Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XII Part 23

"Jamie," said she, "ye maunna tak that view o' yer situation. This cottage, and a' that is in it, is yer ain. Ye'll no begrudge me my room in it for a' my time; and yer cousin has saved some pounds for this happy meeting, and winna put ye aff as she ance did before--for now she's satisfied ye're an altered man. What say ye, la.s.sie? Am I richt?"

Jeanie spoke not; but her looks showed her approval; and the happy pair sat gazing at him as if they feared he was soon about to leave them, and they could not look enough. I began to speak of the scenes he had witnessed in Spain, when his mother inquired what he considered his most unlooked-for escape.

"Indeed, mother," he replied, "it is hard to say; but I think it was at the storming of Badajos, before my better feelings had returned to me. I was then reckless of everything; and, being in the grenadier company, I volunteered for the forlorn hope. I had been before on the same duty, and knew it was as well to volunteer as to be commanded, for the duty must be done, and volunteering has a more soldier-like sound; so we who were to form the party immediately sold everything we possessed, and drank it with our comrades. This was the practice of many, for we knew what we had to do as soon as it was dark; and, if we escaped death, we might look upon it as a miracle; and thus were determined to enjoy life while we had it. This is a soldiers philosophy: enjoy all you have in your power; for what you leave after you fall you know not who will enjoy. I have eaten the last morsel of bread in my haversack going into action, and my comrades did the same, lest we might fall and another eat it. As soon as the hour arrived, we were at our post and formed, then marched on in dead silence towards the breach, headed by a captain and a lieutenant. I was on the right, and heard the lieutenant sob once or twice. The captain turned to him and said, in an under voice--

"'Return, if you are afraid.'

"'No,' replied the lieutenant, in a firm voice, though not much louder than a whisper, 'I am not afraid. I fear not danger, but will face it with any man in the British army; but, good G.o.d! my mother and sister----'"

A dreadful crash stunned me--a mine had been sprung, and we were all scattered in different directions, the greater part mangled and dead.

When I recovered my recollection, I was sweltering in the ditch of the place, almost suffocated, and sinking. I was sorely bruised and bewildered; and, led more by instinct than reason--for I was incapable of thinking--I struggled to get at some support; and fortunately got hold of some willow twigs that were growing in the side of the ditch, and clung to them, while my faculties gradually came to me, and I felt in all its force the horrors of my situation. The noise was louder than thunder; the shot was entering the banks, and plunging into the water around me like a hail-storm, while splinters of sh.e.l.ls were flying past in every direction. I was at one moment covered with water, and the next with mud and earth, torn by the shot from the side of the ditch. The whistling of the b.a.l.l.s, the shouts of the men, the volleys of musketry, and deafening roar of the guns, and constant flashes of light that shot fearfully across the darkness of the scene, rendered my mind a chaos of confusion. I felt not what could be called fear; I had, in vain, more than once tried to extricate myself from my horrible situation. A callous, regardless feeling was upon me; and I pa.s.sed the tedious hours in a kind of stupor, much resembling a fearful nightmare. I felt fully the desperate situation I was in, and my utter inability to relieve myself; but there was no use of making it worse than it was by fretting--and morning at length came. The firing had for a long time ceased; and I was dragged out more dead than alive, benumbed and bruised. Most of the volunteers had perished, and along with them the lieutenant, for whom I felt more regret than for any officer I had ever known to fall in the field of war. I often thought how much more commendable his feelings were than my own; for I had never even thought of you until I returned once more safe to the camp, and coolly turned over in my mind the whole occurrences of this fearful night. My conscience, I own, did upbraid me; but I soon shook off the uneasy feeling.

Jeanie heard the recital with a thrill of horror; and, while tears were falling fast--

"O Jamie!" said she, "little did we imagine the half of the dangers you were exposed to, or the misery you must have endured."

