When the Doomster showed himself, a tall, haggard figure, arrayed in a fantastic garment of black and gray, passmented with silver lace, all fell back with a sort of instinctive horror, and made wide way for him to approach the foot of the table. As this office was held by the common executioner, men shouldered each other backward to avoid even the touch of his garment, and some were seen to brush their own clothes, which had accidentally become subject to such contamination. A sound went through the court, produced by each person drawing in their breath hard, as men do when they expect or witness what is frightful, and at the same time affecting. The caitiff villain yet seemed, amid his hardened brutality, to have some sense of his being the object of public detestation, which made him impatient of being in public, as birds of evil omen are anxious to escape from daylight, and from pure air. Repeating after the Clerk of Court, he gabbled over the words of the sentence, which condemned Euphemia Deans to be conducted back to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and detained there until Wednesday the day of and upon that day, betwixt the hours of two and four o'clock afternoon, to be conveyed to the common place of execution, and there hanged by the neck upon a gibbet. "And this," said the Doomster, aggravating his harsh voice, "I pronounce for doom." He vanished when he had spoken the last emphatic word, like a foul fiend after the purpose of his visitation has been accomplished; but the impression of horror, excited by his presence and his errand, remained upon the crowd of spectators. The unfortunate criminal, for so she must now be termed, with more susceptibility, and more irritable feelings than her father and sister, was found, in this emergence, to possess a considerable share of their courage. She had remained standing motionless at the bar while the sentence was pronounced, and was observed to shut her eyes when the Doomster appeared. But she was the first to break silence when that evil form had left his place. having bastard-bairns should be putten a stop toThere isna a hussy now on this side of thirty that you can bring within your doors, but there will be chields-writer-lads, prentice-lads, and what notcoming traiking after them for their destruction, and discrediting ane's honest house into the bargain-I hae nae patience wi' them." "Hout, neighbour," said Mrs. Howden, "we suld live and let live-we hae been young oursells, and we are no aye to judge the warst when lads and lasses forgather." Young oursells? and judge the warst ?" said Miss Damahoy. I am no sae auld as that comes to, Mrs. Howden; and as for what ye ca' the warst, I ken neither good nor bad about the matter, I thank my stars.' "Ye are thankfu' for sma' mercies, then," said Mrs. Howden; with a toss of her head; "and as for you and young-I trow ye were doing for yoursell at the last riding of the Scots Parliament, and that was in the gracious year seven, sae ye can be nae sic chicken at ony rate.' Plumdamas, who acted as squire of the body to the two contending dames, instantly saw the hazard of entering into such delicate points of chronology, and being a lover of peace and good neighbourhood, lost no time in bringing back the conversation to its ori ginal subject. "The Judge didna tell us a' he could hae tell'd us, if he had liked, about the application for pardon, neighbours," said he; "is there aye a wimple in a lawyer's clew; but it's a wee bit of a secret." "And what is't?-what is't, neighbour Plumdamas?" said Mrs. Howden and Miss Damahoy at once, the acid fermentation of their dispute being at once neutralized by the powerful alkali implied in the word secret. "Here's Mr. Saddletree can tell ye that better than me; for it was him that tauld me," said Plumdamas, as Saddletree came up, with his wife hanging on his arm, and looking very disconsolate. When the question was put to Saddletree, he looked "God forgive ye, my Lords," she said, "and dinna very scornful. They speak about stopping the frebe angry wi' me for wishing it-we a' need forgive-quency of child-murder," said he, in a contemptuous ness. As for myself I canna blame ye, for ye act up tone:"do ye think our auld enemies of England, as to your lights; and if I havena killed my poor infant, Glendook aye ca's them in his printed Statute-book, ye may witness a' that hae seen it this day, that I care a boddle whether we dinna kill ane anither, skin hae been the means of killing my gray-headed father and birn, horse and foot, man, woman, and bairns, -I deserve the warst frae man, and frae God too-all and síndry, omnes et singulos, as Mr. Crossmyloof But God is mair mercifu' to us than we are to each other." With these words the trial concluded. The crowd rushed, bearing forward and shouldering each other, out of the court, in the same tumultuary mode in which they had entered; and, in the excitation of animal motion and animal spirits, soon forgot whatever they had felt as impressive in the scene which they had witnessed. The professional spectators, whom habit and theory had