The Ayrshire Legatees

Published：2026-08-01 23:56:16 Source: electric train sets for 8 year olds Author: Science Kits

Transcribed from the 1895 Macmillan and wooden puzzles for 6 year olds under 50 dollarsCo. edition by DavidPrice, email [email protected]

The Ayrshire Legatees

CHAPTER I—THE DEPARTURE

On New Year’s day Dr. Pringle received a letter fromIndia, informing him that his cousin, Colonel Armour, had died atHydrabad, and left him his residuary legatee.  The same postbrought other letters on the same subject from the agent of thedeceased in London, by which it was evident to the whole familythat no time should be lost in looking after their interests inthe hands of such brief and abrupt correspondents. “To say the least of it,” as the Doctor himselfsedately remarked, “considering the greatness of theforth-coming property, Messieurs Richard Argent and Company, ofNew Broad Street, might have given a notion as to the particularsof the residue.”  It was therefore determined that, assoon as the requisite arrangements could be made, the Doctor andMrs. Pringle should set out for the metropolis, to obtain aspeedy settlement with the agents, and, as Rachel had now, to usean expression of her mother’s, “a prospect beforeher,” that she also should accompany them: Andrew, who hadjust been called to the Bar, and who had come to the manse tospend a few days after attaining that distinction, modestlysuggested, that, considering the various professional pointswhich might be involved in the objects of his father’sjourney, and considering also the retired life which his fatherhad led in the rural village of Garnock, it might be ofimportance to have the advantage of legal advice.

Mrs. Pringle interrupted this harangue, by saying, “Wesee what you would be at, Andrew; ye’re just wanting tocome with us, and on this occasion I’m no for makingstep-bairns, so we’ll a’ gang thegither.”

The Doctor had been for many years the incumbent of Garnock,which is pleasantly situated between Irvine and Kilwinning, and,on account of the benevolence of his disposition, was muchbeloved by his parishioners.  Some of the pawkie among themused indeed to say, in answer to the godly of Kilmarnock, andother admirers of the late great John Russel, of that formerlyorthodox town, by whom Dr. Pringle’s powers as a preacherwere held in no particular estimation,—“He kens ourpu’pit’s frail, and spar’st to save outlay tothe heritors.”  As for Mrs. Pringle, there is not suchanother minister’s wife, both for economy and management,within the jurisdiction of the Synod of Glasgow and Ayr, and tothis fact the following letter to Miss Mally Glencairn, a maidenlady residing in the Kirkgate of Irvine, a street that has beenlikened unto the Kingdom of Heaven, where there is neithermarriage nor giving in marriage, will abundantly testify.

LETTER I

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn
Garnock Manse.

Dear Miss Mally—The Doctorhas had extraordinar news from India and London, where we are allgoing, as soon as me and Rachel can get ourselves in order, so Ibeg you will go to Bailie Delap’s shop, and get swatches ofhis best black bombaseen, and crape, and muslin, and bring themover to the manse the morn’s morning.  If you cannotcome yourself, and the day should be wat, send Nanny Eydent, themantua-maker, with them; you’ll be sure to send Nanny,onyhow, and I requeesht that, on this okasion, ye’ll getthe very best the Bailie has, and I’ll tell you all aboutit when you come.  You will get, likewise, swatches ofmourning print, with the lowest prices.  I’ll no be soparticular about them, as they are for the servan lasses, andthere’s no need, for all the greatness of God’sgifts, that we should be wasterful.  Let Mrs. Glibbans know,that the Doctor’s second cousin, the colonel, that was inthe East Indies, is no more;—I am sure she will sympatheesewith our loss on this melancholy okasion.  Tell her, asI’ll no be out till our mournings are made, I would take itkind if she would come over and eate a bit of dinner onSunday.  The Doctor will no preach himself, butthere’s to be an excellent young man, an acquaintance ofAndrew’s, that has the repute of being both sound andhellaquaint.  But no more at present, and looking for youand Nanny Eydent, with the swatches,—I am, dear Miss Mally,your sinsare friend,

JanetPringle.

The Doctor being of opinion that, until they had something inhand from the legacy, they should walk in the paths ofmoderation, it was resolved to proceed by the coach from Irvineto Greenock, there embark in a steam-boat for Glasgow, and,crossing the country to Edinburgh, take their passage at Leith inone of the smacks for London.  But we must let the partiesspeak for themselves.

LETTER II

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod
Greenock.

My dear Isabella—I know notwhy the dejection with which I parted from you still hangs uponmy heart, and grows heavier as I am drawn farther and fartheraway.  The uncertainty of the future—the dangers ofthe sea—all combine to sadden my too sensitivespirit.  Still, however, I will exert myself, and try togive you some account of our momentous journey.

The morning on which we bade farewell for a time—alas!it was to me as if for ever, to my native shades ofGarnock—the weather was cold, bleak, and boisterous, andthe waves came rolling in majestic fury towards the shore, whenwe arrived at the Tontine Inn of Ardrossan.  What a monumenthas the late Earl of Eglinton left there of his publicspirit!  It should embalm his memory in the hearts of futureages, as I doubt not but in time Ardrossan will become a grandemporium; but the people of Saltcoats, a sordid race, complainthat it will be their ruin; and the Paisley subscribers to hislordship’s canal grow pale when they think of profit.

The road, after leaving Ardrossan, lies along the shore. The blast came dark from the waters, and the clouds lay piled inevery form of grandeur on the lofty peaks of Arran.  Theview on the right hand is limited to the foot of a range ofabrupt mean hills, and on the left it meets the sea—as wewere obliged to keep the glasses up, our drive for several mileswas objectless and dreary.  When we had ascended a hill,leaving Kilbride on the left, we passed under the walls of anancient tower.  What delightful ideas are associated withthe sight of such venerable remains of antiquity!

Leaving that lofty relic of our warlike ancestors, wedescended again towards the shore.  On the one side lay theCumbra Islands, and Bute, dear to departed royalty.  Afarbeyond them, in the hoary magnificence of nature, rise themountains of Argyllshire; the cairns, as my brother says, of aformer world.  On the other side of the road, we saw thecloistered ruins of the religious house of Southenan, a nunneryin those days of romantic adventure, when to live was to enjoy apoetical element.  In such a sweet sequestered retreat, howmuch more pleasing to the soul it would have been, for you and I,like two captive birds in one cage, to have sung away our hoursin innocence, than for me to be thus torn from you by fate, andall on account of that mercenary legacy, perchance the spoils ofsome unfortunate Hindoo Rajah!

At Largs we halted to change horses, and saw the barrows ofthose who fell in the great battle.  We then continued ourjourney along the foot of stupendous precipices; and high,sublime, and darkened with the shadow of antiquity, we saw, uponits lofty station, the ancient Castle of Skelmorlie, where theMontgomeries of other days held their gorgeous banquets, and thatbrave knight who fell at Chevy-Chace came pricking forth on hismilk-white steed, as Sir Walter Scott would have describedhim.  But the age of chivalry is past, and the glory ofEurope departed for ever!

When we crossed the stream that divides the counties of Ayrand Renfrew, we beheld, in all the apart and consequentiality ofpride, the house of Kelly overlooking the social villas of WemyssBay.  My brother compared it to a sugar hogshead, and themto cotton-bags; for the lofty thane of Kelly is but a West Indiaplanter, and the inhabitants of the villas on the shore areGlasgow manufacturers.

To this succeeded a dull drive of about two miles, and then atonce we entered the pretty village of Inverkip.  A slightsnow-shower had given to the landscape a sort of copperplateeffect, but still the forms of things, though but sketched, as itwere, with China ink, were calculated to produce interestingimpressions.  After ascending, by a gentle acclivity, into apicturesque and romantic pass, we entered a spacious valley, and,in the course of little more than half an hour, reached thistown; the largest, the most populous, and the most superb that Ihave yet seen.  But what are all its warehouses, ships, andsmell of tar, and other odoriferous circumstances of fishery andthe sea, compared with the green swelling hills, the fragrantbean-fields, and the peaceful groves of my native Garnock!

The people of this town are a very busy and clever race, butmuch given to litigation.  My brother says, that they arethe greatest benefactors to the Outer House, and that theirlawsuits are the most amusing and profitable before the courts,being less for the purpose of determining what is right than whatis lawful.  The chambermaid of the inn where we lodgepointed out to me, on the opposite side of the street, amagnificent edifice erected for balls; but the subscribers haveresolved not to allow any dancing till it is determined by theCourt of Session to whom the seats and chairs belong, as theywere brought from another house where the assemblies wereformerly held.  I have heard a lawsuit compared to acountry-dance, in which, after a great bustle and regularconfusion, the parties stand still, all tired, just on the spotwhere they began; but this is the first time that the judges ofthe land have been called on to decide when a dance maybegin.

We arrived too late for the steam-boat, and are obliged towait till Monday morning; but to-morrow we shall go to church,where I expect to see what sort of creatures the beaux are. The Greenock ladies have a great name for beauty, but those thatI have seen are perfect frights.  Such of the gentlemen as Ihave observed passing the windows of the inn may do, but Ideclare the ladies have nothing of which any woman ought to beproud.  Had we known that we ran a risk of not getting asteam-boat, my mother would have provided an introductory letteror two from some of her Irvine friends; but here we are almostentire strangers: my father, however, is acquainted with one ofthe magistrates, and has gone to see him.  I hope he will becivil enough to ask us to his house, for an inn is a shockingplace to live in, and my mother is terrified at theexpense.  My brother, however, has great confidence in ourprospects, and orders and directs with a high hand.  But mypaper is full, and I am compelled to conclude with scarcely roomto say how affectionately I am yours,

RachelPringle.

LETTER III

The Rev. Dr. Pringle to Mr.Micklewham, Schoolmaster and Session-Clerk,Garnock
Edinburgh.

Dear Sir—We have got thislength through many difficulties, both in the travel by land to,and by sea and land from Greenock, where we were obligated, byreason of no conveyance, to stop the Sabbath, but not withoutedification; for we went to hear Dr. Drystour in the forenoon,who had a most weighty sermon on the tenth chapter ofNehemiah.  He is surely a great orthodox divine, but rathercostive in his delivery.  In the afternoon we heard acorrect moral lecture on good works, in another church, from Dr.Eastlight—a plain man, with a genteel congregation. The same night we took supper with a wealthy family, where we hadmuch pleasant communion together, although the bringing in of thetoddy-bowl after supper is a fashion that has a tendency tolengthen the sederunt to unseasonable hours.

On the following morning, by the break of day, we tookshipping in the steam-boat for Glasgow.  I had misgivingsabout the engine, which is really a thing of great docility; butsaving my concern for the boiler, we all found the placesurprising comfortable.  The day was bleak and cold; but wehad a good fire in a carron grate in the middle of the floor, andbooks to read, so that both body and mind are therein providedfor.

Among the books, I fell in with a History of theRebellion, anent the hand that an English gentleman of thename of Waverley had in it.  I was grieved that I had nottime to read it through, for it was wonderful interesting, andfar more particular, in many points, than any other account ofthat affair I have yet met with; but it’s no so friendly toProtestant principles as I could have wished.  However, if Iget my legacy well settled, I will buy the book, and lend it toyou on my return, please God, to the manse.

We were put on shore at Glasgow by breakfast-time, and therewe tarried all day, as I had a power of attorney to get from MissJenny Macbride, my cousin, to whom the colonel left the thousandpound legacy.  Miss Jenny thought the legacy should havebeen more, and made some obstacle to signing the power; but bothher lawyer and Andrew Pringle, my son, convinced her, that, as itwas specified in the testament, she could not help it by standingout; so at long and last Miss Jenny was persuaded to put her nameto the paper.

Next day we all four got into a fly coach, and, without damageor detriment, reached this city in good time for dinner inMacgregor’s hotel, a remarkable decent inn, next door toone Mr. Blackwood, a civil and discreet man in the booksellingline.

Really the changes in Edinburgh since I was here, thirty yearsago, are not to be told.  I am confounded; for although Ihave both heard and read of the New Town in the EdinburghAdvertiser, and the Scots Magazine, I had no notion ofwhat has come to pass.  It’s surprising to thinkwherein the decay of the nation is; for at Greenock I saw nothingbut shipping and building; at Glasgow, streets spreading as ifthey were one of the branches of cotton-spinning; and here, thehouses grown up as if they were sown in the seed-time with thecorn, by a drill-machine, or dibbled in rigs and furrows likebeans and potatoes.

To-morrow, God willing, we embark in a smack at Leith, so thatyou will not hear from me again till it please Him to take us inthe hollow of His hand to London.  In the meantime, I haveonly to add, that, when the Session meets, I wish you would speakto the elders, particularly to Mr. Craig, no to be overly hard onthat poor donsie thing, Meg Milliken, about her bairn; and tellTam Glen, the father o’t, from me, that it would have beena sore heart to that pious woman, his mother, had she beenliving, to have witnessed such a thing; and therefore I hope andtrust, he will yet confess a fault, and own Meg for his wife,though she is but something of a tawpie.  However, you neednot diminish her to Tam.  I hope Mr. Snodgrass will give asmuch satisfaction to the parish as can reasonably be expected inmy absence; and I remain, dear sir, your friend and pastor,

ZachariahPringle.

Mr. Micklewham received the Doctor’s letter about anhour before the Session met on the case of Tam Glen and MegMilliken, and took it with him to the session-house, to read itto the elders before going into the investigation.  Such along and particular letter from the Doctor was, as they alljustly remarked, kind and dutiful to his people, and a greatpleasure to them.

Mr. Daff observed, “Truly the Doctor’s a verafunny man, and wonderfu’ jocose about thetoddy-bowl.”  But Mr. Craig said, that “sic athing on the Lord’s night gi’es me no pleasure; and Iam for setting my face against Waverley’s History of theRebellion, whilk I hae heard spoken of among the ungodly,both at Kilwinning and Dalry; and if it has no respect toProtestant principles, I doubt it’s but another doseo’ the radical poison in a new guise.”  Mr.Icenor, however, thought that “the observe on the greatDoctor Drystour was very edifying; and that they should see aboutgetting him to help at the summer Occasion.” [1]

While they were thus reviewing, in their way, the firstepistle of the Doctor, the betherel came in to say that Meg andTam were at the door.  “Oh, man,” said Mr. Daff,slyly, “ye shouldna hae left them at the door bythemselves.”  Mr. Craig looked at him austerely, andmuttered something about the growing immorality of thisbacksliding age; but before the smoke of his indignation hadkindled into eloquence, the delinquents were admitted. However, as we have nothing to do with the business, we shallleave them to their own deliberations.

CHAPTER II—THE VOYAGE

On the fourteenth day after the departure of the family fromthe manse, the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass, who was appointed toofficiate during the absence of the Doctor, received thefollowing letter from his old chum, Mr. Andrew Pringle.  Itwould appear that the young advocate is not so solid in the headas some of his elder brethren at the Bar; and therefore many ofhis flights and observations must be taken with an allowance onthe score of his youth.

LETTER IV

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,Advocate, to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass
London.

My dear Friend—We have atlast reached London, after a stormy passage of seven days. The accommodation in the smacks looks extremely inviting in port,and in fine weather, I doubt not, is comfortable, even at sea;but in February, and in such visitations of the powers of the airas we have endured, a balloon must be a far better vehicle thanall the vessels that have been constructed for passengers sincethe time of Noah.  In the first place, the waves of theatmosphere cannot be so dangerous as those of the ocean, beingbut “thin air”; and I am sure they are not sodisagreeable; then the speed of the balloon is so muchgreater,—and it would puzzle Professor Leslie todemonstrate that its motions are more unsteady; besides, who everheard of sea-sickness in a balloon? the consideration of whichalone would, to any reasonable person actually suffering underthe pains of that calamity, be deemed more than an equivalent forall the little fractional difference of danger between the twomodes of travelling.  I shall henceforth regard it as a finecharacteristic trait of our national prudence, that, in theirjournies to France and Flanders, the Scottish witches always wentby air on broom-sticks and benweeds, instead of venturing bywater in sieves, like those of England.  But the English areunder the influence of a maritime genius.

When we had got as far up the Thames as Gravesend, the windand tide came against us, so that the vessel was obliged toanchor, and I availed myself of the circumstance, to induce thefamily to disembark and go to London by land; and I esteem it a fortunatecircumstance that we did so, the day, for the season, beinguncommonly fine.  After we had taken some refreshment, Iprocured places in a stage-coach for my mother and sister, and,with the Doctor, mounted myself on the outside.  Myfather’s old-fashioned notions boggled a little at first tothis arrangement, which he thought somewhat derogatory to hisministerial dignity; but his scruples were in the endoverruled.

The country in this season is, of course, seen todisadvantage, but still it exhibits beauty enough to convince uswhat England must be when in leaf.  The oldgentleman’s admiration of the increasing signs of what hecalled civilisation, as we approached London, became quiteeloquent; but the first view of the city from Blackheath (which,by the bye, is a fine common, surrounded with villas and handsomehouses) overpowered his faculties, and I shall never forget theimpression it made on myself.  The sun was declined towardsthe horizon; vast masses of dark low-hung clouds were mingledwith the smoky canopy, and the dome of St. Paul’s, like theenormous idol of some terrible deity, throned amidst the smoke ofsacrifices and magnificence, darkness, and mystery, presentedaltogether an object of vast sublimity.  I felt touched withreverence, as if I was indeed approaching the city of the human powers.

The distant view of Edinburgh is picturesque and romantic, butit affects a lower class of our associations.  It is,compared to that of London, what the poem of the Seasonsis with respect to Paradise Lost—the castellateddescriptions of Walter Scott to the DarknessofByron—the Sabbathof Grahame to the Robbersof Schiller.  In the approach to Edinburgh, leisure andcheerfulness are on the road; large spaces of rural and pastoralnature are spread openly around, and mountains, and seas, andheadlands, and vessels passing beyond them, going like those thatdie, we know not whither, while the sun is bright on their sails,and hope with them; but, in coming to this Babylon, there is aneager haste and a hurrying on from all quarters, towards thatstupendous pile of gloom, through which no eye can penetrate; anunceasing sound, like the enginery of an earthquake at work,rolls from the heart of that profound and indefinableobscurity—sometimes a faint and yellow beam of the sunstrikes here and there on the vast expanse of edifices; andchurches, and holy asylums, are dimly seen lifting up theircountless steeples and spires, like so many lightning rods toavert the wrath of Heaven.

The entrance to Edinburgh also awakens feelings of a morepleasing character.  The rugged veteran aspect of the OldTown is agreeably contrasted with the bright smooth forehead ofthe New, and there is not such an overwhelming torrent of animallife, as to make you pause before venturing to stem it; thenoises are not so deafening, and the occasional sound of aballad-singer, or a Highland piper, varies and enriches thediscords; but here, a multitudinous assemblage of harsh alarms,of selfish contentions, and of furious carriages, driven by afierce and insolent race, shatter the very hearing, till youpartake of the activity with which all seem as much possessed asif a general apprehension prevailed, that the great clock of Timewould strike the doom-hour before their tasks were done. But I must stop, for the postman with his bell, like the betherelof some ancient “borough’s town” summoning to aburial, is in the street, and warns me toconclude.—Yours,

AndrewPringle.

LETTER V

The Rev. Dr. Pringle to Mr.Micklewham, Schoolmaster and Session-Clerk,Garnock
London, 49 NorfolkStreet, Strand.

Dear Sir—On the first Sundayforthcoming after the receiving hereof, you will not fail torecollect in the remembering prayer, that we return thanks forour safe arrival in London, after a dangerous voyage.  Well,indeed, is it ordained that we should pray for those who go downto the sea in ships, and do business on the great deep; for whatme and mine have come through is unspeakable, and the hand ofProvidence was visibly manifested.

On the day of our embarkation at Leith, a fair wind took usonward at a blithe rate for some time; but in the course of thatnight the bridle of the tempest was slackened, and the curb ofthe billows loosened, and the ship reeled to and fro like adrunken man, and no one could stand therein.  My wife anddaughter lay at the point of death; Andrew Pringle, my son, alsowas prostrated with the grievous affliction; and the very soulwithin me was as if it would have been cast out of the body.

On the following day the storm abated, and the wind blewfavourable; but towards the heel of the evening it again camevehement, and there was no help unto our distress.  Aboutmidnight, however, it pleased Him,whose breath is the tempest, to be more sparing with the whip ofHis displeasure on our poor bark, as she hirpled on in hertoilsome journey through the waters; and I was enabled, throughHis strength, to lift my head from the pillow of sickness, andascend the deck, where I thought of Noah looking out of thewindow in the ark, upon the face of the desolate flood, and ofPeter walking on the sea; and I said to myself, it matters notwhere we are, for we can be in no place where Jehovah is notthere likewise, whether it be on the waves of the ocean, or themountain tops, or in the valley and shadow of death.

The third day the wind came contrary, and in the fourth, andthe fifth, and the sixth, we were also sorely buffeted; but onthe night of the sixth we entered the mouth of the river Thames,and on the morning of the seventh day of our departure, we castanchor near a town called Gravesend, where, to our exceedinggreat joy, it pleased Him, in whom alone there is salvation, toallow us once more to put our foot on the dry land.

When we had partaken of a repast, the first blessed with theblessing of an appetite, from the day of our leaving our nativeland, we got two vacancies in a stage-coach for my wife anddaughter; but with Andrew Pringle, my son, I was obligated tomount aloft on the outside.  I had some scruple ofconscience about this, for I was afraid of my decorum.  Imet, however, with nothing but the height of discretion from theother outside passengers, although I jealoused that one of themwas a light woman.  Really I had no notion that the Englishwere so civilised; they were so well bred, and the very duddiestof them spoke such a fine style of language, that when I lookedaround on the country, I thought myself in the land ofCanaan.  But it’s extraordinary what a power of drinkthe coachmen drink, stopping and going into every change-house,and yet behaving themselves with the greatest sobriety.  Andthen they are all so well dressed, which is no doubt owing to thepoor rates.  I am thinking, however, that for all they cryagainst them, the poor rates are but a small evil, since theykeep the poor folk in such food and raiment, and out of thetemptations to thievery; indeed, such a thing as a common beggaris not to be seen in this land, excepting here and there a sorneror a ne’er-do-weel.

When we had got to the outskirts of London, I began to beashamed of the sin of high places, and would gladly have got intothe inside of the coach, for fear of anybody knowing me; butalthough the multitude of by-goers was like the kirk scailing atthe Sacrament, I saw not a kent face, nor one that took the leastnotice of my situation.  At last we got to an inn, calledThe White Horse, Fetter-Lane, where we hired a hackney totake us to the lodgings provided for us here in Norfolk Street,by Mr. Pawkie, the Scotch solicitor, a friend of Andrew Pringle,my son.  Now it was that we began to experience the sharpersof London; for it seems that there are divers NorfolkStreets.  Ours was in the Strand (mind that when youdirect), not very far from Fetter-Lane; but the hackney drivertook us away to one afar off, and when we knocked at the numberwe thought was ours, we found ourselves at a house that shouldnot be told.  I was so mortified, that I did not know whatto say; and when Andrew Pringle, my son, rebuked the man for themistake, he only gave a cunning laugh, and said we should havetold him whatna Norfolk Street we wanted.  Andrew stormed atthis—but I discerned it was all owing to our owninexperience, and put an end to the contention, by telling theman to take us to Norfolk Street in the Strand, which was thedirection we had got.  But when we got to the door, thecoachman was so extortionate, that another hobbleshawarose.  Mrs. Pringle had been told that, in such disputes,the best way of getting redress was to take the number of thecoach; but, in trying to do so, we found it fastened on, and Ithought the hackneyman would have gone by himself withlaughter.  Andrew, who had not observed what we were doing,when he saw us trying to take off the number, went like onedemented, and paid the man, I cannot tell what, to get us out,and into the house, for fear we should have been mobbit.

I have not yet seen the colonel’s agents, so can saynothing as to the business of our coming; for, landing atGravesend, we did not bring our trunks with us, and Andrew hasgone to the wharf this morning to get them, and, until we getthem, we can go nowhere, which is the occasion of my writing sosoon, knowing also how you and the whole parish would be anxiousto hear what had become of us; and I remain, dear sir, yourfriend and pastor,

ZachariahPringle.

On Saturday evening, Saunders Dickie, the Irvine postman,suspecting that this letter was from the Doctor, went with ithimself, on his own feet, to Mr. Micklewham, although thedistance is more than two miles, but Saunders, in addition to thecustomary twal pennieson the postage, had a dram for hispains.  The next morning being wet, Mr. Micklewham had notan opportunity of telling any of the parishioners in thechurchyard of the Doctor’s safe arrival, so that when heread out the request to return thanks (for he was not onlyschool-master and session-clerk, but also precentor), there was amurmur of pleasure diffused throughout the congregation, and thegreatest curiosity was excited to know what the dangers were,from which their worthy pastor and his whole family had sothankfully escaped in their voyage to London; so that, when theservice was over, the elders adjourned to the session-house tohear the letter read; and many of the heads of families, andother respectable parishioners, were admitted to the honours ofthe sitting, who all sympathised, with the greatest sincerity, inthe sufferings which their minister and his family hadendured.  Mr. Daff, however, was justly chided by Mr. Craig,for rubbing his hands, and giving a sort of sniggering laugh, atthe Doctor’s sitting on high with a light woman.  Buteven Mr. Snodgrass was seen to smile at the incident of takingthe number off the coach, the meaning of which none but himselfseemed to understand.

When the epistle had been thus duly read, Mr. Micklewhampromised, for the satisfaction of some of the congregation, thathe would get two or three copies made by the best writers in hisschool, to be handed about the parish, and Mr. Icenor remarked,that truly it was a thing to be held in remembrance, for he hadnot heard of greater tribulation by the waters since theshipwreck of the Apostle Paul.

CHAPTER III—THE LEGACY

Soon after the receipt of the letters which we had thepleasure of communicating in the foregoing chapter, the followingwas received from Mrs. Pringle, and the intelligence it containsis so interesting and important, that we hasten to lay it beforeour readers:—

LETTER VI

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn
London.

My dear Miss Mally—You mustnot expect no particulars from me of our journey; but as Rachelis writing all the calamities that befell us to Bell Tod, youwill, no doubt, hear of them.  But all is nothing to mylosses.  I bought from the first hand, Mr. Treddles themanufacturer, two pieces of muslin, at Glasgow, such a thing notbeing to be had on any reasonable terms here, where they get alltheir fine muslins from Glasgow and Paisley; and in the samebocks with them I packit a small crock of our ain excellentpoudered butter, with a delap cheese, for I was told that suchcommodities are not to be had genuine in London.  I likewisehad in it a pot of marmlet, which Miss Jenny Macbride gave me atGlasgow, assuring me that it was not only dentice, but acuriosity among the English, and my best new bumbeseen goun inpeper.  Howsomever, in the nailing of the bocks, which I didcarefully with my oun hands, one of the nails gaed in ajee, andbroke the pot of marmlet, which, by the jolting of the ship,ruined the muslin, rottened the peper round the goun, which theshivers cut into more than twenty great holes.  Over andabove all, the crock with the butter was, no one can tell how,crackit, and the pickle lecking out, and mixing with the seeripof the marmlet, spoilt the cheese.  In short, at the objectI beheld, when the bocks was opened, I could have ta’en tothe greeting; but I behaved with more composity on the occasion,than the Doctor thought it was in the power of nature todo.  Howsomever, till I get a new goun and other things, Iam obliged to be a prisoner; and as the Doctor does not like togo to the counting-house of the agents without me, I know notwhat is yet to be the consequence of our journey.  But itwould need to be something; for we pay four guineas and a half aweek for our dry lodgings, which is at a degree more than theDoctor’s whole stipend.  As yet, for the cause ofthese misfortunes, I can give you no account of London; but thereis, as everybody kens, little thrift in their housekeeping. We just buy our tea by the quarter a pound, and our loaf sugar,broken in a peper bag, by the pound, which would be a disgrace toa decent family in Scotland; and when we order dinner, we get nomore than just serves, so that we have no cold meat if a strangerwere coming by chance, which makes an unco bare house.  Theservan lasses I cannot abide; they dress better at their warkthan ever I did on an ordinaire week-day at the manse; and thisvery morning I saw madam, the kitchen lass, mounted on a pair ofpattens, washing the plain stenes before the door; na, for thatmatter, a bare foot is not to be seen within the four walls ofLondon, at the least I have na seen no such thing.

In the way of marketing, things are very good here, andconsidering, not dear; but all is sold by the licht weight, onlythe fish are awful; half a guinea for a cod’s head, and nobigger than the drouds the cadgers bring from Ayr, at a shillingand eighteenpence apiece.

Tell Miss Nanny Eydent that I have seen none of the fashionsas yet; but we are going to the burial of the auld king nextweek, and I’ll write her a particular account how theleddies are dressed; but everybody is in deep mourning. Howsomever I have seen but little, and that only in a manner fromthe window; but I could not miss the opportunity of a frank thatAndrew has got, and as he’s waiting for the pen, you mustexcuse haste.  From your sincere friend,

JanetPringle.