"We had sufferings," replied he, "enough and to spare; but we had also our enjoyments, with a relish no one at home, in the calm of domestic life, can have the most distant conception of. The soldier's life, in an enemy's country, is made up of extremes, either of hards.h.i.+p or enjoyment. When the toilsome march is over, how sound and sweetly he sleeps, even on the hard, bare ground, under the canopy of heaven! But, if his billet be good, he is the happiest of mortals--words cannot express his pleasures. After a rapid pursuit of the enemy, such as we had after the French to Victoria, when we were far in advance of our commissariat, and our stomachs were keen, sweet, sweet was our dry hard beef, so hard and black from overdriving, we were forced to bruise it between two stones, before our eager teeth could masticate it. Victuals and drink were all we coveted, and we were not over scrupulous how we came by them. We were quartered in Alcantara for a winter, after a summer of privations, and we lived like kings. Four of us were quartered upon one house; our rations were regularly served; and we had abundance and to spare. In Spain, almost every family has a barrel of olive oil for a supply during the winter; for they cook a great many victuals with it. We had become as fond of it as the natives. I recollect that our host had two large barrels filled behind the door; and complaints having being made by the inhabitants, every day, of the depredations committed upon their oil by the soldiers, our host was as jealous as the rest, examined his store night and morning, and gave us the greatest character for honesty. But little did he know whom he praised; for we were no better than the rest--only more cunning; and it was fortunate for us when the route came, for I am sure there was not the depth of a finger of oil in one of the barrels, we having had the precaution to put in as much water as we drew oil, to save appearances."

"Jamie, Jamie," said Margaret, "ye were sair left. Oh, man, did ye steal frae the poor folk in that gate?"

"Indeed, mother," replied he, "we did not think we stole when provisions were in the case. The Spaniards, no doubt, said we were only better than the French in this respect; for the French took openly whatever they chose, and abused them to boot; we only stole provisions, when un.o.bserved, and always gave them fair words for what we took, whether detected or not. Perhaps they were indebted to Wellington and the provost-marshal for this; for I a.s.sure you there was no mercy for us when detected. There were two brothers hanged upon the same tree, just before the battle of Victoria, for being detected in taking a little flour when we were in great want. I recollect we marched past them."

"Oh, Jamie," said the mother, "ye've seen strange sichts."

"Ay, and heard strange things, too," replied he. "I will tell you what I heard from a German, one of the legion, who had been severely wounded, and lay next my berth in the hospital:--He had served in a regiment of Swiss in the pay of Great Britain, which had been raised to stop the progress of the French, in the early part of the revolutionary war, and had been with it in Italy and Corsica. They had been hurried, by forced marches, from Constance to Rome, in the depth of a severe winter, and suffered much. The French were in such superior numbers, that they were forced to fly before them until they were joined by the British under General Stewart, when they made a successful stand for some time, and had a great deal of hard fighting. It was during one of these checks, after a severe action, that they lay for some weeks in an old castle, which they had fortified in the best manner they could. The French lay in front, in great force, their foraging parties scouring the country, and cutting off their supplies; so that they were reduced to the most extreme want of provisions, and suffered sadly from the severity of the weather. The cold was most intense; snow or sleet fell almost every day; while firing was not to be had. Their clothing almost worn out, great numbers were barefooted. Under such circ.u.mstances, it was with difficulty that human nature could bear up under its sufferings. The men became desperate, and numbers were falling sick, and dying every day. In the midst of these horrors, urged by extreme misery, three Germans conceived an idea the most repugnant to human nature that can be conceived by man, and put it in execution. One evening they were seen in deep consultation by their comrades, and, towards the middle of the night, they stole down to one of the vaults, of which there were many under the castle, and earnestly and fearlessly invoked the devil to come to them, and enter into an agreement upon any terms he chose. All they would stipulate for was to be delivered from their present misery; but they called in vain--no devil or other appearance could they perceive, although they remained calling upon him for a long time. At length they left the vault, much disappointed at their failure. It was remarked by all the regiment--for they told what they had been about--that none of the three survived any length of time after this, and all died by uncommon modes. The first that fell was Gualter Stulzer. That very night he awoke in his sleep, and, starting to his feet, shouted out, at the loudest pitch of his voice, in a manner that awoke all in the hall, and made us tremble--'Ho! ho! you are come at length--I am your man; take me anywhere, only take me hence;' and fell upon his face. When the day broke, we found him quite dead. We thought he had been in a dream. Not one of us could have risen to a.s.sist him, had we thought he was not, for all was dark, and we thought the evil one was present in the room. The two others, who were not in the same part of the building, we had no doubt were in the same state, until we saw them alive and well in the morning. A few days after this melancholy event, another of them was found dead at his post, with horror most strongly expressed on his countenance. The third survived only till we reached Corsica, where he was hanged for a cruel murder, a short time after our landing. And thus perished these three desperate men--the only instance really authentic of the kind I ever heard of in all my life."

