The Ayrshire Legatees; Or, The Pringle Family

Transcribed from the 1895 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email

ccx074@.org

The Ayrshire Legatees

CHAPTER I--THE DEPARTURE

On New Year's day Dr. Pringle received a letter from India, informing him

that his cousin, Colonel Armour, had died at Hydrabad, and left him his

residuary legatee. The same post brought other letters on the same

subject from the agent of the deceased in London, by which it was evident

to the whole family that no time should be lost in looking after their

interests in the hands of such brief and abrupt correspondents. "To say

the least of it," as the Doctor himself sedately remarked, "considering

the greatness of the forth-coming property, Messieurs Richard Argent and

Company, of New Broad Street, might have given a notion as to the

particulars of the residue." It was therefore determined that, as soon

as the requisite arrangements could be made, the Doctor and Mrs. Pringle

should set out for the metropolis, to obtain a speedy settlement with the

agents, and, as Rachel had now, to use an expression of her mother's, "a

prospect before her," that she also should accompany them: Andrew, who

had just been called to the Bar, and who had come to the manse to spend a

few days after attaining that distinction, modestly suggested, that,

considering the various professional points which might be involved in

the objects of his father's journey, and considering also the retired

life which his father had led in the rural village of Garnock, it might

be of importance to have the advantage of legal advice.

Mrs. Pringle interrupted this harangue, by saying, "We see what you would

be at, Andrew; ye're just wanting to come with us, and on this occasion

I'm no for making step-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 much beloved by his parishioners.

Some of the pawkie among them used indeed to say, in answer to the godly

of Kilmarnock, and other admirers of the late great John Russel, of that

formerly orthodox town, by whom Dr. Pringle's powers as a preacher were

held in no particular estimation,--"He kens our pu'pit's frail, and

spar'st to save outlay to the heritors." As for Mrs. Pringle, there is

not such another minister's wife, both for economy and management, within

the jurisdiction of the Synod of Glasgow and Ayr, and to this fact the

following letter to Miss Mally Glencairn, a maiden lady residing in the

Kirkgate of Irvine, a street that has been likened unto the Kingdom of

Heaven, where there is neither marriage nor giving in marriage, will

abundantly testify.

LETTER I

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

GARNOCK MANSE.

DEAR MISS MALLY--The Doctor has had extraordinar news from India and

London, where we are all going, as soon as me and Rachel can get

ourselves in order, so I beg you will go to Bailie Delap's shop, and get

swatches of his best black bombaseen, and crape, and muslin, and bring

them over to the manse the morn's morning. If you cannot come yourself,

and the day should be wat, send Nanny Eydent, the mantua-maker, with

them; you'll be sure to send Nanny, onyhow, and I requeesht that, on this

okasion, ye'll get the very best the Bailie has, and I'll tell you all

about it when you come. You will get, likewise, swatches of mourning

print, with the lowest prices. I'll no be so particular about them, as

they are for the servan lasses, and there's no need, for all the

greatness of God's gifts, that we should be wasterful. Let Mrs. Glibbans

know, that the Doctor's second cousin, the colonel, that was in the East

Indies, is no more;--I am sure she will sympatheese with our loss on this

melancholy okasion. Tell her, as I'll no be out till our mournings are

made, I would take it kind if she would come over and eate a bit of

dinner on Sunday. The Doctor will no preach himself, but there's to be

an excellent young man, an acquaintance of Andrew's, that has the repute

of being both sound and hellaquaint. But no more at present, and looking

for you and Nanny Eydent, with the swatches,--I am, dear Miss Mally, your

sinsare friend,

JANET PRINGLE.

The Doctor being of opinion that, until they had something in hand from

the legacy, they should walk in the paths of moderation, it was resolved

to proceed by the coach from Irvine to Greenock, there embark in a

steam-boat for Glasgow, and, crossing the country to Edinburgh, take

their passage at Leith in one of the smacks for London. But we must let

the parties speak for themselves.

LETTER II

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

GREENOCK.

MY DEAR ISABELLA--I know not why the dejection with which I parted from

you still hangs upon my heart, and grows heavier as I am drawn farther

and farther away. The uncertainty of the future--the dangers of the

sea--all combine to sadden my too sensitive spirit. Still, however, I

will exert myself, and try to give 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 of Garnock--the weather was cold, bleak,

and boisterous, and the waves came rolling in majestic fury towards the

shore, when we arrived at the Tontine Inn of Ardrossan. What a monument

has the late Earl of Eglinton left there of his public spirit! It should

embalm his memory in the hearts of future ages, as I doubt not but in

time Ardrossan will become a grand emporium; but the people of Saltcoats,

a sordid race, complain that it will be their ruin; and the Paisley

subscribers to his lordship'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 in every form of grandeur

on the lofty peaks of Arran. The view on the right hand is limited to

the foot of a range of abrupt mean hills, and on the left it meets the

sea--as we were obliged to keep the glasses up, our drive for several

miles was objectless and dreary. When we had ascended a hill, leaving

Kilbride on the left, we passed under the walls of an ancient tower.

What delightful ideas are associated with the sight of such venerable

remains of antiquity!

Leaving that lofty relic of our warlike ancestors, we descended again

towards the shore. On the one side lay the Cumbra Islands, and Bute,

dear to departed royalty. Afar beyond them, in the hoary magnificence of

nature, rise the mountains of Argyllshire; the cairns, as my brother

says, of a former world. On the other side of the road, we saw the

cloistered ruins of the religious house of Southenan, a nunnery in those

days of romantic adventure, when to live was to enjoy a poetical element.

In such a sweet sequestered retreat, how much 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 hours in innocence, than for me to be thus torn from

you by fate, and all on account of that mercenary legacy, perchance the

spoils of some unfortunate Hindoo Rajah!

At Largs we halted to change horses, and saw the barrows of those who

fell in the great battle. We then continued our journey along the foot

of stupendous precipices; and high, sublime, and darkened with the shadow

of antiquity, we saw, upon its lofty station, the ancient Castle of

Skelmorlie, where the Montgomeries of other days held their gorgeous

banquets, and that brave knight who fell at Chevy-Chace came pricking

forth on his milk-white steed, as Sir Walter Scott would have described

him. But the age of chivalry is past, and the glory of Europe departed

for ever!

When we crossed the stream that divides the counties of Ayr and Renfrew,

we beheld, in all the apart and consequentiality of pride, the house of

Kelly overlooking the social villas of Wemyss Bay. My brother compared

it to a sugar hogshead, and them to cotton-bags; for the lofty thane of

Kelly is but a West India planter, and the inhabitants of the villas on

the shore are Glasgow manufacturers.

To this succeeded a dull drive of about two miles, and then at once we

entered the pretty village of Inverkip. A slight snow-shower had given

to the landscape a sort of copperplate effect, but still the forms of

things, though but sketched, as it were, with China ink, were calculated

to produce interesting impressions. After ascending, by a gentle

acclivity, into a picturesque and romantic pass, we entered a spacious

valley, and, in the course of little more than half an hour, reached this

town; the largest, the most populous, and the most superb that I have yet

seen. But what are all its warehouses, ships, and smell of tar, and

other odoriferous circumstances of fishery and the sea, compared with the

green swelling hills, the fragrant bean-fields, and the peaceful groves

of my native Garnock!

The people of this town are a very busy and clever race, but much given

to litigation. My brother says, that they are the greatest benefactors

to the Outer House, and that their lawsuits are the most amusing and

profitable before the courts, being less for the purpose of determining

what is right than what is lawful. The chambermaid of the inn where we

lodge pointed out to me, on the opposite side of the street, a

magnificent edifice erected for balls; but the subscribers have resolved

not to allow any dancing till it is determined by the Court of Session to

whom the seats and chairs belong, as they were brought from another house

where the assemblies were formerly held. I have heard a lawsuit compared

to a country-dance, in which, after a great bustle and regular confusion,

the parties stand still, all tired, just on the spot where they began;

but this is the first time that the judges of the land have been called

on to decide when a dance may begin.

We arrived too late for the steam-boat, and are obliged to wait 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 that I have seen are perfect frights.

Such of the gentlemen as I have observed passing the windows of the inn

may do, but I declare the ladies have nothing of which any woman ought to

be proud. Had we known that we ran a risk of not getting a steam-boat,

my mother would have provided an introductory letter or two from some of

her Irvine friends; but here we are almost entire strangers: my father,

however, is acquainted with one of the magistrates, and has gone to see

him. I hope he will be civil enough to ask us to his house, for an inn

is a shocking place to live in, and my mother is terrified at the

expense. My brother, however, has great confidence in our prospects, and

orders and directs with a high hand. But my paper is full, and I am

compelled to conclude with scarcely room to say how affectionately I am

yours,

RACHEL PRINGLE.

LETTER III

_The Rev. Dr. Pringle to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk_, _Garnock_

EDINBURGH.

DEAR SIR--We have got this length through many difficulties, both in the

travel by land to, and by sea and land from Greenock, where we were

obligated, by reason of no conveyance, to stop the Sabbath, but not

without edification; for we went to hear Dr. Drystour in the forenoon,

who had a most weighty sermon on the tenth chapter of Nehemiah. He is

surely a great orthodox divine, but rather costive in his delivery. In

the afternoon we heard a correct 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 had much

pleasant communion together, although the bringing in of the toddy-bowl

after supper is a fashion that has a tendency to lengthen the sederunt to

unseasonable hours.

On the following morning, by the break of day, we took shipping in the

steam-boat for Glasgow. I had misgivings about the engine, which is

really a thing of great docility; but saving my concern for the boiler,

we all found the place surprising comfortable. The day was bleak and

cold; but we had a good fire in a carron grate in the middle of the

floor, and books to read, so that both body and mind are therein provided

for.

Among the books, I fell in with a _History of the Rebellion_, anent the

hand that an English gentleman of the name of Waverley had in it. I was

grieved that I had not time to read it through, for it was wonderful

interesting, and far more particular, in many points, than any other

account of that affair I have yet met with; but it's no so friendly to

Protestant principles as I could have wished. However, if I get my

legacy well settled, I will buy the book, and lend it to you on my

return, please God, to the manse.

We were put on shore at Glasgow by breakfast-time, and there we tarried

all day, as I had a power of attorney to get from Miss Jenny Macbride, my

cousin, to whom the colonel left the thousand pound legacy. Miss Jenny

thought the legacy should have been more, and made some obstacle to

signing the power; but both her lawyer and Andrew Pringle, my son,

convinced her, that, as it was specified in the testament, she could not

help it by standing out; so at long and last Miss Jenny was persuaded to

put her name to the paper.

Next day we all four got into a fly coach, and, without damage or

detriment, reached this city in good time for dinner in Macgregor's

hotel, a remarkable decent inn, next door to one Mr. Blackwood, a civil

and discreet man in the bookselling line.

Really the changes in Edinburgh since I was here, thirty years ago, are

not to be told. I am confounded; for although I have both heard and read

of the New Town in the _Edinburgh Advertiser_, and the _Scots Magazine_,

I had no notion of what has come to pass. It's surprising to think

wherein the decay of the nation is; for at Greenock I saw nothing but

shipping and building; at Glasgow, streets spreading as if they were one

of the branches of cotton-spinning; and here, the houses grown up as if

they were sown in the seed-time with the corn, by a drill-machine, or

dibbled in rigs and furrows like beans and potatoes.

To-morrow, God willing, we embark in a smack at Leith, so that you will

not hear from me again till it please Him to take us in the hollow of His

hand to London. In the meantime, I have only to add, that, when the

Session meets, I wish you would speak to the elders, particularly to Mr.

Craig, no to be overly hard on that poor donsie thing, Meg Milliken,

about her bairn; and tell Tam Glen, the father o't, from me, that it

would have been a sore heart to that pious woman, his mother, had she

been living, to have witnessed such a thing; and therefore I hope and

trust, he will yet confess a fault, and own Meg for his wife, though she

is but something of a tawpie. However, you need not diminish her to Tam.

I hope Mr. Snodgrass will give as much satisfaction to the parish as can

reasonably be expected in my absence; and I remain, dear sir, your friend

and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

Mr. Micklewham received the Doctor's letter about an hour before the

Session met on the case of Tam Glen and Meg Milliken, and took it with

him to the session-house, to read it to the elders before going into the

investigation. Such a long and particular letter from the Doctor was, as

they all justly remarked, kind and dutiful to his people, and a great

pleasure to them.

Mr. Daff observed, "Truly the Doctor's a vera funny man, and wonderfu'

jocose about the toddy-bowl." But Mr. Craig said, that "sic a thing on

the Lord's night gi'es me no pleasure; and I am for setting my face

against Waverley's _History of the Rebellion_, whilk I hae heard spoken

of among the ungodly, both at Kilwinning and Dalry; and if it has no

respect to Protestant principles, I doubt it's but another dose o' the

radical poison in a new guise." Mr. Icenor, however, thought that "the

observe on the great Doctor Drystour was very edifying; and that they

should see about getting him to help at the summer Occasion." {1}

While they were thus reviewing, in their way, the first epistle of the

Doctor, the betherel came in to say that Meg and Tam were at the door.

"Oh, man," said Mr. Daff, slyly, "ye shouldna hae left them at the door

by themselves." Mr. Craig looked at him austerely, and muttered

something about the growing immorality of this backsliding age; but

before the smoke of his indignation had kindled into eloquence, the

delinquents were admitted. However, as we have nothing to do with the

business, we shall leave them to their own deliberations.

CHAPTER II--THE VOYAGE

On the fourteenth day after the departure of the family from the manse,

the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass, who was appointed to officiate during the

absence of the Doctor, received the following letter from his old chum,

Mr. Andrew Pringle. It would appear that the young advocate is not so

solid in the head as some of his elder brethren at the Bar; and therefore

many of his flights and observations must be taken with an allowance on

the score of his youth.

LETTER IV

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _Advocate_, _to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass_

LONDON.

MY DEAR FRIEND--We have at last 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 air as we have

endured, a balloon must be a far better vehicle than all the vessels that

have been constructed for passengers since the time of Noah. In the

first place, the waves of the atmosphere cannot be so dangerous as those

of the ocean, being but "thin air"; and I am sure they are not so

disagreeable; then the speed of the balloon is so much greater,--and it

would puzzle Professor Leslie to demonstrate that its motions are more

unsteady; besides, who ever heard of sea-sickness in a balloon? the

consideration of which alone would, to any reasonable person actually

suffering under the pains of that calamity, be deemed more than an

equivalent for all the little fractional difference of danger between the

two modes of travelling. I shall henceforth regard it as a fine

characteristic trait of our national prudence, that, in their journies to

France and Flanders, the Scottish witches always went by air on

broom-sticks and benweeds, instead of venturing by water in sieves, like

those of England. But the English are under the influence of a maritime

genius.

When we had got as far up the Thames as Gravesend, the wind and tide came

against us, so that the vessel was obliged to anchor, and I availed

myself of the circumstance, to induce the family to disembark and go to

London by LAND; and I esteem it a fortunate circumstance that we did so,

the day, for the season, being uncommonly fine. After we had taken some

refreshment, I procured places in a stage-coach for my mother and sister,

and, with the Doctor, mounted myself on the outside. My father's

old-fashioned notions boggled a little at first to this arrangement,

which he thought somewhat derogatory to his ministerial dignity; but his

scruples were in the end overruled.

The country in this season is, of course, seen to disadvantage, but still

it exhibits beauty enough to convince us what England must be when in

leaf. The old gentleman's admiration of the increasing signs of what he

called civilisation, as we approached London, became quite eloquent; but

the first view of the city from Blackheath (which, by the bye, is a fine

common, surrounded with villas and handsome houses) overpowered his

faculties, and I shall never forget the impression it made on myself.

The sun was declined towards the horizon; vast masses of dark low-hung

clouds were mingled with the smoky canopy, and the dome of St. Paul's,

like the enormous idol of some terrible deity, throned amidst the smoke

of sacrifices and magnificence, darkness, and mystery, presented

altogether an object of vast sublimity. I felt touched with reverence,

as if I was indeed approaching the city of THE HUMAN POWERS.

The distant view of Edinburgh is picturesque and romantic, but it affects

a lower class of our associations. It is, compared to that of London,

what the poem of the _Seasons_ is with respect to _Paradise Lost_--the

castellated descriptions of Walter Scott to the _Darkness_ of Byron--the

_Sabbath_ of Grahame to the _Robbers_ of Schiller. In the approach to

Edinburgh, leisure and cheerfulness are on the road; large spaces of

rural and pastoral nature are spread openly around, and mountains, and

seas, and headlands, and vessels passing beyond them, going like those

that die, we know not whither, while the sun is bright on their sails,

and hope with them; but, in coming to this Babylon, there is an eager

haste and a hurrying on from all quarters, towards that stupendous pile

of gloom, through which no eye can penetrate; an unceasing sound, like

the enginery of an earthquake at work, rolls from the heart of that

profound and indefinable obscurity--sometimes a faint and yellow beam of

the sun strikes here and there on the vast expanse of edifices; and

churches, and holy asylums, are dimly seen lifting up their countless

steeples and spires, like so many lightning rods to avert the wrath of

Heaven.

The entrance to Edinburgh also awakens feelings of a more pleasing

character. The rugged veteran aspect of the Old Town is agreeably

contrasted with the bright smooth forehead of the New, and there is not

such an overwhelming torrent of animal life, as to make you pause before

venturing to stem it; the noises are not so deafening, and the occasional

sound of a ballad-singer, or a Highland piper, varies and enriches the

discords; but here, a multitudinous assemblage of harsh alarms, of

selfish contentions, and of furious carriages, driven by a fierce and

insolent race, shatter the very hearing, till you partake of the activity

with which all seem as much possessed as if a general apprehension

prevailed, that the great clock of Time would strike the doom-hour before

their tasks were done. But I must stop, for the postman with his bell,

like the betherel of some ancient "borough's town" summoning to a burial,

is in the street, and warns me to conclude.--Yours,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

LETTER V

_The Rev. Dr. Pringle to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk_, _Garnock_

LONDON, 49 NORFOLK STREET, STRAND.

DEAR SIR--On the first Sunday forthcoming after the receiving hereof, you

will not fail to recollect in the remembering prayer, that we return

thanks for our safe arrival in London, after a dangerous voyage. Well,

indeed, is it ordained that we should pray for those who go down to the

sea in ships, and do business on the great deep; for what me and mine

have come through is unspeakable, and the hand of Providence was visibly

manifested.

On the day of our embarkation at Leith, a fair wind took us onward at a

blithe rate for some time; but in the course of that night the bridle of

the tempest was slackened, and the curb of the billows loosened, and the

ship reeled to and fro like a drunken man, and no one could stand

therein. My wife and daughter lay at the point of death; Andrew Pringle,

my son, also was prostrated with the grievous affliction; and the very

soul within me was as if it would have been cast out of the body.

On the following day the storm abated, and the wind blew favourable; but

towards the heel of the evening it again came vehement, and there was no

help unto our distress. About midnight, however, it pleased HIM, whose

breath is the tempest, to be more sparing with the whip of His

displeasure on our poor bark, as she hirpled on in her toilsome journey

through the waters; and I was enabled, through His strength, to lift my

head from the pillow of sickness, and ascend the deck, where I thought of

Noah looking out of the window in the ark, upon the face of the desolate

flood, and of Peter walking on the sea; and I said to myself, it matters

not where we are, for we can be in no place where Jehovah is not there

likewise, whether it be on the waves of the ocean, or the mountain tops,

or in the valley and shadow of death.

The third day the wind came contrary, and in the fourth, and the fifth,

and the sixth, we were also sorely buffeted; but on the night of the

sixth we entered the mouth of the river Thames, and on the morning of the

seventh day of our departure, we cast anchor near a town called

Gravesend, where, to our exceeding great joy, it pleased Him, in whom

alone there is salvation, to allow us once more to put our foot on the

dry land.

When we had partaken of a repast, the first blessed with the blessing of

an appetite, from the day of our leaving our native land, we got two

vacancies in a stage-coach for my wife and daughter; but with Andrew

Pringle, my son, I was obligated to mount aloft on the outside. I had

some scruple of conscience about this, for I was afraid of my decorum. I

met, however, with nothing but the height of discretion from the other

outside passengers, although I jealoused that one of them was a light

woman. Really I had no notion that the English were so civilised; they

were so well bred, and the very duddiest of them spoke such a fine style

of language, that when I looked around on the country, I thought myself

in the land of Canaan. But it's extraordinary what a power of drink the

coachmen drink, stopping and going into every change-house, and yet

behaving themselves with the greatest sobriety. And then they are all so

well dressed, which is no doubt owing to the poor rates. I am thinking,

however, that for all they cry against them, the poor rates are but a

small evil, since they keep the poor folk in such food and raiment, and

out of the temptations to thievery; indeed, such a thing as a common

beggar is not to be seen in this land, excepting here and there a sorner

or a ne'er-do-weel.

When we had got to the outskirts of London, I began to be ashamed of the

sin of high places, and would gladly have got into the inside of the

coach, for fear of anybody knowing me; but although the multitude of

by-goers was like the kirk scailing at the Sacrament, I saw not a kent

face, nor one that took the least notice of my situation. At last we got

to an inn, called _The White Horse_, Fetter-Lane, where we hired a

hackney to take 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 sharpers of London;

for it seems that there are divers Norfolk Streets. Ours was in the

Strand (mind that when you direct), not very far from Fetter-Lane; but

the hackney driver took us away to one afar off, and when we knocked at

the number we thought was ours, we found ourselves at a house that should

not be told. I was so mortified, that I did not know what to say; and

when Andrew Pringle, my son, rebuked the man for the mistake, he only

gave a cunning laugh, and said we should have told him whatna Norfolk

Street we wanted. Andrew stormed at this--but I discerned it was all

owing to our own inexperience, and put an end to the contention, by

telling the man to take us to Norfolk Street in the Strand, which was the

direction we had got. But when we got to the door, the coachman was so

extortionate, that another hobbleshaw arose. Mrs. Pringle had been told

that, in such disputes, the best way of getting redress was to take the

number of the coach; but, in trying to do so, we found it fastened on,

and I thought the hackneyman would have gone by himself with laughter.