LETTER VII

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass
London.

My dear Friend—It will giveyou pleasure to hear that my father is likely to get his businessspeedily settled without any equivocation; and that all thoseprudential considerations which brought us to London were but thephantasms of our own inexperience.  I use the plural, for Ireally share in the shame of having called in question the highcharacter of the agents: it ought to have been warrantry enoughthat everything would be fairly adjusted.  But I must giveyou some account of what has taken place, to illustrate ourprovincialism, and to give you some idea of the way of doingbusiness in London.

After having recovered from the effects, and repaired some ofthe accidents of our voyage, we yesterday morning sallied forth,the Doctor, my mother, and your humble servant, in a hackneycoach, to Broad Street, where the agents have theircounting-house, and were ushered into a room among other legateesor clients, waiting for an audience of Mr. Argent, the principalof the house.

I know not how it is, that the little personal peculiarities,so amusing to strangers, should be painful when we see them inthose whom we love and esteem; but I own to you, that there was asomething in the demeanour of the old folks on this occasion,that would have been exceedingly diverting to me, had my filialreverence been less sincere for them.

The establishment of Messrs. Argent and Company is of vastextent, and has in it something even of a public magnitude; thenumber of the clerks, the assiduity of all, and the order thatobviously prevails throughout, give at the first sight, animpression that bespeaks respect for the stability and integrityof the concern.  When we had been seated about ten minutes,and my father’s name taken to Mr. Argent, an answer wasbrought, that he would see us as soon as possible; but we wereobliged to wait at least half an hour more.  Upon our beingat last admitted, Mr. Argent received us standing, and in an easygentlemanly manner said to my father, “You are theresiduary legatee of the late Colonel Armour.  I am sorrythat you did not apprise me of this visit, that I might have beenprepared to give the information you naturally desire; but if youwill call here to-morrow at 12 o’clock, I shall then beable to satisfy you on the subject.  Your lady, Ipresume?” he added, turning to my mother; “Mrs.Argent will have the honour of waiting on you; may I thereforebeg the favour of your address?”  Fortunately I wasprovided with cards, and having given him one, we found ourselvesconstrained, as it were, to take our leave.  The wholeinterview did not last two minutes, and I never was lesssatisfied with myself.  The Doctor and my mother were in thegreatest anguish; and when we were again seated in the coach,loudly expressed their apprehensions.  They were convincedthat some stratagem was meditated; they feared that their journeyto London would prove as little satisfactory as that of theWrongheads, and that they had been throwing away good money inbuilding castles in the air.

It had been previously arranged, that we were to return for mysister, and afterwards visit some of the sights; but the cloudedvisages of her father and mother darkened the very spirit ofRachel, and she largely shared in their fears.  This,however, was not the gravest part of the business; for, insteadof going to St. Paul’s and the Tower, as we had intended,my mother declared, that not one farthing would they spend moretill they were satisfied that the expenses already incurred werelikely to be reimbursed; and a Chancery suit, with all thehorrors of wig and gown, floated in spectral haziness beforetheir imagination.

We sat down to a frugal meal, and although the remainder of abottle of wine, saved from the preceding day, hardly afforded aglass apiece, the Doctor absolutely prohibited me from openinganother.

This morning, faithful to the hour, we were again in BroadStreet, with hearts knit up into the most peremptory courage;and, on being announced, were immediately admitted to Mr.Argent.  He received us with the same ease as in the firstinterview, and, after requesting us to be seated (which, by theway, he did not do yesterday, a circumstance that was ominouslyremarked), he began to talk on indifferent matters.  I couldsee that a question, big with law and fortune, was gathering inthe breasts both of the Doctor and my mother, and that they werein a state far from that of the blessed.  But one of theclerks, before they had time to express their indignantsuspicions, entered with a paper, and Mr. Argent, having glancedit over, said to the Doctor—“I congratulate you, sir,on the amount of the colonel’s fortune.  I was notindeed aware before that he had died so rich.  He has leftabout £120,000; seventy-five thousand of which is in thefive per cents; the remainder in India bonds and othersecurities.  The legacies appear to be inconsiderable, sothat the residue to you, after paying them and the expenses ofDoctors’ Commons, will exceed a hundred thousandpounds.”

My father turned his eyes upwards in thankfulness. “But,” continued Mr. Argent, “before theproperty can be transferred, it will be necessary for you toprovide about four thousand pounds to pay the duty and otherrequisite expenses.”  This was a thunderclap. “Where can I get such a sum?” exclaimed my father, ina tone of pathetic simplicity.  Mr. Argent smiled and said,“We shall manage that for you”; and having in thesame moment pulled a bell, a fine young man entered, whom heintroduced to us as his son, and desired him to explain whatsteps it was necessary for the Doctor to take.  Weaccordingly followed Mr. Charles Argent to his own room.

Thus, in less time than I have been in writing it, were we putin possession of all the information we required, and found thosewhom we feared might be interested to withhold the settlement,alert and prompt to assist us.

Mr. Charles Argent is naturally more familiar than hisfather.  He has a little dash of pleasantry in his manner,with a shrewd good-humoured fashionable air, that renders himsoon an agreeable acquaintance.  He entered with singularfelicity at once into the character of the Doctor and my mother,and waggishly drolled, as if he did not understand them, inorder, I could perceive, to draw out the simplicity of theirapprehensions.  He quite won the old lady’s economicalheart, by offering to frank her letters, for he is inParliament.  “You have probably,” said he slyly,“friends in the country, to whom you may be desirous ofcommunicating the result of your journey to London; send yourletters to me, and I will forward them, and any that you expectmay also come under cover to my address, for postage is veryexpensive.”

As we were taking our leave, after being fully instructed inall the preliminary steps to be taken before the transfers of thefunded property can be made, he asked me, in a friendly manner,to dine with him this evening, and I never accepted an invitationwith more pleasure.  I consider his acquaintance a mostagreeable acquisition, and not one of the least of thoseadvantages which this new opulence has put it in my power toattain.  The incidents, indeed, of this day, have been allhighly gratifying, and the new and brighter phase in which I haveseen the mercantile character, as it is connected with thegreatness and glory of my country—is in itself equivalentto an accession of useful knowledge.  I can no longer wonderat the vast power which the British Government wielded during thelate war, when I reflect that the method and promptitude of thehouse of Messrs. Argent and Company is common to all the greatcommercial concerns from which the statesmen derived, as from somany reservoirs, those immense pecuniary supplies, which enabledthem to beggar all the resources of a political despotism, themost unbounded, both in power and principle, of any tyranny thatever existed so long.—Yours, etc.,

AndrewPringle.

CHAPTER IV—THE TOWN

There was a great tea-drinking held in the Kirkgate of Irvine,at the house of Miss Mally Glencairn; and at that assemblage ofrank, beauty, and fashion, among other delicacies of the season,several new-come-home Clyde skippers, roaring from Greenock andPort-Glasgow, were served up—but nothing contributed moreto the entertainment of the evening than a proposal, on the partof Miss Mally, that those present who had received letters fromthe Pringles should read them for the benefit of thecompany.  This was, no doubt, a preconcerted scheme betweenher and Miss Isabella Tod, to hear what Mr. Andrew Pringle hadsaid to his friend Mr. Snodgrass, and likewise what the Doctorhimself had indited to Mr. Micklewham; some rumour having spreadof the wonderful escapes and adventures of the family in theirjourney and voyage to London.  Had there not been someprethought of this kind, it was not indeed probable, that boththe helper and session-clerk of Garnock could have been theretogether, in a party, where it was an understood thing, that notonly Whist and Catch Honours were to be played, but evenobstreperous Birky itself, for the diversion of such of thecompany as were not used to gambling games.  It was inconsequence of what took place at this Irvine route, that we wereoriginally led to think of collecting the letters.

LETTER VIII

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod
London.

My dear Bell—It was myheartfelt intention to keep a regular journal of all ourproceedings, from the sad day on which I bade a long adieu to mynative shades—and I persevered with a constancy becomingour dear and youthful friendship, in writing down everything thatI saw, either rare or beautiful, till the hour of our departurefrom Leith.  In that faithful register of my feelings andreflections as a traveller, I described our embarkation atGreenock, on board the steam-boat,—our sailing pastPort-Glasgow, an insignificant town, with a steeple;—thestupendous rock of Dumbarton Castle, that Gibraltar ofantiquity;—our landing at Glasgow;—my astonishment atthe magnificence of that opulent metropolis of the muslinmanufacturers; my brother’s remark, that the punch-bowls onthe roofs of the Infirmary, the Museum, and the Trades Hall, wereemblematic of the universal estimation in which that celebratedmixture is held by all ranks and degrees—learned,commercial, and even medical, of the inhabitants;—ourarrival at Edinburgh—my emotion on beholding the Castle,and the visionary lake which may be nightly seen from the windowsof Princes Street, between the Old and New Town, reflecting thelights of the lofty city beyond—with a thousand otherdelightful and romantic circumstances, which render it no longersurprising that the Edinburgh folk should be, as they thinkthemselves, the most accomplished people in the world.  But,alas! from the moment I placed my foot on board that cruelvessel, of which the very idea is anguish, all thoughts wereswallowed up in suffering-swallowed, did I say?  Ah, my dearBell, it was the odious reverse—but imagination alone cando justice to the subject.  Not, however, to dwell on whatis past, during the whole time of our passage from Leith, I wasunable to think, far less to write; and, although there was ahandsome young Hussar officer also a passenger, I could not evenlisten to the elegant compliments which he seemed disposed tooffer by way of consolation, when he had got the better of hisown sickness.  Neither love nor valour can withstand theinfluence of that sea-demon.  The interruption thusoccasioned to my observations made me destroy my journal, and Ihave now to write to you only about London—only aboutLondon!  What an expression for this human universe, as mybrother calls it, as if my weak feminine pen were equal to thestupendous theme!

But, before entering on the subject, let me first satisfy theanxiety of your faithful bosom with respect to my father’slegacy.  All the accounts, I am happy to tell you, arelikely to be amicably settled; but the exact amount is not knownas yet, only I can see, by my brother’s manner, that it isnot less than we expected, and my mother speaks about sending meto a boarding-school to learn accomplishments.  Nothing,however, is to be done until something is actually in hand. But what does it all avail to me?  Here am I, a solitarybeing in the midst of this wilderness of mankind, far from yoursympathising affection, with the dismal prospect before me ofgoing a second time to school, and without the prospect ofenjoying, with my own sweet companions, that light and boundinggaiety we were wont to share, in skipping from tomb to tomb inthe breezy churchyard of Irvine, like butterflies in springflying from flower to flower, as a Wordsworth or a Wilson wouldexpress it.

We have got elegant lodgings at present in Norfolk Street, butmy brother is trying, with all his address, to get us removed toa more fashionable part of the town, which, if the accounts wereonce settled, I think will take place; and he proposes to hire acarriage for a whole month.  Indeed, he has given hintsabout the saving that might be made by buying one of our own; butmy mother shakes her head, and says, “Andrew, dinna becarri’t.”  From all which it is very plain,though they don’t allow me to know their secrets, that thelegacy is worth the coming for.  But to return to thelodgings;—we have what is called a first and second floor,a drawing-room, and three handsome bedchambers.  Thedrawing-room is very elegant; and the carpet is the exact samepattern of the one in the dress-drawing-room of EglintounCastle.  Our landlady is indeed a lady, and I am surprisedhow she should think of letting lodgings, for she dresses better,and wears finer lace, than ever I saw in Irvine.  But I aminterrupted.—

I now resume my pen.  We have just had a call from Mrs.and Miss Argent, the wife and daughter of the colonel’s manof business.  They seem great people, and came in their ownchariot, with two grand footmen behind; but they are pleasant andeasy, and the object of their visit was to invite us to a familydinner to-morrow, Sunday.  I hope we may become betteracquainted; but the two livery servants make such a difference inour degrees, that I fear this is a vain expectation.  MissArgent was, however, very frank, and told me that she was herselfonly just come to London for the first time since she was achild, having been for the last seven years at a school in thecountry.  I shall, however, be better able to say more abouther in my next letter.  Do not, however, be afraid that sheshall ever supplant you in my heart.  No, my dear friend,companion of my days of innocence,—that can never be. But this call from such persons of fashion looks as if the legacyhad given us some consideration; so that I think my father andmother may as well let me know at once what my prospects are,that I might show you how disinterestedly and truly I am, my dearBell, yours,

RachelPringle.

When Miss Isabella Tod had read the letter, there was a solemnpause for some time—all present knew something, more orless, of the fair writer; but a carriage, a carpet like the bestat Eglintoun, a Hussar officer, and two footmen in livery, werephantoms of such high import, that no one could distinctlyexpress the feelings with which the intelligence affectedthem.  It was, however, unanimously agreed, that theDoctor’s legacy had every symptom of being equal to what itwas at first expected to be, namely, twenty thousandpounds;—a sum which, by some occult or recondite moralinfluence of the Lottery, is the common maximum, in popularestimation, of any extraordinary and indefinite windfall offortune.  Miss Becky Glibbans, from the purest motives ofcharity, devoutly wished that poor Rachel might be able to carryher full cup with a steady hand; and the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, thatso commendable an expression might not lose its edifying effectby any lighter talk, requested Mr. Micklewham to read his letterfrom the Doctor.

LETTER IX

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk of Garnock
London.

Dear Sir—I have written bythe post that will take this to hand, a letter to Banker M---y,at Irvine, concerning some small matters of money that I maystand in need of his opinion anent; and as there is a prospectnow of a settlement of the legacy business, I wish you to take astep over to the banker, and he will give you ten pounds, whichyou will administer to the poor, by putting a twenty-shillingnote in the plate on Sunday, as a public testimony from me ofthankfulness for the hope that is before us; the other ninepounds you will quietly, and in your own canny way, divide afterthe following manner, letting none of the partakers thereof knowfrom what other hand than the Lord’s the help comes, for,indeed, from whom but His does anygood befall us!

You will give to auld Mizy Eccles ten shillings. She’s a careful creature, and it will go as far with herthrift as twenty will do with Effy Hopkirk; so you will give Effytwenty.  Mrs. Binnacle, who lost her husband, the sailor,last winter, is, I am sure, with her two sickly bairns, very illoff; I would therefore like if you will lend her a note, and yemay put half-a-crown in the hand of each of the poor weans for aplayock, for she’s a proud spirit, and will bear muchbefore she complain.  Thomas Dowy has been long unable to doa turn of work, so you may give him a note too.  I promisedthat donsie body, Willy Shachle, the betherel, that when I got mylegacy, he should get a guinea, which would be more to him thanif the colonel had died at home, and he had had the howking ofhis grave; you may therefore, in the meantime, give Willy acrown, and be sure to warn him well no to get fou with it, forI’ll be very angry if he does.  But what in thismatter will need all your skill, is the giving of the remainingfive pounds to auld Miss Betty Peerie; being a gentlewoman bothby blood and education, she’s a very slimmer affair tohandle in a doing of this kind.  But I am persuadedshe’s in as great necessity as many that seem far poorer,especially since the muslin flowering has gone so down.  Herbits of brats are sairly worn, though she keeps out an apparitionof gentility.  Now, for all this trouble, I will give you anaccount of what we have been doing since my last.

When we had gotten ourselves made up in order, we went, withAndrew Pringle, my son, to the counting-house, and had asatisfactory vista of the residue; but it will be some timebefore things can be settled—indeed, I fear, not for monthsto come—so that I have been thinking, if the parish waspleased with Mr. Snodgrass, it might be my duty to my people togive up to him my stipend, and let him be appointed not onlyhelper, but successor likewise.  It would not be right of meto give the manse, both because he’s a young andinexperienced man, and cannot, in the course of nature, have gotinto the way of visiting the sick-beds of the frail, which is themain part of a pastor’s duty, and likewise, because I wishto die, as I have lived, among my people.  But, whenall’s settled, I will know better what to do.

When we had got an inkling from Mr. Argent of what the colonelhas left,—and I do assure you, that money is not to be got,even in the way of legacy, without anxiety,—Mrs. Pringleand I consulted together, and resolved, that it was our firstduty, as a token of our gratitude to the Giver of all Good, tomake our first outlay to the poor.  So, without saying aword either to Rachel, or to Andrew Pringle, my son, knowing thatthere was a daily worship in the Church of England, we slippedout of the house by ourselves, and, hiring a hackney conveyance,told the driver thereof to drive us to the high church of St.Paul’s.  This was out of no respect to the pomp andpride of prelacy, but to Him before whom both pope and presbyterare equal, as they are seen through the merits of ChristJesus.  We had taken a gold guinea in our hand, but therewas no broad at the door; and, instead of a venerable elder,lending sanctity to his office by reason of his age, such as wesee in the effectual institutions of our own nationalchurch—the door was kept by a young man, much more like awriter’s whipper-snapper-clerk, than one qualified to fillthat station, which good King David would have preferred todwelling in tents of sin.  However, we were not come to spythe nakedness of the land, so we went up the outside stairs, andI asked at him for the plate; “Plate!” says he;“why, it’s on the altar!”  I should haveknown this—the custom of old being to lay the offerings onthe altar, but I had forgot; such is the force, you see, ofhabit, that the Church of England is not so well reformed andpurged as ours is from the abominations of the leaven ofidolatry.  We were then stepping forward, when he said tome, as sharply as if I was going to take an advantage, “Youmust pay here.”  “Very well, wherever it iscustomary,” said I, in a meek manner, and gave him theguinea.  Mrs. Pringle did the same.  “I cannotgive you change,” cried he, with as little decorum as if wehad been paying at a playhouse.  “It makes noodds,” said I; “keep it all.”  Whereuponhe was so converted by the mammon of iniquity, that he could notbe civil enough, he thought—but conducted us in, and showedus the marble monuments, and the French colours that were takenin the war, till the time of worship—nothing could surpasshis discretion.

At last the organ began to sound, and we went into the placeof worship; but oh, Mr. Micklewham, yon is a thin kirk. There was not a hearer forby Mrs. Pringle and me, saving andexcepting the relics of popery that assisted at theservice.  What was said, I must, however, in verity confess,was not far from the point.  But it’s still a comfortto see that prelatical usurpations are on the downfall; no wonderthat there is no broad at the door to receive the collection forthe poor, when no congregation entereth in.  You may,therefore, tell Mr. Craig, and it will gladden his heart to hearthe tidings, that the great Babylonian madam is now, indeed, buta very little cutty.

On our return home to our lodgings, we found Andrew Pringle,my son, and Rachel, in great consternation about ourabsence.  When we told them that we had been at worship, Isaw they were both deeply affected; and I was pleased with mychildren, the more so, as you know I have had my doubts thatAndrew Pringle’s principles have not been strengthened bythe reading of the Edinburgh Review.  Nothing morepassed at that time, for we were disturbed by a Captain Sabrethat came up with us in the smack, calling to see how we wereafter our journey; and as he was a civil well-bred young man,which I marvel at, considering he’s a Hussar dragoon, wetook a coach, and went to see the lions, as he said; but, insteadof taking us to the Tower of London, as I expected, he orderedthe man to drive us round the town.  In our way through thecity he showed us the Temple Bar, where Lord Kilmarnock’shead was placed after the Rebellion, and pointed out the Bank ofEngland and Royal Exchange.  He said the steeple of theExchange was taken down shortly ago—and that the lateimprovements at the Bank were very grand.  I rememberedhaving read in the Edinburgh Advertiser, some years past,that there was a great deal said in Parliament about the state ofthe Exchange, and the condition of the Bank, which I could neverthoroughly understand.  And, no doubt, the taking own of anold building, and the building up of a new one so near together,must, in such a crowded city as this, be not only a greatdetriment to business, but dangerous to the community atlarge.

After we had driven about for more than two hours, and neitherseen lions nor any other curiosity, but only the outside ofhouses, we returned home, where we found a copperplate card leftby Mr. Argent, the colonel’s agent, with the name of hisprivate dwelling-house.  Both me and Mrs. Pringle wereconfounded at the sight of this thing, and could not but thinkthat it prognosticated no good; for we had seen the gentlemanhimself in the forenoon.  Andrew Pringle, my son, could giveno satisfactory reason for such an extraordinary manifestation ofanxiety to see us; so that, after sitting on thorns at ourdinner, I thought that we should see to the bottom of thebusiness.  Accordingly, a hackney was summoned to the door,and me and Andrew Pringle, my son, got into it, and told the manto drive to second in the street where Mr. Argent lived, andwhich was the number of his house.  The man got up, and awaywe went; but, after he had driven an awful time, and stopping andinquiring at different places, he said there was no such house asSecond’s in the street; whereupon Andrew Pringle, my son,asked him what he meant, and the man said that he supposed it wasone Second’s Hotel, or Coffee-house, that we wanted. Now, only think of the craftiness of the ne’er-da-weel; itwas with some difficulty that I could get him to understand, thatsecond was just as good as number two; for Andrew Pringle, myson, would not interfere, but lay back in the coach, and was liketo split his sides at my confabulating with the hackneyman.  At long and length we got to the house, and wereadmitted to Mr. Argent, who was sitting by himself in his libraryreading, with a plate of oranges, and two decanters with winebefore him.  I explained to him, as well as I could, mysurprise and anxiety at seeing his card, at which he smiled, andsaid, it was merely a sort of practice that had come into fashionof late years, and that, although we had been at hiscounting-house in the morning, he considered it requisite that heshould call on his return from the city.  I made the bestexcuse I could for the mistake; and the servant having placedglasses on the table, we were invited to take wine.  But Iwas grieved to think that so respectable a man should have hadthe bottles before him by himself, the more especially as he saidhis wife and daughters had gone to a party, and that he did notmuch like such sort of things.  But for all that, we foundhim a wonderful conversible man; and Andrew Pringle, my son,having read all the new books put out at Edinburgh, could speakwith him on any subject.  In the course of conversation theytouched upon politick economy, and Andrew Pringle, my son, inspeaking about cash in the Bank of England, told him what I hadsaid concerning the alterations of the Royal Exchange steeple,with which Mr. Argent seemed greatly pleased, and jocoselyproposed as a toast,—“May the country never suffermore from the alterations in the Exchange, than the taking downof the steeple.”  But as Mrs. Pringle is wanting tosend a bit line under the same frank to her cousin, Miss MallyGlencairn, I must draw to a conclusion, assuring you, that I am,dear sir, your sincere friend and pastor,

ZachariahPringle.

The impression which this letter made on the auditors of Mr.Micklewham was highly favourable to the Doctor—all boretestimony to his benevolence and piety; and Mrs. Glibbansexpressed, in very loquacious terms, her satisfaction at theneglect to which prelacy was consigned.  The only person whoseemed to be affected by other than the most sedate feelings onthe occasion was the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, who was observed tosmile in a very unbecoming manner at some parts of theDoctor’s account of his reception at St.Paul’s.  Indeed, it was apparently with the utmostdifficulty that the young clergyman could restrain himself fromgiving liberty to his risible faculties.  It is reallysurprising how differently the same thing affects differentpeople.  “The Doctor and Mrs. Pringle giving a guineaat the door of St. Paul’s for the poor need not make folklaugh,” said Mrs. Glibbans; “for is it not written,that whosoever giveth to the poor lendeth to theLord?”  “True, my dear madam,” replied Mr.Snodgrass, “but the Lord to whom our friends in this casegave their money is the Lord Bishop of London; all the collectionmade at the doors of St. Paul’s Cathedral is, I understand,a perquisite of the Bishop’s.”  In this thereverend gentleman was not very correctly informed, for, in thefirst place, it is not a collection, but an exaction; and, in thesecond place, it is only sanctioned by the Bishop, who allows theinferior clergy to share the gains among themselves.  Mrs.Glibbans, however, on hearing his explanation, exclaimed,“Gude be about us!” and pushing back her chair with abounce, streaking down her gown at the same time with both herhands, added, “No wonder that a judgment is upon the land,when we hear of money-changers in the temple.”  MissMally Glencairn, to appease her gathering wrath and holyindignation, said facetiously, “Na, na, Mrs. Glibbans, yeforget, there was nae changing of money there.  The man tookthe whole guineas.  But not to make a controversy on thesubject, Mr. Snodgrass will now let us hear what Andrew Pringle,‘my son,’ has said to him”:—And thereverend gentleman read the following letter with duecircumspection, and in his best manner:—

LETTER X

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Reverend Charles Snodgrass

My dear Friend—I have heardit alleged, as the observation of a great traveller, that themanners of the higher classes of society throughout Christendomare so much alike, that national peculiarities among them arescarcely perceptible.  This is not correct; the differencesbetween those of London and Edinburgh are to me verystriking.  It is not that they talk and perform the littleetiquettes of social intercourse differently; for, in theserespects, they are apparently as similar as it is possible forimitation to make them; but the difference to which I refer is anindescribable something, which can only be compared topeculiarities of accent.  They both speak the same language;perhaps in classical purity of phraseology the fashionableScotchman is even superior to the Englishman; but there is aflatness of tone in his accent—a lack of what the musicianscall expression, which gives a local and provincial effect to hisconversation, however, in other respects, learned andintelligent.  It is so with his manners; he conducts himselfwith equal ease, self-possession, and discernment, but theflavour of the metropolitan style is wanting.

I have been led to make these remarks by what I noticed in theguests whom I met on Friday at young Argent’s.  It wasa small party, only five strangers; but they seemed to be allparticular friends of our host, and yet none of them appeared tobe on any terms of intimacy with each other.  In Edinburgh,such a party would have been at first a little cold; each of theguests would there have paused to estimate the characters of theseveral strangers before committing himself with any topic ofconversation.  But here, the circumstance of being broughttogether by a mutual friend, produced at once the purestgentlemanly confidence; each, as it were, took it for granted,that the persons whom he had come among were men of education andgood-breeding, and, without deeming it at all necessary that heshould know something of their respective political andphilosophical principles, before venturing to speak on suchsubjects, discussed frankly, and as things unconnected with partyfeelings, incidental occurrences which, in Edinburgh, would havebeen avoided as calculated to awaken animosities.

But the most remarkable feature of the company, small as itwas, consisted of the difference in the condition and characterof the guests.  In Edinburgh the landlord, with thescrupulous care of a herald or genealogist, would, for a party,previously unacquainted with each other, have chosen his guestsas nearly as possible from the same rank of life; the London hosthad paid no respect to any such consideration—all thestrangers were as dissimilar in fortune, profession, connections,and politics, as any four men in the class of gentlemen couldwell be.  I never spent a more delightful evening.

The ablest, the most eloquent, and the most elegant manpresent, without question, was the son of a saddler.  Noexpense had been spared on his education.  His father, proudof his talents, had intended him for a seat in Parliament; butMr. T--- himself prefers the easy enjoyments of private life, andhas kept himself aloof from politics and parties.  Were I toform an estimate of his qualifications to excel in publicspeaking, by the clearness and beautiful propriety of hiscolloquial language, I should conclude that he was still destinedto perform a distinguished part.  But he is content with theliberty of a private station, as a spectator only, and, perhaps,in that he shows his wisdom; for undoubtedly such men are notcordially received among hereditary statesmen, unless they evincea certain suppleness of principle, such as we have seen in theconduct of more than one political adventurer.

The next in point of effect was young C--- G---.  Heevidently languished under the influence of indisposition, which,while it added to the natural gentleness of his manners,diminished the impression his accomplishments would otherwisehave made.  I was greatly struck with the modesty with whichhe offered his opinions, and could scarcely credit that he wasthe same individual whose eloquence in Parliament is by manycompared even to Mr. Canning’s, and whose firmness ofprinciple is so universally acknowledged, that no one eversuspects him of being liable to change.  You may have heardof his poem “On the Restoration of Learning in theEast,” the most magnificent prize essay that the EnglishUniversities have produced for many years.  The passage inwhich he describes the talents, the researches, and learning ofSir William Jones, is worthy of the imagination of Burke; andyet, with all this oriental splendour of fancy, he has thereputation of being a patient and methodical man ofbusiness.  He looks, however, much more like a poet or astudent, than an orator and a statesman; and were statesmen thesort of personages which the spirit of the age attempts torepresent them, I, for one, should lament that a young man,possessed of so many amiable qualities, all so tinted with thebright lights of a fine enthusiasm, should ever have been removedfrom the moon-lighted groves and peaceful cloisters of MagdalenCollege, to the lamp-smelling passages and factious debates ofSt. Stephen’s Chapel.  Mr. G--- certainly belongs tothat high class of gifted men who, to the honour of the age, haveredeemed the literary character from the charge of unfitness forthe concerns of public business; and he has shown that talentsfor affairs of state, connected with literary predilections, arenot limited to mere reviewers, as some of your old class-fellowswould have the world to believe.  When I contrast the quietunobtrusive development of Mr. G---’s character with thatbustling and obstreperous elbowing into notice of some of thoseto whom the Edinburgh Reviewowes half its fame, andcompare the pure and steady lustre of his elevation, to therocket-like aberrations and perturbed blaze of their stilluncertain course, I cannot but think that we have overrated, ifnot their ability, at least their wisdom in the management ofpublic affairs.