"His presence," said Margaret, "be aboot us a', to keep us frae evil! Ye hae made my flesh creep on my banes. Surely, my bairn, they must hae been Pagans. We read, in the blessed Word, that Esau sold his birthright for a mess o' potage. But men to gang and offer to sell their sauls to the evil one? Ohon! Ohon!"

"No one can say," replied James, "what he will or will not do, until the hour of trial is past. These Germans gave implicit belief to stories of diablerie and witchcraft, and hoped to be relieved from their sufferings by becoming warlocks. You yourself are not free from the belief that such things have been."

"I maun first doubt my Bible, Jamie," said she, "ere I doubt ony sic thing. Hae we no a commandment against witchcraft, and a pattern o' what they were in the Witch o' Endor? Hae I no kent folk that werena canny mysel? I only wonder he camna at their ca', to seal the bargain wi'

them. I may say I ken o' nane at present that has a very ill name; but, when I was a young la.s.s, Ellen Graeme was feared owre a' the kintry side for her unholy power, after she witched Bauldy Scott, the minister's man, for something he had either said or done to her. She had a bauld and bitter tongue in her head; and, after giein him ill names until she was tired, she spat at him, and ended wi' saying--'Bauldy Scott, mind my words!--ye'll rue, ere lang, meddling wi' me.' Bauldy only leuch at her; but didna feel owre easy, for a' that. Aweel, a day or twa after the collyshangie wi' Ellen, he had to gang to Hawick, on some business about a web he had been weavin for the bailie's wife. A' went weel aneugh until he was comin hame in the evenin, whan, just as he was in the middle o' the hills--for he took the shortest cut hame--he met wi' a muckle black tyke o' a dog, that looked hard and sair at him, and followed, whether he wad or no. He feared to clod it; for it was an unsonsy like beast, and he had a druther that it wasna a canny creature.

Bauldy took fervently to prayer and psalm-singin, and the dog soon left him; but he was nae sooner out o' sicht, than there cam on sic a mist that he fairly tint his gate, and wandered he knew not where, until wi'

perfect fatigue he sat down on a stane. The nicht was closin in fast upon him, and he kendna whither he had dandered nearer or farther frae hame. There he sat, whiles prayin, whiles thinkin on his wife and weans, but oftener o' Ellen Graeme and her threat, and the awesome black dog he had met. He was like to gang demented. The time hung sae dreich on his hand, he thocht the world was standin still. He daredna open his een, for fear he might be scared by some awesome sicht. So still was all around him, that the very beatin o' his ain heart sounded in his lugs like a death-watch. This grave-like calm and stillness became to him waur than any noise could hae been; and, to mak a lang tale short, there he sat on the stane till the grey o' the mornin. And whar was't, do ye think, he had been sittin the lee-lang nicht? No a hunder yards frae his ain door, on the big stane that stans by the kirk-stile, at the self and same spot where Ellen Graeme had threatened him! That he had been bewitched, few in the parish doubted; and he himself believed, until the day o' his death, that he had seen the evil one in the form o' the black dog, who, being forced to flee by the force o' his prayers, had raised the mist to bewilder and prevent his gettin hame. He made a lang complaint to the minister against Ellen; but he wadna tak it up, and only laughed at Bauldy, and said, 'Are ye sure ye didna pree owre deep o' the yill in Hawick, Bauldy?' Now, this was warst o' a'; for, puir man, he had baith the skaith and the scorn; but few thocht waur o' the minister for no takin up Bauldy's case."

