, carrying six insides. walked forward on the highway to meet it, with the THE times have changed in nothing more (we fol- impatience which Cowper has described as actua low as we were wont the manuscript of Peter Patting the resident in the country when longing for tieson) than in the rapid conveyance of intelligence and communication betwixt one part of Scotland and another. It is not above twenty or thirty years, according to the evidence of many credible witnesses now alive, since a little miserable horse-cart, performing with difficulty a journey of thirty miles per diem, carried our mails from the capital of Scotland to its extremity. Nor was Scotland much more deficient in these accommodations, than our richer sister had been about eighty years before. Fielding, in his Tom Jones, and Farquhar, in a little farce called the Stage-Coach, have ridiculed the slowness of these vehicles of public accommodation. According to the latter authority, the highest bribe could only induce the coachman to promise to anticipate by half an hour the usual time of his arrival at the Bull and Mouth.

But in both countries these ancient, slow, and sure modes of conveyance, are now alike unknown: mailcoach races against mail-coach, and high-flyer against high-flyer, through the remote districts of Britain. And in our village alone, three post-coaches, and four coaches with men armed, and in scarlet cassocks, thunder through the streets each day, and rival in brilliancy and noise the invention of the celebrated tyrant:

Demens, qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen,

It was with such feelings that I eyed the approach of the new coach, lately established on our road, and known by the name of the Somerset, which, to say the truth, possesses some interest for me, even when it conveys no such important information. The distant tremulous sound of its wheels was heard just as I gained the summit of the gentle ascent, called the Goslin-brae, from which you command an extensive view down the valley of the river Gander. The public road, which comes up the side of that stream, and crosses it at a bridge about a quarter of a mile from the place where I was standing, runs partly through enclosures and plantations, and partly through open pasture land. It is a childish amusement perhaps, but my life has been spent with children, and why should not my pleasures be like theirs?-childish as it is then, I must own I have had great pleasure in watching the approach of the carriage, where the openings of the road permit it to be seen. The gay Ære et cornipedum pulsu, simularát, equorum. glancing of the equipage, its diminished and toy-like appearance at a distance, contrasted with the rapidity Now and then, to complete the resemblance, and of its motion, its appearance and disappearance at to correct the presumption of the venturous cha- intervals, and the progressively increasing sounds rioteers, it does happen that the career of these dash- that announce its nearer approach, have all to the ing rivals of Salmoneus meets with as undesirable idle and listless spectator, who has nothing more and violent a termination as that of their prototype. important to attend to, something of awakening inIt is on such occasions that the Insides and Outsides, terest. The ridicule may attach to me, which is to use the apropriate vehicular phrases, have reason to flung upon many an honest citizen, who watches rue the exchange of the slow and safe motion of the from the window of his villa the passage of the stageancient Fly-coaches, which, compared with the cha-coach; but it is a very natural source of amusement riots of Mr. Palmer, so ill deserve the name. The ancient vehicle used to settle quietly down, like a ship scuttled and left to sink by the gradual influx of the On the present occasion, however, fate had decreed waters, while the modern is smashed to pieces with that I should not enjoy the consummation of the the velocity of the same vessel hurled against break- amusement by seeing the coach rattle past me as I ers, or rather with the fury of a bomb bursting at the sat on the turf, and hearing the hoarse grating voice conclusion of its career through the air. The late of the guard as he skimmed forth for my grasp the ingenious Mr. Pennant, whose humour it was to set expected packet, without the carriage checking its his face in stern opposition to these speedy convey-course for an instant. I had seen the vehicle thunder ances, had collected, I have heard, a formidable list down the hill that leads to the bridge with more than of such casualties, which, joined to the imposition its usual impetuosity, glittering all the while by of innkeepers, whose charges the passengers had no flashes from a cloudy tabernacle of the dust which i time to dispate, the sauciness of the coachman, and had raised, and leaving a train behind it on the road the uncontrolled and despotic authority of the tyrant resembling a wreath of summer mist. But it did not called the Guard, held forth a picture of horror, to appear on the top of the nearer bank within the usual which murder, theft, fraud, and peculation, lent all space of three minutes, which frequent observation their dark colouring. But that which gratifies the had enabled me to ascertain was the medium time impatience of the human disposition will be practised for crossing the bridge and mounting the ascent. in the teeth of danger, and in defiance of admonition; When double that space had elapsed, I became alarm. and, in despite of the Cambrian antiquary, mail- ed, and walked hastily forward. As I came in sight: coaches not only roll their thunders round the base of the bridge, the cause of delay was too manifest, for of Penman-Maur and Cader-Edris, but the Somerset had made a summerset in good earnest, and overturned so completely, that it was literally resting upon the ground, with the roof undermost and the four wheels in the air. The “exertions of

Frighted Skiddaw hears afar

The rattling of the unscythed car.