rendered as callous to the distress of the scene as medical men are to those of a surgical operation, walked homeward in groups, discussing the general principle of the statute under which the young woman was condemned, the nature of the evidence, and the arguments of the counsel, without considering even that of the Judge as exempt from their criticism. The female spectators, more compassionate, were loud in exclamation against that part of the Judge's speech which seemed to cut off the hope of pardon. "Set him up, indeed," said Mrs. Howden, to tell us that the poor lassie behoved to die, when Mr. John Kirk, as civii a gentleman as is within the ports of the town, took the pains to prigg for her himsell." "Ay, but, neighbour," said Miss Damahoy, drawing up her thin maidenly form to its full height of prim dignity-"I really think this unnatural business of other world for the injustice you have done me in this." In short, Hume had only made a pretext of complying with the proposal, in order to have an opportunity of reviling the Judges to their faces, or giving them, in the phrase of his country, "a loan." He was hurried off amid the laughter of the audience, out the indecorous scene which had taken place contributed to the abolition of the office of Dempster. The sentence is now read over by the clerk of court, and the formality of pronouneing doom is altogether omitted. says? Na, na, it's no that hinders them frae pardoning the bit lassie. But here's the pinch of the plea. The king and queen are sae ill-pleased wi' that mistak about Porteous, that deil a kindly Scot will they pardon again, either by reprieve or remission, if the hail town c' Edinburgh should be a' hanged on ae tow." "Deil that they were back at their German kaleyard then, as my neighbour MacCroskie ca's it," said Mrs. Howden," and that's the way they're gaun to guide us!" "They say for certain," said Miss Damahoy, "that King George flang his periwig in the fire when he heard o' the Porteous mob." 'He has done that, they say," replied Saddletree, for less thing." A weel, said Miss Damahoy, "he might keep mair wit in his anger-but it's a' the better for his wigmaker, I'se warrant." The queen tore her biggonets for perfect anger,ye'll hae heard o' that too?" said Plumdamas. And the king, they say, kickit Sir Robert Walpole for no keeping down the mob of Edinburgn; but I dinna believe he wad behave sae ungenteel." "It's dooms truth, though," said Saddletree; "and he was for kicking the Duke of Argyle* too." This nobleman was very dear to his countrymen, who were for the ready zeal with which he asserted the rights of his pa tive country. This was never more conspicuous than in the matter of the Porteous Mob, when the Ministers brought in a violent and vindictive bill, for declaring the Lord Provost GI Edinburgh incapable of bearing any public office in future, for not foreseeing a disorder which no one foresaw, or interrupting the course of a riot too formidable to endure opposition. The same bill made provision for pulling down the city gates, and abolishing the city guard,-rather a Hibernian mode of enabling them better to keep the peace within burgh in future. justly proud of his military and political talents, and grateful "Kickin the Duke of Argyle!" exclaimed the hear- | doing any drudgery, or any job of what kind soever ers at once, in all the various combined keys of utter astonishment. Ay, but MacCallummore's blood wadna sit down wi' that; there was risk of Andro Ferrara coming an thirdsman." "The duke is a real Scotsman-a true friend to the country," answered Saddletree's hearers. 46 Aye, troth is he, to king and country baith, as ye sall hear," continued the orator, if ye will come in bye to our house, for it's safest speaking of sic things inter parietes." When they entered his shop he thrust his prentice boy out of it, and unlocking his desk, took out, with an air of grave and complacent importance, a dirty and crumpled piece of printed paper; he observed, This is new corn-it's no every body could show ye the like o' this. It's the Duke's speech about the Porteous mob, just promulgated by the hawkers. Ye shall hear what Ian Roy Cean says for himsell. My correspondent bought it in the Palace-yard, that's like just under the king's nose-I think he claws up their mittans!-It came in a letter about a foolish bill of exchange that the man wanted me to renew for him. I wish ye wad see about it, Mrs. Saddletree." Honest Mrs. Saddletree had hitherto been so sincerely distressed about the situation of her unfortunate protegée, that she had suffered her husband to proceed in his own way, without attending to what he was saying. The words bill and renew had, however, an awakening sound in them; and she snatched the letter which her husband held towards her, and wiping her eyes, and putting on her spectacles, endeavoured, as fast as the dew which collected on her glasses would permit, to get at the meaning of the needful part of the epistle; while her husband with pompous elevation, read an extract from the speech. "I am no minister, I never was a minister, and