"It may be as you say, mother," said James--"I never thought seriously on the subject; but this I know--I never felt so comfortable, when sentinel upon a lonely outpost, as I did in garrison or in camp. I remember once, while we lay in the valley of Roncesvalles, a short time before we entered France, I was on duty upon an outpost, with the enemy in front. I had almost made a fool of myself by giving a false alarm. I never was so much out of sorts in my life with real terror; I shook like a dog in a wet sack. My station was an old building, a complete ruin, without roof, and not more than six feet of wall standing in any part of it; so that, with a glance of my eye, I could examine recesses of the interior. My turn came at twelve o'clock. The orders were to allow no one to advance without the word and countersign; and if any movement was perceived in the enemy's lines, to fire off my piece, and fall back upon the mainguard. I had been upon my station for about half-an-hour, or better, musing upon various things--but Jeanie and you were ever uppermost in my thoughts. Suddenly a strange sound fell upon my ear. I could not distinguish whether it was a sigh or a low moan. I became all attention for a recurrence of the sound, and c.o.c.ked my musket. Never did the click fall so loud upon my ear. Thus I stood at post, gazing, with eyes almost starting from their sockets, around me.

It did not occur again. While I stood thus, I began to recover, and thought I had been deceived, unc.o.c.ked my musket, and resumed my measured pace, peering on every side, and searching with my eyes, as far as the gloom of a starry night, without moonlight, would admit. I had not made above a dozen turns upon my allotted bounds, when the same sounds fell upon my ears, but much more distinct. It was a heavy groan, and appeared to come from my right--not in the direction of the enemy's lines. Again I c.o.c.ked my musket. All was still as death after the groan. I stooped towards the ground to listen, but could discern no foot-tread upon it, or the smallest movement. I walked round the ruin, and examined it with care; but all was still and void. I looked in the direction I thought the sound had come from, when all at once there appeared to rise out of the ground, at a short distance from me, a most uncouth figure. It had the appearance of a monk in his cloak, with the hood up, and a pair of horns upon his head. From the outline between me and the sky, so appalling was the vision, that I clapped my musket to my shoulder, and called, "Who goes there?" A heavy groan was the only reply, and the whole disappeared into the ground as suddenly as it had risen out of it.

A cold sweat covered my whole body--my knees knocked against each other, as I stood rooted to the spot. I would have fired, but had not the power at first; and as I recovered, I was ashamed, as I knew my comrades would laugh at me, and the officers give no credit to my story. I had not the power to withdraw my eyes from the spot. Again I saw the same appearance rise out of the ground, but with more fearful distinctness, and gaze upon me, utter a groan, and again vanish. This was too much. I was almost overcome, when I heard the tread of the relief advancing to change guard. My nerves were in a moment strung to energy again by the sound of the human voice. Although, in a whisper, I related what I had witnessed to them, all were inclined to laugh, save he who was to take my place. However, it was agreed to go to the spot I pointed out, and examine it. When we reached the place, we found, behind some low bushes, scarcely, in the dark, to be discerned from the ground, a wounded mule, so weak that it could not rise from the ground upon its feet. At our approach, it attempted to rise, but could only elevate its fore-quarters, as it had been shot through the loins, and fell down again with a groan. None of us laughed more heartily than I did at this elucidation of the fearful vision. These outpost duties often occurred, and we liked them worse than an action. So little did we dread fight, that I have heard the men say seriously, when they had lost even so trifling a necessary as a rosette, "I wish we may have an action soon, that I may pick up one." In action, so cool and steady had we become, that jests and remarks were made as freely, and even with more spirit than on a parade or in the barrack-room. In an affair of outposts, the sharpest I was ever in, and when the b.a.l.l.s were whistling around us like gra.s.shoppers on a sunny bank, James Graham, my left-hand man, said--

"Blair, they have hit me at last, confound them! and broke some of my ribs. I both heard and felt them crack like pipe-staples; but I will have a shot or two while I can stand to them." After a few minutes, he said, "They have hit me, but not cut me. There is no blood on my trousers, yet my breast is confounded sore." He put his hand into a pocket he had in the breast of his coat, and pulled out a favourite knife, stamped on the ground in anger, and cried, "Oh, the French blackguards! they have broken my knife, and I bought it in the High Street of Edinburgh." And he resumed his fire, if possible, with redoubled energy, taking as cool and deliberate an aim as if he had been firing at a target for a prize in his native village.

In the same skirmish, James Paterson's bonnet fell over the wall which we were lining, as he was taking out some cartridges to place them in his breast. The enemy were in triple force not one hundred yards from the other side.

"I shan't go bareheaded for all that," said he, and leaned his musket against the wall, climbed over it, gathered up his ammunition as calmly as if he had been in the barrack-yard, placed his bonnet on his head, and leaped back unhurt. An aid-de-camp, who rode past at the time, cried out to us--

"Well done, my brave men! They may march over your bodies, but they cannot drive you back."