Andrew, who had not observed what we were doing, when he saw us trying to

take off the number, went like one demented, 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 say nothing as to the

business of our coming; for, landing at Gravesend, we did not bring our

trunks with us, and Andrew has gone to the wharf this morning to get

them, and, until we get them, we can go nowhere, which is the occasion of

my writing so soon, knowing also how you and the whole parish would be

anxious to hear what had become of us; and I remain, dear sir, your

friend and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

On Saturday evening, Saunders Dickie, the Irvine postman, suspecting that

this letter was from the Doctor, went with it himself, on his own feet,

to Mr. Micklewham, although the distance is more than two miles, but

Saunders, in addition to the customary _twal pennies_ on the postage, had

a dram for his pains. The next morning being wet, Mr. Micklewham had not

an opportunity of telling any of the parishioners in the churchyard of

the Doctor's safe arrival, so that when he read out the request to return

thanks (for he was not only school-master and session-clerk, but also

precentor), there was a murmur of pleasure diffused throughout the

congregation, and the greatest curiosity was excited to know what the

dangers were, from which their worthy pastor and his whole family had so

thankfully escaped in their voyage to London; so that, when the service

was over, the elders adjourned to the session-house to hear the letter

read; and many of the heads of families, and other respectable

parishioners, were admitted to the honours of the sitting, who all

sympathised, with the greatest sincerity, in the sufferings which their

minister and his family had endured. Mr. Daff, however, was justly

chided by Mr. Craig, for rubbing his hands, and giving a sort of

sniggering laugh, at the Doctor's sitting on high with a light woman.

But even Mr. Snodgrass was seen to smile at the incident of taking the

number off the coach, the meaning of which none but himself seemed to

understand.

When the epistle had been thus duly read, Mr. Micklewham promised, for

the satisfaction of some of the congregation, that he would get two or

three copies made by the best writers in his school, to be handed about

the parish, and Mr. Icenor remarked, that truly it was a thing to be held

in remembrance, for he had not heard of greater tribulation by the waters

since the shipwreck of the Apostle Paul.

CHAPTER III--THE LEGACY

Soon after the receipt of the letters which we had the pleasure of

communicating in the foregoing chapter, the following was received from

Mrs. Pringle, and the intelligence it contains is so interesting and

important, that we hasten to lay it before our readers:--

LETTER VI

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

LONDON.

MY DEAR MISS MALLY--You must not expect no particulars from me of our

journey; but as Rachel is writing all the calamities that befell us to

Bell Tod, you will, no doubt, hear of them. But all is nothing to my

losses. I bought from the first hand, Mr. Treddles the manufacturer, two

pieces of muslin, at Glasgow, such a thing not being to be had on any

reasonable terms here, where they get all their fine muslins from Glasgow

and Paisley; and in the same bocks with them I packit a small crock of

our ain excellent poudered butter, with a delap cheese, for I was told

that such commodities are not to be had genuine in London. I likewise

had in it a pot of marmlet, which Miss Jenny Macbride gave me at Glasgow,

assuring me that it was not only dentice, but a curiosity among the

English, and my best new bumbeseen goun in peper. Howsomever, in the

nailing of the bocks, which I did carefully with my oun hands, one of the

nails gaed in ajee, and broke the pot of marmlet, which, by the jolting

of the ship, ruined the muslin, rottened the peper round the goun, which

the shivers cut into more than twenty great holes. Over and above all,

the crock with the butter was, no one can tell how, crackit, and the

pickle lecking out, and mixing with the seerip of the marmlet, spoilt the

cheese. In short, at the object I beheld, when the bocks was opened, I

could have ta'en to the greeting; but I behaved with more composity on

the occasion, than the Doctor thought it was in the power of nature to

do. Howsomever, till I get a new goun and other things, I am obliged to

be a prisoner; and as the Doctor does not like to go to the

counting-house of the agents without me, I know not what is yet to be the

consequence of our journey. But it would need to be something; for we

pay four guineas and a half a week for our dry lodgings, which is at a

degree more than the Doctor's whole stipend. As yet, for the cause of

these misfortunes, I can give you no account of London; but there is, 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 to a decent family in Scotland; and when

we order dinner, we get no more than just serves, so that we have no cold

meat if a stranger were coming by chance, which makes an unco bare house.

The servan lasses I cannot abide; they dress better at their wark than

ever I did on an ordinaire week-day at the manse; and this very morning I

saw madam, the kitchen lass, mounted on a pair of pattens, washing the

plain stenes before the door; na, for that matter, a bare foot is not to

be seen within the four walls of London, at the least I have na seen no

such thing.

In the way of marketing, things are very good here, and considering, not

dear; but all is sold by the licht weight, only the fish are awful; half

a guinea for a cod's head, and no bigger than the drouds the cadgers

bring from Ayr, at a shilling and eighteenpence apiece.

Tell Miss Nanny Eydent that I have seen none of the fashions as yet; but

we are going to the burial of the auld king next week, and I'll write her

a particular account how the leddies are dressed; but everybody is in

deep mourning. Howsomever I have seen but little, and that only in a

manner from the window; but I could not miss the opportunity of a frank

that Andrew has got, and as he's waiting for the pen, you must excuse

haste. From your sincere friend,

JANET PRINGLE.

LETTER VII

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass_

LONDON.

MY DEAR FRIEND--It will give you pleasure to hear that my father is

likely to get his business speedily settled without any equivocation; and

that all those prudential considerations which brought us to London were

but the phantasms of our own inexperience. I use the plural, for I

really share in the shame of having called in question the high character

of the agents: it ought to have been warrantry enough that everything

would be fairly adjusted. But I must give you some account of what has

taken place, to illustrate our provincialism, and to give you some idea

of the way of doing business in London.

After having recovered from the effects, and repaired some of the

accidents of our voyage, we yesterday morning sallied forth, the Doctor,

my mother, and your humble servant, in a hackney coach, to Broad Street,

where the agents have their counting-house, and were ushered into a room

among other legatees or clients, waiting for an audience of Mr. Argent,

the principal of the house.

I know not how it is, that the little personal peculiarities, so amusing

to strangers, should be painful when we see them in those whom we love

and esteem; but I own to you, that there was a something in the demeanour

of the old folks on this occasion, that would have been exceedingly

diverting to me, had my filial reverence been less sincere for them.

The establishment of Messrs. Argent and Company is of vast extent, and

has in it something even of a public magnitude; the number of the clerks,

the assiduity of all, and the order that obviously prevails throughout,

give at the first sight, an impression that bespeaks respect for the

stability and integrity of the concern. When we had been seated about

ten minutes, and my father's name taken to Mr. Argent, an answer was

brought, that he would see us as soon as possible; but we were obliged to

wait at least half an hour more. Upon our being at last admitted, Mr.

Argent received us standing, and in an easy gentlemanly manner said to my

father, "You are the residuary legatee of the late Colonel Armour. I am

sorry that you did not apprise me of this visit, that I might have been

prepared to give the information you naturally desire; but if you will

call here to-morrow at 12 o'clock, I shall then be able to satisfy you on

the subject. Your lady, I presume?" he added, turning to my mother;

"Mrs. Argent will have the honour of waiting on you; may I therefore beg

the favour of your address?" Fortunately I was provided with cards, and

having given him one, we found ourselves constrained, as it were, to take

our leave. The whole interview did not last two minutes, and I never was

less satisfied with myself. The Doctor and my mother were in the

greatest anguish; and when we were again seated in the coach, loudly

expressed their apprehensions. They were convinced that some stratagem

was meditated; they feared that their journey to London would prove as

little satisfactory as that of the Wrongheads, and that they had been

throwing away good money in building castles in the air.

It had been previously arranged, that we were to return for my sister,

and afterwards visit some of the sights; but the clouded visages of her

father and mother darkened the very spirit of Rachel, and she largely

shared in their fears. This, however, was not the gravest part of the

business; for, instead of going to St. Paul's and the Tower, as we had

intended, my mother declared, that not one farthing would they spend more

till they were satisfied that the expenses already incurred were likely

to be reimbursed; and a Chancery suit, with all the horrors of wig and

gown, floated in spectral haziness before their imagination.

We sat down to a frugal meal, and although the remainder of a bottle of

wine, saved from the preceding day, hardly afforded a glass apiece, the

Doctor absolutely prohibited me from opening another.

This morning, faithful to the hour, we were again in Broad Street, 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 first interview, and, after requesting us to be seated

(which, by the way, he did not do yesterday, a circumstance that was

ominously remarked), he began to talk on indifferent matters. I could

see that a question, big with law and fortune, was gathering in the

breasts both of the Doctor and my mother, and that they were in a state

far from that of the blessed. But one of the clerks, before they had

time to express their indignant suspicions, entered with a paper, and Mr.

Argent, having glanced it over, said to the Doctor--"I congratulate you,

sir, on the amount of the colonel's fortune. I was not indeed aware

before that he had died so rich. He has left about 120,000 pounds;

seventy-five thousand of which is in the five per cents; the remainder in

India bonds and other securities. The legacies appear to be

inconsiderable, so that the residue to you, after paying them and the

expenses of Doctors' Commons, will exceed a hundred thousand pounds."

My father turned his eyes upwards in thankfulness. "But," continued Mr.

Argent, "before the property can be transferred, it will be necessary for

you to provide about four thousand pounds to pay the duty and other

requisite expenses." This was a thunderclap. "Where can I get such a

sum?" exclaimed my father, in a tone of pathetic simplicity. Mr. Argent

smiled and said, "We shall manage that for you"; and having in the same

moment pulled a bell, a fine young man entered, whom he introduced to us

as his son, and desired him to explain what steps it was necessary for

the Doctor to take. We accordingly followed Mr. Charles Argent to his

own room.

Thus, in less time than I have been in writing it, were we put in

possession of all the information we required, and found those whom we

feared might be interested to withhold the settlement, alert and prompt

to assist us.

Mr. Charles Argent is naturally more familiar than his father. He has a

little dash of pleasantry in his manner, with a shrewd good-humoured

fashionable air, that renders him soon an agreeable acquaintance. He

entered with singular felicity at once into the character of the Doctor

and my mother, and waggishly drolled, as if he did not understand them,

in order, I could perceive, to draw out the simplicity of their

apprehensions. He quite won the old lady's economical heart, by offering

to frank her letters, for he is in Parliament. "You have probably," said

he slyly, "friends in the country, to whom you may be desirous of

communicating the result of your journey to London; send your letters to

me, and I will forward them, and any that you expect may also come under

cover to my address, for postage is very expensive."

As we were taking our leave, after being fully instructed in all the

preliminary steps to be taken before the transfers of the funded property

can be made, he asked me, in a friendly manner, to dine with him this

evening, and I never accepted an invitation with more pleasure. I

consider his acquaintance a most agreeable acquisition, and not one of

the least of those advantages which this new opulence has put it in my

power to attain. The incidents, indeed, of this day, have been all

highly gratifying, and the new and brighter phase in which I have seen

the mercantile character, as it is connected with the greatness and glory

of my country--is in itself equivalent to an accession of useful

knowledge. I can no longer wonder at the vast power which the British

Government wielded during the late war, when I reflect that the method

and promptitude of the house of Messrs. Argent and Company is common to

all the great commercial concerns from which the statesmen derived, as

from so many reservoirs, those immense pecuniary supplies, which enabled

them to beggar all the resources of a political despotism, the most

unbounded, both in power and principle, of any tyranny that ever existed

so long.--Yours, etc.,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

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 of rank, beauty,

and fashion, among other delicacies of the season, several new-come-home

Clyde skippers, roaring from Greenock and Port-Glasgow, were served

up--but nothing contributed more to the entertainment of the evening than

a proposal, on the part of Miss Mally, that those present who had

received letters from the Pringles should read them for the benefit of

the company. This was, no doubt, a preconcerted scheme between her and

Miss Isabella Tod, to hear what Mr. Andrew Pringle had said to his friend

Mr. Snodgrass, and likewise what the Doctor himself had indited to Mr.

Micklewham; some rumour having spread of the wonderful escapes and

adventures of the family in their journey and voyage to London. Had

there not been some prethought of this kind, it was not indeed probable,

that both the helper and session-clerk of Garnock could have been there

together, in a party, where it was an understood thing, that not only

Whist and Catch Honours were to be played, but even obstreperous Birky

itself, for the diversion of such of the company as were not used to

gambling games. It was in consequence of what took place at this Irvine

route, that we were originally led to think of collecting the letters.

LETTER VIII

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

LONDON.

MY DEAR BELL--It was my heartfelt intention to keep a regular journal of

all our proceedings, from the sad day on which I bade a long adieu to my

native shades--and I persevered with a constancy becoming our dear and

youthful friendship, in writing down everything that I saw, either rare

or beautiful, till the hour of our departure from Leith. In that

faithful register of my feelings and reflections as a traveller, I

described our embarkation at Greenock, on board the steam-boat,--our

sailing past Port-Glasgow, an insignificant town, with a steeple;--the

stupendous rock of Dumbarton Castle, that Gibraltar of antiquity;--our

landing at Glasgow;--my astonishment at the magnificence of that opulent

metropolis of the muslin manufacturers; my brother's remark, that the

punch-bowls on the roofs of the Infirmary, the Museum, and the Trades

Hall, were emblematic of the universal estimation in which that

celebrated mixture is held by all ranks and degrees--learned, commercial,

and even medical, of the inhabitants;--our arrival at Edinburgh--my

emotion on beholding the Castle, and the visionary lake which may be

nightly seen from the windows of Princes Street, between the Old and New

Town, reflecting the lights of the lofty city beyond--with a thousand

other delightful and romantic circumstances, which render it no longer

surprising that the Edinburgh folk should be, as they think themselves,

the most accomplished people in the world. But, alas! from the moment I

placed my foot on board that cruel vessel, of which the very idea is

anguish, all thoughts were swallowed up in suffering-swallowed, did I

say? Ah, my dear Bell, it was the odious reverse--but imagination alone

can do justice to the subject. Not, however, to dwell on what is past,

during the whole time of our passage from Leith, I was unable to think,

far less to write; and, although there was a handsome young Hussar

officer also a passenger, I could not even listen to the elegant

compliments which he seemed disposed to offer by way of consolation, when

he had got the better of his own sickness. Neither love nor valour can

withstand the influence of that sea-demon. The interruption thus

occasioned to my observations made me destroy my journal, and I have now

to write to you only about London--only about London! What an expression

for this human universe, as my brother calls it, as if my weak feminine

pen were equal to the stupendous theme!

But, before entering on the subject, let me first satisfy the anxiety of

your faithful bosom with respect to my father's legacy. All the

accounts, I am happy to tell you, are likely to be amicably settled; but

the exact amount is not known as yet, only I can see, by my brother's

manner, that it is not less than we expected, and my mother speaks about

sending me to 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 solitary being in the midst of

this wilderness of mankind, far from your sympathising affection, with

the dismal prospect before me of going a second time to school, and

without the prospect of enjoying, with my own sweet companions, that

light and bounding gaiety we were wont to share, in skipping from tomb to

tomb in the breezy churchyard of Irvine, like butterflies in spring

flying from flower to flower, as a Wordsworth or a Wilson would express

it.

We have got elegant lodgings at present in Norfolk Street, but my brother

is trying, with all his address, to get us removed to a more fashionable

part of the town, which, if the accounts were once settled, I think will

take place; and he proposes to hire a carriage for a whole month.

Indeed, he has given hints about the saving that might be made by buying

one of our own; but my mother shakes her head, and says, "Andrew, dinna

be carri't." From all which it is very plain, though they don't allow me

to know their secrets, that the legacy is worth the coming for. But to

return to the lodgings;--we have what is called a first and second floor,

a drawing-room, and three handsome bedchambers. The drawing-room is very

elegant; and the carpet is the exact same pattern of the one in the

dress-drawing-room of Eglintoun Castle. Our landlady is indeed a lady,

and I am surprised how she should think of letting lodgings, for she

dresses better, and wears finer lace, than ever I saw in Irvine. But I

am interrupted.--

I now resume my pen. We have just had a call from Mrs. and Miss Argent,

the wife and daughter of the colonel's man of business. They seem great

people, and came in their own chariot, with two grand footmen behind; but

they are pleasant and easy, and the object of their visit was to invite

us to a family dinner to-morrow, Sunday. I hope we may become better

acquainted; but the two livery servants make such a difference in our

degrees, that I fear this is a vain expectation. Miss Argent was,

however, very frank, and told me that she was herself only just come to

London for the first time since she was a child, having been for the last

seven years at a school in the country. I shall, however, be better able

to say more about her in my next letter. Do not, however, be afraid that

she shall 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 legacy had given us some

consideration; so that I think my father and mother may as well let me

know at once what my prospects are, that I might show you how

disinterestedly and truly I am, my dear Bell, yours,

RACHEL PRINGLE.

When Miss Isabella Tod had read the letter, there was a solemn pause for

some time--all present knew something, more or less, of the fair writer;

but a carriage, a carpet like the best at Eglintoun, a Hussar officer,

and two footmen in livery, were phantoms of such high import, that no one

could distinctly express the feelings with which the intelligence

affected them. It was, however, unanimously agreed, that the Doctor's

legacy had every symptom of being equal to what it was at first expected

to be, namely, twenty thousand pounds;--a sum which, by some occult or

recondite moral influence of the Lottery, is the common maximum, in

popular estimation, of any extraordinary and indefinite windfall of

fortune. Miss Becky Glibbans, from the purest motives of charity,

devoutly wished that poor Rachel might be able to carry her full cup with

a steady hand; and the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, that so commendable an

expression might not lose its edifying effect by any lighter talk,

requested Mr. Micklewham to read his letter from the Doctor.

LETTER IX

_The Rev. Z. Pringle_, _D.D._, _to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk of Garnock_

LONDON.

DEAR SIR--I have written by the post that will take this to hand, a

letter to Banker M---y, at Irvine, concerning some small matters of money

that I may stand in need of his opinion anent; and as there is a prospect

now of a settlement of the legacy business, I wish you to take a step

over to the banker, and he will give you ten pounds, which you will

administer to the poor, by putting a twenty-shilling note in the plate on

Sunday, as a public testimony from me of thankfulness for the hope that

is before us; the other nine pounds you will quietly, and in your own

canny way, divide after the following manner, letting none of the

partakers thereof know from what other hand than the Lord's the help

comes, for, indeed, from whom but HIS does any good befall us!

You will give to auld Mizy Eccles ten shillings. She's a careful

creature, and it will go as far with her thrift as twenty will do with

Effy Hopkirk; so you will give Effy twenty. Mrs. Binnacle, who lost her

husband, the sailor, last winter, is, I am sure, with her two sickly

bairns, very ill off; I would therefore like if you will lend her a note,

and ye may put half-a-crown in the hand of each of the poor weans for a

playock, for she's a proud spirit, and will bear much before she

complain. Thomas Dowy has been long unable to do a turn of work, so you

may give him a note too. I promised that donsie body, Willy Shachle, the

betherel, that when I got my legacy, he should get a guinea, which would

be more to him than if the colonel had died at home, and he had had the

howking of his grave; you may therefore, in the meantime, give Willy a

crown, and be sure to warn him well no to get fou with it, for I'll be

very angry if he does. But what in this matter will need all your skill,

is the giving of the remaining five pounds to auld Miss Betty Peerie;

being a gentlewoman both by blood and education, she's a very slimmer

affair to handle in a doing of this kind. But I am persuaded she's in as

great necessity as many that seem far poorer, especially since the muslin

flowering has gone so down. Her bits of brats are sairly worn, though

she keeps out an apparition of gentility. Now, for all this trouble, I

will give you an account of what we have been doing since my last.

When we had gotten ourselves made up in order, we went, with Andrew

Pringle, my son, to the counting-house, and had a satisfactory vista of

the residue; but it will be some time before things can be

settled--indeed, I fear, not for months to come--so that I have been

thinking, if the parish was pleased with Mr. Snodgrass, it might be my

duty to my people to give up to him my stipend, and let him be appointed

not only helper, but successor likewise. It would not be right of me to

give the manse, both because he's a young and inexperienced man, and

cannot, in the course of nature, have got into the way of visiting the

sick-beds of the frail, which is the main part of a pastor's duty, and

likewise, because I wish to die, as I have lived, among my people. But,

when all's settled, I will know better what to do.

When we had got an inkling from Mr. Argent of what the colonel has

left,--and I do assure you, that money is not to be got, even in the way

of legacy, without anxiety,--Mrs. Pringle and I consulted together, and

resolved, that it was our first duty, as a token of our gratitude to the

Giver of all Good, to make our first outlay to the poor. So, without

saying a word either to Rachel, or to Andrew Pringle, my son, knowing

that there was a daily worship in the Church of England, we slipped out

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 and pride of prelacy, but to Him before

whom both pope and presbyter are equal, as they are seen through the

merits of Christ Jesus. We had taken a gold guinea in our hand, but

there was no broad at the door; and, instead of a venerable elder,

lending sanctity to his office by reason of his age, such as we see in

the effectual institutions of our own national church--the door was kept

by a young man, much more like a writer's whipper-snapper-clerk, than one

qualified to fill that station, which good King David would have

preferred to dwelling in tents of sin. However, we were not come to spy

the nakedness of the land, so we went up the outside stairs, and I asked

at him for the plate; "Plate!" says he; "why, it's on the altar!" I

should have known this--the custom of old being to lay the offerings on

the altar, but I had forgot; such is the force, you see, of habit, that

the Church of England is not so well reformed and purged as ours is from

the abominations of the leaven of idolatry. We were then stepping

forward, when he said to me, as sharply as if I was going to take an

advantage, "You must pay here." "Very well, wherever it is customary,"

said I, in a meek manner, and gave him the guinea. Mrs. Pringle did the

same. "I cannot give you change," cried he, with as little decorum as if

we had been paying at a playhouse. "It makes no odds," said I; "keep it

all." Whereupon he was so converted by the mammon of iniquity, that he

could not be civil enough, he thought--but conducted us in, and showed us

the marble monuments, and the French colours that were taken in the war,

till the time of worship--nothing could surpass his discretion.

At last the organ began to sound, and we went into the place of worship;

but oh, Mr. Micklewham, yon is a thin kirk. There was not a hearer forby

Mrs. Pringle and me, saving and excepting the relics of popery that

assisted at the service. What was said, I must, however, in verity

confess, was not far from the point. But it's still a comfort to see

that prelatical usurpations are on the downfall; no wonder that there is

no broad at the door to receive the collection for the poor, when no

congregation entereth in. You may, therefore, tell Mr. Craig, and it

will gladden his heart to hear the tidings, that the great Babylonian

madam is now, indeed, but a very little cutty.