I never will be one". I didna ken his grace was ever designed for the ministry," interrupted Mrs. Howden. "He disna mean a minister of the gospel, Mrs. Howden, but a minister of state," said Saddletree, with condescending goodness, and then proceeded "The time was, when I might have been a piece of minister, but I was too sensible of my own incapacity to engage in any state affair. And I thank God that I had always too great a value for those few abilities which nature has given me, to employ them in The Duke of Argyle opposed this bill as a cruel, unjust, and fanatical proceeding, and an encroachment upon the privileges of the royal burghs of Scotland, secured to them by the treaty of Union. "In all the proceedings of that time," said his Grace, "the nation of Scotland treated with the English as a free and independent people; and as that treaty, my Lords, had no other guarantee for the due performance of its articles, but the faith and honour of a British Parliament, it would be both unjust and ungenerous, should this House agree to any proceedings that have a tendency to injure it." Lord Hardwicke, in reply to the Duke of Argyle, seemed to insinuate, that his Grace had taken up the affair in a party point of view, to which the nobleman replied in the spirited language quoted in the text-Lord Hardwicke apologized. The bill was much modified, and the clauses concerning the dismantling the city, and disbanding the Guard, were departed from. A fine of 2000Z was imposed on the city for the benefit of Porteous's widow. She was contented to accept three-fourths of the sum, the payment of which closed the transaction. It is remarkable, that, in our day, the Magistrates of Edinburgh have had recourse to both those measures, held in such horror by their predecessors, as necessary steps for the improvement of the city. It may be here noticed, in explanation of another circumstance mentioned in the text, that there is a tradition in Scotland, that George II., whose irascible temper is said sometimes to have nurried him into expressing his displeasure par voie du fait, offered to the Duke of Argyle, in angry audience, some menace of this nature, on which he left the presence in high disdain, and with little ceremony. Sir Bobert Walpole, having met the Duke as he retired, and learning the cause of his resentment and discomposure, endeavoured to reconcile him to what had nappened, by saying, "Such was his Majesty's way, and that he often took such liberties with himself without meaning any harm." This did not mend matters in M'Callummore's eyes, who replied, in great disdain, "You will please to remember, Sir Robert, the infinite distance there is betwixt you and me." Another frequent expression of passion on the part of the same monarch, is alluded to in the old Jacobite song The fire shall get both hat and wig, As oft times they've got a' that. Red John the Warrior, a name personal and proper in the Highlands to John Duke of Argyle and Greenwich, as MacCummin was that of his race or dignity le I have, ever since I set out in the world, (and I be lieve few have set out more early,) served my prince with my tongue; I have served him with any little interest I had, and I have served him with my sword, and in my profession of arms. I have held employments which I have lost, and were I to be to-morrow deprived of those which still remain to me, and which I have endeavoured honestly to deserve, I would still serve him to the last acre of my inheritance, and to the last drop of my blood." Mrs. Saddletree here broke in upon the orator."Mr. Saddletree, what is the meaning of a' this? Here are ye clayering about the Duke of Argyle, and this man Martingale gaun to break on our hands, and lose us gude sixty pounds-I wonder what duke will pay that, quotha-I wish the Duke of Argyle would pay his ain accounts-He is in a thousand punds Scots on thae very books when he was last at Roystoun-I'm no saying but he's a just nobleman, and that it's gude siller-but it wad drive ane daft to be confused wi' deukes and drakes, and thae distressed folk up stairs, that's Jeanie Deans and her father. And then, putting the very callant that was sewing the curpel out o' the shop, to play wi' blackguards in the close-Sit still, neighbours, it's no that I mean to disturb you; but what between courts o' law and courts o' state, and upper and under parliaments, and parliament-houses, here and in London, the gudeman's gane clean gyte, I think." The gossips understood civility, and the rule of doing as they would be done by, too well, to tarry upon the slight invitation implied in the conclusion of this speech, and therefore made their farewells and departure as fast as possible, Saddletree whispering to Plumdamas that he would "meet him at MacCroskie's," (the low-browed shop in the Luckenbooths, already mentioned,) "in the hour of cause, and put MacCallummore's speech in his pocket, for a' the gudewife's din." When Mrs. Saddletree saw the house freed of her importunate visiters, and the little boy reclaimed from the pastimes of the wynd to the exercise of the awl, she