We gave him three cheers, and the enemy soon after fell back. But, Jeanie, la.s.sie, I fear you think I am boasting far too much of myself and comrades. I would not speak to you of a soldier's life, were it not that you, my friend, invite me to it; but I a.s.sure you that those parts of it which are most dreaded by the people at home have in them great interest, and serve to enliven the otherwise monotonous duties of a campaign in an enemy's country, where our fatigues in marching and countermarching are scarce bearable. If we found any fault with the general, in our private conversation, it was, that we had not fighting enough. Our opinion was, the hotter war, the sooner peace; and we always felt a consciousness of being able to beat the enemy, if we were only led on.

"O Jamie, my bairn!" said Margaret, "evil communications corrupt good manners. I wadna hae believed, had onybody but yersel tauld me, yer nature could hae changed sae muckle as to tak delight in sic a life. My heart is sair to hear ye speak wi sae muckle relish o' sic b.l.o.o.d.y wark."

"Mother, you wrong me," replied the veteran. "I rejoice that there is now no call for such doings. While I was in Spain, my heart was ever here with you and Jeanie. I cannot help feeling my blood move quicker in my veins when I recall these moments of intense excitement. It is all the reward I shall ever have for my fatigues and wounds. We felt that we fought in Spain to keep the battle from our own beloved homes; and the scenes of rapine and desolation we witnessed there gave us double energy; for the foe that ravaged the fields of Spain had long threatened the land of our fathers, where all we held dear remained. A short time before the siege of Burgos, a party of our regiment were sent as a convoy to some stores. We halted at a village, where a foraging party of the French had been only a few hours before. Every house was a scene of ruin and blood. In one cottage that we entered, we found a beautiful young female sitting upon the ground, weeping over the bodies of her murdered father and brother, who had fallen defending her from the violence of the French soldiers. As the evening was soon to be upon us, we were halted until daybreak in the morning. Donald Ross, one of the men in our company, was particularly struck with the charms of the female, and, somehow, or other, became so intimate with her, that she agreed to go with him as soon as she had buried her father and brother--and she was as good as her word. Donald being a Roman Catholic, they were married by a Spanish priest, and lived happy enough for some time. While we lay at Abrantes, a party of Spanish guerillas came into the town. All at once, Maritornes became very dull and uneasy. Donald, at his coming home, often found her in tears; but she would not impart to him the cause of her distress. Ross, who loved her with all his heart, became himself uneasy upon her account. All at once she was amissing, and no accounts of her could be had, although diligent search was made for her. The guerillas were still in the neighbourhood of the town; and Donald suspected that she had gone to some of them, and resolved to go and make the necessary inquiries. On the morning of the day he was to have gone, having got leave from his officer, her body was found, stabbed to the heart, concealed in a thicket near the town. Poor Donald wept over her like an infant, and, after becoming a little more calm, swore a fearful vengeance on her murderer, should he ever meet him, and to do all in his power to discover the cruel perpetrator. The day following her interment, as he was indulging his grief for her loss, and thinking of means to trace her destroyer, near the spot where her body had been found, one of the guerillas started from behind a tree, and thrust a knife at his bosom. Fortunately it struck his breastplate, and glanced off. In a twinkling his bayonet was plunged to the socket in the body of the a.s.sa.s.sin, and he fell, grinding his teeth in rage and pain. Donald shouted for a.s.sistance, not to aid him in the strife--for his enemy was now helpless, and to all appearance dead at his feet--but to a.s.sist in bearing him into the town, as he had an impression on his mind that this was the murderer of his beloved. Two of his comrades who were in the neighbourhood came to his aid, bore the wounded man into the town, and carried him to the hospital, where his wound, which proved to be mortal, was dressed. Before his death, he confessed the murder of Maritornes, and gave the following account of himself:--His father had been a vine-dresser, whose vineyard joined that of the parents of Maritornes, so that they had been brought up together from their earliest childhood. After he came to man's estate, the beauty of Maritornes had made a violent impression upon him; but, being of a wild and unsettled turn of mind, her parents had disapproved of his attentions to her; and she herself had never encouraged his addresses, but had always appeared uneasy and fearful in his presence. He had tried every method to win her affections in vain, and had been involved in several quarrels upon her account with the other youths, one of whom he had slain, and was forced to fly. The war breaking out soon after, he had joined one of the guerilla parties, and had never seen or heard of her since he left the village, until he found her the wife of a vile heretic, as he thought. The sight was too much for him, and he resolved to murder her; for, he said, the hope of at one time or other winning her affections had never forsaken his mind until then; and he vowed the death of her and her seducer, as he supposed Donald to be. She had seen and recognised her tormentor, which had been the cause of her distress.