The third of the party was a little Yorkshire baronet. He was formerly in Parliament, but left it, as he says, onaccount of its irregularities, and the bad hours it kept. He is a Whig, I understand, in politics, and indeed one mightguess as much by looking at him; for I have always remarked, thatyour Whigs have something odd and particular about them.  Onmaking the same sort of remark to Argent, who, by the way, is ahigh ministerial man, he observed, the thing was not to bewondered at, considering that the Whigs are exceptions to thegenerality of mankind, which naturally accounts for their beingalways in the minority.  Mr. T---, the saddler’s son,who overheard us, said slyly, “That it might be so; but ifit be true that the wise are few compared to the multitude of thefoolish, things would be better managed by the minority than asthey are at present.”

The fourth guest was a stock-broker, a shrewd compound, withall charity be it spoken, of knavery and humour.  He is byprofession an epicure, but I suspect his accomplishments in thatcapacity are not very well founded; I would almost say, judgingby the evident traces of craft and dissimulation in hisphysiognomy, that they have been assumed as part of the means ofgetting into good company, to drive the more earnest trade ofmoney-making.  Argent evidently understood his truecharacter, though he treated him with jocular familiarity. I thought it a fine example of the intellectual tact andsuperiority of T---, that he seemed to view him with dislike andcontempt.  But I must not give you my reasons for sothinking, as you set no value on my own particular philosophy;besides, my paper tells me, that I have only room left to say,that it would be difficult in Edinburgh to bring such a partytogether; and yet they affect there to have a metropolitancharacter.  In saying this, I mean only with reference tomanners; the methods of behaviour in each of the company wereprecisely similar—there was no eccentricity, but only thatdistinct and decided individuality which nature gives, and whichno acquired habits can change.  Each, however, was therepresentative of a class; and Edinburgh has no classes exactlyof the same kind as those to which they belonged.—Yourstruly,

AndrewPringle.

Just as Mr. Snodgrass concluded the last sentence, one of theClyde skippers, who had fallen asleep, gave such an extravagantsnore, followed by a groan, that it set the whole companya-laughing, and interrupted the critical strictures which wouldotherwise have been made on Mr. Andrew Pringle’sepistle.  “Damn it,” said he, “I thoughtmyself in a fog, and could not tell whether the land ahead wasPlada or the Lady Isle.”  Some of the company thoughtthe observation not inapplicable to what they had beenhearing.

Miss Isabella Tod then begged that Miss Mally, their hostess,would favour the company with Mrs. Pringle’scommunication.  To this request that considerate maidenornament of the Kirkgate deemed it necessary, by way of prefaceto the letter, to say, “Ye a’ ken that Mrs.Pringle’s a managing woman, and ye maunna expect anymetaphysical philosophy from her.”  In the meantime,having taken the letter from her pocket, and placed herspectacles on that functionary of the face which was destined towear spectacles, she began as follows:—

LETTER XI

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn

My dear Miss Mally—We havebeen at the counting-house, and gotten a sort of a satisfaction;what the upshot may be, I canna take it upon myself toprognosticate; but when the waur comes to the worst, I think thatbaith Rachel and Andrew will have a nest egg, and the Doctor andme may sleep sound on their account, if the nation doesna break,as the argle-barglers in the House of Parliament have beenthreatening: for all the cornal’s fortune is sunk atpresent in the pesents.  Howsomever, it’s our notion,when the legacies are paid off, to lift the money out of thefunds, and place it at good interest on hairetablesecuritie.  But ye will hear aften from us, before thingscome to that, for the delays, and the goings, and the comings inthis town of London are past all expreshon.

As yet, we have been to see no fairlies, except going in acoach from one part of the toun to another; but the Doctor and mewas at the he-kirk of Saint Paul’s for a purpose that Ineed not tell you, as it was adoing with the right hand what theleft should not know.  I couldna say that I had there greatpleasure, for the preacher was very cauldrife, and read everyword, and then there was such a beggary of popish prelacy, thatit was compassionate to a Christian to see.

We are to dine at Mr. Argent’s, the cornal’shadgint, on Sunday, and me and Rachel have been getting somethingfor the okasion.  Our landlady, Mrs. Sharkly, hasrecommended us to ane of the most fashionable millinders inLondon, who keeps a grand shop in Cranburn Alla, and she hasbrought us arteecles to look at; but I was surprised they werenot finer, for I thought them of a very inferior quality, whichshe said was because they were not made for no costomer, but forthe public.

The Argents seem as if they would be discreet people, which,to us who are here in the jaws of jeopardy, would be a greatconfort—for I am no overly satisfeet with manythings.  What would ye think of buying coals by thestimpert, for anything that I know, and then setting up the pokerafore the ribs, instead of blowing with the bellies to make thefire burn?  I was of a pinion that the Englishers werenaturally masterful; but I can ashure you this is no the case atall—and I am beginning to think that the way of leevingfrom hand to mouth is great frugality, when ye consider that allis left in the logive hands of uncercumseezed servans.

But what gives me the most concern at this time is one CaptainSabre of the Dragoon Hozars, who come up in the smak with us fromLeith, and is looking more after our Rachel than I could wish,now that she might set her cap to another sort of object. But he’s of a respectit family, and the young lad himselfis no to be despisid; howsomever, I never likit officir-men ofany description, and yet the thing that makes me look down on thecaptain is all owing to the cornal, who was an officer of thenative poors of India, where the pay must indeed have beenextraordinar, for who ever heard either of a cornal, or anyofficer whomsoever, making a hundred thousand pounds in ourregiments? no that I say the cornal has left so meikle to us.

Tell Mrs. Glibbans that I have not heard of no sound preacheras yet in London—the want of which is no doubt the greatcause of the crying sins of the place.  What would she thinkto hear of newspapers selling by tout of horn on the Lord’sday? and on the Sabbath night, the change-houses are more throngthan on the Saturday!  I am told, but as yet I cannot saythat I have seen the evil myself with my own eyes, that in thesummer time there are tea-gardens, where the tradesmen go tosmoke their pipes of tobacco, and to entertain their wives andchildren, which can be nothing less than a bringing of them to anuntimely end.  But you will be surprised to hear, that nosuch thing as whusky is to be had in the public-houses, wherethey drink only a dead sort of beer; and that a bottle of truejennyinn London porter is rarely to be seen in the wholetown—all kinds of piple getting their porter in pewtercans, and a laddie calls for in the morning to take away what hasbeen yoused over night.  But what I most miss is the want ofcreem.  The milk here is just skimm, and I doot not,likewise well watered—as for the water, a drink of clearwholesome good water is not within the bounds of London; andtruly, now may I say, that I have learnt what the blessing of acup of cold water is.

Tell Miss Nanny Eydent, that the day of the burial is nowsettled, when we are going to Windsor Castle to see theprecesson—and that, by the end of the wick, she may expectthe fashions from me, with all the particulars.  Till then,I am, my dear Miss Mally, your friend and well-wisher,

JanetPringle.

Noto Beny.—Give my kind compliments to Mrs.Glibbans, and let her know, that I will, after Sunday, give heran account of the state of the Gospel in London.

* * * *

Miss Mally paused when she had read the letter, and it wasunanimously agreed, that Mrs. Pringle gave a more full account ofLondon than either father, son, or daughter.

By this time the night was far advanced, and Mrs. Glibbans wasrising to go away, apprehensive, as she observed, that they weregoing to bring “the carts” into the room.  UponMiss Mally, however, assuring her that no such transgression wasmeditated, but that she intended to treat them with a bit niceHighland mutton ham, and eggs, of her own laying, that worthypillar of the Relief Kirk consented to remain.

It was past eleven o’clock when the party broke up; Mr.Snodgrass and Mr. Micklewham walked home together, and as theywere crossing the Red Burn Bridge, at the entrance of EglintounWood,—a place well noted from ancient times forpreternatural appearances, Mr. Micklewham declared that hethought he heard something purring among the bushes; upon whichMr. Snodgrass made a jocose observation, stating, that it couldbe nothing but the effect of Lord North’s strong ale in hishead; and we should add, by way of explanation, that the LordNorth here spoken of was Willy Grieve, celebrated in Irvine forthe strength and flavour of his brewing, and that, in addition toa plentiful supply of his best, Miss Mally had entertained themwith tamarind punch, constituting a natural cause adequate toproduce all the preternatural purring that terrified thedominie.

CHAPTER V—THE ROYAL FUNERAL

Tam Glen having, in consequence of the exhortations of Mr.Micklewham, and the earnest entreaties of Mr. Daff, backed by thepious animadversions of the rigidly righteous Mr. Craig,confessed a fault, and acknowledged an irregular marriage withMeg Milliken, their child was admitted to churchprivileges.  But before the day of baptism, Mr. Daff, whothought Tam had given but sullen symptoms of penitence, said, toput him in better humour with his fate,—“Noo, Tam,since ye hae beguiled us of the infare, we maun mak upfor’t at the christening; so I’ll speak to Mr.Snodgrass to bid the Doctor’s friens and acquaintance tothe ploy, that we may get as meikle amang us as will pay for thebairn’s baptismal frock.”

Mr. Craig, who was present, and who never lost an opportunityof testifying, as he said, his “discountenance of thecrying iniquity,” remonstrated with Mr. Daff on theunchristian nature of the proposal, stigmatising it with goodemphasis “as a sinful nourishing of carnality in his dayand generation.”  Mr. Micklewham, however, interfered,and said, “It was a matter of weight and concernment, andtherefore it behoves you to consult Mr. Snodgrass on the fitnessof the thing.  For if the thing itself is not fit andproper, it cannot expect his countenance; and, on that account,before we reckon on his compliance with what Mr. Daff haspropounded, we should first learn whether he approves of it atall.”  Whereupon the two elders and the session-clerkadjourned to the manse, in which Mr. Snodgrass, during theabsence of the incumbent, had taken up his abode.

The heads of the previous conversation were recapitulated byMr. Micklewham, with as much brevity as was consistent withperspicuity; and the matter being duly digested by Mr. Snodgrass,that orthodox young man—as Mrs. Glibbans denominated him,on hearing him for the first time—declared that the notionof a pay-christening was a benevolent and kind thought:“For, is not the order to increase and multiply one of thefirst commands in the Scriptures of truth?” said Mr.Snodgrass, addressing himself to Mr. Craig.  “Surely,then, when children are brought into the world, a great law ofour nature has been fulfilled, and there is cause for rejoicingand gladness!  And is it not an obligation imposed upon allChristians, to welcome the stranger, and to feed the hungry, andto clothe the naked; and what greater stranger can there be thana helpless babe?  Who more in need of sustenance than theinfant, that knows not the way even to its mother’sbosom?  And whom shall we clothe, if we do not the wailinginnocent, that the hand of Providence places in poverty andnakedness before us, to try, as it were, the depth of ourChristian principles, and to awaken the sympathy of our humanefeelings?”

Mr. Craig replied, “It’s a’ very true andsound what Mr. Snodgrass has observed; but Tam Glen’s weanis neither a stranger, nor hungry, nor naked, but a sturdy brat,that has been rinning its lane for mair than saxweeks.”  “Ah!” said Mr. Snodgrassfamiliarly, “I fear, Mr. Craig, ye’re a Malthusian inyour heart.”  The sanctimonious elder wasthunderstruck at the word.  Of many a various shade andmodification of sectarianism he had heard, but the Malthusianheresy was new to his ears, and awful to his conscience, and hebegged Mr. Snodgrass to tell him in what it chiefly consisted,protesting his innocence of that, and of every erroneousdoctrine.

Mr. Snodgrass happened to regard the opinions of Malthus onPopulation as equally contrary to religion and nature, and not atall founded in truth.  “It is evident, that thereproductive principle in the earth and vegetables, and allthings and animals which constitute the means of subsistence, ismuch more vigorous than in man.  It may be thereforeaffirmed, that the multiplication of the means of subsistence isan effect of the multiplication of population, for the one isaugmented in quantity, by the skill and care of the other,”said Mr. Snodgrass, seizing with avidity this opportunity ofstating what he thought on the subject, although his auditorswere but the session-clerk, and two elders of a countryparish.  We cannot pursue the train of his argument, but weshould do injustice to the philosophy of Malthus, if wesuppressed the observation which Mr. Daff made at theconclusion.  “Gude safe’s!” said thegood-natured elder, “if it’s true that we breedfaster than the Lord provides for us, we maun drown the poorfolks’ weans like kittlings.”  “Na,na!” exclaimed Mr. Craig, “ye’re a’ out,neighbour; I see now the utility of church-censures.” “True!” said Mr. Micklewham; “and theordination of the stool of repentance, the horrors of which, inthe opinion of the fifteen Lords at Edinburgh, palliatedchild-murder, is doubtless a Malthusian institution.” But Mr. Snodgrass put an end to the controversy, by fixing a dayfor the christening, and telling he would do his best to procurea good collection, according to the benevolent suggestion of Mr.Daff.  To this cause we are indebted for the next series ofthe Pringle correspondence; for, on the day appointed, Miss MallyGlencairn, Miss Isabella Tod, Mrs. Glibbans and her daughterBecky, with Miss Nanny Eydent, together with other friends of theminister’s family, dined at the manse, and the conversationbeing chiefly about the concerns of the family, the letters wereproduced and read.

LETTER XII

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass
Windsor, Castle-Inn.

My dear Friend—I have all mylife been strangely susceptible of pleasing impressions frompublic spectacles where great crowds are assembled.  This,perhaps, you will say, is but another way of confessing, that,like the common vulgar, I am fond of sights and shows.  Itmay be so, but it is not from the pageants that I derive myenjoyment.  A multitude, in fact, is to me as it were astrain of music, which, with an irresistible and magicalinfluence, calls up from the unknown abyss of the feelings newcombinations of fancy, which, though vague and obscure, as thosenebulae of light that astronomers have supposed to be therudiments of unformed stars, afterwards become distinct andbrilliant acquisitions.  In a crowd, I am like thesomnambulist in the highest degree of the luminous crisis, whenit is said a new world is unfolded to his contemplation, whereinall things have an intimate affinity with the state of man, andyet bear no resemblance to the objects that address themselves tohis corporeal faculties.  This delightful experience, as itmay be called, I have enjoyed this evening, to an exquisitedegree, at the funeral of the king; but, although the wholesuccession of incidents is indelibly imprinted on myrecollection, I am still so much affected by the emotion excited,as to be incapable of conveying to you any intelligibledescription of what I saw.  It was indeed a scene witnessedthrough the medium of the feelings, and the effect partakes ofthe nature of a dream.

I was within the walls of an ancient castle,

“So old as if they had for ever stood,
So strong as if they would for ever stand,”

and it was almost midnight.  The towers, like the vastspectres of departed ages, raised their embattled heads to theskies, monumental witnesses of the strength and antiquity of agreat monarchy.  A prodigious multitude filled the courts ofthat venerable edifice, surrounding on all sides a dark embossedstructure, the sarcophagus, as it seemed to me at the moment, ofthe heroism of chivalry.

“A change came o’er the spirit of my dream,”and I beheld the scene suddenly illuminated, and the blaze oftorches, the glimmering of arms, and warriors and horses, while amosaic of human faces covered like a pavement the courts.  Adeep low under sound pealed from a distance; in the same moment,a trumpet answered with a single mournful note from thestateliest and darkest portion of the fabric, and it waswhispered in every ear, “It is coming.”  Then anawful cadence of solemn music, that affected the heart likesilence, was heard at intervals, and a numerous retinue of graveand venerable men,

“The fathers of their time,
Those mighty master spirits, that withstood
The fall of monarchies, and high upheld
Their country’s standard, glorious in the storm,”

passed slowly before me, bearing the emblems and trophies of aking.  They were as a series of great historical events, andI beheld behind them, following and followed, an awful andindistinct image, like the vision of Job.  It moved on, andI could not discern the form thereof, but there were honours andheraldries, and sorrow, and silence, and I heard the stir of aprofound homage performing within the breasts of all thewitnesses.  But I must not indulge myself farther on thissubject.  I cannot hope to excite in you the emotions withwhich I was so profoundly affected.  In the visible objectsof the funeral of George the Third there was but littlemagnificence; all its sublimity was derived from the trains ofthought and currents of feeling, which the sight of so manyillustrious characters, surrounded by circumstances associatedwith the greatness and antiquity of the kingdom, was necessarilycalculated to call forth.  In this respect, however, it wasperhaps the sublimest spectacle ever witnessed in this island;and I am sure, that I cannot live so long as ever again to beholdanother, that will equally interest me to the same depth andextent.—Yours,

AndrewPringle.

We should ill perform the part of faithful historians, did weomit to record the sentiments expressed by the company on thisoccasion.  Mrs. Glibbans, whose knowledge of the points oforthodoxy had not their equal in the three adjacent parishes,roundly declared, that Mr. Andrew Pringle’s letter wasnothing but a peesemeal of clishmaclavers; that there was nosense in it; and that it was just like the writer, a canaryidiot, a touch here and a touch there, without anything in theshape of cordiality or satisfaction.

Miss Isabella Tod answered this objection with that sweetnessof manner and virgin diffidence, which so well becomes a youthfulmember of the establishment, controverting the dogmas of a stoopof the Relief persuasion, by saying, that she thought Mr. Andrewhad shown a fine sensibility.  “What is sensibilitywithout judgment,” cried her adversary, “but athrashing in the water, and a raising of bells?  Couldna thefallow, without a’ his parleyvoos, have said, that such andsuch was the case, and that the Lord giveth and the Lord takethaway?—but his clouds, and his spectres, and his visions ofJob!—Oh, an he could but think like Job!—Oh, an hewould but think like the patient man!—and was obliged toclaut his flesh with a bit of a broken crock, we might have somehope of repentance unto life.  But Andrew Pringle,he’s a gone dick; I never had comfort or expectation of thefree-thinker, since I heard that he was infected with the blueand yellow calamity of the Edinburgh Review; in which, Iam credibly told, it is set forth, that women have nae souls, butonly a gut, and a gaw, and a gizzard, like a pigeon-dove, or araven-crow, or any other outcast and abominatedquadruped.”

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed her effectual mediation,and said, “It is very true that Andrew deals in thediplomatics of obscurity; but it’s well known that he has anerve for genius, and that, in his own way, he kens the loan fromthe crown of the causeway, as well as the duck does the middenfrom the adle dib.”  To this proverb, which we neverheard before, a learned friend, whom we consulted on the subject,has enabled us to state, that middens were formerly of greatmagnitude, and often of no less antiquity in the west ofScotland; in so much, that the Trongate of Glasgow owes all itsspacious grandeur to them.  It being within the recollectionof persons yet living, that the said magnificent street was atone time an open road, or highway, leading to the Trone, ormarket-cross, with thatched houses on each side, such as maystill be seen in the pure and immaculate royal borough ofRutherglen; and that before each house stood a luxuriant midden,by the removal of which, in the progress of modern degeneracy,the stately architecture of Argyle Street was formed.  Butnot to insist at too great a length on such topics of antiquarianlore, we shall now insert Dr. Pringle’s account of thefuneral, and which, patly enough, follows our digressionconcerning the middens and magnificence of Glasgow, as itcontains an authentic anecdote of a manufacturer from that city,drinking champaign at the king’s dirgie.

LETTER XIII

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk of Garnock
London.

Dear Sir—I have received yourletter, and it is a great pleasure to me to hear that my peoplewere all so much concerned at our distress in the Leith smack;but what gave me the most contentment was the repentance of TamGlen.  I hope, poor fellow, he will prove a good husband;but I have my doubts; for the wife has really but a small shareof common sense, and no married man can do well unless his wifewill let him.  I am, however, not overly pleased with Mr.Craig on the occasion, for he should have considered frail humannature, and accepted of poor Tam’s confession of a fault,and allowed the bairn to be baptized without any more ado. I think honest Mr. Daff has acted like himself, and I trust andhope there will be a great gathering at the christening, and,that my mite may not be wanting, you will slip in a guinea notewhen the dish goes round, but in such a manner, that it may notbe jealoused from whose hand it comes.

Since my last letter, we have been very thrang in the way ofseeing the curiosities of London; but I must go on regular, andtell you all, which, I think, it is my duty to do, that you maylet my people know.  First, then, we have been at WindsorCastle, to see the king lying in state, and, afterwards, hisinterment; and sorry am I to say, it was not a sight that couldsatisfy any godly mind on such an occasion.  We went in acoach of our own, by ourselves, and found the town of Windsorlike a cried fair.  We were then directed to the Castlegate, where a terrible crowd was gathered together; and we hadnot been long in that crowd, till a pocket-picker, as I thought,cutted off the tail of my coat, with my pocket-book in my pocket,which I never missed at the time.  But it seems the coattail was found, and a policeman got it, and held it up on the endof his stick, and cried, whose pocket is this? showing the bookthat was therein in his hand.  I was confounded to see mypocket-book there, and could scarcely believe my own eyes; butMrs. Pringle knew it at the first glance, and said,“It’s my gudeman’s”; at the which, therewas a great shout of derision among the multitude, and we wouldbaith have then been glad to disown the pocket-book, but it wasreturned to us, I may almost say, against our will; but thescorners, when they saw our confusion, behaved with greatcivility towards us, so that we got into the Castle-yard with noother damage than the loss of the flap of my coat tail.

Being in the Castle-yard, we followed the crowd into anothergate, and up a stair, and saw the king lying in state, which wasa very dismal sight—and I thought of Solomon in all hisglory, when I saw the coffin, and the mutes, and the mourners;and reflecting on the long infirmity of mind of the good oldking, I said to myself, in the words of the book of Job,‘Doth not their excellency which is in them go away? theydie even without wisdom!’

When we had seen the sight, we came out of the Castle, andwent to an inn to get a chack of dinner; but there was such acrowd, that no resting-place could for a time be found forus.  Gentle and semple were there, all mingled, and norespect of persons; only there was, at a table nigh unto ours, afat Glasgow manufacturer, who ordered a bottle of champaign wine,and did all he could in the drinking of it by himself, to showthat he was a man in well-doing circumstances.  While he wastalking over his wine, a great peer of the realm, with a star onhis breast, came into the room, and ordered a glass of brandy andwater; and I could see, when he saw the Glasgow manufacturerdrinking champaign wine on that occasion, that he greatlymarvelled thereat.

When we had taken our dinner, we went out to walk and see thetown of Windsor; but there was such a mob of coaches going andcoming, and men and horses, that we left the streets, and went toinspect the king’s policy, which is of great compass, butin a careless order, though it costs a world of money to keep itup.  Afterwards, we went back to the inns, to get tea forMrs. Pringle and her daughter, while Andrew Pringle, my son, wasseeing if he could get tickets to buy, to let us into the insideof the Castle, to see the burial—but he came back withoutluck, and I went out myself, being more experienced in the world,and I saw a gentleman’s servant with a ticket in his hand,and I asked him to sell it to me, which the man did withthankfulness, for five shillings, although the price was said tobe golden guineas.  But as this ticket admitted only oneperson, it was hard to say what should be done with it when I gotback to my family.  However, as by this time we were allvery much fatigued, I gave it to Andrew Pringle, my son, and Mrs.Pringle, and her daughter Rachel, agreed to bide with me in theinns.

Andrew Pringle, my son, having got the ticket, left ussitting, when shortly after in came a nobleman, high in thecabinet, as I think he must have been, and he having politelyasked leave to take his tea at our table, because of the greatthrong in the house, we fell into a conversation together, andhe, understanding thereby that I was a minister of the Church ofScotland, said he thought he could help us into a place to seethe funeral; so, after he had drank his tea, he took us with him,and got us into the Castle-yard, where we had an excellent place,near to the Glasgow manufacturer that drank the champaign. The drink by this time, however, had got into that poorman’s head, and he talked so loud, and so little to thepurpose, that the soldiers who were guarding were obliged to makehim hold his peace, at which he was not a little nettled, andtold the soldiers that he had himself been a soldier, and servedthe king without pay, having been a volunteer officer.  Butthis had no more effect than to make the soldiers laugh at him,which was not a decent thing at the interment of their master,our most gracious Sovereign that was.

However, in this situation we saw all; and I can assure you itwas a very edifying sight; and the people demeaned themselveswith so much propriety, that there was no need for any guards atall; indeed, for that matter, of the two, the guards, who hadeaten the king’s bread, were the only ones there, savingand excepting the Glasgow manufacturer, that manifested anirreverent spirit towards the royal obsequies.  But they aremen familiar with the king of terrors on the field of battle, andit was not to be expected that their hearts would be daunted likethose of others by a doing of a civil character.

When all was over, we returned to the inns, to get our chaise,to go back to London that night, for beds were not to be had forlove or money at Windsor, and we reached our temporary home inNorfolk Street about four o’clock in the morning, wellsatisfied with what we had seen,—but all the meantime I hadforgotten the loss of the flap of my coat, which caused no littlesport when I came to recollect what a pookit like body I musthave been, walking about in the king’s policy like apeacock without my tail.  But I must conclude, for Mrs.Pringle has a letter to put in the frank for Miss Nanny Eydent,which you will send to her by one of your scholars, as itcontains information that may be serviceable to Miss Nanny in herbusiness, both as a mantua-maker and a superintendent of thegenteeler sort of burials at Irvine and our vicinity.  Sothat this is all from your friend and pastor,

ZachariahPringle.

“I think,” said Miss Isabella Tod, as Mr.Micklewham finished the reading of the Doctor’s epistle,“that my friend Rachel might have given me some account ofthe ceremony; but Captain Sabre seems to have been a much moreinteresting object to her than the pride and pomp to her brother,or even the Glasgow manufacturer to her father.”  Insaying these words, the young lady took the following letter fromher pocket, and was on the point of beginning to read it, whenMiss Becky Glibbans exclaimed, “I had aye my fears thatRachel was but light-headed, and I’ll no be surprised tohear more about her and the dragoon or a’sdone.”  Mr. Snodgrass looked at Becky, as if he hadbeen afflicted at the moment with unpleasant ideas; and perhapshe would have rebuked the spitefulness of her insinuations, hadnot her mother sharply snubbed the uncongenial maiden, in termsat least as pungent as any which the reverend gentleman wouldhave employed.  “I’m sure,” replied MissBecky, pertly, “I meant no ill; but if Rachel Pringle canwrite about nothing but this Captain Sabre, she might as well letit alone, and her letter canna be worth the hearing.” “Upon that,” said the clergyman, “we can form ajudgment when we have heard it, and I beg that Miss Isabella mayproceed,”—which she did accordingly.

LETTER XIV

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod
London.

My dear Bell—I take up my penwith a feeling of disappointment such as I never feltbefore.  Yesterday was the day appointed for the funeral ofthe good old king, and it was agreed that we should go toWindsor, to pour the tribute of our tears upon the royalhearse.  Captain Sabre promised to go with us, as he is wellacquainted with the town, and the interesting objects around theCastle, so dear to chivalry, and embalmed by the genius ofShakespeare and many a minor bard, and I promised myself a day ofunclouded felicity—but the captain was ordered to be onduty,—and the crowd was so rude and riotous, that I had noenjoyment whatever; but, pining with chagrin at the littlerespect paid by the rabble to the virtues of the departedmonarch, I would fainly have retired into some solemn andsequestered grove, and breathed my sorrows to the listeningwaste.  Nor was the loss of the captain, to explain andilluminate the different baronial circumstances around theCastle, the only thing I had to regret in this ever-memorableexcursion—my tender and affectionate mother was so desirousto see everything in the most particular manner, in order thatshe might give an account of the funeral to Nanny Eydent, thatshe had no mercy either upon me or my father, but obliged us togo with her to the most difficult and inaccessible places. How vain was all this meritorious assiduity! for of what availcan the ceremonies of a royal funeral be to Miss Nanny, atIrvine, where kings never die, and where, if they did, it is notat all probable that Miss Nanny would be employed to direct theirsolemn obsequies?  As for my brother, he was so entrancedwith his own enthusiasm, that he paid but little attention to us,which made me the more sensible of the want we suffered from theabsence of Captain Sabre.  In a word, my dear Bell, neverdid I pass a more unsatisfactory day, and I wish it blotted forever from my remembrance.  Let it therefore be consigned tothe abysses of oblivion, while I recall the more pleasingincidents that have happened since I wrote you last.

On Sunday, according to invitation, as I told you, we dinedwith the Argents—and were entertained by them in a style atonce most splendid, and on the most easy footing.  I shallnot attempt to describe the consumable materials of the table,but call your attention, my dear friend, to the intellectualportion of the entertainment, a subject much more congenial toyour delicate and refined character.

Mrs. Argent is a lady of considerable personal magnitude, ofan open and affable disposition.  In this respect, indeed,she bears a striking resemblance to her nephew, Captain Sabre,with whose relationship to her we were unacquainted before thatday.  She received us as friends in whom she felt a peculiarinterest; for when she heard that my mother had got her dress andmine from Cranbury Alley, she expressed the greatestastonishment, and told us, that it was not at all a place wherepersons of fashion could expect to be properly served.  Norcan I disguise the fact, that the flounced and gorgeous garnitureof our dresses was in shocking contrast to the amiable simplicityof hers and the fair Arabella, her daughter, a charming girl,who, notwithstanding the fashionable splendour in which she hasbeen educated, displays a delightful sprightliness of manner,that, I have some notion, has not been altogether lost on theheart of my brother.