went to visit her unhappy relative, David Deans, and his elder daughter, who had found in her house the nearest place of friendly refuge. WHEN Mrs. Saddletree entered the apartment in which her guests had shrouded their misery, she found the window darkened. The feebleness which followed his long swoon had rendered it necessary to lay the old man in bed. The curtains were drawn around him, and Jeanie sate motionless by the side of the bed. Mrs. Saddletree was a woman of kindness, nay, of feeling, but not of delicacy. She opened the half-shut window, drew aside the curtain, and taking her kinsman by the hand, exhorted him to sit up, and bear his sorrow like a good man, and a Christian man, as he was, But when she quitted his hand, it fell powerless by his side, nor did he attempt the least reply. "Is all over?" asked Jeanie, with lips and cheeks as pale as ashes,-"And is there nae hope for her?" Nane, or next to nane," said Mrs. Saddletree; "I heard the judge-carle say it with my ain ears-It was a burning shame to see sae mony o' them set up yonder in their red gowns and black gowns, and a' to take the life o' a bit senseless lassie. I had never muckle broo o' my gudeman's gossips, and now like them waur than ever. The only wiselike thing I heard ony body say, was decent Mr. John Kirk of Kirk-knowe, and he wussed them just to get the king's mercy, and nae mair about it. But he spake to unreasonable folk-he might just hae keepit bisbreath to hae blawn on his porridge." "But can the king gie her mercy?' said Jeanie, earnestly. Some folk tell me he canna gie morcy in cases of murin cases like hers." "Can he gie mercy, hinny ?—I weel I wot he can, when he likes. There was young Singles word, that stickit the Laird of Ballencleuch, and Captain Hackum, the Englishman, that killed Lady Colgrain's gudeman, and the Master of Saint Clair, that shot the twa Shaws, and mony mair in my time-to be sure they were gentle blude, and had their kin to speak for them-And there was Jock Porteous the other day--I'se warrant there's mercy, an folk could win at it.' of that guilt at least-and me that wad hae wared body and soul to save your finger from being hurt!" "You shall not die," said Jeanie, with enthusiastic firmness; "say what ye like o' me-think what ye like o' me-only promise-for 1 doubt your proud heart-that ye wunna harm yourself, and you shall not die this shamefui death." "A shameful death I will not die, Jeanie, lass. I have that in my heart-though it has been ower kine a ane-that wunna bide shame. Gae hame to our father, and think nae mair on me-1 have eat my last "O, this was what I feared!" said Jeanie. "Porteous?" said Jeanie; "very true-I forget a' that I suld maist mind.-Fare ye weel, Mrs. Saddle-earthly meal." tree; and may ye never want a friend in the hour o' distress!" "Will ye no stay wi' your father, Jeanie, bairn?-ye Ye had better," said Mrs. Saddletree. "I will be wanted ower yonder," indicating the Tolbooth with her hand, "and I maun leave him now, or I will never be able to leave him. I fearna for his life-I ken how strong-hearted he is-I ken it," she said, laying her hand on her bosom, "by my ain heart at this minute." "Weel, hinny, if ye think it's for the best, better he stay here and rest him, than gang back to St. Leonard's.' 86 Hout, tout, hinnie," said Ratcliffe; "it's but little ken o' thae things. Ane aye thinks at the first dinnle o' the sentence, they hae heart eneugh to die rather than bide out the sax weeks; but they aye bide the sax weeks out for a' that. I ken the gate o't weel; I hae fronted the doomster three times, and here I stand, Jim Ratcliffe, for a' that. Had I tied my napkin strait the first time, as I had a great mind till't-and it was a' about a bit gray cowt, wasna worth ten punds sterling-where would I have been now?" "And how did you escape ?" said Jeanie, the fates Muckle better-muckle better-God bless you-of this man, at first so odious to her, having acquired God bless you!-At no rate let him gang till ye hear a sudden interest in her eyes from their correspondence frae me,' " said Jeanie. with those of her sister. "But ye'll be back belive?" said Mrs. Saddletree, detaining her; "they wunna let ye stay yonder, hinny." But I maun gang to St. Leonard's-there's muckle to be dune, and little time to do it in-And I have friends to speak to-God bless you take care of my father." "How did I escape ?" said Ratcliffe, with a knowing wink,-"I tell ye I'scapit in a way that naebody will escape from this Tolbooth while I keep the keys." My sister shall come out in the face of the sun," said Jeanie; "I will go to London and beg her pardon from the king and queen. If they pardoned She had reached the door of the apartment, when, Porteous, they may pardon her; if a sister asks a sissuddenly turning, she came back, and knelt down by ter's life on her bended knees, they will pardon her the bed-side. "O father, gie me your blessing-I dare-they shall pardon her-and they will win a thounot go till ye bless me. Say but God bless ye, and sand hearts by it." prosper ye, Jeanie-try but to say