And perhaps the echoes of Ben-Nevis may soon be awakened by the bugle, not of a warlike chieftain, but of the guard of a mail-coach.

notwithstanding, and many of those who join in the laugh are perhaps not unused to resort to it in secret.

* His Honour Gilbert Goslinn of Ganderclough; for lovətə be precise in matters of importance.-J. C.

the guard and coachraan," both of whom were grate- | those means of recommendation which are necessary fully commemorated in the newspapers, having suc- passports to the hospitality of an inn. ceeded in disentangling the horses by cutting the harness, were now proceeding to extricate the insides by a sort of summary and Cæsarean process of delivery, forcing the hinges from one of the doors which they could not open otherwise. In this manner were two disconsolate damsels set at

womb of the leathern convenient liberty from the

diately began to settle their clothes, which were a little deranged, as may be presumed, I concluded they had received no injury, and did not venture to obtrude my services at their toilette, for which, I understand, I have since been reflected upon by the fair sufferers. The outsides, who must have been discharged from their elevated situation by a shock resembling the springing of a mine, escaped, nevertheless, with the usual allowance of scratches and bruises, excepting three, who, having been pitched into the river Gander, were dimly seen contending with the tide, like the relics of Æneas's shipwreck,

Rari apparent nantes in gurgite vasto.

I applied my poor exertions where they seemed to be most needed, and with the assistance of one or two of the company who had escaped unhurt, easily succeeded in fishing out two of the unfortunate passengers, who were stout active young fellows; and but for the preposterous length of their great-coats, and the equally fashionable latitude and longitude of their Wellington trousers, would have required little assistance from any one. The third was sickly and elderly, and might have perished but for the efforts used to preserve him.

When the two great-coated gentlemen had extricated themselves from the river, and shaken their ears like huge water-dogs, a violent altercation ensued betwixt them and the coachman and guard, concerning the cause of their overthrow. In the course of the squabble, I observed that both my new acquaintances belonged to the law, and that their professional sharpness was likely to prove an over-match for the surly and official tone of the guardians of the vehicle, The dispute ended in the guard assuring the passengers that they should have seats in a heavy coach which would pass that spot in less than half an hour, oroviding it were not full. Chance seemed to favour this arrangement, for when the expected vehicle arrived, there were only two places occupied in a carriage which professed to carry six. The two ladies who had been disinterred out of the fallen vehicle were readily admitted, but positive objections were stated by those previously in possession to the admittance of the two lawyers, whose wetted garments being much of the nature of well-soaked spunges, there was every reason to believe they would refund a considerable part of the water they had collected, to the inconvenience of their fellow-passengers. On the other hand, the lawyers rejected a seat on the roof, alleging that they had only taken that station for pleasure for one stage, but were entitled in all respects to free egress and regress from the interior, to which their contract positively referred. After some altercation, in which something was said upon the edict Naula, caupones, stabularii, the coach went off, leaving the learned gentlemen to abide by their action of damages

I ventured to call the attention of the two dashing young blades, for such they seemed, to the desolate condition of their fellow-traveller. They took the hint with ready good-nature.

"O, true, Mr. Dunover," said one of the youngsters,

"you must not remain on the pavé here; you must go

and have some dinner with us-Halkit and I must have a post-chaise to go on, at all events, and we will set you down wherever suits you best."

The poor man, for such his dress, as well as his diffidence, bespoke him, made the sort of acknowledging bow by which says a Scotchman, "It's too much honour for the like of me;" and followed humbly behind his gay patrons, all three besprinkling the dusty road as they walked along with the moisture of their drenched garments, and exhibiting the singular and somewhat ridiculous appearance of three persons suffering from the opposite extreme of humidity, while the summer sun was at its height, and every thing else around them had the expression of heat and drought. The ridicule did not escape the young gentlemen themselves, and they had made what might be received as one or two tolerable jests on the subject before they had advanced far on their peregri nation.

"We cannot complain, like Cowley," said one of them, "that Gideon's fleece remains dry, while all around is moist; this is the reverse of the miracle."

"We ought to be received with gratitude in this good town; we bring a supply of what they seem to need most," said Halkit.