When we returned upstairs to the drawing-room, after dinner,Miss Arabella took her harp, and was on the point of favouring uswith a Mozart; but her mother, recollecting that we werePresbyterians, thought it might not be agreeable, and shedesisted, which I was sinful enough to regret; but my mother wasso evidently alarmed at the idea of playing on the harp on aSunday night, that I suppressed my own wishes, in filialveneration for those of that respected parent.  Indeed,fortunate it was that the music was not performed; for, when wereturned home, my father remarked with great solemnity, that sucha way of passing the Lord’s night as we had passed it,would have been a great sin in Scotland.

Captain Sabre, who called on us next morning, was so delightedwhen he understood that we were acquainted with his aunt, that helamented he had not happened to know it before, as he would, inthat case, have met us there.  He is indeed very attentive,but I assure you that I feel no particular interest about him;for although he is certainly a very handsome young man, he is notsuch a genius as my brother, and has no literarypartialities.  But literary accomplishments are, you know,foreign to the military profession, and if the captain has notdistinguished himself by cutting up authors in the reviews, hehas acquired an honourable medal, by overcoming the enemies ofthe civilised world at Waterloo.

To-night the playhouses open again, and we are going to theOratorio, and the captain goes with us, a circumstance which I amthe more pleased at, as we are strangers, and he will tell us thenames of the performers.  My father made some scruple ofconsenting to be of the party; but when he heard that an Oratoriowas a concert of sacred music, he thought it would be only asinless deviation if he did, so he goes likewise.  Thecaptain, therefore, takes an early dinner with us at fiveo’clock.  Alas! to what changes am Idoomed,—that was the tea hour at the manse ofGarnock.  Oh, when shall I revisit the primitivesimplicities of my native scenes again!  But neither timenor distance, my dear Bell, can change the affection with which Isubscribe myself, ever affectionately, yours,

RachelPringle.

At the conclusion of this letter, the countenance of Mrs.Glibbans was evidently so darkened, that it daunted the company,like an eclipse of the sun, when all nature is saddened. “What think you, Mr. Snodgrass,” said thatspirit-stricken lady,—“what think you of this diningon the Lord’s day,—this playing on the harp; thecarnal Mozarting of that ungodly family, with whom the corrupthuman nature of our friends has been chambering?”  Mr.Snodgrass was at some loss for an answer, and hesitated, but MissMally Glencairn relieved him from his embarrassment, byremarking, that “the harp was a holy instrument,”which somewhat troubled the settled orthodoxy of Mrs.Glibbans’s visage.  “Had it been anorgan,” said Mr. Snodgrass, dryly, “there might havebeen, perhaps, more reason to doubt; but, as Miss Mally justlyremarks, the harp has been used from the days of King David inthe performances of sacred music, together with the psalter, thetimbrel, the sackbut, and the cymbal.”  The wrath ofthe polemical Deborah of the Relief-Kirk was somewhat appeased bythis explanation, and she inquired in a more diffident tone,whether a Mozart was not a metrical paraphrase of the song ofMoses after the overthrow of the Egyptians in the Red Sea;“in which case, I must own,” she observed,“that the sin and guilt of the thing is less grievous inthe sight of Him before whom all theactions of men are abominations.”  Miss Isabella Tod,availing herself of this break in the conversation, turned roundto Miss Nanny Eydent, and begged that she would read her letterfrom Mrs. Pringle.  We should do injustice, however, tohonest worth and patient industry were we, in thus introducingMiss Nanny to our readers, not to give them some account of herlowly and virtuous character.

Miss Nanny was the eldest of three sisters, the daughters of ashipmaster, who was lost at sea when they were very young; andhis all having perished with him, they were indeed, as theirmother said, the children of Poverty and Sorrow.  By thehelp of a little credit, the widow contrived, in a small shop, toeke out her days till Nanny was able to assist her.  It wasthe intention of the poor woman to take up a girl’s schoolfor reading and knitting, and Nanny was destined to instruct thepupils in that higher branch of accomplishment—thedifferent stitches of the sampler.  But about the time thatNanny was advancing to the requisite degree of perfection inchain-steek and pie-holes—indeed had made some progress inthe Lord’s prayer between two yew trees—tambouringwas introduced at Irvine, and Nanny was sent to acquire acompetent knowledge of that classic art, honoured by the fairhands of the beautiful Helen and the chaste and domesticAndromache.  In this she instructed her sisters; and suchwas the fruit of their application and constant industry, thather mother abandoned the design of keeping school, and continuedto ply her little huxtry in more easy circumstances.  Thefluctuations of trade in time taught them that it would not bewise to trust to the loom, and accordingly Nanny was at somepains to learn mantua-making; and it was fortunate that she didso—for the tambouring gradually went out of fashion, andthe flowering which followed suited less the infirm constitutionof poor Nanny.  The making of gowns for ordinary occasionsled to the making of mournings, and the making of mourningsnaturally often caused Nanny to be called in at deaths, which, inprocess of time, promoted her to have the management of burials;and in this line of business she has now a large proportion ofthe genteelest in Irvine and its vicinity; and in all her variousengagements her behaviour has been as blameless and obliging asher assiduity has been uniform; insomuch, that the numerousladies to whom she is known take a particular pleasure insupplying her with the newest patterns, and earliest information,respecting the varieties and changes of fashions; and to theinfluence of the same good feelings in the breast of Mrs.Pringle, Nanny was indebted for the following letter.  Howfar the information which it contains may be deemed exactlysuitable to the circumstances in which Miss Nanny’s lot iscast, our readers may judge for themselves; but we are happy tostate, that it has proved of no small advantage to her: for sinceit has been known that she had received a full, true, andparticular account, of all manner of London fashions, from somanaging and notable a woman as the minister’s wife ofGarnock, her consideration has been so augmented in the opinionof the neighbouring gentlewomen, that she is not only consultedas to funerals, but is often called in to assist in thedecoration and arrangement of wedding-dinners, and otheroccasions of sumptuous banqueting; by which she is enabled,during the suspension of the flowering trade, to earn a lowly buta respected livelihood.

LETTER XV

Mrs. Pringle to Miss NannyEydent, Mantua-maker, Seagate Head,Irvine
London.

Dear Miss Nanny—Miss MallyGlencairn would tell you all how it happent that I was disabled,by our misfortunes in the ship, from riting to you konserning theLondon fashons as I promist; for I wantit to be partikylor, andto say nothing but what I saw with my own eyes, that it might beservisable to you in your bizness—so now I will begin withthe old king’s burial, as you have sometimes okashon tolend a helping hand in that way at Irvine, and nothing could bemore genteeler of the kind than a royal obsakew for a patron; butno living sole can give a distink account of this matter, for youknow the old king was the father of his piple, and the croud wasso great.  Howsomever we got into our oun hired shaze atdaylight; and when we were let out at the castel yett of Windsor,we went into the mob, and by and by we got within the castelwalls, when great was the lamentation for the purdition of shawlsand shoos, and the Doctor’s coat pouch was clippit off by apocket-picker.  We then ran to a wicket-gate, and up an oldtimber-stair with a rope ravel, and then we got to a great pentitchamber called King George’s Hall: After that we wereallowt to go into another room full of guns and guards, that toldus all to be silent: so then we all went like sawlies, holdingour tongues in an awful manner, into a dysmal room hung withblack cloth, and lighted with dum wax-candles in silver skonses,and men in a row all in mulancholic posters.  At length andat last we came to the coffin; but although I was as partikylaras possoble, I could see nothing that I would recommend.  Asfor the interment, there was nothing but even-downwastrie—wax-candles blowing away in the wind, and flunkiesas fou as pipers, and an unreverent mob that scarsely coulddemean themselves with decency as the body was going by; only theDuke of York, who carrit the head, had on no hat, which I thinkwas the newest identical thing in the affair: but really therewas nothing that could be recommended.  Howsomever Iunderstood that there was no draigie, which was a saving; for thebread and wine for such a multitude would have been a destructionto a lord’s living: and this is the only point that thefashon set in the king’s feunoral may be follot inIrvine.

Since the burial, we have been to see the play, where theleddies were all in deep murning; but excepting that some hadblack gum-floors on their heads, I saw leetil foradmiration—only that bugles, I can ashure you, are not wornat all this season; and surely this murning must be a vastdetrimint to bizness—for where there is no verietie, therecan be but leetil to do in your line.  But one thing Ishould not forget, and that is, that in the vera best houses,after tea and coffee after dinner, a cordial dram is handedabout; but likewise I could observe, that the fruit is not set onwith the cheese, as in our part of the country, but comes, afterthe cloth is drawn, with the wine; and no such a thing as apunch-bowl is to be heard of within the four walls ofLondon.  Howsomever, what I principally notised was, thatthe tea and coffee is not made by the lady of the house, but outof the room, and brought in without sugar or milk, on servors,every one helping himself, and only plain flimsy loaf and butteris served—no such thing as shortbread, seed-cake, bun,marmlet, or jeelly to be seen, which is an okonomical plan, andwell worthy of adaptation in ginteel families with narrowincomes, in Irvine or elsewhere.

But when I tell you what I am now going to say, you will notbe surprizt at the great wealth in London.  I paid for abumbeseen gown, not a bit better than the one that was made byyou that the sore calamity befell, and no so fine neither, morethan three times the price; so you see, Miss Nanny, if you weregoing to pouse your fortune, you could not do better than pack upyour ends and your awls and come to London.  But ye’refar better at home—for this is not a town for anycreditable young woman like you, to live in by herself, and I amwearying to be back, though it’s hard to say when theDoctor will get his counts settlet.  I wish you, howsomever,to mind the patches for the bed-cover that I was going to patch,for a licht afternoon seam, as the murning for the king will nobe so general with you, and the spring fashons will be coming onto help my gathering—so no more at present from your friendand well-wisher,

JanetPringle.

CHAPTER VI—PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION

On Sunday morning, before going to church, Mr. Micklewhamcalled at the manse, and said that he wished particularly tospeak to Mr. Snodgrass.  Upon being admitted, he found theyoung helper engaged at breakfast, with a book lying on histable, very like a volume of a new novel called Ivanhoe,in its appearance, but of course it must have been sermons doneup in that manner to attract fashionable readers.  As soon,however, as Mr. Snodgrass saw his visitor, he hastily removed thebook, and put it into the table-drawer.

The precentor having taken a seat at the opposite side of thefire, began somewhat diffidently to mention, that he had receiveda letter from the Doctor, that made him at a loss whether or nothe ought to read it to the elders, as usual, after worship, andtherefore was desirous of consulting Mr. Snodgrass on thesubject, for it recorded, among other things, that the Doctor hadbeen at the playhouse, and Mr. Micklewham was quite sure that Mr.Craig would be neither to bind nor to hold when he heard that,although the transgression was certainly mollified by the natureof the performance.  As the clergyman, however, could offerno opinion until he saw the letter, the precentor took it out ofhis pocket, and Mr. Snodgrass found the contents asfollows:—

LETTER XVI

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk, Garnock
London.

Dear Sir—You will recollectthat, about twenty years ago, there was a great sound throughoutall the West that a playhouse in Glasgow had been converted intoa tabernacle of religion.  I remember it was glad tidings toour ears in the parish of Garnock; and that Mr. Craig, who hadjust been ta’en on for an elder that fall, was for having athanksgiving-day on the account thereof, holding it to be asignal manifestation of a new birth in the of-old-godly town ofGlasgow, which had become slack in the way of well-doing, and thechurch therein lukewarm, like that of Laodicea.  It was thensaid, as I well remember, that when the Tabernacle was opened,there had not been seen, since the Kaimslang wark, such acongregation as was there assembled, which was a great proof thatit’s the matter handled, and not the place, that makethpure; so that when you and the elders hear that I have been atthe theatre of Drury Lane, in London, you must not think that Iwas there to see a carnal stage play, whether tragical orcomical, or that I would so far demean myself and my cloth, as tobe a witness to the chambering and wantonness ofne’er-du-weel play-actors.  No, Mr. Micklewham, what Iwent to see was an Oratorio, a most edifying exercise of psalmodyand prayer, under the management of a pious gentleman, of thename of Sir George Smart, who is, as I am informed, at thegreatest pains to instruct the exhibitioners, they being, for themost part, before they get into his hands, poor uncultivatedcreatures, from Italy, France, and Germany, and other atheisticaland popish countries.

They first sung a hymn together very decently, and really withas much civilised harmony as could be expected from novices;indeed so well, that I thought them almost as melodious as yourown singing class of the trades lads from Kilwinning.  Thenthere was one Mr. Braham, a Jewish proselyte, that was set forthto show us a specimen of his proficiency.  In the prayingpart, what he said was no objectionable as to the matter; but hedrawled in his manner to such a pitch, that I thought he wouldhave broken out into an even-down song, as I sometimes think ofyourself when you spin out the last word in reading out the linein a warm summer afternoon.  In the hymn by himself, he didbetter; he was, however, sometimes like to lose the tune, but thepeople gave him great encouragement when he got back again. Upon the whole, I had no notion that there was any suchChristianity in practice among the Londoners, and I am happy totell you, that the house was very well filled, and thecongregation wonderful attentive.  No doubt that excellentman, Mr. W---, has a hand in these public strainings after grace,but he was not there that night; for I have seen him; and surelyat the sight I could not but say to myself, that it’sbeyond the compass of the understanding of man to see what greatthings Providence worketh with small means, for Mr. W--- is asmall creature.  When I beheld his diminutive stature, andthought of what he had achieved for the poor negroes and othersin the house of bondage, I said to myself, that here the hand ofWisdom is visible, for the load of perishable mortality is laidlightly on his spirit, by which it is enabled to clap its wingsand crow so crously on the dunghill top of this world; yea evenin the House of Parliament.

I was taken last Thursday morning to breakfast with him hishouse at Kensington, by an East India man, who is likewise surelya great saint.  It was a heart-healing meeting of many ofthe godly, which he holds weekly in the season; and we had such awarsle of the spirit among us that the like cannot be told. I was called upon to pray, and a worthy gentleman said, when Iwas done, that he never had met with more apostolicsimplicity—indeed, I could see with the tail of my eye,while I was praying, that the chief saint himself was listeningwith a curious pleasant satisfaction.

As for our doings here anent the legacy, things are goingforward in the regular manner; but the expense is terrible, and Ihave been obliged to take up money on account; but, as it wasfreely given by the agents, I am in hopes all will end well; for,considering that we are but strangers to them, they would nothave assisted us in this matter had they not been sure of themeans of payment in their own hands.

The people of London are surprising kind to us; we need not,if we thought proper ourselves, eat a dinner in our own lodgings;but it would ill become me, at my time of life, and with thecharacter for sobriety that I have maintained, to show an examplein my latter days of riotous living; therefore, Mrs. Pringle, andher daughter, and me, have made a point of going nowhere threetimes in the week; but as for Andrew Pringle, my son, he hasforgathered with some acquaintance, and I fancy we will beobliged to let him take the length of his tether for awhile.  But not altogether without a curb neither, for theagent’s son, young Mr. Argent, had almost persuaded him tobecome a member of Parliament, which he said he could get himmade, for more than a thousand pounds less than the commonprice—the state of the new king’s health havinglowered the commodity of seats.  But this I would by nomeans hear of; he is not yet come to years of discretion enoughto sit in council; and, moreover, he has not been tried; and noman, till he has out of doors shown something of what he is,should be entitled to power and honour within.  Mrs.Pringle, however, thought he might do as well as young Dunure;but Andrew Pringle, my son, has not the solidity of head that Mr.K---dy has, and is over free and outspoken, and cannot take suchpains to make his little go a great way, like that well-behavedyoung gentleman.  But you will be grieved to hear that Mr.K---dy is in opposition to the government; and truly I am at aloss to understand how a man of Whig principles can be anadversary to the House of Hanover.  But I never meddled muchin politick affairs, except at this time, when I prohibitedAndrew Pringle, my son, from offering to be a member ofParliament, notwithstanding the great bargain that he would havehad of the place.

And since we are on public concerns, I should tell you, that Iwas minded to send you a newspaper at the second-hand, every daywhen we were done with it.  But when we came to inquire, wefound that we could get the newspaper for a shilling a week everymorning but Sunday, to our breakfast, which was so much cheaperthan buying a whole paper, that Mrs. Pringle thought it would bea great extravagance; and, indeed, when I came to think of theloss of time a newspaper every day would occasion to my people, Iconsidered it would be very wrong of me to send you any atall.  For I do think that honest folks in a far-off countryparish should not make or meddle with the things that pertain togovernment,—the more especially, as it is well known, thatthere is as much falsehood as truth in newspapers, and they havenot the means of testing their statements.  Not, however,that I am an advocate for passive obedience; God forbid.  Onthe contrary, if ever the time should come, in my day, of asaint-slaying tyrant attempting to bind the burden of prelaticabominations on our backs, such a blast of the gospel trumpetwould be heard in Garnock, as it does not become me to say, but Ileave it to you and others, who have experienced my capacity as asoldier of the word so long, to think what it would thenbe.  Meanwhile, I remain, my dear sir, your friend andpastor,

Z.Pringle.

When Mr. Snodgrass had perused this epistle, he paused sometime, seemingly in doubt, and then he said to Mr. Micklewham,that, considering the view which the Doctor had taken of thematter, and that he had not gone to the playhouse for the motiveswhich usually take bad people to such places, he thought therecould be no possible harm in reading the letter to the elders,and that Mr. Craig, so far from being displeased, would doubtlessbe exceedingly rejoiced to learn that the playhouses of Londonwere occasionally so well employed as on the night when theDoctor was there.

Mr. Micklewham then inquired if Mr. Snodgrass had heard fromMr. Andrew, and was answered in the affirmative; but the letterwas not read.  Why it was withheld our readers must guessfor themselves; but we have been fortunate enough to obtain thefollowing copy.

LETTER XVII

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass
London.

My dear Friend—As the seasonadvances, London gradually unfolds, like Nature, all the varietyof her powers and pleasures.  By the Argents we have beenintroduced effectually into society, and have now only to chooseour acquaintance among those whom we like best.  I shouldemploy another word than choose, for I am convinced that there isno choice in the matter.  In his friendships and affections,man is subject to some inscrutable moral law, similar in itseffects to what the chemists call affinity.  While under theblind influence of this sympathy, we, forsooth, suppose ourselvesfree agents!  But a truce with philosophy.

The amount of the legacy is now ascertained.  The stock,however, in which a great part of the money is vested being shut,the transfer to my father cannot be made for some time; and tillthis is done, my mother cannot be persuaded that we have yet gotanything to trust to—an unfortunate notion which rendersher very unhappy.  The old gentleman himself takes nointerest now in the business.  He has got his mind at easeby the payment of all the legacies; and having fallen in withsome of the members of that political junto, the Saints, who areworldly enough to link, as often as they can, into theirassociation, the powerful by wealth or talent, his whole time isoccupied in assisting to promote their humbug; and he hasabsolutely taken it into his head, that the attention he receivesfrom them for his subscriptions is on account of his eloquence asa preacher, and that hitherto he has been altogether in an errorwith respect to his own abilities.  The effect of this isabundantly amusing; but the source of it is very evident. Like most people who pass a sequestered life, he had formed anexaggerated opinion of public characters; and on seeing them inreality so little superior to the generality of mankind, heimagines that he was all the time nearer to their level than hehad ventured to suppose; and the discovery has placed him on thehappiest terms with himself.  It is impossible that I canrespect his manifold excellent qualities and goodness of heartmore than I do; but there is an innocency in this simplicity,which, while it often compels me to smile, makes me feel towardshim a degree of tenderness, somewhat too familiar for that filialreverence that is due from a son.

Perhaps, however, you will think me scarcely less under theinfluence of a similar delusion when I tell you, that I have beensomehow or other drawn also into an association, not indeed sopublic or potent as that of the Saints, but equally perseveringin the objects for which it has been formed.  The drift ofthe Saints, as far as I can comprehend the matter, is to procurethe advancement to political power of men distinguished for thepurity of their lives, and the integrity of their conduct; and inthat way, I presume, they expect to effect the accomplishment ofthat blessed epoch, the Millennium, when the Saints are to rulethe whole earth.  I do not mean to say that this is theirdecided and determined object; I only infer, that it is thenecessary tendency of their proceedings; and I say it with allpossible respect and sincerity, that, as a public party, theSaints are not only perhaps the most powerful, but the partywhich, at present, best deserves power.

The association, however, with which I have happened to becomeconnected, is of a very different description.  Their objectis, to pass through life with as much pleasure as they canobtain, without doing anything unbecoming the rank of gentlemen,and the character of men of honour.  We do not assemble suchnumerous meetings as the Saints, the Whigs, or the Radicals, norare our speeches delivered with so much vehemence.  We even,I think, tacitly exclude oratory.  In a word, our meetingsseldom exceed the perfect number of the muses; and our object onthese occasions is not so much to deliberate on plans ofprospective benefits to mankind, as to enjoy the present time forourselves, under the temperate inspiration of a well-cookeddinner, flavoured with elegant wine, and just so much of mind assuits the fleeting topics of the day.  T---, whom I formerlymentioned, introduced me to this delightful society.  Themembers consist of about fifty gentlemen, who dine occasionallyat each other’s houses; the company being chiefly selectedfrom the brotherhood, if that term can be applied to a circle ofacquaintance, who, without any formal institution of rules, havegradually acquired a consistency that approximates toorganisation.  But the universe of this vast city contains aplurality of systems; and the one into which I have beenattracted may be described as that of the idle intellects. In general society, the members of our party are looked up to asmen of taste and refinement, and are received with a degree ofdeference that bears some resemblance to the respect paid to thehereditary endowment of rank.  They consist either of youngmen who have acquired distinction at college, or gentlemen offortune who have a relish for intellectual pleasures, free fromthe acerbities of politics, or the dull formalities which so manyof the pious think essential to their religiouspretensions.  The wealthy furnish the entertainments, whichare always in a superior style, and the ingredient of birth isnot requisite in the qualifications of a member, although somejealousy is entertained of professional men, and not a little ofmerchants.  T---, to whom I am also indebted for this viewof that circle of which he is the brightest ornament, gives afelicitous explanation of the reason.  He says, professionalmen, who are worth anything at all, are always ambitious, andendeavour to make their acquaintance subservient to their ownadvancement; while merchants are liable to such casualties, thattheir friends are constantly exposed to the risk of being obligedto sink them below their wonted equality, by granting themfavours in times of difficulty, or, what is worse, by refusing togrant them.

I am much indebted to you for the introduction to your friendG---.  He is one of us; or rather, he moves in an eccentricsphere of his own, which crosses, I believe, almost all theorbits of all the classed and classifiable systems ofLondon.  I found him exactly what you described; and we wereon the frankest footing of old friends in the course of the firstquarter of an hour.  He did me the honour to fancy that Ibelonged, as a matter of course, to some one of the literaryfraternities of Edinburgh, and that I would be curious to see theassociations of the learned here.  What he said respectingthem was highly characteristic of the man.  “Theyare,” said he, “the dullest things possible.  Onmy return from abroad, I visited them all, expecting to findsomething of that easy disengaged mind which constitutes thecharm of those of France and Italy.  But in London, amongthose who have a character to keep up, there is such a vigilantcircumspection, that I should as soon expect to find nature inthe ballets of the Opera-house, as genius at the establishedhaunts of authors, artists, and men of science.  Bankesgives, I suppose officially, a public breakfast weekly, and openshis house for conversations on the Sundays.  I found at hisbreakfasts, tea and coffee, with hot rolls, and men of celebrityafraid to speak.  At the conversations, there was somethingeven worse.  A few plausible talking fellows created a buzzin the room, and the merits of some paltry nick-nack of mechanismor science was discussed.  The party consisted undoubtedlyof the most eminent men of their respective lines in the world;but they were each and all so apprehensive of having their ideaspurloined, that they took the most guarded care never to speak ofanything that they deemed of the slightest consequence, or tohazard an opinion that might be called in question.  The manwho either wishes to augment his knowledge, or to pass his timeagreeably, will never expose himself to a repetition of thefastidious exhibitions of engineers and artists who have theirtalents at market.  But such things are among thecuriosities of London; and if you have any inclination to undergothe initiating mortification of being treated as a young man whomay be likely to interfere with their professional interests, Ican easily get you introduced.”

I do not know whether to ascribe these strictures of yourfriend to humour or misanthropy; but they were said withoutbitterness; indeed so much as matters of course, that, at themoment, I could not but feel persuaded they were just.  Ispoke of them to T---, who says, that undoubtedly G---’saccount of the exhibitions is true in substance, but that it ishis own sharp-sightedness which causes him to see them sooffensively; for that ninety-nine out of the hundred in the worldwould deem an evening spent at the conversations of Sir JosephBankes a very high intellectual treat.

G--- has invited me to dinner, and I expect some amusement;for T---, who is acquainted with him, says, that it is his faultto employ his mind too much on all occasions; and that, in allprobability, there will be something, either in the fare or thecompany, that I shall remember as long as I live.  However,you shall hear all about it in my next.—Yours,

AndrewPringle.

On the same Sunday on which Mr. Micklewham consulted Mr.Snodgrass as to the propriety of reading the Doctor’sletter to the elders, the following epistle reached thepost-office of Irvine, and was delivered by Saunders Dickiehimself, at the door of Mrs. Glibbans to her servan lassie, who,as her mistress had gone to the Relief Church, told him, that hewould have to come for the postage the morn’smorning.  “Oh,” said Saunders,“there’s naething to pay but my ain trouble, forit’s frankit; but aiblins the mistress will gie me a bitdrappie, and so I’ll come betimes i’ themorning.”

LETTER XVIII

Mrs. Pringle to Mrs.Glibbans
London.

My dear Mrs. Glibbans—Thebreking up of the old Parlament has been the cause why I did notright you before, it having taken it out of my poor to get afrank for my letter till yesterday; and I do ashure you, that Iwas most extraordinar uneasy at the great delay, wishing much tolet you know the decayt state of the Gospel in thir perts, whichis the pleasure of your life to study by day, and meditate on inthe watches of the night.

There is no want of going to church, and, if that was a signof grease and peese in the kingdom of Christ, the toun of Londonmight hold a high head in the tabernacles of the faithful andtrue witnesses.  But saving Dr. Nichol of Swallo-Street, andDr. Manuel of London-Wall, there is nothing sound in the way ofpreaching here; and when I tell you that Mr. John Gant, yourfriend, and some other flea-lugged fallows, have set up a Heeloncongregation, and got a young man to preach Erse to the English,ye maun think in what a state sinful souls are left inLondon.  But what I have been the most consarned about isthe state of the dead.  I am no meaning those who are deadin trespasses and sins, but the true dead.  Ye will hardlythink, that they are buried in a popish-like manner, withprayers, and white gowns, and ministers, and spadefuls of yerdcast upon them, and laid in vauts, like kists of orangers in agrocery seller—and I am told that, after a time, they aretaken out when the vaut is shurfeeted, and their bones brunt, ifthey are no made into lamp-black by a secret wark—which isa clean proof to me that a right doctrine cannot be establishedin this land—there being so little respec shone to thedead.

The worst point, howsomever, of all is, what is done with theprayers—and I have heard you say, that although there wasnothing more to objec to the wonderful Doctor Chammers ofGlasgou, that his reading of his sermons was testimony againsthim in the great controversy of sound doctrine; but what will yousay to reading of prayers, and no only reading of prayers, butprinted prayers, as if the contreet heart of the sinner had nomore to say to the Lord in the hour of fasting and humiliation,than what a bishop can indite, and a book-seller make profito’.  “Verily,” as I may say, in a word ofscripter, I doobt if the glad tidings of salvation have yet beenpreeched in this land of London; but the ministers have goodstipends, and where the ground is well manured, it may in timebring forth fruit meet for repentance.

There is another thing that behoves me to mention, and thatis, that an elder is not to be seen in the churches of London,which is a sore signal that the piple are left to themselves; andin what state the morality can be, you may guess with an eye ofpity.  But on the Sabbath nights, there is such a going andcoming, that it’s more like a cried fair than theLord’s night—all sorts of poor people, instead ofmeditating on their bygane toil and misery of the week, makingthe Sunday their own day, as if they had not a greater Master toserve on that day, than the earthly man whom they served in theweek-days.  It is, howsomever, past the poor of nature totell you of the sinfulness of London; and you may we think whatis to be the end of all things, when I ashure you, that there isa newspaper sold every Sabbath morning, and read by those thatnever look at their Bibles.  Our landlady asked us if wewould take one; but I thought the Doctor would have fired thehouse, and you know it is not a small thing that kindles hispassion.  In short, London is not a place to come to hearthe tidings of salvation preeched,—no that I mean to denythat there is not herine more than five righteous persons in it,and I trust the cornal’s hagent is one; for if he is not,we are undone, having been obligated to take on already more thana hundred pounds of debt, to the account of our living, and thelegacy yet in the dead thraws.  But as I mean this for aspiritual letter, I will say no more about the root of all evil,as it is called in the words of truth and holiness; so referringyou to what I have told Miss Mally Glencairn about the legacy andother things nearest my heart, I remain, my dear Mrs. Glibbans,your fellou Christian and sinner,

JanetPringle.