On our return home to our lodgings, we found Andrew Pringle, my son, and

Rachel, in great consternation about our absence. When we told them that

we had been at worship, I saw they were both deeply affected; and I was

pleased with my children, the more so, as you know I have had my doubts

that Andrew Pringle's principles have not been strengthened by the

reading of the _Edinburgh Review_. Nothing more passed at that time, for

we were disturbed by a Captain Sabre that came up with us in the smack,

calling to see how we were after our journey; and as he was a civil

well-bred young man, which I marvel at, considering he's a Hussar

dragoon, we took a coach, and went to see the lions, as he said; but,

instead of taking us to the Tower of London, as I expected, he ordered

the man to drive us round the town. In our way through the city he

showed us the Temple Bar, where Lord Kilmarnock's head was placed after

the Rebellion, and pointed out the Bank of England and Royal Exchange.

He said the steeple of the Exchange was taken down shortly ago--and that

the late improvements at the Bank were very grand. I remembered having

read in the _Edinburgh Advertiser_, some years past, that there was a

great deal said in Parliament about the state of the Exchange, and the

condition of the Bank, which I could never thoroughly understand. And,

no doubt, the taking own of an old building, and the building up of a new

one so near together, must, in such a crowded city as this, be not only a

great detriment to business, but dangerous to the community at large.

After we had driven about for more than two hours, and neither seen lions

nor any other curiosity, but only the outside of houses, we returned

home, where we found a copperplate card left by Mr. Argent, the colonel's

agent, with the name of his private dwelling-house. Both me and Mrs.

Pringle were confounded at the sight of this thing, and could not but

think that it prognosticated no good; for we had seen the gentleman

himself in the forenoon. Andrew Pringle, my son, could give no

satisfactory reason for such an extraordinary manifestation of anxiety to

see us; so that, after sitting on thorns at our dinner, I thought that we

should see to the bottom of the business. Accordingly, a hackney was

summoned to the door, and me and Andrew Pringle, my son, got into it, and

told the man to drive to second in the street where Mr. Argent lived, and

which was the number of his house. The man got up, and away we went;

but, after he had driven an awful time, and stopping and inquiring at

different places, he said there was no such house as Second's in the

street; whereupon Andrew Pringle, my son, asked him what he meant, and

the man said that he supposed it was one Second's Hotel, or Coffee-house,

that we wanted. Now, only think of the craftiness of the ne'er-da-weel;

it was with some difficulty that I could get him to understand, that

second was just as good as number two; for Andrew Pringle, my son, would

not interfere, but lay back in the coach, and was like to split his sides

at my confabulating with the hackney man. At long and length we got to

the house, and were admitted to Mr. Argent, who was sitting by himself in

his library reading, with a plate of oranges, and two decanters with wine

before him. I explained to him, as well as I could, my surprise and

anxiety at seeing his card, at which he smiled, and said, it was merely a

sort of practice that had come into fashion of late years, and that,

although we had been at his counting-house in the morning, he considered

it requisite that he should call on his return from the city. I made the

best excuse I could for the mistake; and the servant having placed

glasses on the table, we were invited to take wine. But I was grieved to

think that so respectable a man should have had the bottles before him by

himself, the more especially as he said his wife and daughters had gone

to a party, and that he did not much like such sort of things. But for

all that, we found him a wonderful conversible man; and Andrew Pringle,

my son, having read all the new books put out at Edinburgh, could speak

with him on any subject. In the course of conversation they touched upon

politick economy, and Andrew Pringle, my son, in speaking about cash in

the Bank of England, told him what I had said concerning the alterations

of the Royal Exchange steeple, with which Mr. Argent seemed greatly

pleased, and jocosely proposed as a toast,--"May the country never suffer

more from the alterations in the Exchange, than the taking down of the

steeple." But as Mrs. Pringle is wanting to send a bit line under the

same frank to her cousin, Miss Mally Glencairn, I must draw to a

conclusion, assuring you, that I am, dear sir, your sincere friend and

pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

The impression which this letter made on the auditors of Mr. Micklewham

was highly favourable to the Doctor--all bore testimony to his

benevolence and piety; and Mrs. Glibbans expressed, in very loquacious

terms, her satisfaction at the neglect to which prelacy was consigned.

The only person who seemed to be affected by other than the most sedate

feelings on the occasion was the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, who was observed to

smile in a very unbecoming manner at some parts of the Doctor's account

of his reception at St. Paul's. Indeed, it was apparently with the

utmost difficulty that the young clergyman could restrain himself from

giving liberty to his risible faculties. It is really surprising how

differently the same thing affects different people. "The Doctor and

Mrs. Pringle giving a guinea at the door of St. Paul's for the poor need

not make folk laugh," said Mrs. Glibbans; "for is it not written, that

whosoever giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord?" "True, my dear

madam," replied Mr. Snodgrass, "but the Lord to whom our friends in this

case gave their money is the Lord Bishop of London; all the collection

made at the doors of St. Paul's Cathedral is, I understand, a perquisite

of the Bishop's." In this the reverend gentleman was not very correctly

informed, for, in the first place, it is not a collection, but an

exaction; and, in the second place, it is only sanctioned by the Bishop,

who allows the inferior 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 a bounce, streaking down her gown at

the same time with both her hands, added, "No wonder that a judgment is

upon the land, when we hear of money-changers in the temple." Miss Mally

Glencairn, to appease her gathering wrath and holy indignation, said

facetiously, "Na, na, Mrs. Glibbans, ye forget, there was nae changing of

money there. The man took the whole guineas. But not to make a

controversy on the subject, Mr. Snodgrass will now let us hear what

Andrew Pringle, 'my son,' has said to him":--And the reverend gentleman

read the following letter with due circumspection, and in his best

manner:--

LETTER X

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Reverend Charles Snodgrass_

MY DEAR FRIEND--I have heard it alleged, as the observation of a great

traveller, that the manners of the higher classes of society throughout

Christendom are so much alike, that national peculiarities among them are

scarcely perceptible. This is not correct; the differences between those

of London and Edinburgh are to me very striking. It is not that they

talk and perform the little etiquettes of social intercourse differently;

for, in these respects, they are apparently as similar as it is possible

for imitation to make them; but the difference to which I refer is an

indescribable something, which can only be compared to peculiarities of

accent. They both speak the same language; perhaps in classical purity

of phraseology the fashionable Scotchman is even superior to the

Englishman; but there is a flatness of tone in his accent--a lack of what

the musicians call expression, which gives a local and provincial effect

to his conversation, however, in other respects, learned and intelligent.

It is so with his manners; he conducts himself with equal ease,

self-possession, and discernment, but the flavour of the metropolitan

style is wanting.

I have been led to make these remarks by what I noticed in the guests

whom I met on Friday at young Argent's. It was a small party, only five

strangers; but they seemed to be all particular friends of our host, and

yet none of them appeared to be on any terms of intimacy with each other.

In Edinburgh, such a party would have been at first a little cold; each

of the guests would there have paused to estimate the characters of the

several strangers before committing himself with any topic of

conversation. But here, the circumstance of being brought together by a

mutual friend, produced at once the purest gentlemanly confidence; each,

as it were, took it for granted, that the persons whom he had come among

were men of education and good-breeding, and, without deeming it at all

necessary that he should know something of their respective political and

philosophical principles, before venturing to speak on such subjects,

discussed frankly, and as things unconnected with party feelings,

incidental occurrences which, in Edinburgh, would have been avoided as

calculated to awaken animosities.

But the most remarkable feature of the company, small as it was,

consisted of the difference in the condition and character of the guests.

In Edinburgh the landlord, with the scrupulous care of a herald or

genealogist, would, for a party, previously unacquainted with each other,

have chosen his guests as nearly as possible from the same rank of life;

the London host had paid no respect to any such consideration--all the

strangers were as dissimilar in fortune, profession, connections, and

politics, as any four men in the class of gentlemen could well be. I

never spent a more delightful evening.

The ablest, the most eloquent, and the most elegant man present, without

question, was the son of a saddler. No expense had been spared on his

education. His father, proud of his talents, had intended him for a seat

in Parliament; but Mr. T--- himself prefers the easy enjoyments of

private life, and has kept himself aloof from politics and parties. Were

I to form an estimate of his qualifications to excel in public speaking,

by the clearness and beautiful propriety of his colloquial language, I

should conclude that he was still destined to perform a distinguished

part. But he is content with the liberty of a private station, as a

spectator only, and, perhaps, in that he shows his wisdom; for

undoubtedly such men are not cordially received among hereditary

statesmen, unless they evince a certain suppleness of principle, such as

we have seen in the conduct of more than one political adventurer.

The next in point of effect was young C--- G---. He evidently languished

under the influence of indisposition, which, while it added to the

natural gentleness of his manners, diminished the impression his

accomplishments would otherwise have made. I was greatly struck with the

modesty with which he offered his opinions, and could scarcely credit

that he was the same individual whose eloquence in Parliament is by many

compared even to Mr. Canning's, and whose firmness of principle is so

universally acknowledged, that no one ever suspects him of being liable

to change. You may have heard of his poem "On the Restoration of

Learning in the East," the most magnificent prize essay that the English

Universities have produced for many years. The passage in which he

describes the talents, the researches, and learning of Sir William Jones,

is worthy of the imagination of Burke; and yet, with all this oriental

splendour of fancy, he has the reputation of being a patient and

methodical man of business. He looks, however, much more like a poet or

a student, than an orator and a statesman; and were statesmen the sort of

personages which the spirit of the age attempts to represent them, I, for

one, should lament that a young man, possessed of so many amiable

qualities, all so tinted with the bright lights of a fine enthusiasm,

should ever have been removed from the moon-lighted groves and peaceful

cloisters of Magdalen College, to the lamp-smelling passages and factious

debates of St. Stephen's Chapel. Mr. G--- certainly belongs to that high

class of gifted men who, to the honour of the age, have redeemed the

literary character from the charge of unfitness for the concerns of

public business; and he has shown that talents for affairs of state,

connected with literary predilections, are not limited to mere reviewers,

as some of your old class-fellows would have the world to believe. When

I contrast the quiet unobtrusive development of Mr. G---'s character with

that bustling and obstreperous elbowing into notice of some of those to

whom the _Edinburgh Review_ owes half its fame, and compare the pure and

steady lustre of his elevation, to the rocket-like aberrations and

perturbed blaze of their still uncertain course, I cannot but think that

we have overrated, if not their ability, at least their wisdom in the

management of public affairs.

The third of the party was a little Yorkshire baronet. He was formerly

in Parliament, but left it, as he says, on account of its irregularities,

and the bad hours it kept. He is a Whig, I understand, in politics, and

indeed one might guess as much by looking at him; for I have always

remarked, that your Whigs have something odd and particular about them.

On making the same sort of remark to Argent, who, by the way, is a high

ministerial man, he observed, the thing was not to be wondered at,

considering that the Whigs are exceptions to the generality of mankind,

which naturally accounts for their being always in the minority. Mr.

T---, the saddler's son, who overheard us, said slyly, "That it might be

so; but if it be true that the wise are few compared to the multitude of

the foolish, things would be better managed by the minority than as they

are at present."

The fourth guest was a stock-broker, a shrewd compound, with all charity

be it spoken, of knavery and humour. He is by profession an epicure, but

I suspect his accomplishments in that capacity are not very well founded;

I would almost say, judging by the evident traces of craft and

dissimulation in his physiognomy, that they have been assumed as part of

the means of getting into good company, to drive the more earnest trade

of money-making. Argent evidently understood his true character, though

he treated him with jocular familiarity. I thought it a fine example of

the intellectual tact and superiority of T---, that he seemed to view him

with dislike and contempt. But I must not give you my reasons for so

thinking, 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 party together; and yet they

affect there to have a metropolitan character. In saying this, I mean

only with reference to manners; the methods of behaviour in each of the

company were precisely similar--there was no eccentricity, but only that

distinct and decided individuality which nature gives, and which no

acquired habits can change. Each, however, was the representative of a

class; and Edinburgh has no classes exactly of the same kind as those to

which they belonged.--Yours truly,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

Just as Mr. Snodgrass concluded the last sentence, one of the Clyde

skippers, who had fallen asleep, gave such an extravagant snore, followed

by a groan, that it set the whole company a-laughing, and interrupted the

critical strictures which would otherwise have been made on Mr. Andrew

Pringle's epistle. "Damn it," said he, "I thought myself in a fog, and

could not tell whether the land ahead was Plada or the Lady Isle." Some

of the company thought the observation not inapplicable to what they had

been hearing.

Miss Isabella Tod then begged that Miss Mally, their hostess, would

favour the company with Mrs. Pringle's communication. To this request

that considerate maiden ornament of the Kirkgate deemed it necessary, by

way of preface to the letter, to say, "Ye a' ken that Mrs. Pringle's a

managing woman, and ye maunna expect any metaphysical philosophy from

her." In the meantime, having taken the letter from her pocket, and

placed her spectacles on that functionary of the face which was destined

to wear spectacles, she began as follows:--

LETTER XI

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

MY DEAR MISS MALLY--We have been at the counting-house, and gotten a sort

of a satisfaction; what the upshot may be, I canna take it upon myself to

prognosticate; but when the waur comes to the worst, I think that baith

Rachel and Andrew will have a nest egg, and the Doctor and me may sleep

sound on their account, if the nation doesna break, as the argle-barglers

in the House of Parliament have been threatening: for all the cornal's

fortune is sunk at present in the pesents. Howsomever, it's our notion,

when the legacies are paid off, to lift the money out of the funds, and

place it at good interest on hairetable securitie. But ye will hear

aften from us, before things come to that, for the delays, and the

goings, and the comings in this town of London are past all expreshon.

As yet, we have been to see no fairlies, except going in a coach from one

part of the toun to another; but the Doctor and me was at the he-kirk of

Saint Paul's for a purpose that I need not tell you, as it was adoing

with the right hand what the left should not know. I couldna say that I

had there great pleasure, for the preacher was very cauldrife, and read

every word, and then there was such a beggary of popish prelacy, that it

was compassionate to a Christian to see.

We are to dine at Mr. Argent's, the cornal's hadgint, on Sunday, and me

and Rachel have been getting something for the okasion. Our landlady,

Mrs. Sharkly, has recommended us to ane of the most fashionable

millinders in London, who keeps a grand shop in Cranburn Alla, and she

has brought us arteecles to look at; but I was surprised they were not

finer, for I thought them of a very inferior quality, which she said was

because they were not made for no costomer, but for the 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 great confort--for I am no

overly satisfeet with many things. What would ye think of buying coals

by the stimpert, for anything that I know, and then setting up the poker

afore the ribs, instead of blowing with the bellies to make the fire

burn? I was of a pinion that the Englishers were naturally masterful;

but I can ashure you this is no the case at all--and I am beginning to

think that the way of leeving from hand to mouth is great frugality, when

ye consider that all is left in the logive hands of uncercumseezed

servans.

But what gives me the most concern at this time is one Captain Sabre of

the Dragoon Hozars, who come up in the smak with us from Leith, 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 himself is no to be despisid; howsomever, I never likit

officir-men of any description, and yet the thing that makes me look down

on the captain is all owing to the cornal, who was an officer of the

native poors of India, where the pay must indeed have been extraordinar,

for who ever heard either of a cornal, or any officer whomsoever, making

a hundred thousand pounds in our regiments? no that I say the cornal has

left so meikle to us.

Tell Mrs. Glibbans that I have not heard of no sound preacher as yet in

London--the want of which is no doubt the great cause of the crying sins

of the place. What would she think to hear of newspapers selling by tout

of horn on the Lord's day? and on the Sabbath night, the change-houses

are more throng than on the Saturday! I am told, but as yet I cannot say

that I have seen the evil myself with my own eyes, that in the summer

time there are tea-gardens, where the tradesmen go to smoke their pipes

of tobacco, and to entertain their wives and children, which can be

nothing less than a bringing of them to an untimely end. But you will be

surprised to hear, that no such thing as whusky is to be had in the

public-houses, where they drink only a dead sort of beer; and that a

bottle of true jennyinn London porter is rarely to be seen in the whole

town--all kinds of piple getting their porter in pewter cans, and a

laddie calls for in the morning to take away what has been yoused over

night. But what I most miss is the want of creem. The milk here is just

skimm, and I doot not, likewise well watered--as for the water, a drink

of clear wholesome good water is not within the bounds of London; and

truly, now may I say, that I have learnt what the blessing of a cup of

cold water is.

Tell Miss Nanny Eydent, that the day of the burial is now settled, when

we are going to Windsor Castle to see the precesson--and that, by the end

of the wick, she may expect the fashions from me, with all the

particulars. Till then, I am, my dear Miss Mally, your friend and

well-wisher,

JANET PRINGLE.

_Noto Beny_.--Give my kind compliments to Mrs. Glibbans, and let her

know, that I will, after Sunday, give her an account of the state of the

Gospel in London.

* * * * *

Miss Mally paused when she had read the letter, and it was unanimously

agreed, that Mrs. Pringle gave a more full account of London than either

father, son, or daughter.

By this time the night was far advanced, and Mrs. Glibbans was rising to

go away, apprehensive, as she observed, that they were going to bring

"the carts" into the room. Upon Miss Mally, however, assuring her that

no such transgression was meditated, but that she intended to treat them

with a bit nice Highland mutton ham, and eggs, of her own laying, that

worthy pillar 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 they were crossing the Red Burn

Bridge, at the entrance of Eglintoun Wood,--a place well noted from

ancient times for preternatural appearances, Mr. Micklewham declared that

he thought he heard something purring among the bushes; upon which Mr.

Snodgrass made a jocose observation, stating, that it could be nothing

but the effect of Lord North's strong ale in his head; and we should add,

by way of explanation, that the Lord North here spoken of was Willy

Grieve, celebrated in Irvine for the strength and flavour of his brewing,

and that, in addition to a plentiful supply of his best, Miss Mally had

entertained them with tamarind punch, constituting a natural cause

adequate to produce all the preternatural purring that terrified the

dominie.

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 the pious

animadversions of the rigidly righteous Mr. Craig, confessed a fault, and

acknowledged an irregular marriage with Meg Milliken, their child was

admitted to church privileges. But before the day of baptism, Mr. Daff,

who thought Tam had given but sullen symptoms of penitence, said, to put

him in better humour with his fate,--"Noo, Tam, since ye hae beguiled us

of the infare, we maun mak up for't at the christening; so I'll speak to

Mr. Snodgrass to bid the Doctor's friens and acquaintance to the ploy,

that we may get as meikle amang us as will pay for the bairn's baptismal

frock."

Mr. Craig, who was present, and who never lost an opportunity of

testifying, as he said, his "discountenance of the crying iniquity,"

remonstrated with Mr. Daff on the unchristian nature of the proposal,

stigmatising it with good emphasis "as a sinful nourishing of carnality

in his day and generation." Mr. Micklewham, however, interfered, and

said, "It was a matter of weight and concernment, and therefore it

behoves you to consult Mr. Snodgrass on the fitness of the thing. For if

the thing itself is not fit and proper, it cannot expect his countenance;

and, on that account, before we reckon on his compliance with what Mr.

Daff has propounded, we should first learn whether he approves of it at

all." Whereupon the two elders and the session-clerk adjourned to the

manse, in which Mr. Snodgrass, during the absence of the incumbent, had

taken up his abode.

The heads of the previous conversation were recapitulated by Mr.

Micklewham, with as much brevity as was consistent with perspicuity; 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 notion of a pay-christening was a benevolent and

kind thought: "For, is not the order to increase and multiply one of the

first 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 of our nature has been fulfilled, and

there is cause for rejoicing and gladness! And is it not an obligation

imposed upon all Christians, to welcome the stranger, and to feed the

hungry, and to clothe the naked; and what greater stranger can there be

than a helpless babe? Who more in need of sustenance than the infant,

that knows not the way even to its mother's bosom? And whom shall we

clothe, if we do not the wailing innocent, that the hand of Providence

places in poverty and nakedness before us, to try, as it were, the depth

of our Christian principles, and to awaken the sympathy of our humane

feelings?"

Mr. Craig replied, "It's a' very true and sound what Mr. Snodgrass has

observed; but Tam Glen's wean is neither a stranger, nor hungry, nor

naked, but a sturdy brat, that has been rinning its lane for mair than

sax weeks." "Ah!" said Mr. Snodgrass familiarly, "I fear, Mr. Craig,

ye're a Malthusian in your heart." The sanctimonious elder was

thunderstruck at the word. Of many a various shade and modification of

sectarianism he had heard, but the Malthusian heresy was new to his ears,

and awful to his conscience, and he begged Mr. Snodgrass to tell him in

what it chiefly consisted, protesting his innocence of that, and of every

erroneous doctrine.

Mr. Snodgrass happened to regard the opinions of Malthus on Population as

equally contrary to religion and nature, and not at all founded in truth.

"It is evident, that the reproductive principle in the earth and

vegetables, and all things and animals which constitute the means of

subsistence, is much more vigorous than in man. It may be therefore

affirmed, that the multiplication of the means of subsistence is an

effect of the multiplication of population, for the one is augmented in

quantity, by the skill and care of the other," said Mr. Snodgrass,

seizing with avidity this opportunity of stating what he thought on the

subject, although his auditors were but the session-clerk, and two elders

of a country parish. We cannot pursue the train of his argument, but we

should do injustice to the philosophy of Malthus, if we suppressed the

observation which Mr. Daff made at the conclusion. "Gude safe's!" said

the good-natured elder, "if it's true that we breed faster than the Lord

provides for us, we maun drown the poor folks' 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 the

ordination of the stool of repentance, the horrors of which, in the

opinion of the fifteen Lords at Edinburgh, palliated child-murder, is

doubtless a Malthusian institution." But Mr. Snodgrass put an end to the

controversy, by fixing a day for the christening, and telling he would do

his best to procure a good collection, according to the benevolent

suggestion of Mr. Daff. To this cause we are indebted for the next

series of the Pringle correspondence; for, on the day appointed, Miss

Mally Glencairn, Miss Isabella Tod, Mrs. Glibbans and her daughter Becky,

with Miss Nanny Eydent, together with other friends of the minister's

family, dined at the manse, and the conversation being chiefly about the

concerns of the family, the letters were produced and read.

LETTER XII

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass_

WINDSOR, CASTLE-INN.

MY DEAR FRIEND--I have all my life been strangely susceptible of pleasing

impressions from public 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. It may be so, but it

is not from the pageants that I derive my enjoyment. A multitude, in

fact, is to me as it were a strain of music, which, with an irresistible

and magical influence, calls up from the unknown abyss of the feelings

new combinations of fancy, which, though vague and obscure, as those

nebulae of light that astronomers have supposed to be the rudiments of

unformed stars, afterwards become distinct and brilliant acquisitions.