For several days he had tracked and watched her steps like a bloodhound, until he accomplished his horrid purpose; and he showed not the least contrition for the deed, but appeared to regret that he had not slain Donald also. It was long before Donald ceased to regret the death of Maritornes, or to think of her; but it was perhaps wisely ordered for himself, for, after the battle of Bayonne was fought, and the peace made, the troops left for England. None of the men were allowed to take their Portuguese or Spanish wives out of the country along with them; and there were several hundreds, who had followed the army and clung to their husbands in all our privations, wherever we went. Poor things! my heart bled for them. When the order came, it was one of the most heartrending scenes to witness the distress of both parties--the despair and wailings of the females, and the anguish of many of the men--severals deserted, and all promised to return for these poor creatures, as soon as it was in their power. Many are the disconsolate females who still languish in their lonely homes, hoping in vain for the return of husbands they shall never see again, and who, if alive, only think of them now with indifference, or perhaps have heartlessly formed new ties."

"O Jamie, Jamie," said Jeanie, "it is not possible, I learn frae yoursel, to tell a pleasing tale o' war. They are all o' blood, injustice, and violence. It gradually steels the heart to the best feelings o' the human race, and does away wi' the sense o' right and wrong by a false plea o' necessity. Surely man is never placed, but by his ain evil pa.s.sions, in a situation where it is necessary either to be unjust or cruel."

"Let us forget, my love," said James, "that such things ever were, and look forward in hope. I have, no doubt, the world once more to begin. I am not yet an old man; and, if I am not rich in cash, I am richer in experience than many others who have been at home, and shall, by the blessing of G.o.d, do my endeavour to put to use my dear-purchased wisdom.

I shall then be more fortunate than poor Walter B---- and several others I have known."

"Dear Jamie, tell us about Walter--what o' him?" said Margaret.

There were severals in the army (continued James) whom I knew as common soldiers, that had been born to rank and riches--one in particular, Walter B----. I will give you his lamentable story, as I had it from his own mouth, in one of his fits of melancholy and repentance. We were on the heights above Roncesvalles, and the weather was more boisterous than I had ever seen it in my life anywhere; the gusts of wind blew down our tents, and the hailstorms were so severe, that we were forced to shelter ourselves from them by any means we could, and even the very mules were scarce able to endure their severity. He had been in one of his desponding fits for several days, and I had done all in my power to amuse him in vain. Towards the shades of evening, we sat s.h.i.+vering and cowering from the extreme cold, and, having given him an outline of my own history, he in return gave me his, nearly as follows:--He was a native of England, and a relative of some of the oldest families in it.

