The Black Dwarf

Chapter 2

Will none but Hearne the Hunter serve your turn?

--MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

In one of the most remote districts of the south of Scotland, where an

ideal line, drawn along the tops of lofty and bleak mountains, separates

that land from her sister kingdom, a young man, called Halbert, or

Hobbie Elliot, a substantial farmer, who boasted his descent from old

Martin Elliot of the Preakin-tower, noted in Border story and song, was

on his return from deer-stalking. The deer, once so numerous among these

solitary wastes, were now reduced to a very few herds, which, sheltering

themselves in the most remote and inaccessible recesses, rendered the

task of pursuing them equally toilsome and precarious. There were,

however, found many youth of the country ardently attached to this

sport, with all its dangers and fatigues. The sword had been sheathed

upon the Borders for more than a hundred years, by the peaceful union of

the crowns in the reign of James the First of Great Britain. Still

the country retained traces of what it had been in former days; the

inhabitants, their more peaceful avocations having been repeatedly

interrupted by the civil wars of the preceding century, were scarce yet

broken in to the habits of regular industry, sheep-farming had not been

introduced upon any considerable scale, and the feeding of black cattle

was the chief purpose to which the hills and valleys were applied. Near

to the farmer's house, the tenant usually contrived to raise such a crop

of oats or barley, as afforded meal for his family; and the whole of

this slovenly and imperfect mode of cultivation left much time upon his

own hands, and those of his domestics. This was usually employed by the

young men in hunting and fishing; and the spirit of adventure, which

formerly led to raids and forays in the same districts, was still to be

discovered in the eagerness with which they pursued those rural sports.

The more high-spirited among the youth were, about the time that our

narrative begins, expecting, rather with hope than apprehension, an

opportunity of emulating their fathers in their military achievements,

the recital of which formed the chief part of their amusement within

doors. The passing of the Scottish act of security had given the alarm

of England, as it seemed to point at a separation of the two British

kingdoms, after the decease of Queen Anne, the reigning sovereign.

Godolphin, then at the head of the English administration, foresaw that

there was no other mode of avoiding the probable extremity of a civil

war, but by carrying through an incorporating union. How that treaty

was managed, and how little it seemed for some time to promise the

beneficial results which have since taken place to such extent, may be

learned from the history of the period. It is enough for our purpose

to say, that all Scotland was indignant at the terms on which their

legislature had surrendered their national independence. The general

resentment led to the strangest leagues and to the wildest plans. The

Cameronians were about to take arms for the restoration of the house of

Stewart, whom they regarded, with justice, as their oppressors; and

the intrigues of the period presented the strange picture of papists,

prelatists, and presbyterians, caballing among themselves against the

English government, out of a common feeling that their country had been

treated with injustice. The fermentation was universal; and, as the

population of Scotland had been generally trained to arms, under the act

of security, they were not indifferently prepared for war, and waited

but the declaration of some of the nobility to break out into open

hostility. It was at this period of public confusion that our story

opens.

The cleugh, or wild ravine, into which Hobbie Elliot had followed the

game, was already far behind him, and he was considerably advanced on

his return homeward, when the night began to close upon him. This

would have been a circumstance of great indifference to the experienced

sportsman, who could have walked blindfold over every inch of his

native heaths, had it not happened near a spot, which, according to

the traditions of the country, was in extremely bad fame, as haunted

by supernatural appearances. To tales of this kind Hobbie had, from his

childhood, lent an attentive ear; and as no part of the country afforded

such a variety of legends, so no man was more deeply read in their

fearful lore than Hobbie of the Heugh-foot; for so our gallant was

called, to distinguish him from a round dozen of Elliots who bore the

same Christian name. It cost him no efforts, therefore, to call to

memory the terrific incidents connected with the extensive waste upon

which he was now entering. In fact, they presented themselves with a

readiness which he felt to be somewhat dismaying.

This dreary common was called Mucklestane-Moor, from a huge column of

unhewn granite, which raised its massy head on a knell near the centre

of the heath, perhaps to tell of the mighty dead who slept beneath, or

to preserve the memory of some bloody skirmish. The real cause of

its existence had, however, passed away; and tradition, which is as

frequently an inventor of fiction as a preserver of truth, had supplied

its place with a supplementary legend of her own, which now came full

upon Hobbie's memory. The ground about the pillar was strewed, or rather

encumbered, with many large fragments of stone of the same consistence

with the column, which, from their appearance as they lay scattered on

the waste, were popularly called the Grey Geese of Mucklestane-Moor. The

legend accounted for this name and appearance by the catastrophe of a

noted and most formidable witch who frequented these hills in former

days, causing the ewes to KEB, and the kine to cast their calves, and

performing all the feats of mischief ascribed to these evil beings. On

this moor she used to hold her revels with her sister hags; and rings

were still pointed out on which no grass nor heath ever grew, the turf

being, as it were, calcined by the scorching hoofs of their diabolical

partners.