In a crowd, I am like the somnambulist in the highest degree of the

luminous crisis, when it is said a new world is unfolded to his

contemplation, wherein all things have an intimate affinity with the

state of man, and yet bear no resemblance to the objects that address

themselves to his corporeal faculties. This delightful experience, as it

may be called, I have enjoyed this evening, to an exquisite degree, at

the funeral of the king; but, although the whole succession of incidents

is indelibly imprinted on my recollection, I am still so much affected by

the emotion excited, as to be incapable of conveying to you any

intelligible description of what I saw. It was indeed a scene witnessed

through the medium of the feelings, and the effect partakes of the 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 vast spectres of

departed ages, raised their embattled heads to the skies, monumental

witnesses of the strength and antiquity of a great monarchy. A

prodigious multitude filled the courts of that venerable edifice,

surrounding on all sides a dark embossed structure, the sarcophagus, as

it seemed to me at the moment, of the heroism of chivalry.

"A change came o'er the spirit of my dream," and I beheld the scene

suddenly illuminated, and the blaze of torches, the glimmering of arms,

and warriors and horses, while a mosaic of human faces covered like a

pavement the courts. A deep low under sound pealed from a distance; in

the same moment, a trumpet answered with a single mournful note from the

stateliest and darkest portion of the fabric, and it was whispered in

every ear, "It is coming." Then an awful cadence of solemn music, that

affected the heart like silence, was heard at intervals, and a numerous

retinue of grave and 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 a king.

They were as a series of great historical events, and I beheld behind

them, following and followed, an awful and indistinct image, like the

vision of Job. It moved on, and I could not discern the form thereof,

but there were honours and heraldries, and sorrow, and silence, and I

heard the stir of a profound homage performing within the breasts of all

the witnesses. But I must not indulge myself farther on this subject. I

cannot hope to excite in you the emotions with which I was so profoundly

affected. In the visible objects of the funeral of George the Third

there was but little magnificence; all its sublimity was derived from the

trains of thought and currents of feeling, which the sight of so many

illustrious characters, surrounded by circumstances associated with the

greatness and antiquity of the kingdom, was necessarily calculated to

call forth. In this respect, however, it was perhaps the sublimest

spectacle ever witnessed in this island; and I am sure, that I cannot

live so long as ever again to behold another, that will equally interest

me to the same depth and extent.--Yours,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

We should ill perform the part of faithful historians, did we omit to

record the sentiments expressed by the company on this occasion. Mrs.

Glibbans, whose knowledge of the points of orthodoxy had not their equal

in the three adjacent parishes, roundly declared, that Mr. Andrew

Pringle's letter was nothing but a peesemeal of clishmaclavers; that

there was no sense in it; and that it was just like the writer, a canary

idiot, a touch here and a touch there, without anything in the shape of

cordiality or satisfaction.

Miss Isabella Tod answered this objection with that sweetness of manner

and virgin diffidence, which so well becomes a youthful member of the

establishment, controverting the dogmas of a stoop of the Relief

persuasion, by saying, that she thought Mr. Andrew had shown a fine

sensibility. "What is sensibility without judgment," cried her

adversary, "but a thrashing in the water, and a raising of bells?

Couldna the fallow, without a' his parleyvoos, have said, that such and

such was the case, and that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh

away?--but his clouds, and his spectres, and his visions of Job!--Oh, an

he could but think like Job!--Oh, an he would but think like the patient

man!--and was obliged to claut his flesh with a bit of a broken crock, we

might have some hope of repentance unto life. But Andrew Pringle, he's a

gone dick; I never had comfort or expectation of the free-thinker, since

I heard that he was infected with the blue and yellow calamity of the

_Edinburgh Review_; in which, I am credibly told, it is set forth, that

women have nae souls, but only a gut, and a gaw, and a gizzard, like a

pigeon-dove, or a raven-crow, or any other outcast and abominated

quadruped."

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed her effectual mediation, and said,

"It is very true that Andrew deals in the diplomatics of obscurity; but

it's well known that he has a nerve for genius, and that, in his own way,

he kens the loan from the crown of the causeway, as well as the duck does

the midden from the adle dib." To this proverb, which we never heard

before, a learned friend, whom we consulted on the subject, has enabled

us to state, that middens were formerly of great magnitude, and often of

no less antiquity in the west of Scotland; in so much, that the Trongate

of Glasgow owes all its spacious grandeur to them. It being within the

recollection of persons yet living, that the said magnificent street was

at one time an open road, or highway, leading to the Trone, or

market-cross, with thatched houses on each side, such as may still be

seen in the pure and immaculate royal borough of Rutherglen; 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. But not to insist at too great a length on such

topics of antiquarian lore, we shall now insert Dr. Pringle's account of

the funeral, and which, patly enough, follows our digression concerning

the middens and magnificence of Glasgow, as it contains 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 and

Session-Clerk of Garnock_

LONDON.

DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, and it is a great pleasure to me

to hear that my people were all so much concerned at our distress in the

Leith smack; but what gave me the most contentment was the repentance of

Tam Glen. I hope, poor fellow, he will prove a good husband; but I have

my doubts; for the wife has really but a small share of common sense, and

no married man can do well unless his wife will let him. I am, however,

not overly pleased with Mr. Craig on the occasion, for he should have

considered frail human nature, 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 and hope there

will be a great gathering at the christening, and, that my mite may not

be wanting, you will slip in a guinea note when the dish goes round, but

in such a manner, that it may not be jealoused from whose hand it comes.

Since my last letter, we have been very thrang in the way of seeing the

curiosities of London; but I must go on regular, and tell you all, which,

I think, it is my duty to do, that you may let my people know. First,

then, we have been at Windsor Castle, to see the king lying in state,

and, afterwards, his interment; and sorry am I to say, it was not a sight

that could satisfy any godly mind on such an occasion. We went in a

coach of our own, by ourselves, and found the town of Windsor like a

cried fair. We were then directed to the Castle gate, where a terrible

crowd was gathered together; and we had not 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 coat tail was found, and a policeman got it, and held it up on the

end of his stick, and cried, whose pocket is this? showing the book that

was therein in his hand. I was confounded to see my pocket-book there,

and could scarcely believe my own eyes; but Mrs. Pringle knew it at the

first glance, and said, "It's my gudeman's"; at the which, there was a

great shout of derision among the multitude, and we would baith have then

been glad to disown the pocket-book, but it was returned to us, I may

almost say, against our will; but the scorners, when they saw our

confusion, behaved with great civility towards us, so that we got into

the Castle-yard with no other damage than the loss of the flap of my coat

tail.

Being in the Castle-yard, we followed the crowd into another gate, and up

a stair, and saw the king lying in state, which was a very dismal

sight--and I thought of Solomon in all his glory, when I saw the coffin,

and the mutes, and the mourners; and reflecting on the long infirmity of

mind of the good old king, I said to myself, in the words of the book of

Job, 'Doth not their excellency which is in them go away? they die even

without wisdom!'

When we had seen the sight, we came out of the Castle, and went to an inn

to get a chack of dinner; but there was such a crowd, that no

resting-place could for a time be found for us. Gentle and semple were

there, all mingled, and no respect of persons; only there was, at a table

nigh unto ours, a fat Glasgow manufacturer, who ordered a bottle of

champaign wine, and did all he could in the drinking of it by himself, to

show that he was a man in well-doing circumstances. While he was talking

over his wine, a great peer of the realm, with a star on his breast, came

into the room, and ordered a glass of brandy and water; and I could see,

when he saw the Glasgow manufacturer drinking champaign wine on that

occasion, that he greatly marvelled thereat.

When we had taken our dinner, we went out to walk and see the town of

Windsor; but there was such a mob of coaches going and coming, and men

and horses, that we left the streets, and went to inspect the king's

policy, which is of great compass, but in a careless order, though it

costs a world of money to keep it up. Afterwards, we went back to the

inns, to get tea for Mrs. Pringle and her daughter, while Andrew Pringle,

my son, was seeing if he could get tickets to buy, to let us into the

inside of the Castle, to see the burial--but he came back without luck,

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 with thankfulness, for five shillings, although

the price was said to be golden guineas. But as this ticket admitted

only one person, it was hard to say what should be done with it when I

got back to my family. However, as by this time we were all very much

fatigued, I gave it to Andrew Pringle, my son, and Mrs. Pringle, and her

daughter Rachel, agreed to bide with me in the inns.

Andrew Pringle, my son, having got the ticket, left us sitting, when

shortly after in came a nobleman, high in the cabinet, as I think he must

have been, and he having politely asked leave to take his tea at our

table, because of the great throng in the house, we fell into a

conversation together, and he, understanding thereby that I was a

minister of the Church of Scotland, said he thought he could help us into

a place to see the 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 poor man's head, and he

talked so loud, and so little to the purpose, that the soldiers who were

guarding were obliged to make him hold his peace, at which he was not a

little nettled, and told the soldiers that he had himself been a soldier,

and served the king without pay, having been a volunteer officer. But

this 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 it was a very

edifying sight; and the people demeaned themselves with so much

propriety, that there was no need for any guards at all; indeed, for that

matter, of the two, the guards, who had eaten the king's bread, were the

only ones there, saving and excepting the Glasgow manufacturer, that

manifested an irreverent spirit towards the royal obsequies. But they

are men familiar with the king of terrors on the field of battle, and it

was not to be expected that their hearts would be daunted like those 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 for love or money at

Windsor, and we reached our temporary home in Norfolk Street about four

o'clock in the morning, well satisfied with what we had seen,--but all

the meantime I had forgotten the loss of the flap of my coat, which

caused no little sport when I came to recollect what a pookit like body I

must have been, walking about in the king's policy like a peacock 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 it contains information that may be serviceable to Miss

Nanny in her business, both as a mantua-maker and a superintendent of the

genteeler sort of burials at Irvine and our vicinity. So that this is

all from your friend and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

"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 of the ceremony; but Captain Sabre seems to have been a much more

interesting object to her than the pride and pomp to her brother, or even

the Glasgow manufacturer to her father." In saying these words, the

young lady took the following letter from her pocket, and was on the

point of beginning to read it, when Miss Becky Glibbans exclaimed, "I had

aye my fears that Rachel was but light-headed, and I'll no be surprised

to hear more about her and the dragoon or a's done." Mr. Snodgrass

looked at Becky, as if he had been afflicted at the moment with

unpleasant ideas; and perhaps he would have rebuked the spitefulness of

her insinuations, had not her mother sharply snubbed the uncongenial

maiden, in terms at least as pungent as any which the reverend gentleman

would have employed. "I'm sure," replied Miss Becky, pertly, "I meant no

ill; but if Rachel Pringle can write about nothing but this Captain

Sabre, she might as well let it alone, and her letter canna be worth the

hearing." "Upon that," said the clergyman, "we can form a judgment when

we have heard it, and I beg that Miss Isabella may proceed,"--which she

did accordingly.

LETTER XIV

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

LONDON.

MY DEAR BELL--I take up my pen with a feeling of disappointment such as I

never felt before. Yesterday was the day appointed for the funeral of

the good old king, and it was agreed that we should go to Windsor, to

pour the tribute of our tears upon the royal hearse. Captain Sabre

promised to go with us, as he is well acquainted with the town, and the

interesting objects around the Castle, so dear to chivalry, and embalmed

by the genius of Shakespeare and many a minor bard, and I promised myself

a day of unclouded felicity--but the captain was ordered to be on

duty,--and the crowd was so rude and riotous, that I had no enjoyment

whatever; but, pining with chagrin at the little respect paid by the

rabble to the virtues of the departed monarch, I would fainly have

retired into some solemn and sequestered grove, and breathed my sorrows

to the listening waste. Nor was the loss of the captain, to explain and

illuminate the different baronial circumstances around the Castle, the

only thing I had to regret in this ever-memorable excursion--my tender

and affectionate mother was so desirous to see everything in the most

particular manner, in order that she might give an account of the funeral

to Nanny Eydent, that she had no mercy either upon me or my father, but

obliged us to go with her to the most difficult and inaccessible places.

How vain was all this meritorious assiduity! for of what avail can the

ceremonies of a royal funeral be to Miss Nanny, at Irvine, where kings

never die, and where, if they did, it is not at all probable that Miss

Nanny would be employed to direct their solemn obsequies? As for my

brother, he was so entranced with his own enthusiasm, that he paid but

little attention to us, which made me the more sensible of the want we

suffered from the absence of Captain Sabre. In a word, my dear Bell,

never did I pass a more unsatisfactory day, and I wish it blotted for

ever from my remembrance. Let it therefore be consigned to the abysses

of oblivion, while I recall the more pleasing incidents that have

happened since I wrote you last.

On Sunday, according to invitation, as I told you, we dined with the

Argents--and were entertained by them in a style at once most splendid,

and on the most easy footing. I shall not attempt to describe the

consumable materials of the table, but call your attention, my dear

friend, to the intellectual portion of the entertainment, a subject much

more congenial to your delicate and refined character.

Mrs. Argent is a lady of considerable personal magnitude, of an 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 that day. She received us as friends in whom

she felt a peculiar interest; for when she heard that my mother had got

her dress and mine from Cranbury Alley, she expressed the greatest

astonishment, and told us, that it was not at all a place where persons

of fashion could expect to be properly served. Nor can I disguise the

fact, that the flounced and gorgeous garniture of our dresses was in

shocking contrast to the amiable simplicity of hers and the fair

Arabella, her daughter, a charming girl, who, notwithstanding the

fashionable splendour in which she has been educated, displays a

delightful sprightliness of manner, that, I have some notion, has not

been altogether lost on the heart 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 us with a

Mozart; but her mother, recollecting that we were Presbyterians, thought

it might not be agreeable, and she desisted, which I was sinful enough to

regret; but my mother was so evidently alarmed at the idea of playing on

the harp on a Sunday night, that I suppressed my own wishes, in filial

veneration for those of that respected parent. Indeed, fortunate it was

that the music was not performed; for, when we returned home, my father

remarked with great solemnity, that such a 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 delighted when he

understood that we were acquainted with his aunt, that he lamented he had

not happened to know it before, as he would, in that 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 not such a genius as my brother, and has no

literary partialities. But literary accomplishments are, you know,

foreign to the military profession, and if the captain has not

distinguished himself by cutting up authors in the reviews, he has

acquired an honourable medal, by overcoming the enemies of the civilised

world at Waterloo.

To-night the playhouses open again, and we are going to the Oratorio, and

the captain goes with us, a circumstance which I am the more pleased at,

as we are strangers, and he will tell us the names of the performers. My

father made some scruple of consenting to be of the party; but when he

heard that an Oratorio was a concert of sacred music, he thought it would

be only a sinless deviation if he did, so he goes likewise. The captain,

therefore, takes an early dinner with us at five o'clock. Alas! to what

changes am I doomed,--that was the tea hour at the manse of Garnock. Oh,

when shall I revisit the primitive simplicities of my native scenes

again! But neither time nor distance, my dear Bell, can change the

affection with which I subscribe myself, ever affectionately, yours,

RACHEL PRINGLE.

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 that spirit-stricken lady,--"what think you of this dining on the

Lord's day,--this playing on the harp; the carnal Mozarting of that

ungodly family, with whom the corrupt human nature of our friends has

been chambering?" Mr. Snodgrass was at some loss for an answer, and

hesitated, but Miss Mally Glencairn relieved him from his embarrassment,

by remarking, that "the harp was a holy instrument," which somewhat

troubled the settled orthodoxy of Mrs. Glibbans's visage. "Had it been

an organ," said Mr. Snodgrass, dryly, "there might have been, perhaps,

more reason to doubt; but, as Miss Mally justly remarks, the harp has

been used from the days of King David in the performances of sacred

music, together with the psalter, the timbrel, the sackbut, and the

cymbal." The wrath of the polemical Deborah of the Relief-Kirk was

somewhat appeased by this explanation, and she inquired in a more

diffident tone, whether a Mozart was not a metrical paraphrase of the

song of Moses 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 in the sight of HIM before whom all the actions of

men are abominations." Miss Isabella Tod, availing herself of this break

in the conversation, turned round to Miss Nanny Eydent, and begged that

she would read her letter from Mrs. Pringle. We should do injustice,

however, to honest worth and patient industry were we, in thus

introducing Miss Nanny to our readers, not to give them some account of

her lowly and virtuous character.

Miss Nanny was the eldest of three sisters, the daughters of a

shipmaster, who was lost at sea when they were very young; and his all

having perished with him, they were indeed, as their mother said, the

children of Poverty and Sorrow. By the help of a little credit, the

widow contrived, in a small shop, to eke out her days till Nanny was able

to assist her. It was the intention of the poor woman to take up a

girl's school for reading and knitting, and Nanny was destined to

instruct the pupils in that higher branch of accomplishment--the

different stitches of the sampler. But about the time that Nanny was

advancing to the requisite degree of perfection in chain-steek and

pie-holes--indeed had made some progress in the Lord's prayer between two

yew trees--tambouring was introduced at Irvine, and Nanny was sent to

acquire a competent knowledge of that classic art, honoured by the fair

hands of the beautiful Helen and the chaste and domestic Andromache. In

this she instructed her sisters; and such was the fruit of their

application and constant industry, that her mother abandoned the design

of keeping school, and continued to ply her little huxtry in more easy

circumstances. The fluctuations of trade in time taught them that it

would not be wise to trust to the loom, and accordingly Nanny was at some

pains to learn mantua-making; and it was fortunate that she did so--for

the tambouring gradually went out of fashion, and the flowering which

followed suited less the infirm constitution of poor Nanny. The making

of gowns for ordinary occasions led to the making of mournings, and the

making of mournings naturally often caused Nanny to be called in at

deaths, which, in process of time, promoted her to have the management of

burials; and in this line of business she has now a large proportion of

the genteelest in Irvine and its vicinity; and in all her various

engagements her behaviour has been as blameless and obliging as her

assiduity has been uniform; insomuch, that the numerous ladies to whom

she is known take a particular pleasure in supplying her with the newest

patterns, and earliest information, respecting the varieties and changes

of fashions; and to the influence of the same good feelings in the breast

of Mrs. Pringle, Nanny was indebted for the following letter. How far

the information which it contains may be deemed exactly suitable to the

circumstances in which Miss Nanny's lot is cast, our readers may judge

for themselves; but we are happy to state, that it has proved of no small

advantage to her: for since it has been known that she had received a

full, true, and particular account, of all manner of London fashions,

from so managing and notable a woman as the minister's wife of Garnock,

her consideration has been so augmented in the opinion of the

neighbouring gentlewomen, that she is not only consulted as to funerals,

but is often called in to assist in the decoration and arrangement of

wedding-dinners, and other occasions of sumptuous banqueting; by which

she is enabled, during the suspension of the flowering trade, to earn a

lowly but a respected livelihood.

LETTER XV

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Nanny Eydent_, _Mantua-maker_, _Seagate Head_,

_Irvine_

LONDON.

DEAR MISS NANNY--Miss Mally Glencairn would tell you all how it happent

that I was disabled, by our misfortunes in the ship, from riting to you

konserning the London fashons as I promist; for I wantit to be

partikylor, and to say nothing but what I saw with my own eyes, that it

might be servisable to you in your bizness--so now I will begin with the

old king's burial, as you have sometimes okashon to lend a helping hand

in that way at Irvine, and nothing could be more genteeler of the kind

than a royal obsakew for a patron; but no living sole can give a distink

account of this matter, for you know the old king was the father of his

piple, and the croud was so great. Howsomever we got into our oun hired

shaze at daylight; 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 castel

walls, when great was the lamentation for the purdition of shawls and

shoos, and the Doctor's coat pouch was clippit off by a pocket-picker.

We then ran to a wicket-gate, and up an old timber-stair with a rope

ravel, and then we got to a great pentit chamber called King George's

Hall: After that we were allowt to go into another room full of guns and

guards, that told us all to be silent: so then we all went like sawlies,

holding our tongues in an awful manner, into a dysmal room hung with

black cloth, and lighted with dum wax-candles in silver skonses, and men

in a row all in mulancholic posters. At length and at last we came to

the coffin; but although I was as partikylar as possoble, I could see

nothing that I would recommend. As for the interment, there was nothing

but even-down wastrie--wax-candles blowing away in the wind, and flunkies

as fou as pipers, and an unreverent mob that scarsely could demean

themselves with decency as the body was going by; only the Duke of York,

who carrit the head, had on no hat, which I think was the newest

identical thing in the affair: but really there was nothing that could be

recommended. Howsomever I understood that there was no draigie, which

was a saving; for the bread and wine for such a multitude would have been

a destruction to a lord's living: and this is the only point that the

fashon set in the king's feunoral may be follot in Irvine.

Since the burial, we have been to see the play, where the leddies were

all in deep murning; but excepting that some had black gum-floors on

their heads, I saw leetil for admiration--only that bugles, I can ashure

you, are not worn at all this season; and surely this murning must be a

vast detrimint to bizness--for where there is no verietie, there can be

but leetil to do in your line. But one thing I should not forget, and

that is, that in the vera best houses, after tea and coffee after dinner,

a cordial dram is handed about; but likewise I could observe, that the

fruit is not set on with the cheese, as in our part of the country, but

comes, after the cloth is drawn, with the wine; and no such a thing as a

punch-bowl is to be heard of within the four walls of London.

Howsomever, what I principally notised was, that the tea and coffee is

not made by the lady of the house, but out of the room, and brought in

without sugar or milk, on servors, every one helping himself, and only

plain flimsy loaf and butter is served--no such thing as shortbread,

seed-cake, bun, marmlet, or jeelly to be seen, which is an okonomical

plan, and well worthy of adaptation in ginteel families with narrow

incomes, in Irvine or elsewhere.

But when I tell you what I am now going to say, you will not be surprizt

at the great wealth in London. I paid for a bumbeseen gown, not a bit

better than the one that was made by you that the sore calamity befell,

and no so fine neither, more than three times the price; so you see, Miss

Nanny, if you were going to pouse your fortune, you could not do better

than pack up your ends and your awls and come to London. But ye're far

better at home--for this is not a town for any creditable young woman

like you, to live in by herself, and I am wearying to be back, though

it's hard to say when the Doctor 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 no

be so general with you, and the spring fashons will be coming on to help

my gathering--so no more at present from your friend and well-wisher,

JANET PRINGLE.

CHAPTER VI--PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION

On Sunday morning, before going to church, Mr. Micklewham called at the

manse, and said that he wished particularly to speak to Mr. Snodgrass.