Mrs. Glibbans received this letter between the preachings, andit was observed by all her acquaintance during the afternoonservice, that she was a laden woman.  Instead of standing upat the prayers, as her wont was, she kept her seat, sitting withdowncast eyes, and ever and anon her left hand, which was laidover her book on the reading-board of the pew, was raised andallowed to drop with a particular moral emphasis, bespeaking themournful cogitations of her spirit.  On leaving the church,somebody whispered to the minister, that surely Mrs. Glibbans hadheard some sore news; upon which that meek, mild, and modest goodsoul hastened towards her, and inquired, with more than his usualkindness, How she was?  Her answer was brief and mysterious;and she shook her head in such a manner that showed him all wasnot right.  “Have you heard lately of your friends thePringles?” said he, in his sedate manner—“whendo they think of leaving London?’

“I wish they may ever get out o’t,” was theagitated reply of the afflicted lady.

“I am very sorry to hear you say so,” respondedthe minister.  “I thought all was in a fair way to anissue of the settlement.  I’m very sorry to hearthis.”

“Oh, sir,” said the mourner, “don’tthink that I am grieved for them and their legacy—filthylucre—no, sir; but I have had a letter that has made myhair stand on end.  Be none surprised if you hear of theearth opening, and London swallowed up, and a voice crying in thewilderness, ‘Woe, woe.’”

The gentle priest was much surprised by this information; itwas evident that Mrs. Glibbans had received a terrible account ofthe wickedness of London; and that the weight upon her piousspirit was owing to that cause.  He, therefore, accompaniedher home, and administered all the consolation he was able togive; assuring her, that it was in the power of Omnipotence toconvert the stony heart into one of flesh and tenderness, and toraise the British metropolis out of the miry clay, and place iton a hill, as a city that could not be hid; which Mrs. Glibbanswas so thankful to hear, that, as soon as he had left her, shetook her tea in a satisfactory frame of mind, and went the samenight to Miss Mally Glencairn to hear what Mrs. Pringle had saidto her.  No visit ever happened more opportunely; for justas Mrs. Glibbans knocked at the door, Miss Isabella Tod made herappearance.  She had also received a letter from Rachel, inwhich it will be seen that reference was made likewise to Mrs.Pringle’s epistle to Miss Mally.

LETTER XIX

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod
London.

My dear Bell—How delusive arethe flatteries of fortune!  The wealth that has beenshowered upon us, beyond all our hopes, has brought no pleasureto my heart, and I pour my unavailing sighs for your absence,when I would communicate the cause of my unhappiness. Captain Sabre has been most assiduous in his attentions, and Imust confess to your sympathising bosom, that I do begin to findthat he has an interest in mine.  But my mother will notlisten to his proposals, nor allow me to give him anyencouragement, till the fatal legacy is settled.  What canbe her motive for this, I am unable to divine; for thecaptain’s fortune is far beyond what I could ever haveexpected without the legacy, and equal to all I could hope forwith it.  If, therefore, there is any doubt of the legacybeing paid, she should allow me to accept him; and if there isnone, what can I do better?  In the meantime, we are goingabout seeing the sights; but the general mourning is a greatdrawback on the splendour of gaiety.  It ends, however, nextSunday; and then the ladies, like the spring flowers, will be allin full blossom.  I was with the Argents at the opera onSaturday last, and it far surpassed my ideas of grandeur. But the singing was not good—I never could make out the endor the beginning of a song, and it was drowned with the violins;the scenery, however, was lovely; but I must not say a word aboutthe dancers, only that the females behaved in a manner soshocking, that I could scarcely believe it was possible for thedelicacy of our sex to do.  They are, however, allforeigners, who are, you know, naturally of a licentiouscharacter, especially the French women.

We have taken an elegant house in Baker Street, where we go onMonday next, and our own new carriage is to be home in the courseof the week.  All this, which has been done by the advice ofMrs. Argent, gives my mother great uneasiness, in case anythingshould yet happen to the legacy.  My brother, however, whoknows the law better than her, only laughs at her fears, and myfather has found such a wonderful deal to do in religion here,that he is quite delighted, and is busy from morning to night inwriting letters, and giving charitable donations.  I am soonto be no less busy, but in another manner.  Mrs. Argent hasadvised us to get in accomplished masters for me, so that, assoon as we are removed into our own local habitation, I am tobegin with drawing and music, and the foreign languages.  Iam not, however, to learn much of the piano; Mrs. A. thinks itwould take up more time than I can now afford; but I am to becultivated in my singing, and she is to try if the master thattaught Miss Stephens has an hour to spare—and to use herinfluence to persuade him to give it to me, although he onlyreceives pupils for perfectioning, except they belong to familiesof distinction.

My brother had a hankering to be made a member of Parliament,and got Mr. Charles Argent to speak to my father about it, butneither he nor my mother would hear of such a thing, which I wasvery sorry for, as it would have been so convenient to me forgetting franks; and I wonder my mother did not think of that, asshe grudges nothing so much as the price of postage.  Butnothing do I grudge so little, especially when it is a letterfrom you.  Why do you not write me oftener, and tell me whatis saying about us, particularly by that spiteful toad, BeckyGlibbans, who never could hear of any good happening to heracquaintance, without being as angry as if it was obtained at herown expense?

I do not like Miss Argent so well on acquaintance as I did atfirst; not that she is not a very fine lassie, but she givesherself such airs at the harp and piano—because she canplay every sort of music at the first sight, and sing, by lookingat the notes, any song, although she never heard it, which may bevery well in a play-actor, or a governess, that has to win herbread by music; but I think the education of a modest young ladymight have been better conducted.

Through the civility of the Argents, we have been introducedto a great number of families, and been much invited; but all theparties are so ceremonious, that I am never at my ease, which mybrother says is owing to my rustic education, which I cannotunderstand; for, although the people are finer dressed, and thedinners and rooms grander than what I have seen, either at Irvineor Kilmarnock, the company are no wiser; and I have not met witha single literary character among them.  And what are ladiesand gentlemen without mind, but a well-dressed mob!  It isto mind alone that I am at all disposed to pay the homage ofdiffidence.

The acquaintance of the Argents are all of the first circle,and we have got an invitation to a route from the Countess ofJ---y, in consequence of meeting her with them.  She is acharming woman, and I anticipate great pleasure.  MissArgent says, however, she is ignorant and presuming; but how isit possible that she can be so, as she was an earl’sdaughter, and bred up for distinction?  Miss Argent may bepresuming, but a countess is necessarily above that, at least itwould only become a duchess or marchioness to say so.  This,however, is not the only occasion in which I have seen thedetractive disposition of that young lady, who, with all hersimplicity of manners and great accomplishments, is, you willperceive, just like ourselves, rustic as she doubtless thinks ourbreeding has been.

I have observed that nobody in London inquires about whoanother is; and that in company everyone is treated on anequality, unless when there is some remarkable personalpeculiarity, so that one really knows nothing of those whom onemeets.  But my paper is full, and I must not take anothersheet, as my mother has a letter to send in the same frank toMiss Mally Glencairn.  Believe me, ever affectionatelyyours,

RachelPringle.

The three ladies knew not very well what to make of thisletter.  They thought there was a change in Rachel’sideas, and that it was not for the better; and Miss Isabellaexpressed, with a sentiment of sincere sorrow, that theacquisition of fortune seemed to have brought out some unamiabletraits in her character, which, perhaps, had she not been exposedto the companions and temptations of the great world, would haveslumbered, unfelt by herself, and unknown to her friends.

Mrs. Glibbans declared, that it was a waking of original sin,which the iniquity of London was bringing forth, as the heat ofsummer causes the rosin and sap to issue from the bark of thetree.  In the meantime, Miss Mally had opened her letter, ofwhich we subjoin a copy.

LETTER XX

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn
London.

Dear Miss Mally—I greatlystand in need of your advise and counsel at this time.  TheDoctor’s affair comes on at a fearful slow rate, and themoney goes like snow off a dyke.  It is not to be told whathas been paid for legacy-duty, and no legacy yet in hand; and wehave been obligated to lift a whole hundred pounds out of theresidue, and what that is to be the Lord only knows.  ButMiss Jenny Macbride, she has got her thousand pound, all in onebank bill, sent to her; Thomas Bowie, the doctor in Ayr, he hasgot his five hundred pounds; and auld Nanse Sorrel, that wasnurse to the cornal, she has got the first year of her twentypounds a year; but we have gotten nothing, and I jealouse, thatif things go on at this rate, there will be nothing to get; andwhat will become of us then, after all the trubble and outlaythat we have been pot too by this coming to London?

Howsomever, this is the black side of the story; for Mr.Charles Argent, in a jocose way, proposed to get Andrew made aParliament member for three thousand pounds, which he said wascheap; and surely he would not have thought of such a thing, hadhe not known that Andrew would have the money to pay for’t;and, over and above this, Mrs. Argent has been recommendingCaptain Sabre to me for Rachel, and she says he is a statedgentleman, with two thousand pounds rental, and her nephew; andsurely she would not think Rachel a match for him, unless she hadan inkling from her gudeman of what Rachel’s to get. But I have told her that we would think of nothing of the sorttill the counts war settled, which she may tell to her gudeman,and if he approves the match, it will make him hasten on thesettlement, for really I am growing tired of this London, whar Iam just like a fish out of the water.  The Englishers aresae obstinate in their own way, that I can get them to do nothinglike Christians; and, what is most provoking of all, their waysare very good when you know them; but they have no instink toteach a body how to learn them.  Just this very morning, Itold the lass to get a jiggot of mutton for the morn’sdinner, and she said there was not such a thing to be had inLondon, and threeppit it till I couldna stand her; and, had itnot been that Mr. Argent’s French servan’ manhappened to come with a cart, inviting us to a ball, and whounderstood what a jiggot was, I might have reasoned till the dayof doom without redress.  As for the Doctor, I declarehe’s like an enchantit person, for he has falling in with aparty of the elect here, as he says, and they have a kilfudyoking every Thursday at the house of Mr. W---, where the Doctorhas been, and was asked to pray, and did it with great effec,which has made him so up in the buckle, that he does nothing butgo to Bible soceeyetis, and mishonary meetings, and cheritysarmons, which cost a poor of money.

But what consarns me more than all is, that the temptations ofthis vanity fair have turnt the head of Andrew, and he has boughttwo horses, with an English man-servan’, which you know isan eating moth.  But how he payt for them, and whar he is tokeep them, is past the compass of my understanding.  Inshort, if the legacy does not cast up soon, I see nothing leftfor us but to leave the world as a legacy to you all, for myheart will be broken—and I often wish that the cornel hadnamade us his residees, but only given us a clean scorn, like MissJenny Macbride, although it had been no more; for, my dear MissMally, it does not doo for a woman of my time of life to be takenout of her element, and, instead of looking after her family witha thrifty eye, to be sitting dressed all day seeing the moneyfleeing like sclate stanes.  But what I have to tell isworse than all this; we have been persuaded to take a furnishthouse, where we go on Monday; and we are to pay for it, for threemonths, no less than a hundred and fifty pounds, which is morethan the half of the Doctor’s whole stipend is, when themeal is twenty-pence the peck; and we are to have threeservan’ lassies, besides Andrew’s man, and thecoachman that we have hired altogether for ourselves, having beenpersuaded to trist a new carriage of our own by the Argents,which I trust the Argents will find money to pay for; and mastersare to come in to teach Rachel the fasionable accomplishments,Mrs. Argent thinking she was rather old now to be sent to aboarding-school.  But what I am to get to do for so manyvorashous servants, is dreadful to think, there being no suchthing as a wheel within the four walls of London; and, if therewas, the Englishers no nothing about spinning.  In short,Miss Mally, I am driven dimentit, and I wish I could get theDoctor to come home with me to our manse, and leave all to Andrewand Rachel, with kurators; but, as I said, he’s as micklebye himself as onybody, and says that his candle has been hiddenunder a bushel at Garnock more than thirty years, which looks asif the poor man was fey; howsomever, he’s happy in hisdelooshon, for if he was afflictit with that forethought andwisdom that I have, I know not what would be the upshot of allthis calamity.  But we maun hope for the best; and, happenwhat will, I am, dear Miss Mally, your sincere friend,

JanetPringle.

Miss Mally sighed as she concluded, and said, “Riches donot always bring happiness, and poor Mrs. Pringle would have beenfar better looking after her cows and her butter, and keeping herlassies at their wark, than with all this galravitching andgrandeur.”  “Ah!” added Mrs. Glibbans,“she’s now a testifyer to the truth—she’snow a testifyer; happy it will be for her if she’s enabledto make a sanctified use of the dispensation.”

CHAPTER VII—DISCOVERIES AND REBELLIONS

One evening as Mr. Snodgrass was taking a solitary walktowards Irvine, for the purpose of calling on Miss MallyGlencairn, to inquire what had been her latest accounts fromtheir mutual friends in London, and to read to her a letter,which he had received two days before, from Mr. Andrew Pringle,he met, near Eglintoun Gates, that pious woman, Mrs. Glibbans,coming to Garnock, brimful of some most extraordinaryintelligence.  The air was raw and humid, and the ways weredeep and foul; she was, however, protected without, and temperedwithin, against the dangers of both.  Over her venerablesatin mantle, lined with cat-skin, she wore a scarlet duffle Bathcloak, with which she was wont to attend the tent sermons of theKilwinning and Dreghorn preachings in cold and inclementweather.  Her black silk petticoat was pinned up, that itmight not receive injury from the nimble paddling of her shortsteps in the mire; and she carried her best shoes and stockingsin a handkerchief to be changed at the manse, and had fortifiedher feet for the road in coarse worsted hose, and thickplain-soled leather shoes.

Mr. Snodgrass proposed to turn back with her, but she wouldnot permit him.  “No, sir,” said she,“what I am about you cannot meddle in.  You are herebut a stranger—come to-day, and gane to-morrow;—andit does not pertain to you to sift into the doings that have beendone before your time.  Oh dear; but this is a sadthing—nothing like it since the silencing of M’Aulyof Greenock.  What will the worthy Doctor say when he hearstell o’t?  Had it fa’n out with that neigheringbody, James Daff, I wouldna hae car’t a snuff of tobacco,but wi’ Mr. Craig, a man so gifted wi’ the power ofthe Spirit, as I hae often had a delightful experience!  Ay,ay, Mr. Snodgrass, take heed lest ye fall; we maun all lay it toheart; but I hope the trooper is still within the jurisdiction ofchurch censures.  She shouldna be spairt.  Nae doubt,the fault lies with her, and it is that I am going to search;yea, as with a lighted candle.”

Mr. Snodgrass expressed his inability to understand to whatMrs. Glibbans alluded, and a very long and interesting disclosuretook place, the substance of which may be gathered from thefollowing letter; the immediate and instigating cause of thelady’s journey to Garnock being the alarming intelligencewhich she had that day received of Mr. Craig’sservant-damsel Betty having, by the style and title of Mrs.Craig, sent for Nanse Swaddle, the midwife, to come to her in herown case, which seemed to Mrs. Glibbans nothing short of amiracle, Betty having, the very Sunday before, helped the kettlewhen she drank tea with Mr. Craig, and sat at the room door, on abuffet-stool brought from the kitchen, while he performed familyworship, to the great solace and edification of his visitor.

LETTER XXI

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk, Garnock

Dear Sir—I have received yourletter of the 24th, which has given me a great surprise to hear,that Mr. Craig was married as far back as Christmas, to his ownservant lass Betty, and me to know nothing of it, nor youneither, until it was time to be speaking to the midwife. To be sure, Mr. Craig, who is an elder, and a very rigid man, inhis animadversions on the immoralities that come before thesession, must have had his own good reasons for keeping hismarriage so long a secret.  Tell him, however, from me, thatI wish both him and Mrs. Craig much joy and felicity; but heshould be milder for the future on the thoughtlessness of youthand headstrong passions.  Not that I insinuate that therehas been any occasion in the conduct of such a godly man to causea suspicion; but it’s wonderful how he was married inDecember, and I cannot say that I am altogether so proud to hearit as I am at all times of the well-doing of my people. Really the way that Mr. Daff has comported himself in this matteris greatly to his credit; and I doubt if the thing had happenedwith him, that Mr. Craig would have sifted with a sharp eye howhe came to be married in December, and without bridal andbanquet.  For my part, I could not have thought it of Mr.Craig, but it’s done now, and the less we say about it thebetter; so I think with Mr. Daff, that it must be looked over;but when I return, I will speak both to the husband and wife, andnot without letting them have an inkling of what I think abouttheir being married in December, which was a great shame, even ifthere was no sin in it.  But I will say no more; for truly,Mr. Micklewham, the longer we live in this world, and the fartherwe go, and the better we know ourselves, the less reason have weto think slightingly of our neighbours; but the more to convinceour hearts and understandings, that we are all prone to evil, anddesperately wicked.  For where does hypocrisy not abound?and I have had my own experience here, that what a man is to theworld, and to his own heart, is a very different thing.

In my last letter, I gave you a pleasing notification of thegrowth, as I thought, of spirituality in this Babylon ofdeceitfulness, thinking that you and my people would be gladdenedwith the tidings of the repute and estimation in which yourminister was held, and I have dealt largely in the way of publiccharity.  But I doubt that I have been governed by a spiritof ostentation, and not with that lowly-mindedness, without whichall almsgiving is but a serving of the altars of Belzebub; forthe chastening hand has been laid upon me, but with the kindnessand pity which a tender father hath for his dear children.

I was requested by those who come so cordially to me withtheir subscription papers, for schools and suffering worth, topreach a sermon to get a collection.  I have no occasion totell you, that when I exert myself, what effect I can produce;and I never made so great an exertion before, which in itself wasa proof that it was with the two bladders, pomp and vanity, thatI had committed myself to swim on the uncertain waters of London;for surely my best exertions were due to my people.  Butwhen the Sabbath came upon which I was to hold forth, how were myhopes withered, and my expectations frustrated.  Oh, Mr.Micklewham, what an inattentive congregation was yonder! manyslumbered and slept, and I sowed the words of truth and holinessin vain upon their barren and stoney hearts.  There is notrue grace among some that I shall not name, for I saw themwhispering and smiling like the scorners, and altogether heedlessunto the precious things of my discourse, which could not havebeen the case had they been sincere in their professions, for Inever preached more to my own satisfaction on any occasionwhatsoever—and, when I return to my own parish, you shallhear what I said, as I will preach the same sermon over again,for I am not going now to print it, as I did once think of doing,and to have dedicated it to Mr. W---.

We are going about in an easy way, seeing what is to be seenin the shape of curiosities; but the whole town is in a state offerment with the election of members to Parliament.  I havebeen to see’t, both in the Guildhall and at Covent Garden,and it’s a frightful thing to see how the Radicals roarlike bulls of Bashan, and put down the speakers in behalf of thegovernment.  I hope no harm will come of yon, but I mustsay, that I prefer our own quiet canny Scotch way atIrvine.  Well do I remember, for it happened in the year Iwas licensed, that the town council, the Lord Eglinton that wasshot being then provost, took in the late Thomas Bowet to be acounsellor; and Thomas, not being versed in election matters, yetminding to please his lordship (for, like the rest of thecouncil, he had always a proper veneration for those in power),he, as I was saying, consulted Joseph Boyd the weaver, who wasthen Dean of Guild, as to the way of voting; whereupon Joseph,who was a discreet man, said to him, “Ye’ll just sayas I say, and I’ll say what Bailie Shaw says, for he willdo what my lord bids him”; which was as peaceful a way ofsending up a member to Parliament as could well be devised.

But you know that politics are far from my hand—theybelong to the temporalities of the community; and the ministersof peace and goodwill to man should neither make nor meddle withthem.  I wish, however, that these tumultuous elections werewell over, for they have had an effect on the per cents, whereour bit legacy is funded; and it would terrify you to hear whatwe have thereby already lost.  We have not, however, lost somuch but that I can spare a little to the poor among my people;so you will, in the dry weather, after the seed-time, hiretwo-three thackers to mend the thack on the roofs of such of thecottars’ houses as stand in need of mending, and bankerM---y will pay the expense; and I beg you to go to him on receipthereof, for he has a line for yourself, which you will be sure toaccept as a testimony from me for the great trouble that myabsence from the parish has given to you among my people, and Iam, dear sir, your friend and pastor,

Z.Pringle.

As Mrs. Glibbans would not permit Mr. Snodgrass to return withher to the manse, he pursued his journey alone to the Kirkgate ofIrvine, where he found Miss Mally Glencairn on the eve of sittingdown to her solitary tea.  On seeing her visitor enter,after the first compliments on the state of health and weatherwere over, she expressed her hopes that he had not drank tea;and, on receiving a negative, which she did not quite expect, asshe thought he had been perhaps invited by some of herneighbours, she put in an additional spoonful on his account; andbrought from her corner cupboard with the glass door, an ancientFrench pickle-bottle, in which she had preserved, since the greattea-drinking formerly mentioned, the remainder of the two ouncesof carvey, the best, Mrs. Nanse bought for that memorableoccasion.  A short conversation then took place relative tothe Pringles; and, while the tea was masking, for Miss Mally saidit took a long time to draw, she read to him the followingletter:—

LETTER XXII

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn

My dear Miss Mally—Trully, itmay be said, that the croun of England is upon the downfal, andsurely we are all seething in the pot of revolution, for the scumis mounting uppermost.  Last week, no farther gone than onMononday, we came to our new house heer in Baker Street, butit’s nather to be bakit nor brewt what I hav sin synesuffert.  You no my way, and that I like a been house, butno wastrie, and so I needna tell yoo, that we hav had gooddiners; to be sure, there was not a meerakle left to fill fivebaskets every day, but an abundance, with a proper kitchen ofbreed, to fill the bellies of four dumasticks.  Howsomever,lo and behold, what was clecking downstairs.  On Saturdaymorning, as we were sitting at our breakfast, the Doctor readingthe newspapers, who shoud corn intil the room but Andrew’sgrum, follo’t by the rest, to give us warning that theywere all going to quat our sairvice, becas they werestarvit.  I thocht that I would hav fentit cauld deed, butthe Doctor, who is a consiederat man, inquairt what made themstarve, and then there was such an opprobrious cry about coldmeet and bare bones, and no beer.  It was an evendounresurection—a rebellion waur than the forty-five.  Inshort, Miss Mally, to make a leettle of a lang tail, they wouldhave a hot joint day and day about, and a tree of yill to standon the gauntress for their draw and drink, with a cock and apail; and we were obligated to evacuate to their terms, and tolet them go to their wark with flying colors; so you see howdangerous it is to live among this piple, and their noshans ofliberty.

You will see by the newspapers that ther’s a lectiongoing on for parliament.  It maks my corruption to rise tohear of such doings, and if I was a government as I’m but awoman, I woud put them doon with the strong hand, just to berevenged on the proud stomaks of these het and fou English.

We have gotten our money in the pesents put into our name; butI have had no peese since, for they have fallen in price threeeight parts, which is very near a half, and if they go at thisrate, where will all our legacy soon be?  I have no goo ofthe pesents; so we are on the look-out for a landed estate, beinga shure thing.

Captain Saber is still sneking after Rachel, and if she wereawee perfited in her accomplugments, it’s no saying whatmight happen, for he’s a fine lad, but she’so’er young to be the heed of a family.  Howsomever,the Lord’s will maun be done, and if there is to be amatch, she’ll no have to fight for gentility with astraitent circumstance.

As for Andrew, I wish he was weel settlt, and we have ourhopes that he’s beginning to draw up with Miss Argent, whowill have, no doobt, a great fortune, and is a treasure of acreeture in herself, being just as simple as a lamb; but, to besure, she has had every advantage of edication, being brought upin a most fashonible boarding-school.

I hope you have got the box I sent by the smak, and that youlike the patron of the goon.  So no more at present, butremains, dear Miss Mally, your sinsaire friend,

JanetPringle.

“The box,” said Miss Mally, “that Mrs.Pringle speaks about came last night.  It contains a veryhandsome present to me and to Miss Bell Tod.  The gift to meis from Mrs. P. herself, and Miss Bell’s from Rachel; butthat ettercap, Becky Glibbans, is flying through the town like aspunky, mislikening the one and misca’ing the other:everybody, however, kens that it’s only spite that gars herspeak.  It’s a great pity that she cou’dna bebrought to a sense of religion like her mother, who, in heryounger days, they say, wasna to seek at a clashing.”

Mr. Snodgrass expressed his surprise at this account of thefaults of that exemplary lady’s youth; but he thought ofher holy anxiety to sift into the circumstances of Betty, theelder’s servant, becoming in one day Mrs. Craig, and thesame afternoon sending for the midwife, and he prudently made noother comment; for the characters of all preachers were in herhands, and he had the good fortune to stand high in her favour,as a young man of great promise.  In order, therefore, toavoid any discussion respecting moral merits, he read thefollowing letter from Andrew Pringle:—

LETTER XXIII

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Reverend Charles Snodgrass

My dear Friend—Londonundoubtedly affords the best and the worst specimens of theBritish character; but there is a certain townish something aboutthe inhabitants in general, of which I find it extremelydifficult to convey any idea.  Compared with the English ofthe country, there is apparently very little difference betweenthem; but still there is a difference, and of no small importancein a moral point of view.  The country peculiarity is likethe bloom of the plumb, or the down of the peach, which thefingers of infancy cannot touch without injuring; but this feltbut not describable quality of the town character, is as thevarnish which brings out more vividly the colours of a picture,and which may be freely and even rudely handled.  The women,for example, although as chaste in principle as those of anyother community, possess none of that innocent untemptedsimplicity, which is more than half the grace of virtue; many ofthem, and even young ones too, “in the first freshness oftheir virgin beauty,” speak of the conduct and vocation of“the erring sisters of the sex,” in a manner thatoften amazes me, and has, in more than one instance, excitedunpleasant feelings towards the fair satirists.  This moraltaint, for I can consider it as nothing less, I have hearddefended, but only by men who are supposed to have had a largeexperience of the world, and who, perhaps, on that account, arenot the best judges of female delicacy.  “Everywoman,” as Pope says, “may be at heart a rake”;but it is for the interests of the domestic affections, which arethe very elements of virtue, to cherish the notion, that women,as they are physically more delicate than men, are also somorally.

But the absence of delicacy, the bloom of virtue, is notpeculiar to the females, it is characteristic of all thevarieties of the metropolitan mind.  The artifices of themedical quacks are things of universal ridicule; but the sin,though in a less gross form, pervades the whole of that sinistersystem by which much of the superiority of this vast metropolisis supported.  The state of the periodical press, that greatorgan of political instruction—the unruly tongue ofliberty, strikingly confirms the justice of this misanthropicremark.

G--- had the kindness, by way of a treat to me, to collect,the other day, at dinner, some of the most eminent editors of theLondon journals.  I found them men of talent, certainly, andmuch more men of the world, than “the cloistered studentfrom his paling lamp”; but I was astonished to find itconsidered, tacitly, as a sort of maxim among them, that anintermediate party was not bound by any obligation of honour towithhold, farther than his own discretion suggested, anyinformation of which he was the accidental depositary, whateverthe consequences might be to his informant, or to those affectedby the communication.  In a word, they seemed all to careless about what might be true than what would produce effect, andthat effect for their own particular advantage.  It isimpossible to deny, that if interest is made the criterion bywhich the confidences of social intercourse are to be respected,the persons who admit this doctrine will have but little respectfor the use of names, or deem it any reprehensible delinquency tosuppress truth, or to blazon falsehood.  In a word, man inLondon is not quite so good a creature as he is out of it. The rivalry of interests is here too intense; it impairs theaffections, and occasions speculations both in morals andpolitics, which, I much suspect, it would puzzle a casuist toprove blameless.  Can anything, for example, be moreoffensive to the calm spectator, than the elections which are nowgoing on?  Is it possible that this country, so much smallerin geographical extent than France, and so inferior in naturalresources, restricted too by those ties and obligations whichwere thrown off as fetters by that country during the late war,could have attained, in despite of her, such a loftypre-eminence—become the foremost of all the world—hadit not been governed in a manner congenial to the spirit of thepeople, and with great practical wisdom?  It is absurd toassert, that there are no corruptions in the variousmodifications by which the affairs of the British empire areadministered; but it would be difficult to show, that, in thepresent state of morals and interests among mankind, corruptionis not a necessary evil.  I do not mean necessary, asevolved from those morals and interests, but necessary to themanagement of political trusts.  I am afraid, however, toinsist on this, as the natural integrity of your own heart, andthe dignity of your vocation, will alike induce you to condemn itas Machiavellian.  It is, however, an observation forced onme by what I have seen here.