Once upon a time this old hag is said to have crossed the moor, driving

before her a flock of geese, which she proposed to sell to advantage

at a neighbouring fair;--for it is well known that the fiend, however

liberal in imparting his powers of doing mischief, ungenerously leaves

his allies under the necessity of performing the meanest rustic labours

for subsistence. The day was far advanced, and her chance of obtaining

a good price depended on her being first at the market. But the geese,

which had hitherto preceded her in a pretty orderly manner, when they

came to this wide common, interspersed with marshes and pools of water,

scattered in every direction, to plunge into the element in which they

delighted. Incensed at the obstinacy with which they defied all her

efforts to collect them, and not remembering the precise terms of the

contract by which the fiend was bound to obey her commands for a certain

space, the sorceress exclaimed, "Deevil, that neither I nor they ever

stir from this spot more!" The words were hardly uttered, when, by a

metamorphosis as sudden as any in Ovid, the hag and her refractory flock

were converted into stone, the angel whom she served, being a strict

formalist, grasping eagerly at an opportunity of completing the ruin of

her body and soul by a literal obedience to her orders. It is said, that

when she perceived and felt the transformation which was about to take

place, she exclaimed to the treacherous fiend, "Ah, thou false thief!

lang hast thou promised me a grey gown, and now I am getting ane that

will last for ever." The dimensions of the pillar, and of the stones,

were often appealed to, as a proof of the superior stature and size of

old women and geese in the days of other years, by those praisers of

the past who held the comfortable opinion of the gradual degeneracy of

mankind.

All particulars of this legend Hobbie called to mind as he passed along

the moor. He also remembered, that, since the catastrophe had taken

place, the scene of it had been avoided, at least after night-fall, by

all human beings, as being the ordinary resort of kelpies, spunkies, and

other demons, once the companions of the witch's diabolical revels,

and now continuing to rendezvous upon the same spot, as if still in

attendance on their transformed mistress. Hobbie's natural hardihood,

however, manfully combated with these intrusive sensations of awe.

He summoned to his side the brace of large greyhounds, who were the

companions of his sports, and who were wont, in his own phrase, to fear

neither dog nor devil; he looked at the priming of his piece, and, like

the clown in Hallowe'en, whistled up the warlike ditty of Jock of the

Side, as a general causes his drums be beat to inspirit the doubtful

courage of his soldiers.

In this state of mind, he was very glad to hear a friendly voice shout

in his rear, and propose to him a partner on the road. He slackened his

pace, and was quickly joined by a youth well known to him, a gentleman

of some fortune in that remote country, and who had been abroad on the

same errand with himself. Young Earnscliff, "of that ilk," had

lately come of age, and succeeded to a moderate fortune, a good deal

dilapidated, from the share his family had taken in the disturbances

of the period. They were much and generally respected in the country;

a reputation which this young gentleman seemed likely to sustain, as he

was well educated, and of excellent dispositions.

"Now, Earnscliff;" exclaimed Hobbie, "I am glad to meet your honour

ony gate, and company's blithe on a bare moor like this--it's an unco

bogilly bit--Where hae ye been sporting?"

"Up the Carla Cleugh, Hobbie," answered Earnscliff, returning his

greeting. "But will our dogs keep the peace, think you?"

"Deil a fear o' mine," said Hobbie, "they hae scarce a leg to stand

on.--Odd! the deer's fled the country, I think! I have been as far

as Inger-fell-foot, and deil a horn has Hobbie seen, excepting three

red-wud raes, that never let me within shot of them, though I gaed

a mile round to get up the wind to them, an' a'. Deil o' me wad care

muckle, only I wanted some venison to our auld gude-dame. The carline,

she sits in the neuk yonder, upbye, and cracks about the grand shooters

and hunters lang syne--Odd, I think they hae killed a' the deer in the

country, for my part."

"Well, Hobbie, I have shot a fat buck, and sent him to Earnscliff this

morning--you shall have half of him for your grandmother."

"Mony thanks to ye, Mr. Patrick, ye're kend to a' the country for a kind

heart. It will do the auld wife's heart gude--mair by token, when she

kens it comes frae you--and maist of a' gin ye'll come up and take your

share, for I reckon ye are lonesome now in the auld tower, and a' your

folk at that weary Edinburgh. I wonder what they can find to do amang

a wheen ranks o' stane-houses wi' slate on the tap o' them, that might

live on their ain bonny green hills."

"My education and my sisters' has kept my mother much in Edinburgh for

several years," said Earnscliff; "but I promise you I propose to make up

for lost time."

"And ye'll rig out the auld tower a bit," said Hobbie, "and live

hearty and neighbour-like wi' the auld family friends, as the Laird o'

Earnscliff should? I can tell ye, my mother--my grandmother I mean--but,

since we lost our ain mother, we ca' her sometimes the tane, and

sometimes the tother--but, ony gate, she conceits hersell no that

distant connected wi' you."

"Very true, Hobbie, and I will come to the Heugh-foot to dinner

to-morrow with all my heart."