Upon being admitted, he found the young helper engaged at breakfast, with

a book lying on his table, very like a volume of a new novel called

_Ivanhoe_, in its appearance, but of course it must have been sermons

done up in that manner to attract fashionable readers. As soon, however,

as Mr. Snodgrass saw his visitor, he hastily removed the book, and put it

into the table-drawer.

The precentor having taken a seat at the opposite side of the fire, began

somewhat diffidently to mention, that he had received a letter from the

Doctor, that made him at a loss whether or not he ought to read it to the

elders, as usual, after worship, and therefore was desirous of consulting

Mr. Snodgrass on the subject, for it recorded, among other things, that

the Doctor had been 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 nature of the

performance. As the clergyman, however, could offer no opinion until he

saw the letter, the precentor took it out of his pocket, and Mr.

Snodgrass found the contents as follows:--

LETTER XVI

_The Rev. Z. Pringle_, _D.D._, _to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk_, _Garnock_

LONDON.

DEAR SIR--You will recollect that, about twenty years ago, there was a

great sound throughout all the West that a playhouse in Glasgow had been

converted into a tabernacle of religion. I remember it was glad tidings

to our ears in the parish of Garnock; and that Mr. Craig, who had just

been ta'en on for an elder that fall, was for having a thanksgiving-day

on the account thereof, holding it to be a signal manifestation of a new

birth in the of-old-godly town of Glasgow, which had become slack in the

way of well-doing, and the church therein lukewarm, like that of

Laodicea. It was then said, as I well remember, that when the Tabernacle

was opened, there had not been seen, since the Kaimslang wark, such a

congregation as was there assembled, which was a great proof that it's

the matter handled, and not the place, that maketh pure; so that when you

and the elders hear that I have been at the theatre of Drury Lane, in

London, you must not think that I was there to see a carnal stage play,

whether tragical or comical, or that I would so far demean myself and my

cloth, as to be a witness to the chambering and wantonness of

ne'er-du-weel play-actors. No, Mr. Micklewham, what I went to see was an

Oratorio, a most edifying exercise of psalmody and prayer, under the

management of a pious gentleman, of the name of Sir George Smart, who is,

as I am informed, at the greatest pains to instruct the exhibitioners,

they being, for the most part, before they get into his hands, poor

uncultivated creatures, from Italy, France, and Germany, and other

atheistical and popish countries.

They first sung a hymn together very decently, and really with as much

civilised harmony as could be expected from novices; indeed so well, that

I thought them almost as melodious as your own singing class of the

trades lads from Kilwinning. Then there was one Mr. Braham, a Jewish

proselyte, that was set forth to show us a specimen of his proficiency.

In the praying part, what he said was no objectionable as to the matter;

but he drawled in his manner to such a pitch, that I thought he would

have broken out into an even-down song, as I sometimes think of yourself

when you spin out the last word in reading out the line in a warm summer

afternoon. In the hymn by himself, he did better; he was, however,

sometimes like to lose the tune, but the people gave him great

encouragement when he got back again. Upon the whole, I had no notion

that there was any such Christianity in practice among the Londoners, and

I am happy to tell you, that the house was very well filled, and the

congregation wonderful attentive. No doubt that excellent man, Mr. W---,

has a hand in these public strainings after grace, but he was not there

that night; for I have seen him; and surely at the sight I could not but

say to myself, that it's beyond the compass of the understanding of man

to see what great things Providence worketh with small means, for Mr.

W--- is a small creature. When I beheld his diminutive stature, and

thought of what he had achieved for the poor negroes and others in the

house of bondage, I said to myself, that here the hand of Wisdom is

visible, for the load of perishable mortality is laid lightly on his

spirit, by which it is enabled to clap its wings and crow so crously on

the dunghill top of this world; yea even in the House of Parliament.

I was taken last Thursday morning to breakfast with him his house at

Kensington, by an East India man, who is likewise surely a great saint.

It was a heart-healing meeting of many of the godly, which he holds

weekly in the season; and we had such a warsle of the spirit among us

that the like cannot be told. I was called upon to pray, and a worthy

gentleman said, when I was done, that he never had met with more

apostolic simplicity--indeed, I could see with the tail of my eye, while

I was praying, that the chief saint himself was listening with a curious

pleasant satisfaction.

As for our doings here anent the legacy, things are going forward in the

regular manner; but the expense is terrible, and I have been obliged to

take up money on account; but, as it was freely given by the agents, I am

in hopes all will end well; for, considering that we are but strangers to

them, they would not have assisted us in this matter had they not been

sure of the means 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 the character for sobriety

that I have maintained, to show an example in my latter days of riotous

living; therefore, Mrs. Pringle, and her daughter, and me, have made a

point of going nowhere three times in the week; but as for Andrew

Pringle, my son, he has forgathered with some acquaintance, and I fancy

we will be obliged to let him take the length of his tether for a while.

But not altogether without a curb neither, for the agent's son, young Mr.

Argent, had almost persuaded him to become a member of Parliament, which

he said he could get him made, for more than a thousand pounds less than

the common price--the state of the new king's health having lowered the

commodity of seats. But this I would by no means hear of; he is not yet

come to years of discretion enough to sit in council; and, moreover, he

has not been tried; and no man, 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 such pains to make his little go

a great way, like that well-behaved young gentleman. But you will be

grieved to hear that Mr. K---dy is in opposition to the government; and

truly I am at a loss to understand how a man of Whig principles can be an

adversary to the House of Hanover. But I never meddled much in politick

affairs, except at this time, when I prohibited Andrew Pringle, my son,

from offering to be a member of Parliament, notwithstanding the great

bargain that he would have had of the place.

And since we are on public concerns, I should tell you, that I was minded

to send you a newspaper at the second-hand, every day when we were done

with it. But when we came to inquire, we found that we could get the

newspaper for a shilling a week every morning but Sunday, to our

breakfast, which was so much cheaper than buying a whole paper, that Mrs.

Pringle thought it would be a great extravagance; and, indeed, when I

came to think of the loss of time a newspaper every day would occasion to

my people, I considered it would be very wrong of me to send you any at

all. For I do think that honest folks in a far-off country parish should

not make or meddle with the things that pertain to government,--the more

especially, as it is well known, that there is as much falsehood as truth

in newspapers, and they have not the means of testing their statements.

Not, however, that I am an advocate for passive obedience; God forbid.

On the contrary, if ever the time should come, in my day, of a

saint-slaying tyrant attempting to bind the burden of prelatic

abominations on our backs, such a blast of the gospel trumpet would be

heard in Garnock, as it does not become me to say, but I leave it to you

and others, who have experienced my capacity as a soldier of the word so

long, to think what it would then be. Meanwhile, I remain, my dear sir,

your friend and pastor,

Z. PRINGLE.

When Mr. Snodgrass had perused this epistle, he paused some time,

seemingly in doubt, and then he said to Mr. Micklewham, that, considering

the view which the Doctor had taken of the matter, and that he had not

gone to the playhouse for the motives which usually take bad people to

such places, he thought there could be no possible harm in reading the

letter to the elders, and that Mr. Craig, so far from being displeased,

would doubtless be exceedingly rejoiced to learn that the playhouses of

London were occasionally so well employed as on the night when the Doctor

was there.

Mr. Micklewham then inquired if Mr. Snodgrass had heard from Mr. Andrew,

and was answered in the affirmative; but the letter was not read. Why it

was withheld our readers must guess for themselves; but we have been

fortunate enough to obtain the following copy.

LETTER XVII

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass_

LONDON.

MY DEAR FRIEND--As the season advances, London gradually unfolds, like

Nature, all the variety of her powers and pleasures. By the Argents we

have been introduced effectually into society, and have now only to

choose our acquaintance among those whom we like best. I should employ

another word than choose, for I am convinced that there is no choice in

the matter. In his friendships and affections, man is subject to some

inscrutable moral law, similar in its effects to what the chemists call

affinity. While under the blind influence of this sympathy, we,

forsooth, suppose ourselves free 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 till this is done, my mother

cannot be persuaded that we have yet got anything to trust to--an

unfortunate notion which renders her very unhappy. The old gentleman

himself takes no interest now in the business. He has got his mind at

ease by the payment of all the legacies; and having fallen in with some

of the members of that political junto, the Saints, who are worldly

enough to link, as often as they can, into their association, the

powerful by wealth or talent, his whole time is occupied in assisting to

promote their humbug; and he has absolutely taken it into his head, that

the attention he receives from them for his subscriptions is on account

of his eloquence as a preacher, and that hitherto he has been altogether

in an error with respect to his own abilities. The effect of this is

abundantly amusing; but the source of it is very evident. Like most

people who pass a sequestered life, he had formed an exaggerated opinion

of public characters; and on seeing them in reality so little superior to

the generality of mankind, he imagines that he was all the time nearer to

their level than he had ventured to suppose; and the discovery has placed

him on the happiest terms with himself. It is impossible that I can

respect his manifold excellent qualities and goodness of heart more than

I do; but there is an innocency in this simplicity, which, while it often

compels me to smile, makes me feel towards him a degree of tenderness,

somewhat too familiar for that filial reverence that is due from a son.

Perhaps, however, you will think me scarcely less under the influence of

a similar delusion when I tell you, that I have been somehow or other

drawn also into an association, not indeed so public or potent as that of

the Saints, but equally persevering in the objects for which it has been

formed. The drift of the Saints, as far as I can comprehend the matter,

is to procure the advancement to political power of men distinguished for

the purity of their lives, and the integrity of their conduct; and in

that way, I presume, they expect to effect the accomplishment of that

blessed epoch, the Millennium, when the Saints are to rule the whole

earth. I do not mean to say that this is their decided and determined

object; I only infer, that it is the necessary tendency of their

proceedings; and I say it with all possible respect and sincerity, that,

as a public party, the Saints are not only perhaps the most powerful, but

the party which, at present, best deserves power.

The association, however, with which I have happened to become connected,

is of a very different description. Their object is, to pass through

life with as much pleasure as they can obtain, without doing anything

unbecoming the rank of gentlemen, and the character of men of honour. We

do not assemble such numerous meetings as the Saints, the Whigs, or the

Radicals, nor are our speeches delivered with so much vehemence. We

even, I think, tacitly exclude oratory. In a word, our meetings seldom

exceed the perfect number of the muses; and our object on these occasions

is not so much to deliberate on plans of prospective benefits to mankind,

as to enjoy the present time for ourselves, under the temperate

inspiration of a well-cooked dinner, flavoured with elegant wine, and

just so much of mind as suits the fleeting topics of the day. T---, whom

I formerly mentioned, introduced me to this delightful society. The

members consist of about fifty gentlemen, who dine occasionally at each

other's houses; the company being chiefly selected from the brotherhood,

if that term can be applied to a circle of acquaintance, who, without any

formal institution of rules, have gradually acquired a consistency that

approximates to organisation. But the universe of this vast city

contains a plurality of systems; and the one into which I have been

attracted may be described as that of the idle intellects. In general

society, the members of our party are looked up to as men of taste and

refinement, and are received with a degree of deference that bears some

resemblance to the respect paid to the hereditary endowment of rank.

They consist either of young men who have acquired distinction at

college, or gentlemen of fortune who have a relish for intellectual

pleasures, free from the acerbities of politics, or the dull formalities

which so many of the pious think essential to their religious

pretensions. The wealthy furnish the entertainments, which are always in

a superior style, and the ingredient of birth is not requisite in the

qualifications of a member, although some jealousy is entertained of

professional men, and not a little of merchants. T---, to whom I am also

indebted for this view of that circle of which he is the brightest

ornament, gives a felicitous explanation of the reason. He says,

professional men, who are worth anything at all, are always ambitious,

and endeavour to make their acquaintance subservient to their own

advancement; while merchants are liable to such casualties, that their

friends are constantly exposed to the risk of being obliged to sink them

below their wonted equality, by granting them favours in times of

difficulty, or, what is worse, by refusing to grant them.

I am much indebted to you for the introduction to your friend G---. He

is one of us; or rather, he moves in an eccentric sphere of his own,

which crosses, I believe, almost all the orbits of all the classed and

classifiable systems of London. I found him exactly what you described;

and we were on the frankest footing of old friends in the course of the

first quarter of an hour. He did me the honour to fancy that I belonged,

as a matter of course, to some one of the literary fraternities of

Edinburgh, and that I would be curious to see the associations of the

learned here. What he said respecting them was highly characteristic of

the man. "They are," said he, "the dullest things possible. On my

return from abroad, I visited them all, expecting to find something of

that easy disengaged mind which constitutes the charm of those of France

and Italy. But in London, among those who have a character to keep up,

there is such a vigilant circumspection, that I should as soon expect to

find nature in the ballets of the Opera-house, as genius at the

established haunts of authors, artists, and men of science. Bankes

gives, I suppose officially, a public breakfast weekly, and opens his

house for conversations on the Sundays. I found at his breakfasts, tea

and coffee, with hot rolls, and men of celebrity afraid to speak. At the

conversations, there was something even worse. A few plausible talking

fellows created a buzz in the room, and the merits of some paltry

nick-nack of mechanism or science was discussed. The party consisted

undoubtedly of the most eminent men of their respective lines in the

world; but they were each and all so apprehensive of having their ideas

purloined, that they took the most guarded care never to speak of

anything that they deemed of the slightest consequence, or to hazard an

opinion that might be called in question. The man who either wishes to

augment his knowledge, or to pass his time agreeably, will never expose

himself to a repetition of the fastidious exhibitions of engineers and

artists who have their talents at market. But such things are among the

curiosities of London; and if you have any inclination to undergo the

initiating mortification of being treated as a young man who may be

likely to interfere with their professional interests, I can easily get

you introduced."

I do not know whether to ascribe these strictures of your friend to

humour or misanthropy; but they were said without bitterness; indeed so

much as matters of course, that, at the moment, I could not but feel

persuaded they were just. I spoke of them to T---, who says, that

undoubtedly G---'s account of the exhibitions is true in substance, but

that it is his own sharp-sightedness which causes him to see them so

offensively; for that ninety-nine out of the hundred in the world would

deem an evening spent at the conversations of Sir Joseph Bankes 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 fault to employ his mind too

much on all occasions; and that, in all probability, there will be

something, either in the fare or the company, that I shall remember as

long as I live. However, you shall hear all about it in my next.--Yours,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

On the same Sunday on which Mr. Micklewham consulted Mr. Snodgrass as to

the propriety of reading the Doctor's letter to the elders, the following

epistle reached the post-office of Irvine, and was delivered by Saunders

Dickie himself, at the door of Mrs. Glibbans to her servan lassie, who,

as her mistress had gone to the Relief Church, told him, that he would

have to come for the postage the morn's morning. "Oh," said Saunders,

"there's naething to pay but my ain trouble, for it's frankit; but

aiblins the mistress will gie me a bit drappie, and so I'll come betimes

i' the morning."

LETTER XVIII

_Mrs. Pringle to Mrs. Glibbans_

LONDON.

MY DEAR MRS. GLIBBANS--The breking up of the old Parlament has been the

cause why I did not right you before, it having taken it out of my poor

to get a frank for my letter till yesterday; and I do ashure you, that I

was most extraordinar uneasy at the great delay, wishing much to let you

know the decayt state of the Gospel in thir perts, which is the pleasure

of your life to study by day, and meditate on in the watches of the

night.

There is no want of going to church, and, if that was a sign of grease

and peese in the kingdom of Christ, the toun of London might hold a high

head in the tabernacles of the faithful and true witnesses. But saving

Dr. Nichol of Swallo-Street, and Dr. Manuel of London-Wall, there is

nothing sound in the way of preaching here; and when I tell you that Mr.

John Gant, your friend, and some other flea-lugged fallows, have set up a

Heelon congregation, and got a young man to preach Erse to the English,

ye maun think in what a state sinful souls are left in London. But what

I have been the most consarned about is the state of the dead. I am no

meaning those who are dead in trespasses and sins, but the true dead. Ye

will hardly think, that they are buried in a popish-like manner, with

prayers, and white gowns, and ministers, and spadefuls of yerd cast upon

them, and laid in vauts, like kists of orangers in a grocery seller--and

I am told that, after a time, they are taken out when the vaut is

shurfeeted, and their bones brunt, if they are no made into lamp-black by

a secret wark--which is a clean proof to me that a right doctrine cannot

be established in this land--there being so little respec shone to the

dead.

The worst point, howsomever, of all is, what is done with the

prayers--and I have heard you say, that although there was nothing more

to objec to the wonderful Doctor Chammers of Glasgou, that his reading of

his sermons was testimony against him in the great controversy of sound

doctrine; but what will you say to reading of prayers, and no only

reading of prayers, but printed prayers, as if the contreet heart of the

sinner had no more to say to the Lord in the hour of fasting and

humiliation, than what a bishop can indite, and a book-seller make profit

o'. "Verily," as I may say, in a word of scripter, I doobt if the glad

tidings of salvation have yet been preeched in this land of London; but

the ministers have good stipends, and where the ground is well manured,

it may in time bring forth fruit meet for repentance.

There is another thing that behoves me to mention, and that is, 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; and in what state the morality can

be, you may guess with an eye of pity. But on the Sabbath nights, there

is such a going and coming, that it's more like a cried fair than the

Lord's night--all sorts of poor people, instead of meditating on their

bygane toil and misery of the week, making the Sunday their own day, as

if they had not a greater Master to serve on that day, than the earthly

man whom they served in the week-days. It is, howsomever, past the poor

of nature to tell you of the sinfulness of London; and you may we think

what is to be the end of all things, when I ashure you, that there is a

newspaper sold every Sabbath morning, and read by those that never look

at their Bibles. Our landlady asked us if we would take one; but I

thought the Doctor would have fired the house, and you know it is not a

small thing that kindles his passion. In short, London is not a place to

come to hear the tidings of salvation preeched,--no that I mean to deny

that 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 than a hundred pounds of debt, to

the account of our living, and the legacy yet in the dead thraws. But as

I mean this for a spiritual letter, I will say no more about the root of

all evil, as it is called in the words of truth and holiness; so

referring you to what I have told Miss Mally Glencairn about the legacy

and other things nearest my heart, I remain, my dear Mrs. Glibbans, your

fellou Christian and sinner,

JANET PRINGLE.

Mrs. Glibbans received this letter between the preachings, and it was

observed by all her acquaintance during the afternoon service, that she

was a laden woman. Instead of standing up at the prayers, as her wont

was, she kept her seat, sitting with downcast eyes, and ever and anon her

left hand, which was laid over her book on the reading-board of the pew,

was raised and allowed to drop with a particular moral emphasis,

bespeaking the mournful cogitations of her spirit. On leaving the

church, somebody whispered to the minister, that surely Mrs. Glibbans had

heard some sore news; upon which that meek, mild, and modest good soul

hastened towards her, and inquired, with more than his usual kindness,

How she was? Her answer was brief and mysterious; and she shook her head

in such a manner that showed him all was not right. "Have you heard

lately of your friends the Pringles?" said he, in his sedate

manner--"when do they think of leaving London?'

"I wish they may ever get out o't," was the agitated reply of the

afflicted lady.

"I am very sorry to hear you say so," responded the minister. "I thought

all was in a fair way to an issue of the settlement. I'm very sorry to

hear this."

"Oh, sir," said the mourner, "don't think that I am grieved for them and

their legacy--filthy lucre--no, sir; but I have had a letter that has

made my hair stand on end. Be none surprised if you hear of the earth

opening, and London swallowed up, and a voice crying in the wilderness,

'Woe, woe.'"

The gentle priest was much surprised by this information; it was evident

that Mrs. Glibbans had received a terrible account of the wickedness of

London; and that the weight upon her pious spirit was owing to that

cause. He, therefore, accompanied her home, and administered all the

consolation he was able to give; assuring her, that it was in the power

of Omnipotence to convert the stony heart into one of flesh and

tenderness, and to raise the British metropolis out of the miry clay, and

place it on a hill, as a city that could not be hid; which Mrs. Glibbans

was so thankful to hear, that, as soon as he had left her, she took her

tea in a satisfactory frame of mind, and went the same night to Miss

Mally Glencairn to hear what Mrs. Pringle had said to her. No visit ever

happened more opportunely; for just as Mrs. Glibbans knocked at the door,

Miss Isabella Tod made her appearance. She had also received a letter

from Rachel, in which it will be seen that reference was made likewise to

Mrs. Pringle's epistle to Miss Mally.

LETTER XIX

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

LONDON.

MY DEAR BELL--How delusive are the flatteries of fortune! The wealth

that has been showered upon us, beyond all our hopes, has brought no

pleasure to 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 I must confess to your

sympathising bosom, that I do begin to find that he has an interest in

mine. But my mother will not listen to his proposals, nor allow me to

give him any encouragement, till the fatal legacy is settled. What can

be her motive for this, I am unable to divine; for the captain's fortune

is far beyond what I could ever have expected without the legacy, and

equal to all I could hope for with it. If, therefore, there is any doubt

of the legacy being paid, she should allow me to accept him; and if there

is none, what can I do better? In the meantime, we are going about

seeing the sights; but the general mourning is a great drawback on the

splendour of gaiety. It ends, however, next Sunday; and then the ladies,

like the spring flowers, will be all in full blossom. I was with the

Argents at the opera on Saturday last, and it far surpassed my ideas of

grandeur. But the singing was not good--I never could make out the end

or the beginning of a song, and it was drowned with the violins; the

scenery, however, was lovely; but I must not say a word about the

dancers, only that the females behaved in a manner so shocking, that I

could scarcely believe it was possible for the delicacy of our sex to do.

They are, however, all foreigners, who are, you know, naturally of a

licentious character, especially the French women.

We have taken an elegant house in Baker Street, where we go on Monday

next, and our own new carriage is to be home in the course of the week.

All this, which has been done by the advice of Mrs. Argent, gives my

mother great uneasiness, in case anything should yet happen to the

legacy. My brother, however, who knows the law better than her, only

laughs at her fears, and my father has found such a wonderful deal to do

in religion here, that he is quite delighted, and is busy from morning to

night in writing letters, and giving charitable donations. I am soon to

be no less busy, but in another manner. Mrs. Argent has advised us to

get in accomplished masters for me, so that, as soon as we are removed

into our own local habitation, I am to begin with drawing and music, and

the foreign languages. I am not, however, to learn much of the piano;

Mrs. A. thinks it would take up more time than I can now afford; but I am

to be cultivated in my singing, and she is to try if the master that

taught Miss Stephens has an hour to spare--and to use her influence to

persuade him to give it to me, although he only receives pupils for

perfectioning, except they belong to families of 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, but neither he nor my

mother would hear of such a thing, which I was very sorry for, as it

would have been so convenient to me for getting franks; and I wonder my

mother did not think of that, as she grudges nothing so much as the price

of postage. But nothing do I grudge so little, especially when it is a

letter from you. Why do you not write me oftener, and tell me what is

saying about us, particularly by that spiteful toad, Becky Glibbans, who

never could hear of any good happening to her acquaintance, without being

as angry as if it was obtained at her own expense?