It would be invidious, perhaps, to criticise the differentcandidates for the representation of London and Westminster veryseverely.  I think it must be granted, that they are assincere in their professions as their opponents, which at leastbleaches away much of that turpitude of which their politicalconduct is accused by those who are of a different way ofthinking.  But it is quite evident, at least to me, that nogovernment could exist a week, managed with that subjection topublic opinion to which Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Hobhouseapparently submit; and it is no less certain, that no governmentought to exist a single day that would act in complete defianceof public opinion.

I was surprised to find Sir Francis Burdett an uncommonly mildand gentlemanly-looking man.  I had pictured somehow to myimagination a dark and morose character; but, on the contrary, inhis appearance, deportment, and manner of speaking, he iseminently qualified to attract popular applause.  His styleof speaking is not particularly oratorical, but he has the art ofsaying bitter things in a sweet way.  In his language,however, although pungent, and sometimes even eloquent, he issingularly incorrect.  He cannot utter a sequence of threesentences without violating common grammar in the most atrociousway; and his tropes and figures are so distorted, hashed, andbroken—such a patchwork of different patterns, that you arebewildered if you attempt to make them out; but the earnestnessof his manner, and a certain fitness of character, in hisobservations a kind of Shaksperian pithiness, redeem allthis.  Besides, his manifold blunders of syntax do notoffend the taste of those audiences where he is heard with themost approbation.

Hobhouse speaks more correctly, but he lacks in theconciliatory advantages of personal appearance; and hisphysiognomy, though indicating considerable strength of mind, isnot so prepossessing.  He is evidently a man of moreeducation than his friend, that is, of more reading, perhaps alsoof more various observation, but he has less genius.  Histact is coarser, and though he speaks with more vehemence, heseldomer touches the sensibilities of his auditors.  He mayhave observed mankind in general more extensively than SirFrancis, but he is far less acquainted with the feelings andassociations of the English mind.  There is also a warinessabout him, which I do not like so well as the imprudentingenuousness of the baronet.  He seems to me to have acause in hand—Hobhouse versusExistingCircumstances—and that he considers the multitude as thejurors, on whose decision his advancement in life depends. But in this I may be uncharitable.  I should, however, thinkmore highly of his sincerity as a patriot, if his stake in thecountry were greater; and yet I doubt, if his stake were greater,if he is that sort of man who would have cultivated popularity inWestminster.  He seems to me to have qualified himself forParliament as others do for the bar, and that he will probably beconsidered in the House for some time merely as a politicaladventurer.  But if he has the talent and prudence requisiteto ensure distinction in the line of his profession, themediocrity of his original condition will reflect honour on hissuccess, should he hereafter acquire influence and considerationas a statesman.  Of his literary talents I know you do notthink very highly, nor am I inclined to rank the powers of hismind much beyond those of any common well-educated Englishgentleman.  But it will soon be ascertained whether hispretensions to represent Westminster be justified by a sense ofconscious superiority, or only prompted by that ambition whichoverleaps itself.

Of Wood, who was twice Lord Mayor, I know not what tosay.  There is a queer and wily cast in his palecountenance, that puzzles me exceedingly.  In commonparlance I would call him an empty vain creature; but when I lookat that indescribable spirit, which indicates a strange andout-of-the-way manner of thinking, I humbly confess that he is nocommon man.  He is evidently a person of no intellectualaccomplishments; he has neither the language nor the deportmentof a gentleman, in the usual understanding of the term; and yetthere is something that I would almost call genius abouthim.  It is not cunning, it is not wisdom, it is far frombeing prudence, and yet it is something as wary as prudence, aseffectual as wisdom, and not less sinister than cunning.  Iwould call it intuitive skill, a sort of instinct, by which he isenabled to attain his ends in defiance of a capacity naturallynarrow, a judgment that topples with vanity, and an address atonce mean and repulsive.  To call him a great man, in anypossible approximation of the word, would be ridiculous; that heis a good one, will be denied by those who envy his success, orhate his politics; but nothing, save the blindness of fanaticism,can call in question his possession of a rare and singularspecies of ability, let it be exerted in what cause it may. But my paper is full, and I have only room to subscribe myself,faithfully, yours,

A.Pringle.

“It appears to us,” said Mr. Snodgrass, as hefolded up the letter to return it to his pocket, “that theLondoners, with all their advantages of information, are neitherpurer nor better than their fellow-subjects in thecountry.”  “As to their betterness,”replied Miss Mally, “I have a notion that they are farwaur; and I hope you do not think that earthly knowledge of anysort has a tendency to make mankind, or womankind either, anybetter; for was not Solomon, who had more of it than any otherman, a type and testification, that knowledge without grace isbut vanity?”  The young clergyman was somewhatstartled at this application of a remark on which he laid noparticular stress, and was thankful in his heart that Mrs.Glibbans was not present.  He was not aware that Miss Mallyhad an orthodox corn, or bunyan, that could as little bear atouch from the royne-slippers of philosophy, as the inflamed goutof polemical controversy, which had gumfiated every mental jointand member of that zealous prop of the Relief Kirk.  Thiswas indeed the tender point of Miss Mally’s character; forshe was left unplucked on the stalk of single blessedness, owingentirely to a conversation on this very subject with the onlylover she ever had, Mr. Dalgliesh, formerly helper in theneighbouring parish of Dintonknow.  He happened incidentallyto observe, that education was requisite to promote the interestsof religion.  But Miss Mally, on that occasion, jocularlymaintained, that education had only a tendency to promote thesale of books.  This, Mr. Dalgliesh thought, was a sneer athimself, he having some time before unfortunately published ashort tract, entitled, “The moral union of our temporal andeternal interests considered, with respect to the establishmentof parochial seminaries,” and which fell still-born fromthe press.  He therefore retorted with some acrimony, until,from less to more, Miss Mally ordered him to keep his distance;upon which he bounced out of the room, and they were neverafterwards on speaking terms.  Saving, however, andexcepting this particular dogma, Miss Mally was on all othertopics as liberal and beneficent as could be expected from amaiden lady, who was obliged to eke out her stinted income with animble needle and a close-clipping economy.  Theconversation with Mr. Snodgrass was not, however, lengthened intoacrimony; for immediately after the remark which we have noticed,she proposed that they should call on Miss Isabella Tod to seeRachel’s letter; indeed, this was rendered necessary by thestate of the fire, for after boiling the kettle she had allowedit to fall low.  It was her nightly practice after tea totake her evening seam, in a friendly way, to some of herneighbours’ houses, by which she saved both coal andcandle, while she acquired the news of the day, and wasoccasionally invited to stay supper.

On their arrival at Mrs. Tod’s, Miss Isabella understoodthe purport of their visit, and immediately produced her letter,receiving, at the same time, a perusal of Mr. AndrewPringle’s.  Mrs. Pringle’s to Miss Mally she hadpreviously seen.

LETTER XXIV

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod

My dear Bell—Since my last,we have undergone great changes and vicissitudes.  Last weekwe removed to our present house, which is exceedingly handsomeand elegantly furnished; and on Saturday there was aninsurrection of the servants, on account of my mother notallowing them to have their dinners served up at the usual hourfor servants at other genteel houses.  We have also had thelegacy in the funds transferred to my father, and only now waitthe settling of the final accounts, which will yet take sometime.  On the day that the transfer took place, my mothermade me a present of a twenty pound note, to lay out in any way Ithought fit, and in so doing, I could not but think of you; Ihave, therefore, in a box which she is sending to Miss MallyGlencairn, sent you an evening dress from Mrs. Bean’s, oneof the most fashionable and tasteful dressmakers in town, which Ihope you will wear with pleasure for my sake.  I have gotone exactly like it, so that when you see yourself in the glass,you will behold in what state I appeared at Lady ---’sroute.

Ah! my dear Bell, how much are our expectationsdisappointed!  How often have we, with admiration andlonging wonder, read the descriptions in the newspapers of thefashionable parties in this great metropolis, and thought of theGrecian lamps, the ottomans, the promenades, the ornamentedfloors, the cut glass, the coup d’œil, and thetout ensemble.  “Alas!” as Young the poetsays, “the things unseen do not deceive us.”  Ihave seen more beauty at an Irvine ball, than all the fashionableworld could bring to market at my Lady ---’s emporium forthe disposal of young ladies, for indeed I can consider it asnothing else.

I went with the Argents.  The hall door was open, andfilled with the servants in their state liveries; but althoughthe door was open, the porter, as each carriage came up, rung apeal upon the knocker, to announce to all the square thesuccessive arrival of the guests.  We were shown upstairs tothe drawing-rooms.  They were very well, but neither sogrand nor so great as I expected.  As for the company, itwas a suffocating crowd of fat elderly gentlewomen, and missesthat stood in need of all the charms of their fortunes.  Onething I could notice—for the press was so great, littlecould be seen—it was, that the old ladies wore rouge. The white satin sleeve of my dress was entirely ruined by comingin contact with a little round, dumpling duchess’scheek—as vulgar a body as could well be.  She seemedto me to have spent all her days behind a counter, smirkingthankfulness to bawbee customers.

When we had been shown in the drawing-rooms to the men forsome time, we then adjourned to the lower apartments, where therefreshments were set out.  This, I suppose, is arranged toafford an opportunity to the beaux to be civil to the belles, andthereby to scrape acquaintance with those whom they approve, byassisting them to the delicacies.  Altogether, it was a verydull well-dressed affair, and yet I ought to have been in goodspirits, for Sir Marmaduke Towler, a great Yorkshire baronet, wasmost particular in his attentions to me; indeed so much so, thatI saw it made poor Sabre very uneasy.  I do not know why itshould, for I have given him no positive encouragement to hopefor anything; not that I have the least idea that thebaronet’s attentions were more than commonplace politeness,but he has since called.  I cannot, however, say that myvanity is at all flattered by this circumstance.  At thesame time, there surely could be no harm in Sir Marmaduke makingme an offer, for you know I am not bound to accept it. Besides, my father does not like him, and my mother thinkshe’s a fortune-hunter; but I cannot conceive how that maybe, for, on the contrary, he is said to be ratherextravagant.

Before we return to Scotland, it is intended that we shallvisit some of the watering-places; and, perhaps, if Andrew canmanage it with my father, we may even take a trip to Paris. The Doctor himself is not averse to it, but my mother is afraidthat a new war may break out, and that we may be detainedprisoners.  This fantastical fear we shall, however, try toovercome.  But I am interrupted.  Sir Marmaduke is inthe drawing-room, and I am summoned.—Yours truly,

RachelPringle.

When Mr. Snodgrass had read this letter, he paused for amoment, and then said dryly, in handing it to Miss Isabella,“Miss Pringle is improving in the ways of theworld.”

The evening by this time was far advanced, and the youngclergyman was not desirous to renew the conversation; hetherefore almost immediately took his leave, and walked sedatelytowards Garnock, debating with himself as he went along, whetherDr. Pringle’s family were likely to be benefited by theirlegacy.  But he had scarcely passed the minister’scarse, when he met with Mrs. Glibbans returning.  “Mr.Snodgrass!  Mr. Snodgrass!” cried that ardent matronfrom her side of the road to the other where he was walking, andhe obeyed her call; “yon’s no sic a black story as Ithought.  Mrs. Craig is to be sure far gane! but they weremarried in December; and it was only because she was hisservan’ lass that the worthy man didna like to own her atfirst for his wife.  It would have been dreadful had thematter been jealoused at the first.  She gaed to Glasgow tosee an auntie that she has there, and he gaed in to fetch herout, and it was then the marriage was made up, which I was gladto hear; for, oh, Mr. Snodgrass, it would have been anawfu’ judgment had a man like Mr. Craig turn’t out nobetter than a Tam Pain or a Major Weir.  But a’s forthe best; and Him that has the power of salvation can blot outall our iniquities.  So good-night—ye’ll have alang walk.”

CHAPTER VIII—THE QUEEN’S TRIAL

As the spring advanced, the beauty of the country aroundGarnock was gradually unfolded; the blossom was unclosed, whilethe church was embraced within the foliage of more umbrageousboughs.  The schoolboys from the adjacent villages were, onthe Saturday afternoons, frequently seen angling along the banksof the Lugton, which ran clearer beneath the churchyard wall, andthe hedge of the minister’s glebe; and the evenings were somuch lengthened, that the occasional visitors at the manse couldprolong their walk after tea.  These, however, were lessnumerous than when the family were at home; but still Mr.Snodgrass, when the weather was fine, had no reason to deplorethe loneliness of his bachelor’s court.

It happened that, one fair and sunny afternoon, Miss MallyGlencairn and Miss Isabella Tod came to the manse.  Mrs.Glibbans and her daughter Becky were the same day paying theirfirst ceremonious visit, as the matron called it, to Mr. and Mrs.Craig, with whom the whole party were invited to take tea; and,for lack of more amusing chit-chat, the Reverend young gentlemanread to them the last letter which he had received from Mr.Andrew Pringle.  It was conjured naturally enough out of hispocket, by an observation of Miss Mally’s “Nothingsurprises me,” said that amiable maiden lady, “somuch as the health and good-humour of the commonality.  Itis a joyous refutation of the opinion, that the comfort andhappiness of this life depends on the wealth of worldlypossessions.”

“It is so,” replied Mr. Snodgrass, “and I dooften wonder, when I see the blithe and hearty children of thecottars, frolicking in the abundance of health and hilarity,where the means come from to enable their poor industriousparents to supply their wants.”

“How can you wonder at ony sic things, Mr.Snodgrass?  Do they not come from on high,” said Mrs.Glibbans, “whence cometh every good and perfect gift? Is there not the flowers of the field, which neither card norspin, and yet Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like oneof these?”

“I was not speaking in a spiritual sense,”interrupted the other, “but merely made the remark, asintroductory to a letter which I have received from Mr. AndrewPringle, respecting some of the ways of living inLondon.”

Mrs. Craig, who had been so recently translated from thekitchen to the parlour, pricked up her ears at this, not doubtingthat the letter would contain something very grand and wonderful,and exclaimed, “Gude safe’s, let’shear’t—I’m unco fond to ken about London, andthe king and the queen; but I believe they are baith deadnoo.”

Miss Becky Glibbans gave a satirical keckle at this, andshowed her superior learning, by explaining to Mrs. Craig theunbroken nature of the kingly office.  Mr. Snodgrass thenread as follows:—

LETTER XXV

Andrew Pringle, Esq.,to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass

My dear Friend—You are notaware of the task you impose, when you request me to send yousome account of the general way of living in London.  Unlessyou come here, and actually experience yourself what I would callthe London ache, it is impossible to supply you with any adequateidea of the necessity that exists in this wilderness of mankind,to seek refuge in society, without being over fastidious withrespect to the intellectual qualifications of your occasionalassociates.  In a remote desart, the solitary traveller issubject to apprehensions of danger; but still he is the mostimportant thing “within the circle of that lonelywaste”; and the sense of his own dignity enables him tosustain the shock of considerable hazard with spirit andfortitude.  But, in London, the feeling of self-importanceis totally lost and suppressed in the bosom of a stranger. A painful conviction of insignificance—of nothingness, Imay say—is sunk upon his heart, and murmured in his ear bythe million, who divide with him that consequence which heunconsciously before supposed he possessed in a general estimateof the world.  While elbowing my way through the unknownmultitude that flows between Charing Cross and the RoyalExchange, this mortifying sense of my own insignificance hasoften come upon me with the energy of a pang; and I have thought,that, after all we can say of any man, the effect of the greatestinfluence of an individual on society at large, is but as that ofa pebble thrown into the sea.  Mathematically speaking, theundulations which the pebble causes, continue until the wholemass of the ocean has been disturbed to the bottom of its mostsecret depths and farthest shores; and, perhaps, with equal truthit may be affirmed, that the sentiments of the man of genius arealso infinitely propagated; but how soon is the physicalimpression of the one lost to every sensible perception, and themoral impulse of the other swallowed up from all practicaleffect.

But though London, in the general, may be justly compared tothe vast and restless ocean, or to any other thing that is eithersublime, incomprehensible, or affecting, it loses all itsinfluence over the solemn associations of the mind when it isexamined in its details.  For example, living on the town,as it is slangishly called, the most friendless and isolatedcondition possible, is yet fraught with an amazing diversity ofenjoyment.  Thousands of gentlemen, who have survived therelish of active fashionable pursuits, pass their life in thatstate without tasting the delight of one new sensation. They rise in the morning merely because Nature will not allowthem to remain longer in bed.  They begin the day withoutmotive or purpose, and close it after having performed the sameunvaried round as the most thoroughbred domestic animal that everdwelt in manse or manor-house.  If you ask them at threeo’clock where they are to dine, they cannot tell you; butabout the wonted dinner-hour, batches of these forlorn bachelorsfind themselves diurnally congregated, as if by instinct, arounda cozy table in some snug coffee-house, where, after inspectingthe contents of the bill of fare, they discuss the news of theday, reserving the scandal, by way of dessert, for theirwine.  Day after day their respective political opinionsgive rise to keen encounters, but without producing the slightestshade of change in any of their old ingrained and particularsentiments.

Some of their haunts, I mean those frequented by the elderlyrace, are shabby enough in their appearance and circumstances,except perhaps in the quality of the wine.  Everything inthem is regulated by an ancient and precise economy, and youperceive, at the first glance, that all is calculated on theprinciple of the house giving as much for the money as it canpossibly afford, without infringing those little etiquettes whichpersons of gentlemanly habits regard as essentials.  At halfprice the junior members of these unorganised or natural clubsretire to the theatres, while the elder brethren mend theirpotations till it is time to go home.  This seems a verycomfortless way of life, but I have no doubt it is the preferredresult of a long experience of the world, and that the parties,upon the whole, find it superior, according to their early formedhabits of dissipation and gaiety, to the sedate but not moreregular course of a domestic circle.

The chief pleasure, however, of living on the town, consistsin accidentally falling in with persons whom it might beotherwise difficult to meet in private life.  I have severaltimes enjoyed this.  The other day I fell in with an oldgentleman, evidently a man of some consequence, for he came tothe coffee-house in his own carriage.  It happened that wewere the only guests, and he proposed that we should thereforedine together.  In the course of conversation it came out,that he had been familiarly acquainted with Garrick, and hadfrequented the Literary Club in the days of Johnson andGoldsmith.  In his youth, I conceive, he must have been anamusing companion; for his fancy was exceedingly lively, and hismanners altogether afforded a very favourable specimen of theold, the gentlemanly school.  At an appointed hour hiscarriage came for him, and we parted, perhaps never to meetagain.

Such agreeable incidents, however, are not common, as thefrequenters of the coffee-houses are, I think, usually taciturncharacters, and averse to conversation.  I may, however, bemyself in fault.  Our countrymen in general, whatever may betheir address in improving acquaintance to the promotion of theirown interests, have not the best way, in the first instance, ofintroducing themselves.  A raw Scotchman, contrasted with asharp Londoner, is very inadroit and awkward, be his talents whatthey may; and I suspect, that even the most brilliant of your oldclass-fellows have, in their professional visits to thismetropolis, had some experience of what I mean.

AndrewPringle.

When Mr. Snodgrass paused, and was folding up the letter, Mrs.Craig, bending with her hands on her knees, said, emphatically,“Noo, sir, what think you of that?”  He was not,however, quite prepared to give an answer to a question soabruptly propounded, nor indeed did he exactly understand to whatparticular the lady referred.  “For my part,”she resumed, recovering her previous posture—“for mypart, it’s a very caldrife way of life to dine every day oncoffee; broth and beef would put mair smeddum in the men;they’re just a whin auld fogies that Mr. Andrew describes,an’ no wurth a single woman’s pains.” “Wheesht, wheesht, mistress,” cried Mr. Craig;“ye mauna let your tongue rin awa with your sense in thatgait.”  “It has but a light load,” saidMiss Becky, whispering Isabella Tod.  In this juncture, Mr.Micklewham happened to come in, and Mrs. Craig, on seeing him,cried out, “I hope, Mr. Micklewham, ye have brought theDoctor’s letter.  He’s such a funny man! andtouches off the Londoners to the nines.”

“He’s a good man,” said Mrs. Glibbans, in atone calculated to repress the forwardness of Mrs. Craig; butMiss Mally Glencairn having, in the meanwhile, taken from herpocket an epistle which she had received the preceding day fromMrs. Pringle, Mr. Snodgrass silenced all controversy on thatscore by requesting her to proceed with the reading. “She’s a clever woman, Mrs. Pringle,” said Mrs.Craig, who was resolved to cut a figure in the conversation inher own house.  “She’s a discreet woman, and maybe as godly, too, as some that make mair wark about theelect.”  Whether Mrs. Glibbans thought this had anyallusion to herself is not susceptible of legal proof; but sheturned round and looked at their “most kind hostess”with a sneer that might almost merit the appellation of asnort.  Mrs. Craig, however, pacified her, by proposing,“that, before hearing the letter, they should take a dramof wine, or pree her cherry bounce”—adding,“our maister likes a been house, and ye a’ ken thatwe are providing for a handling.”  The wine wasaccordingly served, and, in due time, Miss Mally Glencairnedified and instructed the party with the contents of Mrs.Pringle’s letter.

LETTER XXVI

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn

Dear Miss Mally—You will haveheard, by the peppers, of the gret hobbleshow heer aboot thequeen’s coming over contrary to the will of the nation;and, that the king and parlement are so angry with her, that theyare going to put her away by giving to her a bill ofdivorce.  The Doctor, who has been searchin the Scriptureson the okashon, says this is not in their poor, although she wasfound guilty of the fact; but I tell him, that as the king andparlement of old took upon them to change our religion, I do notsee how they will be hampered now by the word of God.

You may well wonder that I have no ritten to you about theking, and what he is like, but we have never got a sight of himat all, whilk is a gret shame, paying so dear as we do for aking, who shurely should be a publik man.  But, we have seenher majesty, who stays not far from our house heer in BakerStreet, in dry lodgings, which, I am creditably informed, she isobligated to pay for by the week, for nobody will trust her; soyou see what it is, Miss Mally, to have a light character. Poor woman, they say she might have been going from door to door,with a staff and a meal pock, but for ane Mr. Wood, who is abaillie of London, that has ta’en her by the hand. She’s a woman advanced in life, with a short neck, and apentit face; housomever, that, I suppose, she canno help, being aqueen, and obligated to set the fashons to the court, where it isnecessar to hide their faces with pent, our Andrew says, thattheir looks may not betray them—there being no shurer thingthan a false-hearted courtier.

But what concerns me the most, in all this, is, that therewill be no coronashon till the queen is put out of theway—and nobody can take upon them to say when that will be,as the law is so dootful and endless—which I am verra sorryfor, as it was my intent to rite Miss Nanny Eydent a true accountof the coronashon, in case there had been any partiklars thatmight be servisable to her in her bisness.

The Doctor and me, by ourselves, since we have been settlt, goabout at our convenience, and have seen far mae farlies thanbaith Andrew and Rachel, with all the acquaintance they haveforgathert with—but you no old heeds canno be expectit onyoung shouthers, and they have not had the experience of theworld that we have had.

The lamps in the streets here are lighted with gauze, and notwith crusies, like those that have lately been put up in yourtoun; and it is brought in pips aneath the ground from themanufactors, which the Doctor and me have been to see—anawful place—and they say as fey to a spark as poother,which made us glad to get out o’t when we heardso;—and we have been to see a brew-house, where they makthe London porter, but it is a sight not to be told.  In itwe saw a barrel, whilk the Doctor said was by gauging bigger thanthe Irvine muckle kirk, and a masking fat, like a barn formugnited.  But all thae were as nothing to a curiosity of asteam-ingine, that minches minch collops as natural aslife—and stuffs the sosogees itself, in a manner past thepoor of nature to consiv.  They have, to be shure, inLondon, many things to help work—for in our kitchen thereis a smoking-jack to roast the meat, that gangs of its oun freewill, and the brisker the fire, the faster it runs; but apotatoe-beetle is not to be had within the four walls of London,which is a great want in a house; Mrs. Argent never hard of sic athing.

Me and the Doctor have likewise been in the Houses ofParliament, and the Doctor since has been again to heer theargol-bargoling aboot the queen.  But, cepting theking’s throne, which is all gold and velvet, with a crounon the top, and stars all round, there was nothing worth thelooking at in them baith.  Howsomever, I sat in theking’s seat, and in the preses chair of the House ofCommons, which, you no, is something for me to say; and we havebeen to see the printing of books, where the very smallestdividual syllib is taken up by itself and made into words by thehand, so as to be quite confounding how it could ever readsense.  But there is ane piece of industry and froughgalatyI should not forget, whilk is wives going about withwhirl-barrows, selling horses’ flesh to the cats and dogsby weight, and the cats and dogs know them very well by theirvoices.  In short, Miss Mally, there is nothing heer thatthe hand is not turnt to; and there is, I can see, a better orderand method really among the Londoners than among our Scotchfolks, notwithstanding their advantages of edicashion, but mypepper will hold no more at present, from your true friend,

JanetPringle.

There was a considerable diversity of opinion among thecommentators on this epistle.  Mrs. Craig was the first whobroke silence, and displayed a great deal of erudition on theminch-collop-engine, and the potatoe-beetle, in which she wasinterrupted by the indignant Mrs. Glibbans, who exclaimed,“I am surprised to hear you, Mrs. Craig, speak of sicbaubles, when the word of God’s in danger of beingcontroverted by an Act of Parliament.  But, Mr. Snodgrass,dinna ye think that this painting of the queen’s face is aJezebitical testification against her?”  Mr. Snodgrassreplied, with an unwonted sobriety of manner, and with anemphasis that showed he intended to make some impression on hisauditors—“It is impossible to judge correctly ofstrangers by measuring them according to our own notions ofpropriety.  It has certainly long been a practice in courtsto disfigure the beauty of the human countenance with paint; butwhat, in itself, may have been originally assumed for a mask ordisguise, may, by usage, have grown into a very harmlesscustom.  I am not, therefore, disposed to attach anycriminal importance to the circumstance of her majesty wearingpaint.  Her late majesty did so herself.” “I do not say it was criminal,” said Mrs. Glibbans;“I only meant it was sinful, and I think itis.”  The accent of authority in which this was said,prevented Mr. Snodgrass from offering any reply; and, a briefpause ensuing, Miss Molly Glencairn observed, that it was asurprising thing how the Doctor and Mrs. Pringle managed theirmatters so well.  “Ay,” said Mrs. Craig,“but we a’ ken what a manager the mistressis—she’s the bee that mak’s the hincy—shedoes not gang bizzing aboot, like a thriftless wasp, through herneighbours’ houses.”  “I tell you, Betty,my dear,” cried Mr. Craig, “that you shouldna makecomparisons—what’s past is gane—and Mrs.Glibbans and you maun now be friends.” “They’re a’ friends to me that’s no faes,and am very glad to see Mrs. Glibbans sociable in my house; butshe needna hae made sae light of me when she was herebefore.”  And, in saying this, the amiable hostessburst into a loud sob of sorrow, which induced Mr. Snodgrass tobeg Mr. Micklewham to read the Doctor’s letter, by which ahappy stop was put to the further manifestation of the grudgewhich Mrs. Craig harboured against Mrs. Glibbans for the lectureshe had received, on what the latter called “the incarnatedeffect of a more than Potipharian claught o’ the godly Mr.Craig.”

LETTER XXVII

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk of Garnock

Dear Sir—I had a greatsatisfaction in hearing that Mr. Snodgrass, in my place, praysfor the queen on the Lord’s Day, which liberty, to do inour national church, is a thing to be upholden with a fearlessspirit, even with the spirit of martyrdom, that we may not bowdown in Scotland to the prelatic Baal of an order in Council,whereof the Archbishop of Canterbury, that is cousin-german tothe Pope of Rome, is art and part.  Verily, the sendingforth of that order to the General Assembly was treachery to thesolemn oath of the new king, whereby he took the vows upon him,conform to the Articles of the Union, to maintain the Church ofScotland as by law established, so that for the Archbishop ofCanterbury to meddle therein was a shooting out of the horns ofaggressive domination.

I think it is right of me to testify thus much, through you,to the Session, that the elders may stand on their posts to barall such breaking in of the Episcopalian boar into our corner ofthe vineyard.

Anent the queen’s case and condition, I say nothing; forbe she guilty, or be she innocent, we all know that she was bornin sin, and brought forth in iniquity—prone to evil, as thesparks fly upwards—and desperately wicked, like you and me,or any other poor Christian sinner, which is reason enough tomake us think of her in the remembering prayer.

Since she came over, there has been a wonderful work doinghere; and it is thought that the crown will be taken off her headby a strong handling of the Parliament; and really, when I thinkof the bishops sitting high in the peerage, like owls and rooksin the bartisans of an old tower, I have my fears that they canbode her no good.  I have seen them in the House of Lords,clothed in their idolatrous robes; and when I looked at them soproudly placed at the right hand of the king’s throne, andon the side of the powerful, egging on, as I saw one of themdoing in a whisper, the Lord Liverpool, before he rose to speakagainst the queen, the blood ran cold in my veins, and I thoughtof their woeful persecutions of our national church, and prayedinwardly that I might be keepit in the humility of a zealouspresbyter, and that the corruption of the frail human naturewithin me might never be tempted by the pampered whoredoms ofprelacy.