"Weel, that's kindly said! We are auld neighbours, an we were nae

kin--and my gude-dame's fain to see you--she clavers about your father

that was killed lang syne."

"Hush, hush, Hobbie--not a word about that--it's a story better

forgotten."

"I dinna ken--if it had chanced amang our folk, we wad hae keepit it in

mind mony a day till we got some mends for't--but ye ken your ain ways

best, you lairds--I have heard say that Ellieslaw's friend stickit your

sire after the laird himsell had mastered his sword."

"Fie, fie, Hobbie; it was a foolish brawl, occasioned by wine and

politics--many swords were drawn--it is impossible to say who struck the

blow."

"At ony rate, auld Ellieslaw was aiding and abetting; and I am sure if

ye were sae disposed as to take amends on him, naebody could say it was

wrang, for your father's blood is beneath his nails--and besides there's

naebody else left that was concerned to take amends upon, and he's a

prelatist and a jacobite into the bargain--I can tell ye the country

folk look for something atween ye."

"O for shame, Hobbie!" replied the young Laird; "you, that profess

religion, to stir your friend up to break the law, and take vengeance

at his own hand, and in such a bogilly bit too, where we know not what

beings may be listening to us!"

"Hush, hush!" said Hobbie, drawing nearer to his companion, "I was nae

thinking o' the like o' them--But I can guess a wee bit what keeps your

hand up, Mr. Patrick; we a' ken it's no lack o' courage, but the twa

grey een of a bonny lass, Miss Isabel Vere, that keeps you sae sober."

"I assure you, Hobbie," said his companion, rather angrily, "I assure

you you are mistaken; and it is extremely wrong of you, either to think

of, or to utter, such an idea; I have no idea of permitting freedoms to

be carried so far as to connect my name with that of any young lady."

"Why, there now--there now!" retorted Elliot; "did I not say it was nae

want o' spunk that made ye sae mim?--Weel, weel, I meant nae offence;

but there's just ae thing ye may notice frae a friend. The auld Laird

of Ellieslaw has the auld riding blood far hetter at his heart than ye

hae--troth, he kens naething about thae newfangled notions o' peace and

quietness--he's a' for the auld-warld doings o' lifting and laying on,

and he has a wheen stout lads at his back too, and keeps them weel up in

heart, and as fu' o' mischief as young colts. Where he gets the gear to

do't nane can say; he lives high, and far abune his rents here; however,

he pays his way--Sae, if there's ony out-break in the country, he's

likely to break out wi' the first--and weel does he mind the auld

quarrels between ye, I'm surmizing he'll be for a touch at the auld

tower at Earnscliff."

"Well, Hobbie," answered the young gentleman, "if he should be so ill

advised, I shall try to make the old tower good against him, as it has

been made good by my betters against his betters many a day ago."

"Very right--very right--that's speaking like a man now," said the stout

yeoman; "and, if sae should be that this be sae, if ye'll just gar your

servant jow out the great bell in the tower, there's me, and my twa

brothers, and little Davie of the Stenhouse, will be wi' you, wi' a' the

power we can make, in the snapping of a flint."

"Many thanks, Hobbie," answered Earnscliff; "but I hope we shall have no

war of so unnatural and unchristian a kind in our time."

"Hout, sir, hout," replied Elliot; "it wad be but a wee bit neighbour

war, and Heaven and earth would make allowances for it in this

uncultivated place--it's just the nature o' the folk and the land--we

canna live quiet like Loudon folk--we haena sae muckle to do. It's

impossible."

"Well, Hobbie," said the Laird, "for one who believes so deeply as you

do in supernatural appearances, I must own you take Heaven in your own

hand rather audaciously, considering where we are walking."

"What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do

yoursell, Earnscliff?" said Hobbie, something offended; "to be sure,

they do say there's a sort o' worricows and lang-nebbit things about the

land, but what need I care for them? I hae a good conscience, and little

to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang the lasses, or a splore

at a fair, and that's no muckle to speak of. Though I say it mysell, I

am as quiet a lad and as peaceable--"

"And d**k Turnbull's head that you broke, and Willie of Winton whom you

shot at?" said his travelling companion.

"Hout, Earnscliff, ye keep a record of a' men's misdoings--d**k's head's

healed again, and we're to fight out the quarrel at Jeddart, on the

Rood-day, so that's like a thing settled in a peaceable way; and then I

am friends wi' Willie again, puir chield--it was but twa or three hail

draps after a'. I wad let onybody do the like o't to me for a pint o'

brandy. But Willie's lowland bred, poor fallow, and soon frighted for

himsell--And, for the worricows, were we to meet ane on this very bit--"

"As is not unlikely," said young Earnscliff, "for there stands your old

witch, Hobbie."

"I say," continued Elliot, as if indignant at this hint--"I say, if the

auld carline hersell was to get up out o' the grund just before us here,

I would think nae mair--But, gude preserve us, Earnscliff; what can yon,

be!"