I do not like Miss Argent so well on acquaintance as I did at first; not

that she is not a very fine lassie, but she gives herself such airs at

the harp and piano--because she can play every sort of music at the first

sight, and sing, by looking at the notes, any song, although she never

heard it, which may be very well in a play-actor, or a governess, that

has to win her bread by music; but I think the education of a modest

young lady might have been better conducted.

Through the civility of the Argents, we have been introduced to a great

number of families, and been much invited; but all the parties are so

ceremonious, that I am never at my ease, which my brother says is owing

to my rustic education, which I cannot understand; for, although the

people are finer dressed, and the dinners and rooms grander than what I

have seen, either at Irvine or Kilmarnock, the company are no wiser; and

I have not met with a single literary character among them. And what are

ladies and gentlemen without mind, but a well-dressed mob! It is to mind

alone that I am at all disposed to pay the homage of diffidence.

The acquaintance of the Argents are all of the first circle, and we have

got an invitation to a route from the Countess of J---y, in consequence

of meeting her with them. She is a charming woman, and I anticipate

great pleasure. Miss Argent says, however, she is ignorant and

presuming; but how is it possible that she can be so, as she was an

earl's daughter, and bred up for distinction? Miss Argent may be

presuming, but a countess is necessarily above that, at least it would

only become a duchess or marchioness to say so. This, however, is not

the only occasion in which I have seen the detractive disposition of that

young lady, who, with all her simplicity of manners and great

accomplishments, is, you will perceive, just like ourselves, rustic as

she doubtless thinks our breeding has been.

I have observed that nobody in London inquires about who another is; and

that in company everyone is treated on an equality, unless when there is

some remarkable personal peculiarity, so that one really knows nothing of

those whom one meets. But my paper is full, and I must not take another

sheet, as my mother has a letter to send in the same frank to Miss Mally

Glencairn. Believe me, ever affectionately yours,

RACHEL PRINGLE.

The three ladies knew not very well what to make of this letter. They

thought there was a change in Rachel's ideas, and that it was not for the

better; and Miss Isabella expressed, with a sentiment of sincere sorrow,

that the acquisition of fortune seemed to have brought out some unamiable

traits in her character, which, perhaps, had she not been exposed to the

companions and temptations of the great world, would have slumbered,

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 of summer causes the

rosin and sap to issue from the bark of the tree. In the meantime, Miss

Mally had opened her letter, of which we subjoin a copy.

LETTER XX

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

LONDON.

DEAR MISS MALLY--I greatly stand in need of your advise and counsel at

this time. The Doctor's affair comes on at a fearful slow rate, and the

money goes like snow off a dyke. It is not to be told what has been paid

for legacy-duty, and no legacy yet in hand; and we have been obligated to

lift a whole hundred pounds out of the residue, and what that is to be

the Lord only knows. But Miss Jenny Macbride, she has got her thousand

pound, all in one bank bill, sent to her; Thomas Bowie, the doctor in

Ayr, he has got his five hundred pounds; and auld Nanse Sorrel, that was

nurse to the cornal, she has got the first year of her twenty pounds a

year; but we have gotten nothing, and I jealouse, that if things go on at

this rate, there will be nothing to get; and what will become of us then,

after all the trubble and outlay that 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 a Parliament member for

three thousand pounds, which he said was cheap; and surely he would not

have thought of such a thing, had he not known that Andrew would have the

money to pay for't; and, over and above this, Mrs. Argent has been

recommending Captain Sabre to me for Rachel, and she says he is a stated

gentleman, with two thousand pounds rental, and her nephew; and surely

she would not think Rachel a match for him, unless she had an inkling

from her gudeman of what Rachel's to get. But I have told her that we

would think of nothing of the sort till the counts war settled, which she

may tell to her gudeman, and if he approves the match, it will make him

hasten on the settlement, for really I am growing tired of this London,

whar I am just like a fish out of the water. The Englishers are sae

obstinate in their own way, that I can get them to do nothing like

Christians; and, what is most provoking of all, their ways are very good

when you know them; but they have no instink to teach a body how to learn

them. Just this very morning, I told the lass to get a jiggot of mutton

for the morn's dinner, and she said there was not such a thing to be had

in London, and threeppit it till I couldna stand her; and, had it not

been that Mr. Argent's French servan' man happened to come with a cart,

inviting us to a ball, and who understood what a jiggot was, I might have

reasoned till the day of doom without redress. As for the Doctor, I

declare he's like an enchantit person, for he has falling in with a party

of the elect here, as he says, and they have a kilfud yoking every

Thursday at the house of Mr. W---, where the Doctor has 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 but go to Bible soceeyetis, and

mishonary meetings, and cherity sarmons, which cost a poor of money.

But what consarns me more than all is, that the temptations of this

vanity fair have turnt the head of Andrew, and he has bought two horses,

with an English man-servan', which you know is an eating moth. But how

he payt for them, and whar he is to keep them, is past the compass of my

understanding. In short, if the legacy does not cast up soon, I see

nothing left for us but to leave the world as a legacy to you all, for my

heart will be broken--and I often wish that the cornel hadna made us his

residees, but only given us a clean scorn, like Miss Jenny Macbride,

although it had been no more; for, my dear Miss Mally, it does not doo

for a woman of my time of life to be taken out of her element, and,

instead of looking after her family with a thrifty eye, to be sitting

dressed all day seeing the money fleeing like sclate stanes. But what I

have to tell is worse than all this; we have been persuaded to take a

furnisht house, where we go on Monday; and we are to pay for it, for

three months, no less than a hundred and fifty pounds, which is more than

the half of the Doctor's whole stipend is, when the meal is twenty-pence

the peck; and we are to have three servan' lassies, besides Andrew's man,

and the coachman that we have hired altogether for ourselves, having been

persuaded to trist a new carriage of our own by the Argents, which I

trust the Argents will find money to pay for; and masters are to come in

to teach Rachel the fasionable accomplishments, Mrs. Argent thinking she

was rather old now to be sent to a boarding-school. But what I am to get

to do for so many vorashous servants, is dreadful to think, there being

no such thing as a wheel within the four walls of London; and, if there

was, the Englishers no nothing about spinning. In short, Miss Mally, I

am driven dimentit, and I wish I could get the Doctor to come home with

me to our manse, and leave all to Andrew and Rachel, with kurators; but,

as I said, he's as mickle bye himself as onybody, and says that his

candle has been hidden under a bushel at Garnock more than thirty years,

which looks as if the poor man was fey; howsomever, he's happy in his

delooshon, for if he was afflictit with that forethought and wisdom that

I have, I know not what would be the upshot of all this calamity. But we

maun hope for the best; and, happen what will, I am, dear Miss Mally,

your sincere friend,

JANET PRINGLE.

Miss Mally sighed as she concluded, and said, "Riches do not always bring

happiness, and poor Mrs. Pringle would have been far better looking after

her cows and her butter, and keeping her lassies at their wark, than with

all this galravitching and grandeur." "Ah!" added Mrs. Glibbans, "she's

now a testifyer to the truth--she's now a testifyer; happy it will be for

her if she's enabled to make a sanctified use of the dispensation."

CHAPTER VII--DISCOVERIES AND REBELLIONS

One evening as Mr. Snodgrass was taking a solitary walk towards Irvine,

for the purpose of calling on Miss Mally Glencairn, to inquire what had

been her latest accounts from their 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 extraordinary intelligence. The

air was raw and humid, and the ways were deep and foul; she was, however,

protected without, and tempered within, against the dangers of both.

Over her venerable satin mantle, lined with cat-skin, she wore a scarlet

duffle Bath cloak, with which she was wont to attend the tent sermons of

the Kilwinning and Dreghorn preachings in cold and inclement weather.

Her black silk petticoat was pinned up, that it might not receive injury

from the nimble paddling of her short steps in the mire; and she carried

her best shoes and stockings in a handkerchief to be changed at the

manse, and had fortified her feet for the road in coarse worsted hose,

and thick plain-soled leather shoes.

Mr. Snodgrass proposed to turn back with her, but she would not permit

him. "No, sir," said she, "what I am about you cannot meddle in. You

are here but a stranger--come to-day, and gane to-morrow;--and it does

not pertain to you to sift into the doings that have been done before

your time. Oh dear; but this is a sad thing--nothing like it since the

silencing of M'Auly of Greenock. What will the worthy Doctor say when he

hears tell o't? Had it fa'n out with that neighering body, James Daff, I

wouldna hae car't a snuff of tobacco, but wi' Mr. Craig, a man so gifted

wi' the power of the Spirit, as I hae often had a delightful experience!

Ay, ay, Mr. Snodgrass, take heed lest ye fall; we maun all lay it to

heart; but I hope the trooper is still within the jurisdiction of church

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 what Mrs. Glibbans

alluded, and a very long and interesting disclosure took place, the

substance of which may be gathered from the following letter; the

immediate and instigating cause of the lady's journey to Garnock being

the alarming intelligence which she had that day received of Mr. Craig's

servant-damsel Betty having, by the style and title of Mrs. Craig, sent

for Nanse Swaddle, the midwife, to come to her in her own case, which

seemed to Mrs. Glibbans nothing short of a miracle, Betty having, the

very Sunday before, helped the kettle when she drank tea with Mr. Craig,

and sat at the room door, on a buffet-stool brought from the kitchen,

while he performed family worship, to the great solace and edification of

his visitor.

LETTER XXI

_The Rev. Z. Pringle_, _D.D._, _to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk_, _Garnock_

DEAR SIR--I have received your letter of the 24th, which has given me a

great surprise to hear, that Mr. Craig was married as far back as

Christmas, to his own servant lass Betty, and me to know nothing of it,

nor you neither, until it was time to be speaking to the midwife. To be

sure, Mr. Craig, who is an elder, and a very rigid man, in his

animadversions on the immoralities that come before the session, must

have had his own good reasons for keeping his marriage so long a secret.

Tell him, however, from me, that I wish both him and Mrs. Craig much joy

and felicity; but he should be milder for the future on the

thoughtlessness of youth and headstrong passions. Not that I insinuate

that there has been any occasion in the conduct of such a godly man to

cause a suspicion; but it's wonderful how he was married in December, and

I cannot say that I am altogether so proud to hear it as I am at all

times of the well-doing of my people. Really the way that Mr. Daff has

comported himself in this matter is greatly to his credit; and I doubt if

the thing had happened with him, that Mr. Craig would have sifted with a

sharp eye how he came to be married in December, and without bridal and

banquet. For my part, I could not have thought it of Mr. Craig, but it's

done now, and the less we say about it the better; 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, and not without letting them have an inkling of

what I think about their being married in December, which was a great

shame, even if there was no sin in it. But I will say no more; for

truly, Mr. Micklewham, the longer we live in this world, and the farther

we go, and the better we know ourselves, the less reason have we to think

slightingly of our neighbours; but the more to convince our hearts and

understandings, that we are all prone to evil, and desperately wicked.

For where does hypocrisy not abound? and I have had my own experience

here, that what a man is to the world, and to his own heart, is a very

different thing.

In my last letter, I gave you a pleasing notification of the growth, as I

thought, of spirituality in this Babylon of deceitfulness, thinking that

you and my people would be gladdened with the tidings of the repute and

estimation in which your minister was held, and I have dealt largely in

the way of public charity. But I doubt that I have been governed by a

spirit of ostentation, and not with that lowly-mindedness, without which

all almsgiving is but a serving of the altars of Belzebub; for the

chastening hand has been laid upon me, but with the kindness and pity

which a tender father hath for his dear children.

I was requested by those who come so cordially to me with their

subscription papers, for schools and suffering worth, to preach a sermon

to get a collection. I have no occasion to tell you, that when I exert

myself, what effect I can produce; and I never made so great an exertion

before, which in itself was a proof that it was with the two bladders,

pomp and vanity, that I had committed myself to swim on the uncertain

waters of London; for surely my best exertions were due to my people.

But when the Sabbath came upon which I was to hold forth, how were my

hopes withered, and my expectations frustrated. Oh, Mr. Micklewham, what

an inattentive congregation was yonder! many slumbered and slept, and I

sowed the words of truth and holiness in vain upon their barren and

stoney hearts. There is no true grace among some that I shall not name,

for I saw them whispering and smiling like the scorners, and altogether

heedless unto the precious things of my discourse, which could not have

been the case had they been sincere in their professions, for I never

preached more to my own satisfaction on any occasion whatsoever--and,

when I return to my own parish, you shall hear 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 seen in the shape

of curiosities; but the whole town is in a state of ferment with the

election of members to Parliament. I have been to see't, both in the

Guildhall and at Covent Garden, and it's a frightful thing to see how the

Radicals roar like bulls of Bashan, and put down the speakers in behalf

of the government. I hope no harm will come of yon, but I must say, that

I prefer our own quiet canny Scotch way at Irvine. Well do I remember,

for it happened in the year I was licensed, that the town council, the

Lord Eglinton that was shot being then provost, took in the late Thomas

Bowet to be a counsellor; and Thomas, not being versed in election

matters, yet minding to please his lordship (for, like the rest of the

council, he had always a proper veneration for those in power), he, as I

was saying, consulted Joseph Boyd the weaver, who was then Dean of Guild,

as to the way of voting; whereupon Joseph, who was a discreet man, said

to him, "Ye'll just say as I say, and I'll say what Bailie Shaw says, for

he will do what my lord bids him"; which was as peaceful a way of sending

up a member to Parliament as could well be devised.

But you know that politics are far from my hand--they belong to the

temporalities of the community; and the ministers of peace and goodwill

to man should neither make nor meddle with them. I wish, however, that

these tumultuous elections were well over, for they have had an effect on

the per cents, where our bit legacy is funded; and it would terrify you

to hear what we have thereby already lost. We have not, however, lost so

much but that I can spare a little to the poor among my people; so you

will, in the dry weather, after the seed-time, hire two-three thackers to

mend the thack on the roofs of such of the cottars' houses as stand in

need of mending, and banker M---y will pay the expense; and I beg you to

go to him on receipt hereof, for he has a line for yourself, which you

will be sure to accept as a testimony from me for the great trouble that

my absence from the parish has given to you among my people, and I am,

dear sir, your friend and pastor,

Z. PRINGLE.

As Mrs. Glibbans would not permit Mr. Snodgrass to return with her to the

manse, he pursued his journey alone to the Kirkgate of Irvine, where he

found Miss Mally Glencairn on the eve of sitting down to her solitary

tea. On seeing her visitor enter, after the first compliments on the

state of health and weather were over, she expressed her hopes that he

had not drank tea; and, on receiving a negative, which she did not quite

expect, as she thought he had been perhaps invited by some of her

neighbours, she put in an additional spoonful on his account; and brought

from her corner cupboard with the glass door, an ancient French

pickle-bottle, in which she had preserved, since the great tea-drinking

formerly mentioned, the remainder of the two ounces of carvey, the best,

Mrs. Nanse bought for that memorable occasion. A short conversation then

took place relative to the Pringles; and, while the tea was masking, for

Miss Mally said it took a long time to draw, she read to him the

following letter:--

LETTER XXII

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

MY DEAR MISS MALLY--Trully, it may be said, that the croun of England is

upon the downfal, and surely we are all seething in the pot of

revolution, for the scum is mounting uppermost. Last week, no farther

gone than on Mononday, we came to our new house heer in Baker Street, but

it's nather to be bakit nor brewt what I hav sin syne suffert. You no my

way, and that I like a been house, but no wastrie, and so I needna tell

yoo, that we hav had good diners; to be sure, there was not a meerakle

left to fill five baskets every day, but an abundance, with a proper

kitchen of breed, to fill the bellies of four dumasticks. Howsomever, lo

and behold, what was clecking downstairs. On Saturday morning, as we

were sitting at our breakfast, the Doctor reading the newspapers, who

shoud corn intil the room but Andrew's grum, follo't by the rest, to give

us warning that they were all going to quat our sairvice, becas they were

starvit. I thocht that I would hav fentit cauld deed, but the Doctor,

who is a consiederat man, inquairt what made them starve, and then there

was such an opprobrious cry about cold meet and bare bones, and no beer.

It was an evendoun resurection--a rebellion waur than the forty-five. In

short, Miss Mally, to make a leettle of a lang tail, they would have a

hot joint day and day about, and a tree of yill to stand on the gauntress

for their draw and drink, with a cock and a pail; and we were obligated

to evacuate to their terms, and to let them go to their wark with flying

colors; so you see how dangerous it is to live among this piple, and

their noshans of liberty.

You will see by the newspapers that ther's a lection going on for

parliament. It maks my corruption to rise to hear of such doings, and if

I was a government as I'm but a woman, I woud put them doon with the

strong hand, just to be revenged on the proud stomaks of these het and

fou English.

We have gotten our money in the pesents put into our name; but I have had

no peese since, for they have fallen in price three eight parts, which is

very near a half, and if they go at this rate, where will all our legacy

soon be? I have no goo of the pesents; so we are on the look-out for a

landed estate, being a shure thing.

Captain Saber is still sneking after Rachel, and if she were awee

perfited in her accomplugments, it's no saying what might happen, for

he's a fine lad, but she's o'er young to be the heed of a family.

Howsomever, the Lord's will maun be done, and if there is to be a match,

she'll no have to fight for gentility with a straitent circumstance.

As for Andrew, I wish he was weel settlt, and we have our hopes that he's

beginning to draw up with Miss Argent, who will have, no doobt, a great

fortune, and is a treasure of a creeture in herself, being just as simple

as a lamb; but, to be sure, she has had every advantage of edication,

being brought up in a most fashonible boarding-school.

I hope you have got the box I sent by the smak, and that you like the

patron of the goon. So no more at present, but remains, dear Miss Mally,

your sinsaire friend,

JANET PRINGLE.

"The box," said Miss Mally, "that Mrs. Pringle speaks about came last

night. It contains a very handsome present to me and to Miss Bell Tod.

The gift to me is from Mrs. P. herself, and Miss Bell's from Rachel; but

that ettercap, Becky Glibbans, is flying through the town like a spunky,

mislikening the one and misca'ing the other: everybody, however, kens

that it's only spite that gars her speak. It's a great pity that she

cou'dna be brought to a sense of religion like her mother, who, in her

younger days, they say, wasna to seek at a clashing."

Mr. Snodgrass expressed his surprise at this account of the faults of

that exemplary lady's youth; but he thought of her holy anxiety to sift

into the circumstances of Betty, the elder's servant, becoming in one day

Mrs. Craig, and the same afternoon sending for the midwife, and he

prudently made no other comment; for the characters of all preachers were

in her hands, and he had the good fortune to stand high in her favour, as

a young man of great promise. In order, therefore, to avoid any

discussion respecting moral merits, he read the following letter from

Andrew Pringle:--

LETTER XXIII

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Reverend Charles Snodgrass_

MY DEAR FRIEND--London undoubtedly affords the best and the worst

specimens of the British character; but there is a certain townish

something about the inhabitants in general, of which I find it extremely

difficult to convey any idea. Compared with the English of the country,

there is apparently very little difference between them; but still there

is a difference, and of no small importance in a moral point of view.

The country peculiarity is like the bloom of the plumb, or the down of

the peach, which the fingers of infancy cannot touch without injuring;

but this felt but not describable quality of the town character, is as

the varnish 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 any other community, possess

none of that innocent untempted simplicity, which is more than half the

grace of virtue; many of them, and even young ones too, "in the first

freshness of their virgin beauty," speak of the conduct and vocation of

"the erring sisters of the sex," in a manner that often amazes me, and

has, in more than one instance, excited unpleasant feelings towards the

fair satirists. This moral taint, for I can consider it as nothing less,

I have heard defended, but only by men who are supposed to have had a

large experience of the world, and who, perhaps, on that account, are not

the best judges of female delicacy. "Every woman," as Pope says, "may be

at heart a rake"; but it is for the interests of the domestic affections,

which are the very elements of virtue, to cherish the notion, that women,

as they are physically more delicate than men, are also so morally.

But the absence of delicacy, the bloom of virtue, is not peculiar to the

females, it is characteristic of all the varieties of the metropolitan

mind. The artifices of the medical quacks are things of universal

ridicule; but the sin, though in a less gross form, pervades the whole of

that sinister system by which much of the superiority of this vast

metropolis is supported. The state of the periodical press, that great

organ of political instruction--the unruly tongue of liberty, strikingly

confirms the justice of this misanthropic remark.

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 the London journals.

I found them men of talent, certainly, and much more men of the world,

than "the cloistered student from his paling lamp"; but I was astonished

to find it considered, tacitly, as a sort of maxim among them, that an

intermediate party was not bound by any obligation of honour to withhold,

farther than his own discretion suggested, any information of which he

was the accidental depositary, whatever the consequences might be to his

informant, or to those affected by the communication. In a word, they

seemed all to care less about what might be true than what would produce

effect, and that effect for their own particular advantage. It is

impossible to deny, that if interest is made the criterion by which the

confidences of social intercourse are to be respected, the persons who

admit this doctrine will have but little respect for the use of names, or

deem it any reprehensible delinquency to suppress truth, or to blazon

falsehood. In a word, man in London is not quite so good a creature as

he is out of it. The rivalry of interests is here too intense; it

impairs the affections, and occasions speculations both in morals and

politics, which, I much suspect, it would puzzle a casuist to prove

blameless. Can anything, for example, be more offensive to the calm

spectator, than the elections which are now going on? Is it possible

that this country, so much smaller in geographical extent than France,

and so inferior in natural resources, restricted too by those ties and

obligations which were thrown off as fetters by that country during the

late war, could have attained, in despite of her, such a lofty

pre-eminence--become the foremost of all the world--had it not been

governed in a manner congenial to the spirit of the people, and with

great practical wisdom? It is absurd to assert, that there are no

corruptions in the various modifications by which the affairs of the

British empire are administered; but it would be difficult to show, that,

in the present state of morals and interests among mankind, corruption is

not a necessary evil. I do not mean necessary, as evolved from those

morals and interests, but necessary to the management of political

trusts. I am afraid, however, to insist on this, as the natural

integrity of your own heart, and the dignity of your vocation, will alike

induce you to condemn it as Machiavellian. It is, however, an

observation forced on me by what I have seen here.