Saving the Lord Chancellor, all the other temporal peers werejust as they had come in from the crown of thecauseway—none of them having a judicial garment, which wasa shame; and as for the Chancellor’s long robe, it was notso good as my own gown; but he is said to be a very narrowman.  What he spoke, however, was no doubt sound law; yet Icould observe he has a bad custom of taking the name of God invain, which I wonder at, considering he has such a kittleconscience, which, on less occasions, causes him often to shedtears.

Mrs. Pringle and me, by ourselves, had a fine quiet cannysight of the queen, out of the window of a pastry baxter’sshop, opposite to where her majesty stays.  She seems to bea plump and jocose little woman; gleg, blithe, and throwgaun forher years, and on an easy footing with the lowerorders—coming to the window when they call for her, andbecking to them, which is very civil of her, and gets them totake her part against the government.

The baxter in whose shop we saw this told us that her majestysaid, on being invited to take her dinner at an inn on the roadfrom Dover, that she would be content with a mutton-chop at theKing’s Arms in London, [2] which shows that sheis a lady of a very hamely disposition.  Mrs. Pringlethought her not big enough for a queen; but we cannot expectevery one to be like that bright accidental star, QueenElizabeth, whose effigy we have seen preserved in armour in theTower of London, and in wax in Westminster Abbey, where they havea living-like likeness of Lord Nelson, in the very identicalregimentals that he was killed in.  They are both wonderfulplaces, but it costs a power of money to get through them, andall the folk about them think of nothing but money; for when Iinquired, with a reverent spirit, seeing around me the tombs ofgreat and famous men, the mighty and wise of their day, whatdepartment it was of the Abbey—“It’s theeighteenpence department,” said an uncircumcisedPhilistine, with as little respect as if we had been treading thecourts of the darling Dagon.

Our concerns here are now drawing to a close; but before wereturn, we are going for a short time to a town on the seaside,which they call Brighton.  We had a notion of taking a tripto Paris, but that we must leave to Andrew Pringle, my son, andhis sister Rachel, if the bit lassie could get a decent gudeman,which maybe will cast up for her before we leave London. Nothing, however, is settled as yet upon that head, so I can sayno more at present anent the same.

Since the affair of the sermon, I have withdrawn myself fromtrafficking so much as I did in the missionary and charitableploys that are so in vogue with the pious here, which will be allthe better for my own people, as I will keep for them what I wasgiving to the unknown; and it is my design to write a book onalmsgiving, to show in what manner that Christian duty may bebest fulfilled, which I doubt not will have the effect of openingthe eyes of many in London to the true nature of the thing bywhich I was myself beguiled in this Vanity Fair, like a birdensnared by the fowler.

I was concerned to hear of poor Mr. Witherspoon’saccident, in falling from his horse in coming from the Dalmailingoccasion.  How thankful he must be, that the Lord made hishead of a durability to withstand the shock, which mightotherwise have fractured his skull.  What you say about thepromise of the braird gives me pleasure on account of the poor;but what will be done with the farmers and their high rents, ifthe harvest turn out so abundant?  Great reason have I to bethankful that the legacy has put me out of the reverence of mystipend; for when the meal was cheap, I own to you that I felt mycarnality grudging the horn of abundance that the Lord was thenpouring into the lap of the earth.  In short, Mr.Micklewham, I doubt it is o’er true with us all, that theless we are tempted, the better we are; so with my sincereprayers that you may be delivered from all evil, and led out ofthe paths of temptation, whether it is on the highway, or on thefootpaths, or beneath the hedges, I remain, dear sir, your friendand pastor,

ZachariahPringle.

“The Doctor,” said Mrs. Glibbans, as theschoolmaster concluded, “is there like himself—a trueorthodox Christian, standing up for the word, and overflowingwith charity even for the sinner.  But, Mr. Snodgrass, I didnot ken before that the bishops had a hand in the making of theActs of the Parliament; I think, Mr. Snodgrass, if that be thecase, there should be some doubt in Scotland about obeyingthem.  However that may be, sure am I that the queen, thoughshe was a perfect Deliah, has nothing to fear from them; for havewe not read in the Book of Martyrs, and other church histories,of their concubines and indulgences, in the papist times, to allmanner of carnal iniquity?  But if she be that noghty womanthat they say”—“Gude safe’s,” criedMrs. Craig, “if she be a noghty woman, awa’ wi’her, awa’ wi’ her—wha kens the cantrips she mayplay us?”

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed, and informed Mrs. Craig,that a noghty woman was not, as she seemed to think, a witchwife.  “I am sure,” said Miss Becky Glibbans,“that Mrs. Craig might have known that.” “Oh, ye’re a spiteful deevil,” whispered MissMally, with a smile to her; and turning in the same moment toMiss Isabella Tod, begged her to read Miss Pringle’sletter—a motion which Mr. Snodgrass seconded chiefly toabridge the conversation, during which, though he wore a serenecountenance, he often suffered much.

LETTER XXVIII

Miss Rachel Pringle to MissIsabella Tod

My dear Bell—I am muchobliged by your kind expressions for my little present.  Ihope soon to send you something better, and gloves at the sametime; for Sabre has been brought to the point by an alarm for theYorkshire baronet that I mentioned, as showing symptoms of thetender passion for my fortune.  The friends on both sidesbeing satisfied with the match, it will take place as soon assome preliminary arrangements are made.  When we aresettled, I hope your mother will allow you to come and spend sometime with us at our country-seat in Berkshire; and I shall behappy to repay all the expenses of your journey, as a jaunt toEngland is what your mother would, I know, never consent to payfor.

It is proposed that, immediately after the ceremony, we shallset out for France, accompanied by my brother, where we are to besoon after joined at Paris by some of the Argents, who, I cansee, think Andrew worth the catching for Miss.  My fatherand mother will then return to Scotland; but whether the Doctorwill continue to keep his parish, or give it up to Mr. Snodgrass,will depend greatly on the circumstances in which he finds hisparishioners.  This is all the domestic intelligence I havegot to give, but its importance will make up for otherdeficiencies.

As to the continuance of our discoveries in London, I know notwell what to say.  Every day brings something new, but welose the sense of novelty.  Were a fire in the same streetwhere we live, it would no longer alarm me.  A few nightsago, as we were sitting in the parlour after supper, the noise ofan engine passing startled us all; we ran to thewindows—there was haste and torches, and the sound of otherengines, and all the horrors of a conflagration reddening theskies.  My father sent out the footboy to inquire where itwas; and when the boy came back, he made us laugh, by snappinghis fingers, and saying the fire was not worth somuch—although, upon further inquiry, we learnt that thehouse in which it originated was burnt to the ground.  Yousee, therefore, how the bustle of this great world hardens thesensibilities, but I trust its influence will never extend to myheart.

The principal topic of conversation at present is about thequeen.  The Argents, who are our main instructors in theproprieties of London life, say that it would be very vulgar inme to go to look at her, which I am sorry for, as I wish aboveall things to see a personage so illustrious by birth, andrenowned by misfortune.  The Doctor and my mother, who areless scrupulous, and who, in consequence, somehow, by themselves,contrive to see, and get into places that are inaccessible to allgentility, have had a full view of her majesty.  My fatherhas since become her declared partisan, and my mother too hasacquired a leaning likewise towards her side of the question; butneither of them will permit the subject to be spoken of beforeme, as they consider it detrimental to good morals.  I,however, read the newspapers.

What my brother thinks of her majesty’s case is not easyto divine; but Sabre is convinced of the queen’s guilt,upon some private and authentic information which a friend ofhis, who has returned from Italy, heard when travelling in thatcountry.  This information he has not, however, repeated tome, so that it must be very bad.  We shall know all when thetrial comes on.  In the meantime, his majesty, who has livedin dignified retirement since he came to the throne, has taken uphis abode, with rural felicity, in a cottage in Windsor Forest;where he now, contemning all the pomp and follies of his youth,and this metropolis, passes his days amidst his cabbages, likeDioclesian, with innocence and tranquillity, far from theintrigues of courtiers, and insensible to the murmuring waves ofthe fluctuating populace, that set in with so strong a currenttowards “the mob-led queen,” as the divineShakespeare has so beautifully expressed it.

You ask me about Vauxhall Gardens;—I have not seenthem—they are no longer in fashion—the theatres arequite vulgar—even the opera-house has sunk into asecond-rate place of resort.  Almack’s balls, theArgyle-rooms, and the Philharmonic concerts, are the only publicentertainments frequented by people of fashion; and this highsuperiority they owe entirely to the difficulty of gainingadmission.  London, as my brother says, is too rich, andgrown too luxurious, to have any exclusive place of fashionableresort, where price alone is the obstacle.  Hence, theinstitution of these select aristocratic assemblies.  ThePhilharmonic concerts, however, are rather professional thanfashionable entertainments; but everybody is fond of music, and,therefore, everybody, that can be called anybody, is anxious toget tickets to them; and this anxiety has given them a degree oféclat, which I am persuaded the performance wouldnever have excited had the tickets been purchasable at anyprice.  The great thing here is, either to be somebody, orto be patronised by a person that is a somebody; without this,though you were as rich as Croesus, your golden chariots, likethe comets of a season, blazing and amazing, would speedily rollaway into the obscurity from which they came, and be rememberedno more.

At first when we came here, and when the amount of our legacywas first promulgated, we were in a terrible flutter. Andrew became a man of fashion, with all the haste that tailors,and horses, and dinners, could make him.  My father, honestman, was equally inspired with lofty ideas, and began a careerthat promised a liberal benefaction of good things to thepoor—and my mother was almost distracted with calculationsabout laying out the money to the best advantage, and the sum shewould allow to be spent.  I alone preserved my naturalequanimity; and foreseeing the necessity of new accomplishmentsto suit my altered circumstances, applied myself to theinstructions of my masters, with an assiduity that won theirapplause.  The advantages of this I now experience—mybrother is sobered from his champaign fumes—my father hasfound out that charity begins at home—and my mother, thoughher establishment is enlarged, finds her happiness,notwithstanding the legacy, still lies within the little circleof her household cares.  Thus, my dear Bell, have I provedthe sweets of a true philosophy; and, unseduced by theblandishments of rank, rejected Sir Marmaduke Towler, andaccepted the humbler but more disinterested swain, Captain Sabre,who requests me to send you his compliments, not altogethercontent that you should occupy so much of the bosom of youraffectionate

RachelPringle.

“Rachel had ay a gude roose of hersel’,”said Becky Glibbans, as Miss Isabella concluded.  In thesame moment, Mr. Snodgrass took his leave, saying to Mr.Micklewham, that he had something particular to mention tohim.  “What can it be about?” inquired Mrs.Glibbans at Mr. Craig, as soon as the helper and schoolmaster hadleft the room: “Do you think it can be concerning theDoctor’s resignation of the parish in hisfavour?”  “I’m sure,” interposedMrs. Craig, before her husband could reply, “it winna bewi’ my gudewill that he shall come in upon us—apridefu’ wight, whose saft words, and a’ hispoliteness, are but lip-deep; na, na, Mrs. Glibbans, we maun haeanother on the leet forbye him.”

“And wha would ye put on the leet noo, Mrs. Craig, youthat’s sic a judge?” said Mrs. Glibbans, with themost ineffable consequentiality.

“I’ll be for young Mr. Dirlton, who is baith asappy preacher of the word, and a substantial hand at every kindof civility.”

“Young Dirlton!—young Deevilton!” cried theorthodox Deborah of Irvine; “a fallow that knows no more ofa gospel dispensation than I do of the Arian heresy, which I holdin utter abomination.  No, Mrs. Craig, you have a godly manfor your husband—a sound and true follower; tread ye in hisfootsteps, and no try to set up yoursel’ on points ofdoctrine.  But it’s time, Miss Mally, that we weretaking the road; Becky and Miss Isabella, make yourselvesready.  Noo, Mrs. Craig, ye’ll no be a stranger; yousee I have no been lang of coming to give you my countenance;but, my leddy, ca’ canny, it’s no easy to carry afu’ cup; ye hae gotten a great gift in your gudeman. Mr. Craig, I wish you a good-night; I would fain have stopped foryour evening exercise, but Miss Mally was beginning, I saw, toweary—so good-night; and, Mrs. Craig, ye’ll take tentof what I have said—it’s for your gude.” So exeunt Mrs. Glibbans, Miss Mally, and the two youngladies.  “Her bark’s waur than her bite,”said Mrs. Craig, as she returned to her husband, who felt alreadysome of the ourie symptoms of a henpecked destiny.

CHAPTER IX—THE MARRIAGE

Mr. Snodgrass was obliged to walk into Irvine one evening, toget rid of a raging tooth, which had tormented him for more thana week.  The operation was so delicately and cleverlyperformed by the surgeon to whom he applied—one of thoseyoung medical gentlemen, who, after having been educated for thearmy or navy, are obliged, in this weak piping time of peace, toglean what practice they can amid their native shades—thatthe amiable divine found himself in a condition to call on MissIsabella Tod.

During this visit, Saunders Dickie, the postman, brought aLondon letter to the door, for Miss Isabella; and Mr. Snodgrasshaving desired the servant to inquire if there were any for him,had the good fortune to get the following from Mr. AndrewPringle:—

LETTER XXIX

Andrew Pringle Esq., tothe Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass

My Dear Friend—I never receive a letter from you withoutexperiencing a strong emotion of regret, that talents like yoursshould be wilfully consigned to the sequestered vegetation of acountry pastor’s life.  But we have so often discussedthis point, that I shall only offend your delicacy if I nowrevert to it more particularly.  I cannot, however, butremark, that although a private station may be the happiest, apublic is the proper sphere of virtue and talent, so clear,superior, and decided as yours.  I say this with the moreconfidence, as I have really, from your letter, obtained a betterconception of the queen’s case, than from all that I havebeen able to read and hear upon the subject in London.  Therule you lay down is excellent.  Public safety is certainlythe only principle which can justify mankind in agreeing toobserve and enforce penal statutes; and, therefore, I think withyou, that unless it could be proved in a very simple manner, thatit was requisite for the public safety to institute proceedingsagainst the queen—her sins or indiscretions should havebeen allowed to remain in the obscurity of her privatecircle.

I have attended the trial several times.  For a judicialproceeding, it seems to me too long—and for a legislative,too technical.  Brougham, it is allowed, has displayed evengreater talent than was expected; but he is too sharp; he seemsto me more anxious to gain a triumph, than to establishtruth.  I do not like the tone of his proceedings, while Icannot sufficiently admire his dexterity.  The style ofDenman is more lofty, and impressed with stronger lineaments ofsincerity.  As for their opponents, I really cannot endurethe Attorney-General as an orator; his whole mind consists, as itwere, of a number of little hands and claws—each of whichholds some scrap or portion of his subject; but you might as wellexpect to get an idea of the form and character of a tree, bylooking at the fallen leaves, the fruit, the seeds, and theblossoms, as anything like a comprehensive view of a subject,from an intellect so constituted as that of Sir RobertGifford.  He is a man of application, but of meagreabilities, and seems never to have read a book of travels in hislife.  The Solicitor-General is somewhat better; but he isone of those who think a certain artificial gravity requisite toprofessional consequence; and which renders him somewhat obtusein the tact of propriety.

Within the bar, the talent is superior to what it is without;and I have been often delighted with the amazing fineness, if Imay use the expression, with which the Chancellor discriminatesthe shades of difference in the various points on which he iscalled to deliver his opinion.  I consider his mind as acuriosity of no ordinary kind.  It deceives itself by itsown acuteness.  The edge is too sharp; and, instead ofcutting straight through, it often diverges—alarming hisconscience with the dread of doing wrong.  This singularsubtlety has the effect of impairing the reverence which theendowments and high professional accomplishments of this greatman are otherwise calculated to inspire.  His eloquence isnot effective—it touches no feeling nor affects anypassion; but still it affords wonderful displays of a lucidintellect.  I can compare it to nothing but a pencil ofsunshine; in which, although one sees countless motes flickeringand fluctuating, it yet illuminates, and steadily brings into themost satisfactory distinctness, every object on which it directlyfalls.

Lord Erskine is a character of another class, and whateverdifference of opinion may exist with respect to theirprofessional abilities and attainments, it will be allowed bythose who contend that Eldon is the better lawyer—thatErskine is the greater genius.  Nature herself, with aconstellation in her hand, playfully illuminates his path to thetemple of reasonable justice; while Precedence with herguide-book, and Study with a lantern, cautiously show the road inwhich the Chancellor warily plods his weary way to that of legalEquity.  The sedateness of Eldon is so remarkable, that itis difficult to conceive that he was ever young; but Erskinecannot grow old; his spirit is still glowing and flushed with theenthusiasm of youth.  When impassioned, his voice acquires asingularly elevated and pathetic accent; and I can easilyconceive the irresistible effect he must have had on the minds ofa jury, when he was in the vigour of his physical powers, and thecase required appeals of tenderness or generosity.  As aparliamentary orator, Earl Grey is undoubtedly his superior; butthere is something much less popular and conciliating in hismanner.  His eloquence is heard to most advantage when he iscontemptuous; and he is then certainly dignified, ardent, andemphatic; but it is apt, I should think, to impress those whohear him, for the first time, with an idea that he is a verysupercilious personage, and this unfavourable impression isliable to be strengthened by the elegant aristocratic languor ofhis appearance.

I think that you once told me you had some knowledge of theMarquis of Lansdowne, when he was Lord Henry Petty.  I canhardly hope that, after an interval of so many years, you willrecognise him in the following sketch:—His appearance ismuch more that of a Whig than Lord Grey—stout andsturdy—but still withal gentlemanly; and there is apleasing simplicity, with somewhat of good-nature, in theexpression of his countenance, that renders him, in a quiescentstate, the more agreeable character of the two.  He speaksexceedingly well—clear, methodical, and argumentative; buthis eloquence, like himself, is not so graceful as it is upon thewhole manly; and there is a little tendency to verbosity in hislanguage, as there is to corpulency in his figure; but nothingturgid, while it is entirely free from affectation.  Thecharacter of respectable is very legibly impressed, in everythingabout the mind and manner of his lordship.  I should, nowthat I have seen and heard him, be astonished to hear such a manrepresented as capable of being factious.

I should say something about Lord Liverpool, not only onaccount of his rank as a minister, but also on account of thetalents which have qualified him for that high situation. The greatest objection that I have to him as a speaker, is owingto the loudness of his voice—in other respects, what hedoes say is well digested.  But I do not think that heembraces his subject with so much power and comprehension as someof his opponents; and he has evidently less actual experience ofthe world.  This may doubtless be attributed to his havingbeen almost constantly in office since he came into public life;than which nothing is more detrimental to the unfolding ofnatural ability, while it induces a sort of artificial talent,connected with forms and technicalities, which, though useful inbusiness, is but of minor consequence in a comparative estimateof moral and intellectual qualities.  I am told that in hismanner he resembles Mr. Pitt; be this, however, as it may, he isevidently a speaker, formed more by habit and imitation, than onewhom nature prompts to be eloquent.  He lacks thatoccasional accent of passion, the melody of oratory; and I doubtif, on any occasion, he could at all approximate to thatmagnificent intrepidity which was admired as one of the noblestcharacteristics of his master’s style.

But all the display of learning and eloquence, andintellectual power and majesty of the House of Lords, shrinksinto insignificance when compared with the moral attitude whichthe people have taken on this occasion.  You know how much Ihave ever admired the attributes of the English nationalcharacter—that boundless generosity, which can only becompared to the impartial benevolence of the sunshine—thatheroic magnanimity, which makes the hand ever ready to succour afallen foe; and that sublime courage, which rises with the energyof a conflagration roused by a tempest, at every insult or menaceof an enemy.  The compassionate interest taken by thepopulace in the future condition of the queen is worthy of thisextraordinary people.  There may be many among them actuatedby what is called the radical spirit; but malignity alone woulddare to ascribe the bravery of their compassion to a less noblefeeling than that which has placed the kingdom so proudly in thevan of all modern nations.  There may be an amiabledelusion, as my Lord Castlereagh has said, in the popularsentiments with respect to the queen.  Upon that, as uponher case, I offer no opinion.  It is enough for me to haveseen, with the admiration of a worshipper, the manner in whichthe multitude have espoused her cause.

But my paper is filled, and I must conclude.  I should,however, mention that my sister’s marriage is appointed totake place to-morrow, and that I accompany the happy pair toFrance.—Yours truly,

AndrewPringle.

“This is a dry letter,” said Mr. Snodgrass, and hehanded it to Miss Isabella, who, in exchange, presented the onewhich she had herself at the same time received; but just as Mr.Snodgrass was on the point of reading it, Miss Becky Glibbans wasannounced.  “How lucky this is,” exclaimed MissBecky, “to find you both thegither!  Now you maun tellme all the particulars; for Miss Mally Glencairn is no in, andher letter lies unopened.  I am just gasping to hear howRachel conducted herself at being married in the kirk before allthe folk—married to the hussar captain, too, after all! whowould have thought it?”

“How, have you heard of the marriage already?”said Miss Isabella.  “Oh, it’s in thenewspapers,” replied the amiableinquisitant,—“Like ony tailor orweaver’s—a’ weddings maun nowadays gang intothe papers.  The whole toun, by this time, has got it; and Iwouldna wonder if Rachel Pringle’s marriage ding thequeen’s divorce out of folk’s heads for the next ninedays to come.  But only to think of her being married in apublic kirk.  Surely her father would never submit tohae’t done by a bishop?  And then to put it in theLondon paper, as if Rachel Pringle had been somebody ofdistinction.  Perhaps it might have been more to thepurpose, considering what dragoon officers are, if she had gotthe doited Doctor, her father, to publish the intended marriagein the papers beforehand.”

“Haud that condumacious tongue of yours,” cried avoice, panting with haste as the door opened, and Mrs. Glibbansentered.  “Becky, will you never devawl wi’ yourbackbiting.  I wonder frae whom the misleart lassie takesa’ this passion of clashing.”

The authority of her parent’s tongue silenced MissBecky, and Mrs. Glibbans having seated herself,continued,—“Is it your opinion, Mr. Snodgrass, thatthis marriage can hold good, contracted, as I am told it ismentioned in the papers to hae been, at the horns of the altar ofEpiscopalian apostacy?”

“I can set you right as to that,” said MissIsabella.  “Rachel mentions, that, after returningfrom the church, the Doctor himself performed the ceremony anew,according to the Presbyterian usage.”  “I amglad to heart, very glad indeed,” said Mrs. Glibbans. “It would have been a judgment-like thing, had a bairn ofDr. Pringle’s—than whom, although there may be abler,there is not a sounder man in a’ the West ofScotland—been sacrificed to Moloch, like the victims ofprelatic idolatry.”

At this juncture, Miss Mally Glencairn was announced: sheentered, holding a letter from Mrs. Pringle in her hand, with theseal unbroken.  Having heard of the marriage from anacquaintance in the street, she had hurried home, in thewell-founded expectation of hearing from her friend andwell-wisher, and taking up the letter, which she found on hertable, came with all speed to Miss Isabella Tod to commune withher on the tidings.

Never was any confluence of visitors more remarkable than onthis occasion.  Before Miss Mally had well explained thecause of her abrupt intrusion, Mr. Micklewham made hisappearance.  He had come to Irvine to be measured for a newcoat, and meeting by accident with Saunders Dickie, got theDoctor’s letter from him, which, after reading, he thoughthe could do no less than call at Mrs. Tod’s, to let MissIsabella know the change which had taken place in the conditionof her friend.

Thus were all the correspondents of the Pringles assembled, bythe merest chance, like the dramatis personæat theend of a play.  After a little harmless bantering, it wasagreed that Miss Mally should read her communicationfirst—as all the others were previously acquainted with thecontents of their respective letters, and Miss Mally read asfollows:—

LETTER XXX

Mrs. Pringle to Miss MallyGlencairn

Dear Miss Mally—I hav a croto pik with you conserning yoor comishon aboot the partickels foryour friends.  You can hav no noshon what the Doctor and mesuffert on the head of the flooring shrubs.  We took yourNota Beny as it was spilt, and went from shop to shop enquirin ina most partiklar manner for “a Gardner’s Bell, or theleast of all flowering plants”; but sorrow a gardner in thewhole tot here in London ever had heard of sic a thing; so wegave the porshoot up in despare.  Howsomever, one ofAndrew’s acquaintance—a decent lad, who is only sonto a saddler in a been way, that keeps his own carriage, and hisson a coryikel, happent to call, and the Doctor told him what illsocsess we had in our serch for the gardner’s bell; uponwhich he sought a sight of your yepissle, and read it as a thingthat was just wonderful for its whorsogroffie; and then he sayid,that looking at the prinsipol of your spilling, he thought weshould reed, “a gardner’s bill, or a list of allflooring plants”; whilk being no doot your intent, I haveproqurt the same, and it is included heerin.  But, MissMally, I would advize you to be more exac in your inditing, thatno sic torbolashon may hippen on a future okashon.

What I hav to say for the present is, that you will, by asmak, get a bocks of kumoddities, whilk you will destraboot asderekit on every on of them, and you will before have resievit bythe post-offis, an account of what has been don.  I need sayno forther at this time, knowin your discreshon and prooduns,septs that our Rachel and Captain Sabor will, if it pleese theLord, be off to Parish, by way of Bryton, as man and wife, themorn’s morning.  What her father the Doctor gives fortocher, what is settlt on her for jontor, I will tell you allaboot when we meet; for it’s our dishire noo to lose no timin retorning to the manse, this being the last of ourdiplomaticals in London, where we have found the Argents a mostdiscrit family, payin to the last farding the Cornal’slegacy, and most seevil, and well bred to us.

As I am naterally gretly okypt with this matteromoneal afair,you cannot expect ony news; but the queen is going on with adreadful rat, by which the pesents hav falen more than a wholeentirr pesent.  I wish our fonds were well oot of them, andin yird and stane, which is a constansie.  But what is tobecome of the poor donsie woman, no one can expound.  Somethink she will be pot in the Toor of London, and her head chappitoff; others think she will raise sic a stramash, that she willsend the whole government into the air, like peelings of ingons,by a gunpoother plot.  But it’s my opinion, and I haveweighed the matter well in my understanding, that she will hav tofight with sword in hand, be she ill, or be she good.  Howels can she hop to get the better of more than two hundred lords,as the Doctor, who has seen them, tells me, with princes of theblood-royal, and the prelatic bishops, whom, I need not tell you,are the worst of all.

But the thing I grudge most, is to be so long in Lundon, andno to see the king.  Is it not a hard thing to come toLondon, and no to see the king?  I am not pleesed with him,I assure you, becose he does not set himself out to public view,like ony other curiosity, but stays in his palis, they say, likeone of the anshent wooden images of idolatry, the which is agreat peety, he beeing, as I am told, a beautiful man, and morethe gentleman than all the coortiers of his court.

The Doctor has been minting to me that there is an addressfrom Irvine to the queen; and he, being so near a neighbour toyour toun, has been thinking to pay his respecs with it, to seeher near at hand.  But I will say nothing; he may take hisown way in matters of gospel and spiritualety; yet I have myscroopols of conshence, how this may not turn out a rebellyonagainst the king; and I would hav him to sift and see who are atthe address, before he pits his han to it.  For, ifit’s a radikol job, as I jealoos it is, what will theDoctor then say? who is an orthodox man, as the world nose.

In the maitre of our dumesticks, no new axsident has cast up;but I have seen such a wonder as could not have beenforethocht.  Having a washin, I went down to see how thelassies were doing; but judge of my feelings, when I saw themtriomphing on the top of pattons, standing upright before theboyns on chairs, rubbin the clothes to juggins between theirhands, above the sapples, with their gouns and stays on, andround-cared mutches.  What would you think of such a miracleat the washing-house in the Goffields, or the Gallows-knows ofIrvine?  The cook, howsomever, has shown me a way to makerice-puddings without eggs, by putting in a bit of shoohet, whichis as good—and this you will tell Miss Nanny Eydent;likewise, that the most fashionable way of boiling green pis, isto pit a blade of spearmint in the pot, which gives a fineflavour.  But this is a long letter, and my pepper is done;so no more, but remains your friend and well-wisher,

JanetPringle.

“A great legacy, and her dochtir married, in ae journeyto London, is doing business,” said Mrs. Glibbans, with asigh, as she looked to her only get, Miss Becky; “but theLord’s will is to be done in a’ thing;—sooneror later something of the same kind will come, I trust, to allour families.”  “Ay,” replied Miss MallyGlencairn, “marriage is like death—it’s what weare a’ to come to.”

“I have my doubts of that,” said Miss Becky with asneer.  “Ye have been lang spair’t from it, MissMally.”