His father had been one of the established clergy, and held a rich living, beloved and respected for his benevolence and piety. Walter, who was an only son, had received as good an education as England could afford; but, unfortunately for himself, he was of an unsettled and extravagant disposition, and was always getting himself into disagreeable situations, from which he was always relieved, after a show of contrition, by his indulgent parent. Thus matters waxed worse and worse with him, until he could not from very shame apply to his forgiving father. He had lost a large sum of money at play in London, and had no means of liquidating the debt. In an agony of shame and remorse, he fled, and, having no means of maintaining himself, changed his name, and enlisted as a private soldier. His distressed parent, for several years, knew not whether he was dead or alive. Matters remained thus with him until the arrival of a new chaplain to the regiment in which he was serving. Shortly after the chaplain joined, he recognised Walter, spoke to and reasoned with him in a truly Christian spirit, and chide him for his cruelty to his parent, who continued to mourn his loss, and would, he had no doubt, once more receive him to his bosom, would he only promise to behave more circ.u.mspectly in future, and express his sorrow for what he had done. Poor Walter was heartily sick of his present situation, and requested the chaplain to write for him what he chose, and, upon the receipt of an answer from his father, he would do all in his power to regain his pardon and confidence. In a few weeks after, Walter got his discharge, and returned to his father's mansion, where he was received with joy and forgiveness. His parent only appeared to have lived to be blessed in the return of his prodigal son; for he died in about three months after his return. Walter was his sole heir and was now rich, as he had been lately poor, while a private soldier. For a few months, he was all that his relations could have wished him--reserved and penitent for his former follies, and most punctual in his religious duties. In this frame of mind he became attached to a young lady, the daughter of a neighbouring squire, rather his superior in rank and fortune. To her he was wed, and lived in happiness and peace for some months, when unfortunately he paid a visit to London with his young wife; and, as bad fortune would have it, he once again launched out into all his former extravagance, and soon became embarra.s.sed in his circ.u.mstances. An unsuccessful bet at a horse-race once more placed him in the same position he had been in at his first enlistment: but his distress was tenfold greater, for his young and innocent wife was now a partaker in his misery. He solemnly declared to me he more than once resolved to put a period to his existence, but was always prevented by some trivial interruption or other. At this critical period, an uncle of his wife's died, and she was his sole heir. Thus, once again, he was unexpectedly s.n.a.t.c.hed from beggary, and was much richer than he was at his father's death; but, alas for him! not wiser; for, with accelerated pace, he held on his former career, and the consequence was, that he was forced to leave his young and beautiful wife to the charity of her relations. Under his a.s.sumed name, he became my companion in the ranks--a strange, interesting, even fearful companion, too, he was at times; for he would occasionally be the most light-hearted and amusing person in the group; at others, he was sullen and morose, scarce a monosyllable would escape his lips; and, when irritated, the expressions he made use of were sublimely fearful, such as a devil might have used, making even the most depraved of the men quail. Yet, when in his quiet and gentle moods, I have listened to his discourse with rapture. One hour of his conversation conveyed more information to my mind than a month of reading could have done. I have seen him, when we were alone, weep like a child over his fallen fortunes; then, the next moment, knit his brows, compress his lips, clench his fists, and stamp upon the ground, and call upon death to deliver him from his own thoughts. Times out of number I have heard him express a wish that he might fall in the next action. He had escaped without a scratch until the battle of Bayonne. Well do I remember the conversation we had the evening before. It were tedious to repeat it; but he expressed his fears that the enemy would miss him, and declared to me his firm determination to desert and remain in Spain (he spoke the language like a native) rather than return to England; for there was a rumour in the camp at the time of the reverses of Bonaparte, and the antic.i.p.ations of a speedy peace. Towards the close of the action we had driven in the opposing column, and the fire had slackened; hundreds of dead and wounded lay around us, for the affair had been very sharp.

"Blair," said he, "I knew they could not hit me; I must live on in misery."

Scarce were the words spoken, when he fell upon his face. I stopped, and turned him on his back; his eyes were fixed in death; his countenance more placid and resigned than I ever remember to have seen it. He grasped my hand, his lips moved, but the noise of the firing deadened his voice. I placed my ear to his lips, and could just make out--

"James, I am now happy. Gracious G.o.d, pardon your erring creature!"

A slight s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed along his frame, and all was over. What his real name was I never knew, or I would have written to his wife. Such were his talents, that, had his mind been well regulated, there was no effort that man can accomplish he was not capable of; but, alas! he perished, the victim of his uncontrolled pa.s.sions.

Here ended the soldier's narratives. James Blair had returned, and in health, but he had not found happiness, neither had his mother or cousin; yet his hopes were most reasonable. He had only attained one object, to find another more difficult to attain, humble as that object is--a way to earn his daily bread. Matters were in this state, when a rumour spread through the parish that a captain had purchased an estate which had been for some time in the market, and meant to build a new house, and live constantly at it. This was a matter of great joy to us, for it brought hope of employment, for a time at least; and James brightened up. The weather was no sooner favourable, than the new proprietor came to survey his purchase, and plan his improvements. A number of labourers were employed, and James among the rest; for he was first in his application. The captain, struck by his cleanly and military appearance, was much taken with him, and inquired as to his services. James gave a modest account of them, and retired, the captain making no observation at the time; but it was observed that he oftener stopped and spoke to him than to any other of his work-people, and observed him more closely. Still nothing uncommon had occurred to James, more than the rest. He received his wages the same as the others, and was most a.s.siduous to please and give satisfaction to his employer.