It would be invidious, perhaps, to criticise the different candidates for

the representation of London and Westminster very severely. I think it

must be granted, that they are as sincere in their professions as their

opponents, which at least bleaches away much of that turpitude of which

their political conduct is accused by those who are of a different way of

thinking. But it is quite evident, at least to me, that no government

could exist a week, managed with that subjection to public opinion to

which Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Hobhouse apparently submit; and it is

no less certain, that no government ought to exist a single day that

would act in complete defiance of public opinion.

I was surprised to find Sir Francis Burdett an uncommonly mild and

gentlemanly-looking man. I had pictured somehow to my imagination a dark

and morose character; but, on the contrary, in his appearance,

deportment, and manner of speaking, he is eminently qualified to attract

popular applause. His style of speaking is not particularly oratorical,

but he has the art of saying bitter things in a sweet way. In his

language, however, although pungent, and sometimes even eloquent, he is

singularly incorrect. He cannot utter a sequence of three sentences

without violating common grammar in the most atrocious way; and his

tropes and figures are so distorted, hashed, and broken--such a patchwork

of different patterns, that you are bewildered if you attempt to make

them out; but the earnestness of his manner, and a certain fitness of

character, in his observations a kind of Shaksperian pithiness, redeem

all this. Besides, his manifold blunders of syntax do not offend the

taste of those audiences where he is heard with the most approbation.

Hobhouse speaks more correctly, but he lacks in the conciliatory

advantages of personal appearance; and his physiognomy, though indicating

considerable strength of mind, is not so prepossessing. He is evidently

a man of more education than his friend, that is, of more reading,

perhaps also of more various observation, but he has less genius. His

tact is coarser, and though he speaks with more vehemence, he seldomer

touches the sensibilities of his auditors. He may have observed mankind

in general more extensively than Sir Francis, but he is far less

acquainted with the feelings and associations of the English mind. There

is also a wariness about him, which I do not like so well as the

imprudent ingenuousness of the baronet. He seems to me to have a cause

in hand--Hobhouse _versus_ Existing Circumstances--and that he considers

the multitude as the jurors, on whose decision his advancement in life

depends. But in this I may be uncharitable. I should, however, think

more highly of his sincerity as a patriot, if his stake in the country

were greater; and yet I doubt, if his stake were greater, if he is that

sort of man who would have cultivated popularity in Westminster. He

seems to me to have qualified himself for Parliament as others do for the

bar, and that he will probably be considered in the House for some time

merely as a political adventurer. But if he has the talent and prudence

requisite to ensure distinction in the line of his profession, the

mediocrity of his original condition will reflect honour on his success,

should he hereafter acquire influence and consideration as a statesman.

Of his literary talents I know you do not think very highly, nor am I

inclined to rank the powers of his mind much beyond those of any common

well-educated English gentleman. But it will soon be ascertained whether

his pretensions to represent Westminster be justified by a sense of

conscious superiority, or only prompted by that ambition which overleaps

itself.

Of Wood, who was twice Lord Mayor, I know not what to say. There is a

queer and wily cast in his pale countenance, that puzzles me exceedingly.

In common parlance I would call him an empty vain creature; but when I

look at that indescribable spirit, which indicates a strange and

out-of-the-way manner of thinking, I humbly confess that he is no common

man. He is evidently a person of no intellectual accomplishments; he has

neither the language nor the deportment of a gentleman, in the usual

understanding of the term; and yet there is something that I would almost

call genius about him. It is not cunning, it is not wisdom, it is far

from being prudence, and yet it is something as wary as prudence, as

effectual as wisdom, and not less sinister than cunning. I would call it

intuitive skill, a sort of instinct, by which he is enabled to attain his

ends in defiance of a capacity naturally narrow, a judgment that topples

with vanity, and an address at once mean and repulsive. To call him a

great man, in any possible approximation of the word, would be

ridiculous; that he is a good one, will be denied by those who envy his

success, or hate his politics; but nothing, save the blindness of

fanaticism, can call in question his possession of a rare and singular

species 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 he folded up the letter to

return it to his pocket, "that the Londoners, with all their advantages

of information, are neither purer nor better than their fellow-subjects

in the country." "As to their betterness," replied Miss Mally, "I have a

notion that they are far waur; and I hope you do not think that earthly

knowledge of any sort has a tendency to make mankind, or womankind

either, any better; for was not Solomon, who had more of it than any

other man, a type and testification, that knowledge without grace is but

vanity?" The young clergyman was somewhat startled at this application

of a remark on which he laid no particular stress, and was thankful in

his heart that Mrs. Glibbans was not present. He was not aware that Miss

Mally had an orthodox corn, or bunyan, that could as little bear a touch

from the royne-slippers of philosophy, as the inflamed gout of polemical

controversy, which had gumfiated every mental joint and member of that

zealous prop of the Relief Kirk. This was indeed the tender point of

Miss Mally's character; for she was left unplucked on the stalk of single

blessedness, owing entirely to a conversation on this very subject with

the only lover she ever had, Mr. Dalgliesh, formerly helper in the

neighbouring parish of Dintonknow. He happened incidentally to observe,

that education was requisite to promote the interests of religion. But

Miss Mally, on that occasion, jocularly maintained, that education had

only a tendency to promote the sale of books. This, Mr. Dalgliesh

thought, was a sneer at himself, he having some time before unfortunately

published a short tract, entitled, "The moral union of our temporal and

eternal interests considered, with respect to the establishment of

parochial seminaries," and which fell still-born from the 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 never afterwards on speaking terms. Saving, however,

and excepting this particular dogma, Miss Mally was on all other topics

as liberal and beneficent as could be expected from a maiden lady, who

was obliged to eke out her stinted income with a nimble needle and a

close-clipping economy. The conversation with Mr. Snodgrass was not,

however, lengthened into acrimony; for immediately after the remark which

we have noticed, she proposed that they should call on Miss Isabella Tod

to see Rachel's letter; indeed, this was rendered necessary by the state

of the fire, for after boiling the kettle she had allowed it to fall low.

It was her nightly practice after tea to take her evening seam, in a

friendly way, to some of her neighbours' houses, by which she saved both

coal and candle, while she acquired the news of the day, and was

occasionally invited to stay supper.

On their arrival at Mrs. Tod's, Miss Isabella understood the purport of

their visit, and immediately produced her letter, receiving, at the same

time, a perusal of Mr. Andrew Pringle's. Mrs. Pringle's to Miss Mally

she had previously seen.

LETTER XXIV

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

MY DEAR BELL--Since my last, we have undergone great changes and

vicissitudes. Last week we removed to our present house, which is

exceedingly handsome and elegantly furnished; and on Saturday there was

an insurrection of the servants, on account of my mother not allowing

them to have their dinners served up at the usual hour for servants at

other genteel houses. We have also had the legacy in the funds

transferred to my father, and only now wait the settling of the final

accounts, which will yet take some time. On the day that the transfer

took place, my mother made me a present of a twenty pound note, to lay

out in any way I thought fit, and in so doing, I could not but think of

you; I have, therefore, in a box which she is sending to Miss Mally

Glencairn, sent you an evening dress from Mrs. Bean's, one of the most

fashionable and tasteful dressmakers in town, which I hope you will wear

with pleasure for my sake. I have got one exactly like it, so that when

you see yourself in the glass, you will behold in what state I appeared

at Lady ---'s route.

Ah! my dear Bell, how much are our expectations disappointed! How often

have we, with admiration and longing wonder, read the descriptions in the

newspapers of the fashionable parties in this great metropolis, and

thought of the Grecian lamps, the ottomans, the promenades, the

ornamented floors, the cut glass, the _coup d'oeil_, and the _tout

ensemble_. "Alas!" as Young the poet says, "the things unseen do not

deceive us." I have seen more beauty at an Irvine ball, than all the

fashionable world could bring to market at my Lady ---'s emporium for the

disposal of young ladies, for indeed I can consider it as nothing else.

I went with the Argents. The hall door was open, and filled with the

servants in their state liveries; but although the door was open, the

porter, as each carriage came up, rung a peal upon the knocker, to

announce to all the square the successive arrival of the guests. We were

shown upstairs to the drawing-rooms. They were very well, but neither so

grand nor so great as I expected. As for the company, it was a

suffocating crowd of fat elderly gentlewomen, and misses that stood in

need of all the charms of their fortunes. One thing I could notice--for

the press was so great, little could be seen--it was, that the old ladies

wore rouge. The white satin sleeve of my dress was entirely ruined by

coming in contact with a little round, dumpling duchess's cheek--as

vulgar a body as could well be. She seemed to me to have spent all her

days behind a counter, smirking thankfulness to bawbee customers.

When we had been shown in the drawing-rooms to the men for some time, we

then adjourned to the lower apartments, where the refreshments were set

out. This, I suppose, is arranged to afford an opportunity to the beaux

to be civil to the belles, and thereby to scrape acquaintance with those

whom they approve, by assisting them to the delicacies. Altogether, it

was a very dull well-dressed affair, and yet I ought to have been in good

spirits, for Sir Marmaduke Towler, a great Yorkshire baronet, was most

particular in his attentions to me; indeed so much so, that I saw it made

poor Sabre very uneasy. I do not know why it should, for I have given

him no positive encouragement to hope for anything; not that I have the

least idea that the baronet's attentions were more than commonplace

politeness, but he has since called. I cannot, however, say that my

vanity is at all flattered by this circumstance. At the same time, there

surely could be no harm in Sir Marmaduke making me an offer, for you know

I am not bound to accept it. Besides, my father does not like him, and

my mother thinks he's a fortune-hunter; but I cannot conceive how that

may be, for, on the contrary, he is said to be rather extravagant.

Before we return to Scotland, it is intended that we shall visit some of

the watering-places; and, perhaps, if Andrew can manage it with my

father, we may even take a trip to Paris. The Doctor himself is not

averse to it, but my mother is afraid that a new war may break out, and

that we may be detained prisoners. This fantastical fear we shall,

however, try to overcome. But I am interrupted. Sir Marmaduke is in the

drawing-room, and I am summoned.--Yours truly,

RACHEL PRINGLE.

When Mr. Snodgrass had read this letter, he paused for a moment, and then

said dryly, in handing it to Miss Isabella, "Miss Pringle is improving in

the ways of the world."

The evening by this time was far advanced, and the young clergyman was

not desirous to renew the conversation; he therefore almost immediately

took his leave, and walked sedately towards Garnock, debating with

himself as he went along, whether Dr. Pringle's family were likely to be

benefited by their legacy. But he had scarcely passed the minister's

carse, when he met with Mrs. Glibbans returning. "Mr. Snodgrass! Mr.

Snodgrass!" cried that ardent matron from her side of the road to the

other where he was walking, and he obeyed her call; "yon's no sic a black

story as I thought. Mrs. Craig is to be sure far gane! but they were

married in December; and it was only because she was his servan' lass

that the worthy man didna like to own her at first for his wife. It

would have been dreadful had the matter been jealoused at the first. She

gaed to Glasgow to see an auntie that she has there, and he gaed in to

fetch her out, and it was then the marriage was made up, which I was glad

to hear; for, oh, Mr. Snodgrass, it would have been an awfu' judgment had

a man like Mr. Craig turn't out no better than a Tam Pain or a Major

Weir. But a's for the best; and Him that has the power of salvation can

blot out all our iniquities. So good-night--ye'll have a lang walk."

CHAPTER VIII--THE QUEEN'S TRIAL

As the spring advanced, the beauty of the country around Garnock was

gradually unfolded; the blossom was unclosed, while the church was

embraced within the foliage of more umbrageous boughs. The schoolboys

from the adjacent villages were, on the Saturday afternoons, frequently

seen angling along the banks of the Lugton, which ran clearer beneath the

churchyard wall, and the hedge of the minister's glebe; and the evenings

were so much lengthened, that the occasional visitors at the manse could

prolong their walk after tea. These, however, were less numerous than

when the family were at home; but still Mr. Snodgrass, when the weather

was fine, had no reason to deplore the loneliness of his bachelor's

court.

It happened that, one fair and sunny afternoon, Miss Mally Glencairn and

Miss Isabella Tod came to the manse. Mrs. Glibbans and her daughter

Becky were the same day paying their first 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 gentleman read to them the last letter which he had

received from Mr. Andrew Pringle. It was conjured naturally enough out

of his pocket, by an observation of Miss Mally's "Nothing surprises me,"

said that amiable maiden lady, "so much as the health and good-humour of

the commonality. It is a joyous refutation of the opinion, that the

comfort and happiness of this life depends on the wealth of worldly

possessions."

"It is so," replied Mr. Snodgrass, "and I do often wonder, when I see the

blithe and hearty children of the cottars, frolicking in the abundance of

health and hilarity, where the means come from to enable their poor

industrious parents 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 nor

spin, and yet Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of

these?"

"I was not speaking in a spiritual sense," interrupted the other, "but

merely made the remark, as introductory to a letter which I have received

from Mr. Andrew Pringle, respecting some of the ways of living in

London."

Mrs. Craig, who had been so recently translated from the kitchen to the

parlour, pricked up her ears at this, not doubting that the letter would

contain something very grand and wonderful, and exclaimed, "Gude safe's,

let's hear't--I'm unco fond to ken about London, and the king and the

queen; but I believe they are baith dead noo."

Miss Becky Glibbans gave a satirical keckle at this, and showed her

superior learning, by explaining to Mrs. Craig the unbroken nature of the

kingly office. Mr. Snodgrass then read as follows:--

LETTER XXV

_Andrew Pringle_, _Esq._, _to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass_

MY DEAR FRIEND--You are not aware of the task you impose, when you

request me to send you some account of the general way of living in

London. Unless you come here, and actually experience yourself what I

would call the London ache, it is impossible to supply you with any

adequate idea of the necessity that exists in this wilderness of mankind,

to seek refuge in society, without being over fastidious with respect to

the intellectual qualifications of your occasional associates. In a

remote desart, the solitary traveller is subject to apprehensions of

danger; but still he is the most important thing "within the circle of

that lonely waste"; and the sense of his own dignity enables him to

sustain the shock of considerable hazard with spirit and fortitude. But,

in London, the feeling of self-importance is totally lost and suppressed

in the bosom of a stranger. A painful conviction of insignificance--of

nothingness, I may say--is sunk upon his heart, and murmured in his ear

by the million, who divide with him that consequence which he

unconsciously before supposed he possessed in a general estimate of the

world. While elbowing my way through the unknown multitude that flows

between Charing Cross and the Royal Exchange, this mortifying sense of my

own insignificance has often 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

greatest influence of an individual on society at large, is but as that

of a pebble thrown into the sea. Mathematically speaking, the

undulations which the pebble causes, continue until the whole mass of the

ocean has been disturbed to the bottom of its most secret depths and

farthest shores; and, perhaps, with equal truth it may be affirmed, that

the sentiments of the man of genius are also infinitely propagated; but

how soon is the physical impression of the one lost to every sensible

perception, and the moral impulse of the other swallowed up from all

practical effect.

But though London, in the general, may be justly compared to the vast and

restless ocean, or to any other thing that is either sublime,

incomprehensible, or affecting, it loses all its influence over the

solemn associations of the mind when it is examined in its details. For

example, living on the town, as it is slangishly called, the most

friendless and isolated condition possible, is yet fraught with an

amazing diversity of enjoyment. Thousands of gentlemen, who have

survived the relish of active fashionable pursuits, pass their life in

that state without tasting the delight of one new sensation. They rise

in the morning merely because Nature will not allow them to remain longer

in bed. They begin the day without motive or purpose, and close it after

having performed the same unvaried round as the most thoroughbred

domestic animal that ever dwelt in manse or manor-house. If you ask them

at three o'clock where they are to dine, they cannot tell you; but about

the wonted dinner-hour, batches of these forlorn bachelors find

themselves diurnally congregated, as if by instinct, around a cozy table

in some snug coffee-house, where, after inspecting the contents of the

bill of fare, they discuss the news of the day, reserving the scandal, by

way of dessert, for their wine. Day after day their respective political

opinions give rise to keen encounters, but without producing the

slightest shade of change in any of their old ingrained and particular

sentiments.

Some of their haunts, I mean those frequented by the elderly race, are

shabby enough in their appearance and circumstances, except perhaps in

the quality of the wine. Everything in them is regulated by an ancient

and precise economy, and you perceive, at the first glance, that all is

calculated on the principle of the house giving as much for the money as

it can possibly afford, without infringing those little etiquettes which

persons of gentlemanly habits regard as essentials. At half price the

junior members of these unorganised or natural clubs retire to the

theatres, while the elder brethren mend their potations till it is time

to go home. This seems a very comfortless way of life, but I have no

doubt it is the preferred result of a long experience of the world, and

that the parties, upon the whole, find it superior, according to their

early formed habits of dissipation and gaiety, to the sedate but not more

regular course of a domestic circle.

The chief pleasure, however, of living on the town, consists in

accidentally falling in with persons whom it might be otherwise difficult

to meet in private life. I have several times enjoyed this. The other

day I fell in with an old gentleman, evidently a man of some consequence,

for he came to the coffee-house in his own carriage. It happened that we

were the only guests, and he proposed that we should therefore dine

together. In the course of conversation it came out, that he had been

familiarly acquainted with Garrick, and had frequented the Literary Club

in the days of Johnson and Goldsmith. In his youth, I conceive, he must

have been an amusing companion; for his fancy was exceedingly lively, and

his manners altogether afforded a very favourable specimen of the old,

the gentlemanly school. At an appointed hour his carriage came for him,

and we parted, perhaps never to meet again.

Such agreeable incidents, however, are not common, as the frequenters of

the coffee-houses are, I think, usually taciturn characters, and averse

to conversation. I may, however, be myself in fault. Our countrymen in

general, whatever may be their address in improving acquaintance to the

promotion of their own interests, have not the best way, in the first

instance, of introducing themselves. A raw Scotchman, contrasted with a

sharp Londoner, is very inadroit and awkward, be his talents what they

may; and I suspect, that even the most brilliant of your old

class-fellows have, in their professional visits to this metropolis, had

some experience of what I mean.

ANDREW PRINGLE.

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 so abruptly propounded, nor indeed did he exactly

understand to what particular the lady referred. "For my part," she

resumed, recovering her previous posture--"for my part, it's a very

caldrife way of life to dine every day on coffee; 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 that gait." "It has but a light load," said Miss

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 the Doctor's letter. He's such a funny

man! and touches off the Londoners to the nines."

"He's a good man," said Mrs. Glibbans, in a tone calculated to repress

the forwardness of Mrs. Craig; but Miss Mally Glencairn having, in the

meanwhile, taken from her pocket an epistle which she had received the

preceding day from Mrs. Pringle, Mr. Snodgrass silenced all controversy

on that score 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 in her own house. "She's a discreet woman,

and may be as godly, too, as some that make mair wark about the elect."

Whether Mrs. Glibbans thought this had any allusion to herself is not

susceptible of legal proof; but she turned round and looked at their

"most kind hostess" with a sneer that might almost merit the appellation

of a snort. Mrs. Craig, however, pacified her, by proposing, "that,

before hearing the letter, they should take a dram of wine, or pree her

cherry bounce"--adding, "our maister likes a been house, and ye a' ken

that we are providing for a handling." The wine was accordingly served,

and, in due time, Miss Mally Glencairn edified and instructed the party

with the contents of Mrs. Pringle's letter.

LETTER XXVI

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

DEAR MISS MALLY--You will have heard, by the peppers, of the gret

hobbleshow heer aboot the queen's coming over contrary to the will of the

nation; and, that the king and parlement are so angry with her, that they

are going to put her away by giving to her a bill of divorce. The

Doctor, who has been searchin the Scriptures on the okashon, says this is

not in their poor, although she was found guilty of the fact; but I tell

him, that as the king and parlement of old took upon them to change our

religion, I do not see how they will be hampered now by the word of God.

You may well wonder that I have no ritten to you about the king, and what

he is like, but we have never got a sight of him at all, whilk is a gret

shame, paying so dear as we do for a king, who shurely should be a publik

man. But, we have seen her majesty, who stays not far from our house

heer in Baker Street, in dry lodgings, which, I am creditably informed,

she is obligated to pay for by the week, for nobody will trust her; so

you 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 a baillie of London, that has

ta'en her by the hand. She's a woman advanced in life, with a short

neck, and a pentit face; housomever, that, I suppose, she canno help,

being a queen, and obligated to set the fashons to the court, where it is

necessar to hide their faces with pent, our Andrew says, that their looks

may not betray them--there being no shurer thing than a false-hearted

courtier.

But what concerns me the most, in all this, is, that there will be no

coronashon till the queen is put out of the way--and nobody can take upon

them to say when that will be, as the law is so dootful and

endless--which I am verra sorry for, as it was my intent to rite Miss

Nanny Eydent a true account of the coronashon, in case there had been any

partiklars that might be servisable to her in her bisness.

The Doctor and me, by ourselves, since we have been settlt, go about at

our convenience, and have seen far mae farlies than baith Andrew and

Rachel, with all the acquaintance they have forgathert with--but you no

old heeds canno be expectit on young shouthers, and they have not had the

experience of the world that we have had.

The lamps in the streets here are lighted with gauze, and not with

crusies, like those that have lately been put up in your toun; and it is

brought in pips aneath the ground from the manufactors, which the Doctor

and me have been to see--an awful place--and they say as fey to a spark

as poother, which made us glad to get out o't when we heard so;--and we

have been to see a brew-house, where they mak the London porter, but it

is a sight not to be told. In it we saw a barrel, whilk the Doctor said

was by gauging bigger than the Irvine muckle kirk, and a masking fat,

like a barn for mugnited. But all thae were as nothing to a curiosity of

a steam-ingine, that minches minch collops as natural as life--and stuffs

the sosogees itself, in a manner past the poor of nature to consiv. They

have, to be shure, in London, many things to help work--for in our

kitchen there is a smoking-jack to roast the meat, that gangs of its oun

free will, and the brisker the fire, the faster it runs; but a

potatoe-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 a thing.

Me and the Doctor have likewise been in the Houses of Parliament, and the

Doctor since has been again to heer the argol-bargoling aboot the queen.