"And distribute it with unparalleled generosity," replied his companion; "performing the part of three water-carts for the benefit of their dusty roads." "We come before them, too," said Halkit, "in full professional force-counsel and agent"

"And client," said the young advocate, looking behind him. And then added, lowering his voice "that looks as if he had kept such dangerous company too long."

It was, indeed, too true, that the humble follower of the gay young men had the threadbare appearance of a worn-out litigant, and I could not but smile at the conceit, though anxious to conceal my mirth from the object of it..

When we arrived at the Wallace Inn, the elder of the Edinburgh gentlemen, and whom I understood to be a barrister, insisted that I should remain and take part of their dinner; and their inquiries and demands speedily put my landlord and his whole family in motion to produce the best cheet which the larder and cellar afforded, and proceed to cook it to the best advantage, a science in which our entertainers seemed to be admirably skilled. In other respects they were lively young men, in the hey-day of youth and good spirits, playing the part which is common to the higher classes of the law at Edinburgh, and which nearly resembles that of the young templars in the days of Steele and Addison. An air of giddy gayety mingled with the good sense, taste, and information which their conversation exhibited; and it seemed to be their object to unite the character of men of fashion and lovers of the polite arts. A fine gentleman, bred up in the thorough idleness and inanity of pursuit, which I understand is absolutely They immediately applied to me to guide them to necessary to the character in perfection, might in all the next village and the best inn; and from the ac- probability have traced a tinge of professional pedancount I gave them of the Wallace-Head, declared try which marked the barrister in spite of his efforts, they were much better pleased to stop there than to and something of active bustle in his companion, and go forward upon the terms of that impudent scoun- would certainly have detected more than a fashionadrel the guard of the Somerset. All that they now ble mixture of information and animated interest in wanted was a lad to carry their travelling bags, who the language of both. But to me, who had no prewas easily procured from an adjoining cottage; and tensions to be so critical, my companions seemed to they prepared to walk forward, when they found there form a very happy mixture of good-breeding and libewas another passenger in the same deserted situa- ral information, with a disposition to lively rattle, tion with themselves. This was the elderly and sick-pun, and jest, amusing to a grave man, because it is ly-looking person, who had been precipitated into the iver along with the two young lawyers. He, it seems, had been too modest to push his own plea against The coachman when he saw that of his betters reject ed, and now remained behind with a look of timid anxiety, plainly intimating that he was deficient in

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what he himself can least easily command.

The thin pale-faced man, whom their good-nature had brought into their society, looked out of place, as well as out of spirits; sate on the edge of his seat, and kept the chair at two feet distance from the table thus incommoding himself considerably in conveying

the victuals to his mouth, as if by way of penance for partaking of them in the company of his superiors. A short time after dinner, declining all entreaty to partake of the wine, which circulated freely round, he informed himself of the hour when the chaise had been ordered to attend; and saying he would be in readiness, modestly withdrew from the apartment. "Jack," said the barrister to his companion, "I remember that poor fellow's face; you spoke more truly than you were aware of; he really is one of my clients, poor man.'

"Poor man !" echoed Halkit-"I suppose you mean ne is your one and only client ?"

"That's not my fault, Jack," replied the other, whose name I discovered was Hardie. "You are to give me all your business, you know; and if you have none, the learned gentleman here knows nothing can come of nothing."

"You seem to have brought something to nothing though, in the case of that honest man. He looks as if he were just about to honour with his residence the HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN."

"You are mistaken-he is just delivered from it.Our friend here looks for an explanation. Pray, Mr. Pattieson, have you been in Edinburgh ?"

I answered in the affirmative. "Then you must have passed, occasionally at least, nough probably not so faithfully as I am doomed to Go, through a narrow intricate passage, leading out of the north-west corner of the Parliament Square, and passing by a high and antique building, with turrets and iron grates,

Making good the saying odd,

Near the church and far from God"

Mr. Halkit broke in upon his learned counsel, to contribute his moiety to the riddle-" Having at the door the sign of the Red Man"

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And being on the whole," resumed the counsellor, interrupting his friend in his turn, a sort of place where misfortune is happily confounded with guilt, where all who are in wish to get out"

And where none who have the good luck to be out, wish to get in," added his companion.

"I conceive you, gentlemen," replied I; "you mean the prison."

The prison," added the young lawyer-"You have -the very reverend Tolbooth itself; and let me you, you are obliged to us for describing it with much modesty and brevity; for with whatever Amplifications we might have chosen to decorate the subject, you lay entirely at our mercy, since the Fathers Conscript of our city have decreed, that the venerable edifice itself shall not remain in existence to confirm or to confute us."

"Then the Tolbooth of Edinburgh is called the Heart of Mid-Lothian ?" said I.