that!" Instinctively, rather than by an exertion of intellect, the old man murmured a prayer, that "purchased and promised blessings might be multiplied upon her." He has blessed mine errand," said his daughter, rising from her knees, "and it is borne in upon my mind that I shall prosper." So saying, she left the room. Effie listened in bewildered astonishment, and so earnest was her sister's enthusiastic assurance, that she almost involuntarily caught a gleam of hope; but it instantly faded away. "Ah Jeanie! the king and queen live in London a thousand miles from this-far ayont the saut sea I'll be gane before ye win there!" "You are mistaen," said Jeanie; "it is no sae far and they go to it by land; I learned something abou thae things from Reuben Butler." ་་ Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and shook her head. "I wish she binna roving, poor thing-There's something queer about a' thae Deanses. I dinna like Ah, Jeanie! ye never learned ony thing but what folk to be sae muckle better than other folk-seldom was gude frae the folk ye keepit company wi'; but I comes gude o't. But if she's gaun to look after the-but I"-she wrung her hands, and wept bitterly. kye at St. Leonard's, that's another story; to be sure they maun be sorted.-Grizzie, come up here, and take tent to the honest auld man, and see he wants naething.-Ye silly tawpie," (addressing the maidservant as she entered.) "what garr'd ye busk up your cockernony that gate?-I think there's been eneugh the day to gie an awfu' warning about your cockups and your fallal duds-see what they a' come to," &c. &c. &c. Leaving the good lady to her lecture upon worldly vanities, we must transport our reader to the cell in which the unfortunate Effie Deans was now immured, being restricted of several liberties which she had enjoyed before the sentence was pronounced. When she had remained about an hour in the state of stupified horror so natural in her situation, she was disturbed by the opening of the jarring bolts of her place of confinement, and Ratcliffe showed himself. "It's your sister," he said, "wants to speak t'ye, Effie." "Dinna think on that now," said Jeanie; there will be time for that if the present space be redeemed. Fare ye weel! Unless I die by the road, I will see the king's face that gies grace.-O, sir, (to Ratcliffe,) be kind to her--she ne'er kend what it was to need stranger's kindness till now.-Fareweel-fareweel, Effie-Dinna speak to me. I maunna greet nowmy head's ower dizzy already!" She tore herself from her sister's arms, and left the cell. Ratcliffe followed her, and beckoned her into a small room. She obeyed his signal, but not without trembling. "What's the fule thing shaking for?" said he; "1 mean nothing but civility to you. D-n me, I respect you, and I can't help it. You have so much spunk, that, d-n me, but I think there's some chance of your carrying the day. But you must not go to the king till you have made some friend; try the duke try MacCallummore; he's Scotland's friend-I ken that the great folks dinna muckle like him--but they I canna see naebody," said Effie, with the hasty fear him, and that will serve your purpose as weel. irritability which misery had rendered more acute-D'ye ken naebedy, wad gie ye a letter to him?" "I canna see naebody, and least of a' her-Bid her take care of the auld man-I am naething to any o' them now, nor them to me." She says she maun see ye, though," said Ratcliffe and Jeanie, rushing into the apartment, threw her arms round her sister's neck, who writhed to extricate herself from her embrace. What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie," when you have killed me ?-killed me, when a word of your mouth would have saved me Killed me, when I am an innocent creature-innocent Duke of Argyle?" said Jeanie, recollecting herself suddenly-what was he to that Argyle that suffered in my father's time-in the persecution?" "His son or grandson, I'm thinking," said Ratcliffe; "but what o' that?" "Thank God!" said Jeanie, devoutly clasping her hands. "You whigs are a' thanking God for something," said the ruffian. "But hark ye, hinny, I'll tell ye secret. Ye may meet wi' rough customers on the Border, or in the Midland, afore ye get to Lunnor Now, deil ane o' them will touch an acquaintance | the idea of a barefooted traveller; and if the objection o' Daddie Ratton's; for though I am retired frae public practice, yet they ken I can do a gude or an ill turn yet-and deil a gude fellow that has been but a twelvemonth on the bay, be he ruffler or padder, but he knows my gybe as well as the jarkt of e'er a queer cuffint in England-and there's rogue's Latin for you." It was indeed, totally unintelligible to Jeanie Deans, who was only impatient to escape from him. He hastily scrawled a line or two on a dirty piece of paper, and said to her, as she drew back when he offered it, "Hey! what the deil-it wunna bite you, my lass-if it does nae gude, it can do nae ill. But I wish you to show it, if you have ony fasherie wi' ony o' St. Nicholas's clerks." Alas!" said she, "I do not understand what you mean. of cleanliness