The Antiquary - Volume II

Chapter 8

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For he was one in all their idle sport,

And like a monarch, ruled their little court

The pliant bow he formed, the flying ball,

The bat, the wicket, were his labours all.

Crabbe's Village.

Francis Macraw, agreeably to the commands of his master, attended the

mendicant, in order to see him fairly out of the estate, without

permitting him to have conversation, or intercourse, with any of the

Earl's dependents or domestics. But, judiciously considering that the

restriction did not extend to himself, who was the person entrusted with

the convoy, he used every measure in his power to extort from Edie the

nature of his confidential and secret interview with Lord Glenallan. But

Edie had been in his time accustomed to cross-examination, and easily

evaded those of his quondam comrade. "The secrets of grit folk," said

Ochiltree within himself, "are just like the wild beasts that are shut up

in cages. Keep them hard and fast sneaked up, and it's a' very weel or

better--but ance let them out, they will turn and rend you. I mind how

ill Dugald Gunn cam aff for letting loose his tongue about the Major's

leddy and Captain Bandilier."

Francis was therefore foiled in his assaults upon the fidelity of the

mendicant, and, like an indifferent chess-player, became, at every

unsuccessful movement, more liable to the counter-checks of his opponent.

"Sae ye uphauld ye had nae particulars to say to my lord but about yer

ain matters?"

"Ay, and about the wee bits o' things I had brought frae abroad," said

Edie. "I ken'd you popist folk are unco set on the relics that are

fetched frae far-kirks and sae forth."

"Troth, my Lord maun be turned feel outright," said the domestic, "an he

puts himsell into sic a carfuffle, for onything ye could bring him,

Edie."

"I doubtna ye may say true in the main, neighbour," replied the beggar;

"but maybe he's had some hard play in his younger days, Francis, and that

whiles unsettles folk sair."

"Troth, Edie, and ye may say that--and since it's like yell neer come

back to the estate, or, if ye dee, that ye'll no find me there, I'se e'en

tell you he had a heart in his young time sae wrecked and rent, that it's

a wonder it hasna broken outright lang afore this day."

"Ay, say ye sae?" said Ochiltree; "that maun hae been about a woman, I

reckon?"

"Troth, and ye hae guessed it," said Francie--"jeest a cusin o' his nain

--Miss Eveline Neville, as they suld hae ca'd her;--there was a sough in

the country about it, but it was hushed up, as the grandees were

concerned;--it's mair than twenty years syne--ay, it will be

three-and-twenty."

"Ay, I was in America then," said the mendicant, "and no in the way to

hear the country clashes."

"There was little clash about it, man," replied Macraw; "he liked this

young leddy, ana suld hae married her, but his mother fand it out, and

then the deil gaed o'er Jock Webster. At last, the peer lass clodded

hersell o'er the scaur at the Craigburnfoot into the sea, and there was

an end o't."

"An end ot wi' the puir leddy," said the mendicant, "but, as I reckon,

nae end o't wi' the yerl."

"Nae end o't till his life makes an end," answered the Aberdonian.

"But what for did the auld Countess forbid the marriage?" continued the

persevering querist.

"Fat for!--she maybe didna weel ken for fat hersell, for she gar'd a' bow

to her bidding, right or wrang--But it was ken'd the young leddy was

inclined to some o' the heresies of the country--mair by token, she was

sib to him nearer than our Church's rule admits of. Sae the leddy was

driven to the desperate act, and the yerl has never since held his head

up like a man."

"Weel away!" replied Ochiltree:--"it's e'en queer I neer heard this tale

afore."

"It's e'en queer that ye heard it now, for deil ane o' the servants durst

hae spoken o't had the auld Countess been living. Eh, man, Edie! but she

was a trimmer--it wad hae taen a skeely man to hae squared wi' her!--But

she's in her grave, and we may loose our tongues a bit fan we meet a

friend.--But fare ye weel, Edie--I maun be back to the evening-service.

An' ye come to Inverurie maybe sax months awa, dinna forget to ask after

Francie Macraw."

What one kindly pressed, the other as firmly promised; and the friends

having thus parted, with every testimony of mutual regard, the domestic

of Lord Glenallan took his road back to the seat of his master, leaving

Ochiltree to trace onward his habitual pilgrimage.