“Ye’re a spiteful puddock; and if the men hae thee’en and lugs they used to hae, gude pity him whose lot iscast with thine, Becky Glibbans,” replied the elderlymaiden ornament of the Kirkgate, somewhat tartly.

Here Mr. Snodgrass interposed, and said, he would read to themthe letter which Miss Isabella had received from the bride; andwithout waiting for their concurrence, opened and read asfollows:—

LETTER XXXI

Mrs. Sabre to Miss IsabellaTod

My dearest Bell—RachelPringle is no more!  My heart flutters as I write the fatalwords.  This morning, at nine o’clock precisely, shewas conducted in bridal array to the new church of Mary-le-bone;and there, with ring and book, sacrificed to the Minotaur,Matrimony, who devours so many of our bravest youths and fairestmaidens.

My mind is too agitated to allow me to describe thescene.  The office of handmaid to the victim, which, in ouryoung simplicity, we had fondly thought one of us would performfor the other, was gracefully sustained by Miss Argent.

On returning from church to my father’s residence inBaker Street, where we breakfasted, he declared himself notsatisfied with the formalities of the English ritual, and obligedus to undergo a second ceremony from himself, according to thewonted forms of the Scottish Church.  All the advantages andpleasures of which, my dear Bell, I hope you will soon enjoy.

But I have no time to enter into particulars.  Thecaptain and his lady, by themselves, in their own carriage, setoff for Brighton in the course of less than an hour.  OnFriday they are to be followed by a large party of their friendsand relations; and, after spending a few days in that emporium ofsalt-water pleasures, they embark, accompanied with their belovedbrother, Mr. Andrew Pringle, for Paris; where they are afterwardsto be joined by the Argents.  It is our intention to remainabout a month in the French capital; whether we shall extend ourtour, will depend on subsequent circumstances: in the meantime,however, you will hear frequently from me.

My mother, who has a thousand times during these importanttransactions wished for the assistance of Nanny Eydent, transmitsto Miss Mally Glencairn a box containing all the requisite bridalrecognisances for our Irvine friends.  I need not say thatthe best is for the faithful companion of my happiestyears.  As I had made a vow in my heart that Becky Glibbansshould never wear gloves for my marriage, I was averse to sendingher any at all, but my mother insisted that no exceptions shouldbe made.  I secretly took care, however, to mark a pair forher, so much too large, that I am sure she will never put themon.  The asp will be not a little vexed at thedisappointment.  Adieu for a time, and believe that,although your affectionate Rachel Pringle be gone that way inwhich she hopes you will soon follow, one not less sincerelyattached to you, though it be the first time she has sosubscribed herself, remains in

RachelSabre.

Before the ladies had time to say a word on the subject, theprudent young clergyman called immediately on Mr. Micklewham toread the letter which he had received from the Doctor; and whichthe worthy dominie did without delay, in that rich and full voicewith which he is accustomed to teach his scholars elocution byexample.

LETTER XXXII

The Rev. Z. Pringle,D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster andSession-Clerk, Garnock
London.

Dear Sir—I have been much longer of replying to yourletter of the 3rd of last month, than I ought in civility to havebeen, but really time, in this town of London, runs at a fastrate, and the day passes before the dark’s done.  Whatwith Mrs. Pringle and her daughter’s concernments, anentthe marriage to Captain Sabre, and the trouble I felt myselfobliged to take in the queen’s affair, I assure you, Mr.Micklewham, that it’s no to be expressed how I have beenoccupied for the last four weeks.  But all things must cometo a conclusion in this world.  Rachel Pringle is married,and the queen’s weary trial is brought to an end—uponthe subject and motion of the same, I offer no opinion, for Imade it a point never to read the evidence, being resolved tostand by the word from the first,which is clearly and plainly written in the queen’s favour,and it does not do in a case of conscience to stand on trifles;putting, therefore, out of consideration the fact libelled, andlooking both at the head and the tail of the proceeding, I was ofa firm persuasion, that all the sculduddery of the business mighthave been well spared from the eye of the public, which is ofitself sufficiently prone to keek and kook, in every possibleway, for a glimpse of a black story; and, therefore, I thought itmy duty to stand up in all places against the trafficking thatwas attempted with a divine institution.  And I think, whenmy people read how their prelatic enemies, the bishops (theheavens defend the poor Church of Scotland from being subjectedto the weight of their paws), have been visited with aconstipation of the understanding on that point, it must to thembe a great satisfaction to know how clear and collected theirminister was on this fundamental of society.  For it hasturned out, as I said to Mrs. Pringle, as well as others, itwould do, that a sense of grace and religion would be manifestedin some quarter before all was done, by which the devices for anunsanctified repudiation or divorce would be set at nought.

As often as I could, deeming it my duty as a minister of theword and gospel, I got into the House of Lords, and heard thetrial; and I cannot think how ever it was expected that justicecould be done yonder; for although no man could be more attentivethan I was, every time I came away I was more confounded thanwhen I went; and when the trial was done, it seemed to me just tobe clearing up for a proper beginning—all which is a proofthat there was a foul conspiracy.  Indeed, when I saw DukeHamilton’s daughter coming out of the coach with the queen,I never could think after, that a lady of her degree would havecountenanced the queen had the matter laid to her charge been asit was said.  Not but in any circumstance it behoved a ladyof that ancient and royal blood, to be seen beside the queen insuch a great historical case as a trial.

I hope, in the part I have taken, my people will be satisfied;but whether they are satisfied or not, my own conscience iscontent with me.  I was in the House of Lords when hermajesty came down for the last time, and saw her handed up thestairs by the usher of the black-rod, a little stumpy man,wonderful particular about the rules of the House, insomuch thathe was almost angry with me for stopping at the stair-head. The afflicted woman was then in great spirits, and I saw nosymptoms of the swelled legs that Lord Lauderdale, that jookingman, spoke about, for she skippit up the steps like alassie.  But my heart was wae for her when all was over, forshe came out like an astonished creature, with a wild steadfastlook, and a sort of something in the face that was as if therational spirit had fled away; and she went down to her coach asif she had submitted to be led to a doleful destiny.  Thenthe shouting of the people began, and I saw and shouted too inspite of my decorum, which I marvel at sometimes, thinking itcould be nothing less than an involuntary testification of thespirit within me.

Anent the marriage of Rachel Pringle, it may be needful in meto state, for the satisfaction of my people, that although bystress of law we were obligated to conform to the practice of theEpiscopalians, by taking out a bishop’s license, and goingto their church, and vowing, in a pagan fashion, before theiraltars, which are an abomination to the Lord; yet, when the youngfolk came home, I made them stand up, and be married again beforeme, according to all regular marriages in our nationalChurch.  For this I had two reasons: first, to satisfymyself that there had been a true and real marriage; and,secondly, to remove the doubt of the former ceremony beingsufficient; for marriage being of divine appointment, and theEnglish form and ritual being a thing established by Act ofParliament, which is of human ordination, I was not sure thatmarriage performed according to a human enactment could be afulfilment of a divine ordinance.  I therefore hope that mypeople will approve what I have done; and in order that there maybe a sympathising with me, you will go over to Banker M---y, andget what he will give you, as ordered by me, and distribute itamong the poorest of the parish, according to the best of yourdiscretion, my long absence having taken from me the power ofjudgment in a matter of this sort.  I wish indeed for theglad sympathy of my people, for I think that our Saviour turningwater into wine at the wedding, was an example set that we shouldrejoice and be merry at the fulfilment of one of the greatobligations imposed on us as social creatures; and I have everregarded the unhonoured treatment of a marriage occasion as athing of evil bodement, betokening heavy hearts and light pursesto the lot of the bride and bridegroom.  You will hear morefrom me by and by; in the meantime, all I can say is, that whenwe have taken our leave of the young folks, who are going toFrance, it is Mrs. Pringle’s intent, as well as mine, toturn our horses’ heads northward, and make our way withwhat speed we can, for our own quiet home, among you.  So nomore at present from your friend and pastor,

Z.Pringle.

Mrs. Tod, the mother of Miss Isabella, a respectable widowlady, who had quiescently joined the company, proposed that theyshould now drink health, happiness, and all manner of prosperity,to the young couple; and that nothing might be wanting to securethe favourable auspices of good omens to the toast, she desiredMiss Isabella to draw fresh bottles of white and red.  Whenall manner of felicity was duly wished in wine to the captain andhis lady, the party rose to seek their respective homes. But a bustle at the street-door occasioned a pause.  Mrs.Tod inquired the matter; and three or four voices at oncereplied, that an express had come from Garnock for Nanse Swaddlethe midwife, Mrs. Craig being taken with her pains. “Mr. Snodgrass,” said Mrs. Glibbans, instantly andemphatically, “ye maun let me go with you, and we canspiritualise on the road; for I hae promis’t Mrs. Craig tobe wi’ her at the crying, to see the upshot—so I hopeyou will come awa.”

It would be impossible in us to suppose, that Mr. Snodgrasshad any objections to spiritualise with Mrs. Glibbans on the roadbetween Irvine and Garnock; but, notwithstanding her urgency, heexcused himself from going with her; however, he recommended herto the special care and protection of Mr. Micklewham, who was atthat time on his legs to return home.  “Oh!  Mr.Snodgrass,” said the lady, looking slyly, as she adjustedher cloak, at him and Miss Isabella, “there will bemarrying and giving in marriage till the day ofjudgment.”  And with these oracular words she took herdeparture.

CHAPTER X—THE RETURN

On Friday, Miss Mally Glencairn received a brief note fromMrs. Pringle, informing her, that she and the Doctor would reachthe manse, “God willing,” in time for tea onSaturday; and begging her, therefore, to go over from Irvine, andsee that the house was in order for their reception.  Thisnote was written from Glasgow, where they had arrived, in theirown carriage, from Carlisle on the preceding day, afterencountering, as Mrs. Pringle said, “more hardships andextorshoning than all the dangers of the sea which they met within the smack of Leith that took them to London.”

As soon as Miss Mally received this intelligence, she went toMiss Isabella Tod, and requested her company for the next day toGarnock, where they arrived betimes to dine with Mr.Snodgrass.  Mrs. Glibbans and her daughter Becky were thenon a consolatory visit to Mr. Craig.  We mentioned in thelast chapter, that the crying of Mrs. Craig had come on; and thatMrs. Glibbans, according to promise, and with the most anxioussolicitude, had gone to wait the upshot.  The upshot wasmost melancholy,—Mrs. Craig was soon no more;—she wastaken, as Mrs. Glibbans observed on the occasion, from theearthly arms of her husband, to the spiritual bosom of Abraham,Isaac, and Jacob, which was far better.  But the babysurvived; so that, what with getting a nurse, and the burial, andall the work and handling that a birth and death in one house atthe same time causes, Mr. Craig declared, that he could not dowithout Mrs. Glibbans; and she, with all that Christianity bywhich she was so zealously distinguished, sent for Miss Becky,and took up her abode with him till it would please Him, withoutwhom there is no comfort, to wipe the eyes of the piouselder.  In a word, she staid so long, that a rumour began tospread that Mr. Craig would need a wife to look after his bairn;and that Mrs. Glibbans was destined to supply thedesideratum.

Mr. Snodgrass, after enjoying his dinner society with MissMally and Miss Isabella, thought it necessary to dispatch acourier, in the shape of a barefooted servant lass, to Mr.Micklewham, to inform the elders that the Doctor was expectedhome in time for tea, leaving it to their discretion either togreet his safe return at the manse, or in any other form ormanner that would be most agreeable to themselves.  Theseimportant news were soon diffused through the clachan.  Mr.Micklewham dismissed his school an hour before the wonted time,and there was a universal interest and curiosity excited, to seethe Doctor coming home in his own coach.  All the boys ofGarnock assembled at the braehead which commands an extensiveview of the Kilmarnock road, the only one from Glasgow that runsthrough the parish; the wives with their sucklings were seated onthe large stones at their respective door-cheeks; while theircats were calmly reclining on the window soles.  The lassieweans, like clustering bees, were mounted on the carts that stoodbefore Thomas Birlpenny the vintner’s door, churming withanticipated delight; the old men took their stations on the dikethat incloses the side of the vintner’s kail-yard, and“a batch of wabster lads,” with green aprons and thinyellow faces, planted themselves at the gable of the malt kiln,where they were wont, when trade was better, to play at thehand-ball; but, poor fellows, since the trade fell off, they havehad no heart for the game, and the vintner’s half-mutchkinstoups glitter in empty splendour unrequired on the shelf belowthe brazen sconce above the bracepiece, amidst the idle pewterpepper-boxes, the bright copper tea-kettle, the coffee-pot thathas never been in use, and lids of saucepans that have survivedtheir principals,—the wonted ornaments of every trigchange-house kitchen.

The season was far advanced; but the sun shone at his settingwith a glorious composure, and the birds in the hedges and on theboughs were again gladdened into song.  The leaves hadfallen thickly, and the stubble-fields were bare, but Autumn, ina many-coloured tartan plaid, was seen still walking withmatronly composure in the woodlands, along the brow of theneighbouring hills.

About half-past four o’clock, a movement was seen amongthe callans at the braehead, and a shout announced that acarriage was in sight.  It was answered by a murmuringresponse of satisfaction from the whole village.  In thecourse of a few minutes the carriage reached theturnpike—it was of the darkest green and the gravestfashion,—a large trunk, covered with Russian matting, andfastened on with cords, prevented from chafing it by knots ofstraw rope, occupied the front,—behind, other two werefixed in the same manner, the lesser of course uppermost; anddeep beyond a pile of light bundles and bandboxes, that occupieda large portion of the interior, the blithe faces of the Doctorand Mrs. Pringle were discovered.  The boys huzzaed, theDoctor flung them penny-pieces, and the mistress baubees.

As the carriage drove along, the old men on the dike stood upand reverently took off their hats and bonnets.  The weaverlads gazed with a melancholy smile; the lassies on the cartsclapped their hands with joy; the women on both sides of thestreet acknowledged the recognising nods; while all the villagedogs, surprised by the sound of chariot wheels, came baying andbarking forth, and sent off the cats that were so doucely sittingon the window soles, clambering and scampering over the roofs interror of their lives.

When the carriage reached the manse door, Mr. Snodgrass, thetwo ladies, with Mr. Micklewham, and all the elders except Mr.Craig, were there ready to receive the travellers.  But overthis joy of welcoming we must draw a veil; for the first thingthat the Doctor did, on entering the parlour and before sittingdown, was to return thanks for his safe restoration to his homeand people.

The carriage was then unloaded, and as package, bale, box, andbundle were successively brought in, Miss Mally Glencairnexpressed her admiration at the great capacity of thechaise.  “Ay,” said Mrs. Pringle, “but youknow not what we have suffert for’t in coming through amongthe English taverns on the road; some of them would not take usforward when there was a hill to pass, unless we would take fourhorses, and every one after another reviled us for having nomercy in loading the carriage like a waggon,—and then thedrivers were so gleg and impudent, that it was worse thanmartyrdom to come with them.  Had the Doctor taken myadvice, he would have brought our own civil London coachman, whomwe hired with his own horses by the job; but he said it behovedus to gi’e our ain fish guts to our ain sea-maws, and thathe designed to fee Thomas Birlpenny’s hostler for ourcoachman, being a lad of the parish.  This obliged us topost it from London; but, oh! Miss Mally, what an outlay it hasbeen!”

The Doctor, in the meantime, had entered into conversationwith the gentlemen, and was inquiring, in the most particularmanner, respecting all his parishioners, and expressing hissurprise that Mr. Craig had not been at the manse with the restof the elders.  “It does not look well,” saidthe Doctor.  Mr. Daff, however, offered the best apology forhis absence that could be made.  “He has had a gentledispensation, sir—Mrs. Craig has won awa’ out of thissinful world, poor woman, she had a large experience o’t;but the bairns to the fore, and Mrs. Glibbans, that has such acast of grace, has ta’en charge of the house since beforethe interment.  It’s thought, considering what’sby gane, Mr. Craig may do waur than make her mistress, and Ihope, sir, your exhortation will no be wanting to egg the honestman to think o’t seriously.”

Mr. Snodgrass, before delivering the household keys, orderedtwo bottles of wine, with glasses and biscuit, to be set upon thetable, while Mrs. Pringle produced from a paper package, that hadhelped to stuff one of the pockets of the carriage, a piece ofrich plum-cake, brought all the way from a confectioner’sin Cockspur Street, London, not only for the purpose of beingeaten, but, as she said, to let Miss Nanny Eydent pree, in orderto direct the Irvine bakers how to bake others like it.

Tea was then brought in; and, as it was making, the Doctortalked aside to the elders, while Mrs. Pringle recounted to MissMally and Miss Isabella the different incidents of her adventuressubsequent to the marriage of Miss Rachel.

“The young folk,” said she, “having gone toBrighton, we followed them in a few days, for we were told it wasa curiosity, and that the king has a palace there, just awarld’s wonder! and, truly, Miss Mally, it is certainly notlike a house for a creature of this world, but for some GrandTurk or Chinaman.  The Doctor said, it put him in mind ofMiss Jenny Macbride’s sideboard in the Stockwell ofGlasgow; where all the pepper-boxes, poories, and teapots,punch-bowls, and china-candlesticks of her progenitors are setout for a show, that tells her visitors, they are but seldom putto use.  As for the town of Brighton, it’s what Iwould call a gawky piece of London.  I could see nothing init but a wheen idlers, hearing twa lads, at night, crying,“Five, six, seven for a shilling,” in thebooksellers’ shops, with a play-actor lady singing in acorner, because her voice would not do for the players’stage.  Therefore, having seen the Captain and Mrs. Sabreoff to France, we came home to London; but it’s not to betold what we had to pay at the hotel where we staid inBrighton.  Howsomever, having come back to London, wesettled our counts,—and, buying a few necessars, weprepared for Scotland,—and here we are.  Buttravelling has surely a fine effect in enlarging theunderstanding; for both the Doctor and me thought, as we camealong, that everything had a smaller and poorer look than when wewent away; and I dinna think this room is just what it used tobe.  What think ye o’t, Miss Isabella?  How wouldye like to spend your days in’t?”

Miss Isabella reddened at this question; but Mrs. Pringle, whowas as prudent as she was observant, affecting not to noticethis, turned round to Miss Mally Glencairn, and said softly inher ear,—“Rachel was Bell’s confidante, and hastold us all about what’s going on between her and Mr.Snodgrass.  We have agreed no to stand in their way, as soonas the Doctor can get a mailing or two to secure his moneyupon.”

Meantime, the Doctor received from the elders a verysatisfactory account of all that had happened among his people,both in and out of the Session, during his absence; and he wasvastly pleased to find there had been no inordinate increase ofwickedness; at the same time, he was grieved for the condition inwhich the poor weavers still continued, saying, that among otherthings of which he had been of late meditating, was the settingup of a lending bank in the parish for the labouring classes,where, when they were out of work, “bits of loans for ahouse-rent, or a brat of claes, or sic like, might be granted, tobe repaid when trade grew better, and thereby take away theobjection that an honest pride had to receiving help from theSession.”

Then some lighter general conversation ensued, in which theDoctor gave his worthy counsellors a very jocose description ofmany of the lesser sort of adventures which he had met with; andthe ladies having retired to inspect the great bargains that Mrs.Pringle had got, and the splendid additions she had made to herwardrobe, out of what she denominated the dividends of thepresent portion of the legacy, the Doctor ordered in the secondbiggest toddy-bowl, the guardevine with the old rum, and told thelassie to see if the tea-kettle was still boiling. “Ye maun drink our welcome hame,” said he to theelders; “it would nae otherwise be canny.  ButI’m sorry Mr. Craig has nae come.”  At thesewords the door opened, and the absent elder entered, with a longface and a deep sigh.  “Ha!” cried Mr. Daff,“this is very droll.  Speak of the Evil One, andhe’ll appear”;—which words dinted on the heartof Mr. Craig, who thought his marriage in December had been thesubject of their discourse.  The Doctor, however, went upand shook him cordially by the hand, and said, “Now I takethis very kind, Mr. Craig; for I could not have expected you,considering ye have got, as I am told, your jo in thehouse”; at which words the Doctor winked paukily to Mr.Daff, who rubbed his hands with fainness, and gave agood-humoured sort of keckling laugh.  This facetious strokeof policy was a great relief to the afflicted elder, for he sawby it that the Doctor did not mean to trouble him with anyinquiries respecting his deceased wife; and, in consequence, heput on a blither face, and really affected to have forgotten heralready more than he had done in sincerity.

Thus the night passed in decent temperance and a happydecorum; insomuch, that the elders when they went away, either bythe influence of the toddy-bowl, or the Doctor’s funnystories about the Englishers, declared that he was an excellentman, and, being none lifted up, was worthy of his richlegacy.

At supper, the party, besides the minister and Mrs. Pringle,consisted of the two Irvine ladies, and Mr. Snodgrass.  MissBecky Glibbans came in when it was about half over, to expressher mother’s sorrow at not being able to call that night,“Mr. Craig’s bairn having taken an illturn.”  The truth, however, was, that the worthy elderhad been rendered somewhat tozy by the minister’s toddy,and wanted an opportunity to inform the old lady of the joke thathad been played upon him by the Doctor calling her his jo, and tosee how she would relish it.  So by a little address MissBecky was sent out of the way, with the excuse we have noticed;at the same time, as the night was rather sharp, it is not to besupposed that she would have been the bearer of any such message,had her own curiosity not enticed her.

During supper the conversation was very lively.  Many“pickant jokes,” as Miss Becky described them, werecracked by the Doctor; but, soon after the table was cleared, hetouched Mr. Snodgrass on the arm, and, taking up one of thecandles, went with him to his study, where he then told him, thatRachel Pringle, now Mrs. Sabre, had informed him of a way inwhich he could do him a service.  “I understand,sir,” said the Doctor, “that you have a notion ofMiss Bell Tod, but that until ye get a kirk there can be nomarriage.  But the auld horse may die waiting for the newgrass; and, therefore, as the Lord has put it in my power to do agood action both to you and my people,—whom I am glad tohear you have pleased so well,—if it can be brought aboutthat you could be made helper and successor, I’ll no objectto give up to you the whole stipend, and, by and by, maybe themanse to the bargain.  But that is if you marry Miss Bell;for it was a promise that Rachel gar’t me make to her onher wedding morning.  Ye know she was a forcasting lassie,and, I have reason to believe, has said nothing anent this toMiss Bell herself; so that if you have no partiality for MissBell, things will just rest on their own footing; but if you havea notion, it must be a satisfaction to you to know this, as itwill be a pleasure to me to carry it as soon as possible intoeffect.”

Mr. Snodgrass was a good deal agitated; he was taken bysurprise, and without words the Doctor might have guessed hissentiments; he, however, frankly confessed that he did entertaina very high opinion of Miss Bell, but that he was not sure if acountry parish would exactly suit him.  “Never mindthat,” said the Doctor; “if it does not fit at first,you will get used to it; and if a better casts up, it will be noobstacle.”

The two gentlemen then rejoined the ladies, and, after a shortconversation, Miss Becky Glibbans was admonished to depart, bythe servants bringing in the Bibles for the worship of theevening.  This was usually performed before supper, but,owing to the bowl being on the table, and the company jocose, ithad been postponed till all the guests who were not to sleep inthe house had departed.

The Sunday morning was fine and bright for the season; thehoarfrost, till about an hour after sunrise, lay white on thegrass and tombstones in the churchyard; but before the bell rungfor the congregation to assemble, it was exhaled away, and afreshness, that was only known to be autumnal by the fallen andyellow leaves that strewed the church-way path from the ash andplane trees in the avenue, encouraged the spirits to sympathisewith the universal cheerfulness of all nature.

The return of the Doctor had been bruited through the parishwith so much expedition, that, when the bell rung for publicworship, none of those who were in the practice of stopping inthe churchyard to talk about the weather were so ignorant as notto have heard of this important fact.  In consequence,before the time at which the Doctor was wont to come from theback-gate which opened from the manse-garden into the churchyard,a great majority of his people were assembled to receive him.

At the last jingle of the bell, the back-gate was usuallyopened, and the Doctor was wont to come forth as punctually as acuckoo of a clock at the striking of the hour; but a deviationwas observed on this occasion.  Formerly, Mrs. Pringle andthe rest of the family came first, and a few minutes were allowedto elapse before the Doctor, laden with grace, made hisappearance.  But at this time, either because it had beensettled that Mr. Snodgrass was to officiate, or for some otherreason, there was a breach in the observance of thistime-honoured custom.

As the ringing of the bell ceased, the gate unclosed, and theDoctor came forth.  He was of that easy sort of feather-bedcorpulency of form that betokens good-nature, and had none ofthat smooth, red, well-filled protuberancy, which indicates acholeric humour and a testy temper.  He was in fact whatMrs. Glibbans denominated “a man of a gausyexternal.”  And some little change had taken placeduring his absence in his visible equipage.  His stockings,which were wont to be of worsted, had undergone a translationinto silk; his waist-coat, instead—of the venerablePresbyterian flap-covers to the pockets, which were of Johnsonianmagnitude, was become plain—his coat in all timessingle-breasted, with no collar, still, however, maintained itsancient characteristics; instead, however, of the former brightblack cast horn, the buttons were covered with cloth.  Butthe chief alteration was discernible in the furniture of thehead.  He had exchanged the simplicity of his ownrespectable grey hairs for the cauliflower hoariness of a Parrish [3] wig, on which he worea broad-brimmed hat, turned up a little at each side behind, in aportentous manner, indicatory of Episcopalianpredilections.  This, however, was not justified by anyalteration in his principles, being merely an innocent variationof fashion, the natural result of a Doctor of Divinity buying ahat and wig in London.

The moment that the Doctor made his appearance, his greetingand salutation was quite delightful; it was that of a fatherreturned to his children, and a king to his people.

Almost immediately after the Doctor, Mrs. Pringle, followed byMiss Mally Glencairn and Miss Isabella Tod, also debouched fromthe gate, and the assembled females remarked, with no lessinstinct, the transmutation which she had undergone.  Shewas dressed in a dark blue cloth pelisse, trimmed with a dyedfur, which, as she told Miss Mally, “looked quite as wellas sable, without costing a third of the money.”  Amost matronly muff, that, without being of sable, was of anexcellent quality, contained her hands; and a very large Leghornstraw bonnet, decorated richly, but far from excess, with a mostsubstantial band and bow of a broad crimson satin ribbon aroundher head.

If the Doctor was gratified to see his people so gladlythronging around him, Mrs. Pringle had no less pleasure also inher thrice-welcome reception.  It was an understood thing,that she had been mainly instrumental in enabling the minister toget his great Indian legacy; and in whatever estimation she mayhave been previously held for her economy and management, she wasnow looked up to as a personage skilled in the law, andparticularly versed in testamentary erudition.  Accordingly,in the customary testimonials of homage with which she wassaluted in her passage to the church door, there was evidently asentiment of veneration mingled, such as had never been evincedbefore, and which was neither unobserved nor unappreciated bythat acute and perspicacious lady.

The Doctor himself did not preach, but sat in theminister’s pew till Mr. Snodgrass had concluded an eloquentand truly an affecting sermon; at the end of which, the Doctorrose and went up into the pulpit, where he publicly returnedthanks for the favours and blessings he had obtained during hisabsence, and for the safety in which he had been restored, aftermany dangers and tribulations, to the affections of hisparishioners.

Such were the principal circumstances that marked the returnof the family.  In the course of the week after, the estateof Moneypennies being for sale, it was bought for the Doctor as agreat bargain.  It was not, however, on account of theadvantageous nature of the purchase that our friend valued thisacquisition, but entirely because it was situated in his ownparish, and part of the lands marching with the Glebe.

The previous owner of Moneypennies had built an elegant houseon the estate, to which Mrs. Pringle is at present activelypreparing to remove from the manse; and it is understood, that,as Mr. Snodgrass was last week declared helper, and successor tothe Doctor, his marriage with Miss Isabella Tod will take placewith all convenient expedition.  There is also reason tobelieve, that, as soon as decorum will permit, any scruple whichMrs. Glibbans had to a second marriage is now removed, and thatshe will soon again grace the happy circle of wives by the nameof Mrs. Craig.  Indeed, we are assured that Miss NannyEydent is actually at this time employed in making up her weddinggarments; for, last week, that worthy and respectable youngperson was known to have visited Bailie Delap’s shop, at avery early hour in the morning, and to have priced many things ofa bridal character, besides getting swatches; after which she wasseen to go to Mrs. Glibbans’s house, where she remained avery considerable time, and to return straight therefrom to theshop, and purchase divers of the articles which she had pricedand inspected; all of which constitute sufficient grounds for thegeneral opinion in Irvine, that the union of Mr. Craig with Mrs.Glibbans is a happy event drawing near to consummation.

Footnotes

[1]  The administration of theSacrament.

[2]  The honest Doctor’s versionof this bon motof her majesty is not quite correct; herexpression was, “I mean to take a chop at the King’sHead when I get to London.”

[3]  See the Edinburgh Review,for an account of our old friend, Dr. Parr’s wig, andSpital Sermon.

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