had been made to the practice, she would have been apt to vindicate herself upon the very frequent ablutions to which, with Mahometan scrupulosity, a Scottish damsel of some condition usually subjects herself. Thus far, therefore, all was well. From an oaken press or cabinet, in which her father kept a few old books, and two or three bundles of papers, besides his ordinary accounts and receipts, she sought out and extracted from a parcel of notes of sermons, calculations of interest, records of dying speeches of the martyrs, and the like, one or two documents which she thought might be of some use to her upon her mission. But the most important difficulty remained behind, and it had not occurred to her until that very evening. It was the want of money, without which it was impossible she could undertake so distant a journey as she now meditated. David Deans, as we have said, was easy, and even opulent in his circumstances. But his wealth, like that of the patriarchs of old, consisted in his kine and herds, and in two or three sums lent out at interest to After casting an anxious look at the grated win- neighbours or relatives, who, far from being in cirdows and blackened walls of the old Tolbooth, and cumstances to pay any thing to account of the prinanother scarce less anxious at the hospitable lodging cipal sums, thought they did all that was incumbent of Mrs. Saddletree, Jeanie turned her back on that on them when, with considerable difficulty, they disquarter, and soon after on the city itself. She reach-charged "the annual rent." To these debtors it would ed Saint Leonard's Crags without meeting any one whom she knew, which, in the state of her mind, she considered as a great blessing. I must do naething, she thought as she went along, that can soften or weaken my heart-it's ower weak already for what I hae to do. I will think and act as firmly as I can, and speak as little. "I mean, if ye fall among thieves, my precious,that is a Scripture phrase, if ye will hae ane-the bauldest of them will ken a scart o' my guse feather. And now awa wi' ye-and stick to Argyle; if ony body can do the job, it maun be him." be in vain, therefore, to apply, even with her father's concurrence; nor could she hope to obtain such concurrence, or assistance in any mode, without such a series of explanations and debates as she felt might deprive her totally of the power of taking the step, which, however daring and hazardous, she knew was absolutely necessary for trying the last chance in faThere was an ancient servant, or rather cottar, of vour of her sister. Without departing from filial her father's, who had lived under him for many years, reverence, Jeanie had an inward conviction that the and whose fidelity was worthy of full confidence. feelings of her father, however just, and upright, and She sent for this woman, and explaining to her that honourable, were too little in unison with the spirit the circumstances of her family required that she of the time to admit of his being a good judge of the should undertake a journey, which would detain her measures to be adopted in this crisis. Herself more for some weeks from home, she gave her full instruc- flexible in manner, though no less upright in princitions concerning the management of the domestic ple, she felt that to ask his consent to her pilgrimage affairs in her absence. With a precision which, upon would be to encounter the risk of drawing down his reflection, she herself could not help wondering at, positive prohibition, and under that she believed her she described and detailed the most minute steps journey could not be blessed in its progress and event. which were to be taken, and especially such as were Accordingly, she had determined upon the means by necessary for her father's comfort. It was proba- which she might communicate to him her undertakble," she said, "that he would return to St. Leon- ing and its purpose, shortly after her actual deparard's to-morrow; certain that he would return very ture. But it was impossible to apply to him for mosoon-all must be in order for him. He had enough ney without altering this arrangement, and discussto distress him, without being fashed about warldlying fully the propriety of her journey; pecuniary assistance from that quarter, therefore, was laid out of the question. matters." In the meanwhile she toiled busily, along with May Hettly, to leave nothing unarranged. It was deep in the night when all these matters were settled; and when they had partaken of some food, the first which Jeanie had tasted on that eventful day, May Hettly, whose usual residence was a cottage at a little distance from Deans's house, asked her young mistress, whether she would not permit her to remain in the house all night? "Ye hae had an awfu' day," she said, "and sorrow and fear are but bad companions in the watches of the night, as I hae heard the gudeman say himsell." "They are ill companions indeed," said Jeanie; "but I maun learn to abide their presence, and better begin in the house than in the field." She dismissed her aged assistant accordingly,-for