by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXII
Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, And merrily bend the stile-a, A merry heart goes all the day, A sad one tires in a mile-a.
--Winter's Tale.
Let the reader conceive to himself a clear frosty November morning, thescene an open heath, having for the background that huge chain ofmountains in which Skiddaw and Saddleback are preeminent; let him lookalong that BLIND ROAD, by which I mean the track so slightly marked bythe passengers' footsteps that it can but be traced by a slight shadeof verdure from the darker heath around it, and, being only visible tothe eye when at some distance, ceases to be distinguished while thefoot is actually treading it; along this faintly-traced path advancesthe object of our present narrative. His firm step, his erect and freecarriage, have a military air which corresponds well with hiswell-proportioned limbs and stature of six feet high. His dress is soplain and simple that it indicates nothing as to rank; it may be thatof a gentleman who travels in this manner for his pleasure, or of aninferior person of whom it is the proper and usual garb. Nothing can beon a more reduced scale than his travelling equipment. A volume ofShakspeare in each pocket, a small bundle with a change of linen slungacross his shoulders, an oaken cudgel in his hand, complete ourpedestrian's accommodations, and in this equipage we present him to ourreaders.
Brown had parted that morning from his friend Dudley, and begun hissolitary walk towards Scotland.
The first two or three miles were rather melancholy, from want of thesociety to which he had of late been accustomed. But this unusual moodof mind soon gave way to the influence of his natural good spirits,excited by the exercise and the bracing effects of the frosty air. Hewhistled as he went along, not 'from want of thought,' but to give ventto those buoyant feelings which he had no other mode of expressing. Foreach peasant whom he chanced to meet he had a kind greeting or agood-humoured jest; the hardy Cumbrians grinned as they passed, andsaid, 'That's a kind heart, God bless un!' and the market-girl lookedmore than once over her shoulder at the athletic form, whichcorresponded so well with the frank and blythe address of the stranger.A rough terrier dog, his constant companion, who rivalled his master inglee, scampered at large in a thousand wheels round the heath, and cameback to jump up on him and assure him that he participated in thepleasure of the journey. Dr. Johnson thought life had few things betterthan the excitation produced by being whirled rapidly along in apost-chaise; but he who has in youth experienced the confident andindependent feeling of a stout pedestrian in an interesting country,and during fine weather, will hold the taste of the great moralistcheap in comparison.
Part of Brown's view in choosing that unusual track which leads throughthe eastern wilds of Cumberland into Scotland, had been a desire toview the remains of the celebrated Roman Wall, which are more visiblein that direction than in any other part of its extent. His educationhad been imperfect and desultory; but neither the busy scenes in whichhe had been engaged, nor the pleasures of youth, nor the precariousstate of his own circumstances, had diverted him from the task ofmental improvement. 'And this then is the Roman Wall,' he said,scrambling up to a height which commanded the course of that celebratedwork of antiquity. 'What a people! whose labours, even at thisextremity of their empire, comprehended such space, and were executedupon a scale of such grandeur! In future ages, when the science of warshall have changed, how few traces will exist of the labours of Vaubanand Coehorn, while this wonderful people's remains will even thencontinue to interest and astonish posterity! Their fortifications,their aqueducts, their theatres, their fountains, all their publicworks, bear the grave, solid, and majestic character of their language;while our modern labours, like our modern tongues, seem but constructedout of their fragments.' Having thus moralised, he remembered that hewas hungry, and pursued his walk to a small public-house, at which heproposed to get some refreshment.
The alehouse, for it was no better, was situated in the bottom of alittle dell, through which trilled a small rivulet. It was shaded by alarge ash tree, against which the clay-built shed that served thepurpose of a stable was erected, and upon which it seemed partly torecline. In this shed stood a saddled horse, employed in eating hiscorn. The cottages in this part of Cumberland partake of the rudenesswhich characterises those of Scotland. The outside of the housepromised little for the interior, notwithstanding the vaunt of a sign,where a tankard of ale voluntarily decanted itself into a tumbler, anda hieroglyphical scrawl below attempted to express a promise of 'goodentertainment for man and horse.' Brown was no fastidious traveller: hestopped and entered the cabaret. [Footnote: See Note 2.]