It was a fine summer evening, and the world--that is, the little circle

which was all in all to the individual by whom it was trodden, lay before

Edie Ochiltree, for the choosing of his night's quarters. When he had

passed the less hospitable domains of Glenallan, he had in his option so

many places of refuge for the evening, that he was nice, and even

fastidious in the choice. Ailie Sim's public was on the road-side about a

mile before him, but there would be a parcel of young fellows there on

the Saturday night, and that was a bar to civil conversation. Other

"gudemen and gudewives," as the farmers and their dames are termed in

Scotland, successively presented themselves to his imagination. But one

was deaf, and could not hear him; another toothless, and could not make

him hear; a third had a cross temper; and a fourth an ill-natured

house-dog. At Monkbarns or Knockwinnock he was sure of a favourable and

hospitable reception; but they lay too distant to be conveniently reached

that night.

"I dinna ken how it is," said the old man, "but I am nicer about my

quarters this night than ever I mind having been in my life. I think,

having seen a' the braws yonder, and finding out ane may be happier

without them, has made me proud o' my ain lot--But I wuss it bode me

gude, for pride goeth before destruction. At ony rate, the warst barn

e'er man lay in wad be a pleasanter abode than Glenallan House, wi' a'

the pictures and black velvet, and silver bonny-wawlies belonging to it--

Sae I'll e'en settle at ance, and put in for Ailie Sims."

As the old man descended the hill above the little hamlet to which he was

bending his course, the setting sun had relieved its inmates from their

labour, and the young men, availing themselves of the fine evening, were

engaged in the sport of long-bowls on a patch of common, while the women

and elders looked on. The shout, the laugh, the exclamations of winners

and losers, came in blended chorus up the path which Ochiltree was

descending, and awakened in his recollection the days when he himself had

been a keen competitor, and frequently victor, in games of strength and

agility. These remembrances seldom fail to excite a sigh, even when the

evening of life is cheered by brighter prospects than those of our poor

mendicant. "At that time of day," was his natural reflection, "I would

have thought as little about ony auld palmering body that was coming down

the edge of Kinblythemont, as ony o' thae stalwart young chiels does

e'enow about auld Edie Ochiltree."

He was, however, presently cheered, by finding that more importance was

attached to his arrival than his modesty had anticipated. A disputed cast

had occurred between the bands of players, and as the gauger favoured the

one party, and the schoolmaster the other, the matter might be said to be

taken up by the higher powers. The miller and smith, also, had espoused

different sides, and, considering the vivacity of two such disputants,

there was reason to doubt whether the strife might be amicably

terminated. But the first person who caught a sight of the mendicant

exclaimed, "Ah! here comes auld Edie, that kens the rules of a' country

games better than ony man that ever drave a bowl, or threw an axle-tree,

or putted a stane either;--let's hae nae quarrelling, callants--we'll

stand by auld Edie's judgment."

Edie was accordingly welcomed, and installed as umpire, with a general

shout of gratulation. With all the modesty of a Bishop to whom the mitre

is proffered, or of a new Speaker called to the chair, the old man

declined the high trust and responsibility with which it was proposed to

invest him, and, in requital for his self-denial and humility, had the

pleasure of receiving the reiterated assurances of young, old, and

middle-aged, that he was simply the best qualified person for the office

of arbiter "in the haill country-side." Thus encouraged, he proceeded

gravely to the execution of his duty, and, strictly forbidding all

aggravating expressions on either side, he heard the smith and gauger on

one side, the miller and schoolmaster on the other, as junior and senior

counsel. Edie's mind, however, was fully made up on the subject before

the pleading began; like that of many a judge, who must nevertheless go

through all the forms, and endure in its full extent the eloquence and

argumentation of the Bar. For when all had been said on both sides, and

much of it said over oftener than once, our senior, being well and ripely

advised, pronounced the moderate and healing judgment, that the disputed

cast was a drawn one, and should therefore count to neither party. This

judicious decision restored concord to the field of players; they began

anew to arrange their match and their bets, with the clamorous mirth

usual on such occasions of village sport, and the more eager were already

stripping their jackets, and committing them, with their coloured

handkerchiefs, to the care of wives, sisters, and mistresses. But their

mirth was singularly interrupted.