so slight was the gradation in their rank of life, that we can hardly term May a servant,-and proceeded to make a few preparations for her journey. The simplicity of her education and country made these preparations very brief and easy. Her tartan screen served all the purposes of a riding-habit, and of an umbrella; a small bundle contained such changes of linen as were absolutely necessary. Barefooted, as Sancho says, she had come into the world, and barefooted she proposed to perform her pilgrimage; and her clean shoes and change of snow-white thread stockings were to be reserved for special occasions of ceremony. She was not aware, that the English habits of comfort attach an idea of abject misery to • Pass * Seal. I Justice of Peace. It now occurred to Jeanie that she should have consulted with Mrs. Saddletree on this subject. But, besides the time that must now necessarily be lost in recurring to her assistance, Jeanie internally revolted from it. Her heart acknowledged the goodness of Mrs. Saddletree's general character, and the kind interest she took in their family misfortunes; but still she felt that Mrs. Saddletree was a woman of an ordinary and worldly way of thinking, incapable, from habit and temperament, of taking a keen or enthusiastic view of such a resolution as she had formed; and to debate the point with her, and to rely upon her conviction of its propriety for the means of carrying it into execution, would have been gall and wormwood, Butler, whose assistance she might have been assured of, was greatly poorer than herself. In these circumstances, she formed a singular resolution for the purpose of surmounting this difficulty, the execution of which will form the subject of the next chapter. CHAPTER XXVI. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I've heard him complain, THE mansion-house of Dumbiedikes, to which we are now to introduce our readers ay three or four miles-no matter for the exact topography-to the southward of St. Leonard's. It had once horne the appearance of some little celebrity; for the "auld laird," whose humours and pranks were often mentioned in the alehouses for about a mile round it, wore a sword, kept a good horse, and a brace of greyhounds; brawled, swore, and betted at cock-fights and horse-matches; followed Somerville of Drum's hawks, and the Lord Ross's hounds, and called himself point devise a gentleman. But the line had been vailed of its splendour in the present proprietor, who cared for no rustic amusements, and was as saving, timid, and retired, as his father had been at once grasping and selfishly extravagant,-daring, wild, and intrusive. was the roofless shed where the hawks had been once kept, as appeared from a perch or two not yet completely rotten, and a lure and jesses which were mouldering on the wall. A third door led to the coalhouse, which was well stocked. To keep a very good fire, was one of the few points of domestic management in which Dumbiedikes was positively active; in all other matters of domestic economy he was completely passive, and at the mercy of his housekeeper, the same buxom dame whom his father had long since bequeathed to his charge, and who, if fame did her no injustice, had feathered her nest pretty well at his expense. Jeanie went on opening doors, like the second Calender wanting an eye, in the castle of the hundred obliging damsels, until, like the said prince errant, she came to a stable. The Highland Pegasus, Rory Bean, to which belonged the single entire stall, was her old acquaintance, whom she had seen grazing on the baulk, as she failed not to recognise by the well-known ancient riding furniture and demipique saddle, which half hung on the walls, half trailed on the litter. Beyond the "treviss," which formed one side of the stall, stood a cow, who turned her head and lowed when Jeanie came into the stable, an appeal which her habitual occupations enabled her perfectly to understand, and with which she could not refuse complying, by shaking down some fodder to the animal, which had been neglected, like most things else in this castle of the sluggard. Dumbiedikes was what is called in Scotland a single house; that is, having only one room occupying its whole depth from back to front, each of which single apartments was illuminated by six or eight cross lights, whose diminutive, panes and heavy frames permitted scarce so much light to enter as shines through one well-constructed modern window. This inartificial edifice, exactly such as a child would build with cards, had a steep roof flagged with coarse gray stones instead of slates; a half-circular turret, battlemented, or, to use the appropriate phrase, bartizan'd on the top, served as a case for a narrow turnpike-stair, by which an ascent was gained from story to story; and at the bottom of the said turret was a door studded with large-headed nails. There was no lobby at the bottom of the tower, and scarce While she was accommodating." the milky mother' a landing-place opposite to the doors which gave ac- with the food which she should have received two cess to the