Since his return, he had been most punctual in his attendance at church, and zealous in his religious duties--for he felt all the heart-consoling comforts they are calculated to bestow; and thus had won back to himself the approbation of his own mind and the esteem of others, who had formerly thought very lightly of his principles and conduct.

The consequence was, that James (who, before he went from among us, was well skilled in all the branches of agricultural labour) was appointed grieve by the new proprietor over his estate, towards the end of the harvest, and put into possession of a neat house before the winter commenced. All obstructions to his wedding with Jeanie Aitken were now removed; they were married, and after the wedding she left the widow's cottage for her own house, a happy bride; but the Widow Blair would not leave her cottage to live with them. Years thus rolled on; James's family had increased to three, two boys and a girl, when Widow Blair paid the debt of nature, and was buried beside her husband. James had acc.u.mulated a small sum of money by his industry and strict economy, when his excellent and worthy master died suddenly, and he was again without a way to live, though in much better circ.u.mstances than when he had first returned. He was now under a great necessity to exert himself, but he could not at once make up his mind as to the manner. He at last resolved to emigrate, and set sail for Sydney towards the fall of the leaf. I have parted with relations and dearest friends, but never did I feel a sharper throe than when I last bade farewell to James Blair and Jeanie Aitken.

But I have often a letter from them. In my last, James says he is prosperous far above his deserts. He is sole proprietor of thousands of sheep of the best breed; and has the range of more land than he can ride round in a long day.

THE WHITE WOMAN OF TARRAS.

Up among the wild moors of Liddlesdale and Ewesdale rises the Tarras, a small, black-looking stream, which, after das.h.i.+ng and brawling through scenes as wild as itself, joins the Esk near Irvine, about twelve or fifteen miles from its source. In the olden time, the banks of the Tarras formed one of the favourite resorts of the freebooters of the Scottish Borders, who, in the midst of their inaccessible mora.s.ses, either set pursuit at defiance, or made an easy conquest of those who were foolhardy enough to follow them into their strongholds. They have long ceased their roving and adventurous life--pursuer and pursued have long been lying in the quiet churchyards, or slumbering in their forgotten graves among the wild hills where they fought and fell; but Tarras has since been haunted by other spirits than the turbulent ones of whom we have spoken; for, when the days of rapine and murder were past, it was but natural that superst.i.tion should people the wild and desolate mora.s.ses with the spirits of the departed.

The "march of intellect" is gradually trampling under foot the legends, omens, and superst.i.tions which formerly flourished in their strength amid the wild fastnesses of the land; and they are seldom talked of now but as things that have been, but never will be again. The incidents upon which the present tale is founded were matters of common conversation some sixty or seventy years since, and the belief in their truth was general and implicit; _now_, they only live in the recollection of the aged, like a half-forgotten dream in their early days. It was from an infirm old man, the son of our _ghost-seer_ that the tradition was obtained.

Late one evening, in the autumn of 17--, Willie Bell, the blacksmith, was standing at the door, wondering what had become of his apprentice, John Graham, who had left Clay-yett that morning, to go to the neighbouring town of Langholm, where his father was lying dangerously ill. It was bright moonlight--calm and beautiful; the few clouds seen in the sky lay still and motionless on the horizon, like barks becalmed at sea, only waiting for a breeze to waft them.

"I hope naething has happened the callant," said Nelly, the guidwife; "it's a bonny nicht--he canna hae tint the gate."

"Hout, na," said Willie, "he kens the gate as weel's I do mysel--there's nae fear o' him; but I'm thinkin, maybe, his father's waur than he expeckit, and he'll be bidin at the Langholm a' nicht."

"Puir chiel! I did hear tell that his father was waitin on; but I hope he's no that far gane yet."

It was now near nine o'clock, and the good folks were beginning to be rather uneasy about John Graham, who had faithfully promised to return before eight, when they heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and presently the object of their solitude appeared, running at the top of his speed, and looking anxiously behind him, as if dreading pursuit, or flying from danger. He soon reached the cottage, and staggered to the door, where he leaned, apparently quite exhausted.

His face was ghastly pale, large drops of perspiration stood on his brow, and his limbs trembled as if he were under the influence of ague.