On the outside of the group of players began to arise sounds of a

description very different from those of sport--that sort of suppressed

sigh and exclamation, with which the first news of calamity is received

by the hearers, began to be heard indistinctly. A buzz went about among

the women of "Eh, sirs! sae young and sae suddenly summoned!"--It then

extended itself among the men, and silenced the sounds of sportive mirth.

All understood at once that some disaster had happened in the country,

and each inquired the cause at his neighbour, who knew as little as the

querist. At length the rumour reached, in a distinct shape, the ears of

Edie Ochiltree, who was in the very centre of the assembly. The boat of

Mucklebackit, the fisherman whom we have so often mentioned, had been

swamped at sea, and four men had perished, it was affirmed, including

Mucklebackit and his son. Rumour had in this, however, as in other cases,

gone beyond the truth. The boat had indeed been overset; but Stephen, or,

as he was called, Steenie Mucklebackit, was the only man who had been

drowned. Although the place of his residence and his mode of life removed

the young man from the society of the country folks, yet they failed not

to pause in their rustic mirth to pay that tribute to sudden calamity

which it seldom fails to receive in cases of infrequent occurrence. To

Ochiltree, in particular, the news came like a knell, the rather that he

had so lately engaged this young man's assistance in an affair of

sportive mischief; and though neither loss nor injury was designed to the

German adept, yet the work was not precisely one in which the latter

hours of life ought to be occupied.

Misfortunes never come alone. While Ochiltree, pensively leaning upon his

staff, added his regrets to those of the hamlet which bewailed the young

man's sudden death, and internally blamed himself for the transaction in

which he had so lately engaged him, the old man's collar was seized by a

peace-officer, who displayed his baton in his right hand, and exclaimed,

"In the king's name."

The gauger and schoolmaster united their rhetoric, to prove to the

constable and his assistant that he had no right to arrest the king's

bedesman as a vagrant; and the mute eloquence of the miller and smith,

which was vested in their clenched fists, was prepared to give Highland

bail for their arbiter; his blue gown, they said, was his warrant for

travelling the country.

"But his blue gown," answered the officer, "is nae protection for

assault, robbery, and murder; and my warrant is against him for these

crimes."

"Murder!" said Edie, "murder! wha did I e'er murder?"

"Mr. German Doustercivil, the agent at Glen-Withershins mining-works."

"Murder Doustersnivel?--hout, he's living, and life-like, man."

"Nae thanks to you if he be; he had a sair struggle for his life, if a'

be true he tells, and ye maun answer for't at the bidding of the law."

The defenders of the mendicant shrunk back at hearing the atrocity of the

charges against him, but more than one kind hand thrust meat and bread

and pence upon Edie, to maintain him in the prison, to which the officers

were about to conduct him.

"Thanks to ye! God bless ye a', bairns!--I've gotten out o' mony a snare

when I was waur deserving o' deliverance--I shall escape like a bird from

the fowler. Play out your play, and never mind me--I am mair grieved for

the puir lad that's gane, than for aught they can do to me."

Accordingly, the unresisting prisoner was led off, while he mechanically

accepted and stored in his wallets the alms which poured in on every

hand, and ere he left the hamlet, was as deep-laden as a government

victualler. The labour of bearing this accumulating burden was, however,

abridged, by the officer procuring a cart and horse to convey the old man

to a magistrate, in order to his examination and committal.

The disaster of Steenie, and the arrest of Edie, put a stop to the sports

of the village, the pensive inhabitants of which began to speculate upon

the vicissitudes of human affairs, which had so suddenly consigned one of

their comrades to the grave, and placed their master of the revels in

some danger of being hanged. The character of Dousterswivel being pretty

generally known, which was in his case equivalent to being pretty

generally detested, there were many speculations upon the probability of

the accusation being malicious. But all agreed, that if Edie Ochiltree

behaved in all events to suffer upon this occasion, it was a great pity

he had not better merited his fate by killing Dousterswivel outright.

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