apartments. One or two low and dilapi- hours sooner, a slip-shod wench peeped into the dated out-houses, connected by a court-yard wall stable, and perceiving that a stranger was employed equally ruinous, surrounded the mansion. The court in discharging the task which she, at length, and rehad been paved, but the flags being partly displaced, luctantly, had quitted her slumbers to perform, ejacu and partly renewed, a gallant crop of docks and this-lated, "Eh, sirs! the Brownie! the Brownie!" and tles sprung up between them, and the small garden, fled, yelling as if she had seen the devil. which opened by a postern through the wall, seemed not to be in a much more orderly condition. Over the low-arched gateway which led into the yard, there was a carved stone, exhibiting some attempt at armorial bearings; and above the inner entrance hung, and had hung for many years, the mouldering hatchment, which announced that umquhile Laurence Dumbie, of Dumbiedikes, had been gathered to his fathers in Newbattle kirk-yard. The approach to this palace of pleasure was by a road formed by the rude fragments of stone gathered from the fields, and it was surrounded by ploughed but unenclosed land. Upon a baulk, that is, an unploughed ridge of land interposed among the corn, the Laird's trusty palfrey was tethered by the head, and picking a meal of grass. The whole argued neglect and discomfort; the consequence, however, of idleness and indifference, not of poverty. To explain her terror, it may be necessary to notice, that the old house of Dumbiedikes had, according to repo been long haunted by a Brownie. one of those familiar spirits, who were believed in ancient times to supply the deficiencies of the ordinary labourer "Whirl the long mop, and ply the airy flail." Certes, the convenience of such a supernatural assistant could have been nowhere more sensibly fe't, than in a family where the domestics were so lite disposed to personal activity; yet this serving maiden was so far from rejoicing in seeing a supposed aerial substitute discharging a task which she should have long since performed herself, that she proceeded to raise the family by her screams of horror, uttered as thick as if the Brownie had been flaying her. Jeanie, who had immediately resigned her temporary occu In this inner court, not without a sense of bashful-pation, and followed the yelling damsel into the courtness and timidity, stood Jeanie Deans, at an early hour in a fine spring morning. She was no heroine of romance, and therefore looked with some curiosity and interest on the mansion-house and domains, of which, it might at that moment occur to her, a little encouragement, such as women of all ranks know by instinct how to apply, might have made her mistress. Moreover, she was no person of taste beyond her ume, rank, and country, and certainly thought the house of Dumbiedikes, though inferior to Holyroodhouse, or the palace at Dalkeith, was still a stately structure in its way, and the land a very bonnie bit, if it were better seen to and done to." But Jeanie Deans was a plain, true-hearted, honest girl, who, while she acknowledged all the splendour of her old admirer's habitation, and the value of his property, never for a moment harboured a thought of doing the Laird, Butler, or herself, the injustice, which many ladies of higher rank would not have hesitated to do to all three, on much less temptation. Her present errand being with the Laird, she looked round the offices to see if she could find any domestic to announce that she wished to see him. As all was lence, she ventured to open one door;it was the old Laird's dog-kennel, now deserted, unJess when occupied, as one or two tubs seemed to testify, as a washing-house. She tried another-it yard, in order to undeceive and appease her, was there met by Mrs. Janet Balchristie, the favourite sultana of the last Laird, as scandal went-the housekeeper of the present. The good-looking buxom woman, betwixt forty and fifty, (for such we described her at the death of the last Laird,) was now a fat, red-faced, old dame of seventy, or thereabouts, fond of her place, and jealous of her authority. Conscious that her administration did not rest on so sure a basis as in the time of the old proprietor, this considerate lady had introduced into the family the screamer aforesaid, who added good features and bright eyes to the powers of her lungs. She made no conquest of the Laird, however, who seemed to live as if there was not another woman in the world but Jeanie Deans, and to bear no very ardent or overbearing affection even to her. Mrs. Janet Balchristie, notwithstanding, had her own uneasy thoughts upon the almost daily visits to Saint Leonard's Crags, and often, when the Laird looked at her wistfully and paused, according to his custom before utterance, she expected him to say, "Jenny, I am gaun to change my condition;" but she was relieved by "Jenny, I am gaun to change my shoon." Still, however, Mrs. Balchristie regarded Jeanie Deans with no small portion of malevolence, the customary feeling of such persons towards any ne |