The first object which caught his eye in the kitchen was a tall, stout,country-looking man in a large jockey great-coat, the owner of thehorse which stood in the shed, who was busy discussing huge slices ofcold boiled beef, and casting from time to time an eye through thewindow to see how his steed sped with his provender. A large tankard ofale flanked his plate of victuals, to which he applied himself byintervals. The good woman of the house was employed in baking. Thefire, as is usual in that country, was on a stone hearth, in the midstof an immensely large chimney, which had two seats extended beneath thevent. On one of these sat a remarkably tall woman, in a red cloak andslouched bonnet, having the appearance of a tinker or beggar. She wasbusily engaged with a short black tobacco-pipe.
At the request of Brown for some food, the landlady wiped with hermealy apron one corner of the deal table, placed a wooden trencher andknife and fork before the traveller, pointed to the round of beef,recommended Mr. Dinmont's good example, and finally filled a brownpitcher with her home-brewed. Brown lost no time in doing ample creditto both. For a while his opposite neighbour and he were too busy totake much notice of each other, except by a good-humoured nod as eachin turn raised the tankard to his head. At length, when our pedestrianbegan to supply the wants of little Wasp, the Scotch store-farmer, forsuch was Mr. Dinmont, found himself at leisure to enter intoconversation.
'A bonny terrier that, sir, and a fell chield at the vermin, I warranthim; that is, if he's been weel entered, for it a' lies in that.'
'Really, sir,' said Brown, 'his education has been somewhat neglected,and his chief property is being a pleasant companion.'
'Ay, sir? that's a pity, begging your pardon, it's a great pity that;beast or body, education should aye be minded. I have six terriers athame, forbye twa couple of slow-hunds, five grews, and a wheen otherdogs. There's auld Pepper and auld Mustard, and young Pepper and youngMustard, and little Pepper and little Mustard. I had them a' regularlyentered, first wi' rottens, then wi' stots or weasels, and then wi' thetods and brocks, and now they fear naething that ever cam wi' a hairyskin on't.'
'I have no doubt, sir, they are thoroughbred; but, to have so manydogs, you seem to have a very limited variety of names for them?'
'O, that's a fancy of my ain to mark the breed, sir. The Deuke himsellhas sent as far as Charlie's Hope to get ane o' Dandy Dinmont's Pepperand Mustard terriers. Lord, man, he sent Tam Hudson [Footnote: The realname of this veteran sportsman is now restored.] the keeper, and sickena day as we had wi' the foumarts and the tods, and sicken a blythegae-down as we had again e'en! Faith, that was a night!'
'I suppose game is very plenty with you?'
'Plenty, man! I believe there's mair hares than sheep on my farm; andfor the moor-fowl or the grey-fowl, they lie as thick as doos in adookit. Did ye ever shoot a blackcock, man?'
'Really I had never even the pleasure to see one, except in the museumat Keswick.'
'There now! I could guess that by your Southland tongue. It's very oddof these English folk that come here, how few of them has seen ablackcock! I'll tell you what--ye seem to be an honest lad, and ifyou'll call on me, on Dandy Dinmont, at Charlie's Hope, ye shall see ablackcock, and shoot a blackcock, and eat a blackcock too, man.'
'Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, sir; and Ishall be happy if I can find time to accept your invitation.'
'Time, man? what
ails ye to gae hame wi' me the now? How d' ye travel?'
'On foot, sir; and if that handsome pony be yours, I should find itimpossible to keep up with you.'
'No, unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But ye can comeower the night as far as Riccarton, where there is a public; or if yelike to stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, they would be blythe tosee ye, and I am just gaun to stop and drink a dram at the door wi'him, and I would tell him you're coming up. Or stay--gudewife, could yelend this gentleman the gudeman's galloway, and I'll send it ower theWaste in the morning wi' the callant?'
The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear tocatch.--'Aweel, aweel, there's nae help for't, but come up the morn atony rate. And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to the Liddel or it bedark, for your Waste has but a kittle character, ye ken yoursell.'
'Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country an illname. I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste since SawneyCulloch, the travelling-merchant, that Rowley Overdees and Jock Pennysuffered for at Carlisle twa years since. There's no ane in Bewcastlewould do the like o' that now; we be a' true folk now.'
'Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind; and his een's no sairyet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist feck o' Gallowayand Dumfries-shire, and I have been round by Carlisle, and I was at theStaneshiebank Fair the day, and I would like ill to be rubbit sae nearhame, so I'll take the gate.'
'Hae ye been in Dumfries and Galloway?' said the old dame who satesmoking by the fireside, and who had not yet spoken a word.
'Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o't.'
'Then ye'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan?'
'Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram's? I ken the place weel eneugh. TheLaird died about a fortnight since, as I heard.'
'Died!' said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and rising and comingforward upon the floor--'died? are you sure of that?'
'Troth, am I,' said Dinmont, 'for it made nae sma' noise in thecountry-side. He died just at the roup of the stocking and furniture;it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed. They said he wasthe last of an auld family too, and mony were sorry; for gude blude'sscarcer in Scotland than it has been.'
'Dead!' replied the old woman, whom our readers have already recognisedas their acquaintance Meg Merrilies--'dead! that quits a' scores. Anddid ye say he died without an heir?'
'Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate's sell'd by the same token; forthey said they couldna have sell'd it if there had been an heir-male.'
'Sell'd!' echoed the gipsy, with something like a scream; 'and whadurst buy Ellangowan that was not of Bertram's blude? and wha couldtell whether the bonny knave-bairn may not come back to claim his ain?wha durst buy the estate and the castle of Ellangowan?'
'Troth, gudewife, just ane o' thae writer chields that buys a' thing;they ca' him Glossin, I think.'
'Glossin! Gibbie Glossin! that I have carried in my creels a hundredtimes, for his mother wasna muckle better than mysell--he to presume tobuy the barony of Ellangowan! Gude be wi' us; it is an awfu' warld! Iwished him ill; but no sic a downfa' as a' that neither. Wae's me!wae's me to think o't!' She remained a moment silent but still opposingwith her hand the farmer's retreat, who betwixt every question wasabout to turn his back, but good-humouredly stopped on observing thedeep interest his answers appeared to excite.
'It will be seen and heard of--earth and sea will not hold their peacelanger! Can ye say if the same man be now the sheriff of the countythat has been sae for some years past?'
'Na, he's got some other birth in Edinburgh, they say; but gude day,gudewife, I maun ride.' She followed him to his horse, and, while hedrew the girths of his saddle, adjusted the walise, and put on thebridle, still plied him with questions concerning Mr. Bertram's deathand the fate of his daughter; on which, however, she could obtainlittle information from the honest farmer.
'Did ye ever see a place they ca' Derncleugh, about a mile frae thePlace of Ellangowan?'
'I wot weel have I, gudewife. A wild-looking den it is, wi' a whin auldwa's o' shealings yonder; I saw it when I gaed ower the ground wi' anethat wanted to take the farm.'
'It was a blythe bit ance!' said Meg, speaking to herself. 'Did yenotice if there was an auld saugh tree that's maist blawn down, but yetits roots are in the earth, and it hangs ower the bit burn? Mony a dayhae I wrought my stocking and sat on my sunkie under that saugh.'
'Hout, deil's i' the wife, wi' her saughs, and her sunkies, andEllangowans. Godsake, woman, let me away; there's saxpence t' ye to buyhalf a mutchkin, instead o' clavering about thae auld-warld stories.'
'Thanks to ye, gudeman; and now ye hae answered a' my questions, andnever speired wherefore I asked them, I'll gie you a bit canny advice,and ye maunna speir what for neither. Tib Mumps will be out wi' thestirrup-dram in a gliffing. She'll ask ye whether ye gang ower Willie'sBrae or through Conscowthart Moss; tell her ony ane ye like, but besure (speaking low and emphatically) to tak the ane ye dinna tell her.'The farmer laughed and promised, and the gipsy retreated.
'Will you take her advice?' said Brown, who had been an attentivelistener to this conversation.
'That will I no, the randy quean! Na, I had far rather Tib Mumps kenn'dwhich way I was gaun than her, though Tib's no muckle to lippen toneither, and I would advise ye on no account to stay in the house a'night.'
In a moment after Tib, the landlady, appeared with her stirrup-cup,which was taken off. She then, as Meg had predicted, inquired whetherhe went the hill or the moss road. He answered, the latter; and, havingbid Brown good-bye, and again told him, 'he depended on seeing him atCharlie's Hope, the morn at latest,' he rode off at a round pace.