So termed and reputed, I assure you." "I think," said I, with the bashful diffidence with which a man lets slip a pun in the presence of his superiors, "the metropolitan county may, in that case, be said to have a sad heart."

"Right as my glove, Mr. Pattieson," added Mr. Hardie; "and a close heart, and a hard heart-Keep up, Jack."

it

And a wicked heart, and a poor heart," answered Halkit, doing his best.

"And yet it may be called in some sort a strong heart, and a high heart," rejoined the advocate. "You see I can put you both out of heart."

"I have played all my hearts," said the younger gentleman.

"Then we'll have another lead," answered his companion.-"And as to the old and condemned Tolbooth, what pity the same honour cannot be done to it as has been done to many of its inmates. Why should not the Tolbooth have its 'Last Speech, Confession, and Dying Words? The old stones would be just as conscious of the honour as many a poor devil who has dangled like a tassel at the west end of it, while the hawkers were shouting a confession the culprit had never heard of."

"I am afraid," said I, "if I might presume to give my opinion, it would be a tale of unvaried sorrow and guilt."

"Not entirely, my friend," said Hardıe; "a prison is a world within itself, and has its own business. griefs, and joys, peculiar to its circle. Its inmates are sometimes short-lived, but so are soldiers on service; they are poor relatively to the world without but there are degrees of wealth and poverty among them, and so some are relatively rich also. They cannot stir abroad, but neither can the garrison of a besieged fort, or the crew of a ship at sea; and they are not under a dispensation quite so desperate as either, for they may have as much food as they have money to buy, and are not obliged to work whether they have food or not."

But what variety of incident," said I, (not without a secret view to my present task,) "could possibly be derived from such a work as you are pleased to talk of ?",

"Infinite," replied the young advocate. "Whatever of guilt, crime, imposture, folly, unheard-of misfortunes, and unlooked for change of fortune, can be found to chequer life, my Last Speech of the Tolbooth should illustrate with examples sufficient to gorge even the public's all-devouring appetite for the wonderful and horrible. The inventor of fictitious narratives has to rack his brains for means to diversify his tale, and after all can hardly hit upon characters or incidents which have not been used again and again, until they are familiar to the eye of the reader, so that the development, enlèvement, the desperate wound of which the hero, never dies, the burning fever from which the heroine is sure to recover, become a mere matter of course. I join with my honest friend Crabbe, and have an unlucky propensity to hope when hope is lost, and to rely upon the corkjacket, which carries the heroes of romance safe through all the billows of affliction." He then declaimed the following passage, rather with too much than too little emphasis:

"Much have I fear'd, but am no more afraid,
When some chaste beauty, by some wretch betray'd,
Is drawn away with such distracted speed,
That she anticipates a dreadful deed.
Not so do I-Let solid walls impound
The captive fair, and dig a moat around;
Let there be brazen locks and bars of steel,
And keepers cruel, such as never feel;
With not a single note the purse supply,
And when she begs, let men and maids deny
Be windows there from which she dares not fall,
And help so distant, 'tis in vain to call;
Still means of freedom will some Power devise,
And from the baffled ruffian snatch his prize.”

"The end of uncertainty," he concluded, "is the death of interest; and hence it happens that no one now reads novels."

"Hear him, ye gods!" returned his companion. "I assure you, Mr. Pattieson, you will hardly visit this learned gentleman, but you are likely to find the new novel most in repute lying on his table,-snugly intrenched, however, beneath Stair's Institutes, or an open volume of Morrison's Decisions."

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"Do I deny it?" said the hopeful jurisconsult, or wherefore should I, since it is well known these Dalilahs seduce my wisers and my betters? May they not be found lurking amidst the multiplied memorials of our most distinguished counsel, and even peeping from under the cushion of a judge's arm-chair? Our seniors at the bar, within the bar, and even on the bench, read novels; and, if not belied, some of them have written novels into the bargain. I only say, that I read from habit and from indolence, not from real interest; that, like Ancient Pistol devouring his leek, I read and swear till I get to the end of the narrative. But not so in the real records of human va garies-not so in the State Trials, or in the Books of Adjournal, where every now and then you read new pages of the human heart, and turns of fortune far beyond what the boldest novelist ever attempted to produce from the coinage of his brain."

And for such narratives," I asked, "you suppose the history of the Prison of Edinburgh might afford appropriate materials?",

In a degree unusually ample, my dear sir, said Hardie-"Fill your glass, however, in the mean while. Was it not for many years the place in which the Scottish parliament met? Was it no; James's

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