But, cepting the king's throne, which is all gold and velvet, with a

croun on the top, and stars all round, there was nothing worth the

looking at in them baith. Howsomever, I sat in the king's seat, and in

the preses chair of the House of Commons, which, you no, is something for

me to say; and we have been to see the printing of books, where the very

smallest dividual syllib is taken up by itself and made into words by the

hand, so as to be quite confounding how it could ever read sense. But

there is ane piece of industry and froughgalaty I should not forget,

whilk is wives going about with whirl-barrows, selling horses' flesh to

the cats and dogs by weight, and the cats and dogs know them very well by

their voices. In short, Miss Mally, there is nothing heer that the hand

is not turnt to; and there is, I can see, a better order and method

really among the Londoners than among our Scotch folks, notwithstanding

their advantages of edicashion, but my pepper will hold no more at

present, from your true friend,

JANET PRINGLE.

There was a considerable diversity of opinion among the commentators on

this epistle. Mrs. Craig was the first who broke silence, and displayed

a great deal of erudition on the minch-collop-engine, and the

potatoe-beetle, in which she was interrupted by the indignant Mrs.

Glibbans, who exclaimed, "I am surprised to hear you, Mrs. Craig, speak

of sic baubles, when the word of God's in danger of being controverted by

an Act of Parliament. But, Mr. Snodgrass, dinna ye think that this

painting of the queen's face is a Jezebitical testification against her?"

Mr. Snodgrass replied, with an unwonted sobriety of manner, and with an

emphasis that showed he intended to make some impression on his

auditors--"It is impossible to judge correctly of strangers by measuring

them according to our own notions of propriety. It has certainly long

been a practice in courts to disfigure the beauty of the human

countenance with paint; but what, in itself, may have been originally

assumed for a mask or disguise, may, by usage, have grown into a very

harmless custom. I am not, therefore, disposed to attach any criminal

importance to the circumstance of her majesty wearing paint. 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 it is." The accent of

authority in which this was said, prevented Mr. Snodgrass from offering

any reply; and, a brief pause ensuing, Miss Molly Glencairn observed,

that it was a surprising thing how the Doctor and Mrs. Pringle managed

their matters so well. "Ay," said Mrs. Craig, "but we a' ken what a

manager the mistress is--she's the bee that mak's the hincy--she does not

gang bizzing aboot, like a thriftless wasp, through her neighbours'

houses." "I tell you, Betty, my dear," cried Mr. Craig, "that you

shouldna make comparisons--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; but she needna hae

made sae light of me when she was here before." And, in saying this, the

amiable hostess burst into a loud sob of sorrow, which induced Mr.

Snodgrass to beg Mr. Micklewham to read the Doctor's letter, by which a

happy stop was put to the further manifestation of the grudge which Mrs.

Craig harboured against Mrs. Glibbans for the lecture she had received,

on what the latter called "the incarnated effect of a more than

Potipharian claught o' the godly Mr. Craig."

LETTER XXVII

_The Rev. Z. Pringle_, _D.D._, _to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk of Garnock_

DEAR SIR--I had a great satisfaction in hearing that Mr. Snodgrass, in my

place, prays for the queen on the Lord's Day, which liberty, to do in our

national church, is a thing to be upholden with a fearless spirit, even

with the spirit of martyrdom, that we may not bow down in Scotland to the

prelatic Baal of an order in Council, whereof the Archbishop of

Canterbury, that is cousin-german to the Pope of Rome, is art and part.

Verily, the sending forth of that order to the General Assembly was

treachery to the solemn oath of the new king, whereby he took the vows

upon him, conform to the Articles of the Union, to maintain the Church of

Scotland as by law established, so that for the Archbishop of Canterbury

to meddle therein was a shooting out of the horns of aggressive

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 bar all such

breaking in of the Episcopalian boar into our corner of the vineyard.

Anent the queen's case and condition, I say nothing; for be she guilty,

or be she innocent, we all know that she was born in sin, and brought

forth in iniquity--prone to evil, as the sparks fly upwards--and

desperately wicked, like you and me, or any other poor Christian sinner,

which is reason enough to make us think of her in the remembering prayer.

Since she came over, there has been a wonderful work doing here; and it

is thought that the crown will be taken off her head by a strong handling

of the Parliament; and really, when I think of the bishops sitting high

in the peerage, like owls and rooks in the bartisans of an old tower, I

have my fears that they can bode her no good. I have seen them in the

House of Lords, clothed in their idolatrous robes; and when I looked at

them so proudly placed at the right hand of the king's throne, and on the

side of the powerful, egging on, as I saw one of them doing in a whisper,

the Lord Liverpool, before he rose to speak against the queen, the blood

ran cold in my veins, and I thought of their woeful persecutions of our

national church, and prayed inwardly that I might be keepit in the

humility of a zealous presbyter, and that the corruption of the frail

human nature within me might never be tempted by the pampered whoredoms

of prelacy.

Saving the Lord Chancellor, all the other temporal peers were just as

they had come in from the crown of the causeway--none of them having a

judicial garment, which was a shame; and as for the Chancellor's long

robe, it was not so good as my own gown; but he is said to be a very

narrow man. What he spoke, however, was no doubt sound law; yet I could

observe he has a bad custom of taking the name of God in vain, which I

wonder at, considering he has such a kittle conscience, which, on less

occasions, causes him often to shed tears.

Mrs. Pringle and me, by ourselves, had a fine quiet canny sight of the

queen, out of the window of a pastry baxter's shop, opposite to where her

majesty stays. She seems to be a plump and jocose little woman; gleg,

blithe, and throwgaun for her years, and on an easy footing with the

lower orders--coming to the window when they call for her, and becking to

them, which is very civil of her, and gets them to take her part against

the government.

The baxter in whose shop we saw this told us that her majesty said, on

being invited to take her dinner at an inn on the road from Dover, that

she would be content with a mutton-chop at the King's Arms in London, {2}

which shows that she is a lady of a very hamely disposition. Mrs.

Pringle thought her not big enough for a queen; but we cannot expect

every one to be like that bright accidental star, Queen Elizabeth, whose

effigy we have seen preserved in armour in the Tower of London, and in

wax in Westminster Abbey, where they have a living-like likeness of Lord

Nelson, in the very identical regimentals that he was killed in. They

are both wonderful places, but it costs a power of money to get through

them, and all the folk about them think of nothing but money; for when I

inquired, with a reverent spirit, seeing around me the tombs of great and

famous men, the mighty and wise of their day, what department it was of

the Abbey--"It's the eighteenpence department," said an uncircumcised

Philistine, with as little respect as if we had been treading the courts

of the darling Dagon.

Our concerns here are now drawing to a close; but before we return, we

are going for a short time to a town on the seaside, which they call

Brighton. We had a notion of taking a trip to Paris, but that we must

leave to Andrew Pringle, my son, and his 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 say no more at present anent the same.

Since the affair of the sermon, I have withdrawn myself from trafficking

so much as I did in the missionary and charitable ploys that are so in

vogue with the pious here, which will be all the better for my own

people, as I will keep for them what I was giving to the unknown; and it

is my design to write a book on almsgiving, to show in what manner that

Christian duty may be best fulfilled, which I doubt not will have the

effect of opening the eyes of many in London to the true nature of the

thing by which I was myself beguiled in this Vanity Fair, like a bird

ensnared by the fowler.

I was concerned to hear of poor Mr. Witherspoon's accident, in falling

from his horse in coming from the Dalmailing occasion. How thankful he

must be, that the Lord made his head of a durability to withstand the

shock, which might otherwise have fractured his skull. What you say

about the promise of the braird gives me pleasure on account of the poor;

but what will be done with the farmers and their high rents, if the

harvest turn out so abundant? Great reason have I to be thankful that

the legacy has put me out of the reverence of my stipend; for when the

meal was cheap, I own to you that I felt my carnality grudging the horn

of abundance that the Lord was then pouring into the lap of the earth.

In short, Mr. Micklewham, I doubt it is o'er true with us all, that the

less we are tempted, the better we are; so with my sincere prayers that

you may be delivered from all evil, and led out of the paths of

temptation, whether it is on the highway, or on the footpaths, or beneath

the hedges, I remain, dear sir, your friend and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

"The Doctor," said Mrs. Glibbans, as the schoolmaster concluded, "is

there like himself--a true orthodox Christian, standing up for the word,

and overflowing with charity even for the sinner. But, Mr. Snodgrass, I

did not ken before that the bishops had a hand in the making of the Acts

of the Parliament; I think, Mr. Snodgrass, if that be the case, there

should be some doubt in Scotland about obeying them. However that may

be, sure am I that the queen, though she was a perfect Deliah, has

nothing to fear from them; for have we not read in the Book of Martyrs,

and other church histories, of their concubines and indulgences, in the

papist times, to all manner of carnal iniquity? But if she be that

noghty woman that they say"--"Gude safe's," cried Mrs. Craig, "if she be

a noghty woman, awa' wi' her, awa' wi' her--wha kens the cantrips she may

play us?"

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed, and informed Mrs. Craig, that a

noghty woman was not, as she seemed to think, a witch wife. "I am sure,"

said Miss Becky Glibbans, "that Mrs. Craig might have known that." "Oh,

ye're a spiteful deevil," whispered Miss Mally, with a smile to her; and

turning in the same moment to Miss Isabella Tod, begged her to read Miss

Pringle's letter--a motion which Mr. Snodgrass seconded chiefly to

abridge the conversation, during which, though he wore a serene

countenance, he often suffered much.

LETTER XXVIII

_Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod_

MY DEAR BELL--I am much obliged by your kind expressions for my little

present. I hope soon to send you something better, and gloves at the

same time; for Sabre has been brought to the point by an alarm for the

Yorkshire baronet that I mentioned, as showing symptoms of the tender

passion for my fortune. The friends on both sides being satisfied with

the match, it will take place as soon as some preliminary arrangements

are made. When we are settled, I hope your mother will allow you to come

and spend some time with us at our country-seat in Berkshire; and I shall

be happy to repay all the expenses of your journey, as a jaunt to England

is what your mother would, I know, never consent to pay for.

It is proposed that, immediately after the ceremony, we shall set out for

France, accompanied by my brother, where we are to be soon after joined

at Paris by some of the Argents, who, I can see, think Andrew worth the

catching for Miss. My father and mother will then return to Scotland;

but whether the Doctor will continue to keep his parish, or give it up to

Mr. Snodgrass, will depend greatly on the circumstances in which he finds

his parishioners. This is all the domestic intelligence I have got to

give, but its importance will make up for other deficiencies.

As to the continuance of our discoveries in London, I know not well what

to say. Every day brings something new, but we lose the sense of

novelty. Were a fire in the same street where we live, it would no

longer alarm me. A few nights ago, as we were sitting in the parlour

after supper, the noise of an engine passing startled us all; we ran to

the windows--there was haste and torches, and the sound of other engines,

and all the horrors of a conflagration reddening the skies. My father

sent out the footboy to inquire where it was; and when the boy came back,

he made us laugh, by snapping his fingers, and saying the fire was not

worth so much--although, upon further inquiry, we learnt that the house

in which it originated was burnt to the ground. You see, therefore, how

the bustle of this great world hardens the sensibilities, but I trust its

influence will never extend to my heart.

The principal topic of conversation at present is about the queen. The

Argents, who are our main instructors in the proprieties of London life,

say that it would be very vulgar in me to go to look at her, which I am

sorry for, as I wish above all things to see a personage so illustrious

by birth, and renowned by misfortune. The Doctor and my mother, who are

less scrupulous, and who, in consequence, somehow, by themselves,

contrive to see, and get into places that are inaccessible to all

gentility, have had a full view of her majesty. My father has since

become her declared partisan, and my mother too has acquired a leaning

likewise towards her side of the question; but neither of them will

permit the subject to be spoken of before me, as they consider it

detrimental to good morals. I, however, read the newspapers.

What my brother thinks of her majesty's case is not easy to divine; but

Sabre is convinced of the queen's guilt, upon some private and authentic

information which a friend of his, who has returned from Italy, heard

when travelling in that country. This information he has not, however,

repeated to me, so that it must be very bad. We shall know all when the

trial comes on. In the meantime, his majesty, who has lived in dignified

retirement since he came to the throne, has taken up his 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, like Dioclesian, with innocence and

tranquillity, far from the intrigues of courtiers, and insensible to the

murmuring waves of the fluctuating populace, that set in with so strong a

current towards "the mob-led queen," as the divine Shakespeare has so

beautifully expressed it.

You ask me about Vauxhall Gardens;--I have not seen them--they are no

longer in fashion--the theatres are quite vulgar--even the opera-house

has sunk into a second-rate place of resort. Almack's balls, the

Argyle-rooms, and the Philharmonic concerts, are the only public

entertainments frequented by people of fashion; and this high superiority

they owe entirely to the difficulty of gaining admission. London, as my

brother says, is too rich, and grown too luxurious, to have any exclusive

place of fashionable resort, where price alone is the obstacle. Hence,

the institution of these select aristocratic assemblies. The

Philharmonic concerts, however, are rather professional than fashionable

entertainments; but everybody is fond of music, and, therefore,

everybody, that can be called anybody, is anxious to get tickets to them;

and this anxiety has given them a degree of _eclat_, which I am persuaded

the performance would never have excited had the tickets been purchasable

at any price. The great thing here is, either to be somebody, or to be

patronised by a person that is a somebody; without this, though you were

as rich as Croesus, your golden chariots, like the comets of a season,

blazing and amazing, would speedily roll away into the obscurity from

which they came, and be remembered no more.

At first when we came here, and when the amount of our legacy was 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, honest man, was equally inspired with lofty ideas,

and began a career that promised a liberal benefaction of good things to

the poor--and my mother was almost distracted with calculations about

laying out the money to the best advantage, and the sum she would allow

to be spent. I alone preserved my natural equanimity; and foreseeing the

necessity of new accomplishments to suit my altered circumstances,

applied myself to the instructions of my masters, with an assiduity that

won their applause. The advantages of this I now experience--my brother

is sobered from his champaign fumes--my father has found out that charity

begins at home--and my mother, though her establishment is enlarged,

finds her happiness, notwithstanding the legacy, still lies within the

little circle of her household cares. Thus, my dear Bell, have I proved

the sweets of a true philosophy; and, unseduced by the blandishments of

rank, rejected Sir Marmaduke Towler, and accepted the humbler but more

disinterested swain, Captain Sabre, who requests me to send you his

compliments, not altogether content that you should occupy so much of the

bosom of your affectionate

RACHEL PRINGLE.

"Rachel had ay a gude roose of hersel'," said Becky Glibbans, as Miss

Isabella concluded. In the same moment, Mr. Snodgrass took his leave,

saying to Mr. Micklewham, that he had something particular to mention to

him. "What can it be about?" inquired Mrs. Glibbans at Mr. Craig, as

soon as the helper and schoolmaster had left the room: "Do you think it

can be concerning the Doctor's resignation of the parish in his favour?"

"I'm sure," interposed Mrs. Craig, before her husband could reply, "it

winna be wi' my gudewill that he shall come in upon us--a pridefu' wight,

whose saft words, and a' his politeness, are but lip-deep; na, na, Mrs.

Glibbans, we maun hae another on the leet forbye him."

"And wha would ye put on the leet noo, Mrs. Craig, you that's sic a

judge?" said Mrs. Glibbans, with the most ineffable consequentiality.

"I'll be for young Mr. Dirlton, who is baith a sappy preacher of the

word, and a substantial hand at every kind of civility."

"Young Dirlton!--young Deevilton!" cried the orthodox Deborah of Irvine;

"a fallow that knows no more of a gospel dispensation than I do of the

Arian heresy, which I hold in utter abomination. No, Mrs. Craig, you

have a godly man for your husband--a sound and true follower; tread ye in

his footsteps, and no try to set up yoursel' on points of doctrine. But

it's time, Miss Mally, that we were taking the road; Becky and Miss

Isabella, make yourselves ready. Noo, Mrs. Craig, ye'll no be a

stranger; you see I have no been lang of coming to give you my

countenance; but, my leddy, ca' canny, it's no easy to carry a fu' cup;

ye hae gotten a great gift in your gudeman. Mr. Craig, I wish you a

good-night; I would fain have stopped for your evening exercise, but Miss

Mally was beginning, I saw, to weary--so good-night; and, Mrs. Craig,

ye'll take tent of what I have said--it's for your gude." So exeunt Mrs.

Glibbans, Miss Mally, and the two young ladies. "Her bark's waur than

her bite," said Mrs. Craig, as she returned to her husband, who felt

already some of the ourie symptoms of a henpecked destiny.

CHAPTER IX--THE MARRIAGE

Mr. Snodgrass was obliged to walk into Irvine one evening, to get rid of

a raging tooth, which had tormented him for more than a week. The

operation was so delicately and cleverly performed by the surgeon to whom

he applied--one of those young medical gentlemen, who, after having been

educated for the army or navy, are obliged, in this weak piping time of

peace, to glean what practice they can amid their native shades--that the

amiable divine found himself in a condition to call on Miss Isabella Tod.

During this visit, Saunders Dickie, the postman, brought a London letter

to the door, for Miss Isabella; and Mr. Snodgrass having desired the

servant to inquire if there were any for him, had the good fortune to get

the following from Mr. Andrew Pringle:--

LETTER XXIX

_Andrew Pringle Esq._, _to the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass_

My Dear Friend--I never receive a letter from you without experiencing a

strong emotion of regret, that talents like yours should be wilfully

consigned to the sequestered vegetation of a country pastor's life. But

we have so often discussed this point, that I shall only offend your

delicacy if I now revert to it more particularly. I cannot, however, but

remark, that although a private station may be the happiest, a public is

the proper sphere of virtue and talent, so clear, superior, and decided

as yours. I say this with the more confidence, as I have really, from

your letter, obtained a better conception of the queen's case, than from

all that I have been able to read and hear upon the subject in London.

The rule you lay down is excellent. Public safety is certainly the only

principle which can justify mankind in agreeing to observe and enforce

penal statutes; and, therefore, I think with you, that unless it could be

proved in a very simple manner, that it was requisite for the public

safety to institute proceedings against the queen--her sins or

indiscretions should have been allowed to remain in the obscurity of her

private circle.

I have attended the trial several times. For a judicial proceeding, it

seems to me too long--and for a legislative, too technical. Brougham, it

is allowed, has displayed even greater talent than was expected; but he

is too sharp; he seems to me more anxious to gain a triumph, than to

establish truth. I do not like the tone of his proceedings, while I

cannot sufficiently admire his dexterity. The style of Denman is more

lofty, and impressed with stronger lineaments of sincerity. As for their

opponents, I really cannot endure the Attorney-General as an orator; his

whole mind consists, as it were, of a number of little hands and

claws--each of which holds some scrap or portion of his subject; but you

might as well expect to get an idea of the form and character of a tree,

by looking at the fallen leaves, the fruit, the seeds, and the blossoms,

as anything like a comprehensive view of a subject, from an intellect so

constituted as that of Sir Robert Gifford. He is a man of application,

but of meagre abilities, and seems never to have read a book of travels

in his life. The Solicitor-General is somewhat better; but he is one of

those who think a certain artificial gravity requisite to professional

consequence; and which renders him somewhat obtuse in 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 I may use the

expression, with which the Chancellor discriminates the shades of

difference in the various points on which he is called to deliver his

opinion. I consider his mind as a curiosity of no ordinary kind. It

deceives itself by its own acuteness. The edge is too sharp; and,

instead of cutting straight through, it often diverges--alarming his

conscience with the dread of doing wrong. This singular subtlety has the

effect of impairing the reverence which the endowments and high

professional accomplishments of this great man are otherwise calculated

to inspire. His eloquence is not effective--it touches no feeling nor

affects any passion; but still it affords wonderful displays of a lucid

intellect. I can compare it to nothing but a pencil of sunshine; in

which, although one sees countless motes flickering and fluctuating, it

yet illuminates, and steadily brings into the most satisfactory

distinctness, every object on which it directly falls.

Lord Erskine is a character of another class, and whatever difference of

opinion may exist with respect to their professional abilities and

attainments, it will be allowed by those who contend that Eldon is the

better lawyer--that Erskine is the greater genius. Nature herself, with

a constellation in her hand, playfully illuminates his path to the temple

of reasonable justice; while Precedence with her guide-book, and Study

with a lantern, cautiously show the road in which the Chancellor warily

plods his weary way to that of legal Equity. The sedateness of Eldon is

so remarkable, that it is difficult to conceive that he was ever young;

but Erskine cannot grow old; his spirit is still glowing and flushed with

the enthusiasm of youth. When impassioned, his voice acquires a

singularly elevated and pathetic accent; and I can easily conceive the

irresistible effect he must have had on the minds of a jury, when he was

in the vigour of his physical powers, and the case required appeals of

tenderness or generosity. As a parliamentary orator, Earl Grey is

undoubtedly his superior; but there is something much less popular and

conciliating in his manner. His eloquence is heard to most advantage

when he is contemptuous; and he is then certainly dignified, ardent, and

emphatic; but it is apt, I should think, to impress those who hear him,

for the first time, with an idea that he is a very supercilious

personage, and this unfavourable impression is liable to be strengthened

by the elegant aristocratic languor of his appearance.

I think that you once told me you had some knowledge of the Marquis of

Lansdowne, when he was Lord Henry Petty. I can hardly hope that, after

an interval of so many years, you will recognise him in the following

sketch:--His appearance is much more that of a Whig than Lord Grey--stout

and sturdy--but still withal gentlemanly; and there is a pleasing

simplicity, with somewhat of good-nature, in the expression of his

countenance, that renders him, in a quiescent state, the more agreeable

character of the two. He speaks exceedingly well--clear, methodical, and

argumentative; but his eloquence, like himself, is not so graceful as it

is upon the whole manly; and there is a little tendency to verbosity in

his language, as there is to corpulency in his figure; but nothing

turgid, while it is entirely free from affectation. The character of

respectable is very legibly impressed, in everything about the mind and

manner of his lordship. I should, now that I have seen and heard him, be

astonished to hear such a man represented as capable of being factious.

I should say something about Lord Liverpool, not only on account of his

rank as a minister, but also on account of the talents which have

qualified him for that high situation. The greatest objection that I

have to him as a speaker, is owing to the loudness of his voice--in other

respects, what he does say is well digested. But I do not think that he

embraces his subject with so much power and comprehension as some of his

opponents; and he has evidently less actual experience of the world.

This may doubtless be attributed to his having been almost constantly in

office since he came into public life; than which nothing is more

detrimental to the unfolding of natural ability, while it induces a sort

of artificial talent, connected with forms and technicalities, which,

though useful in business, is but of minor consequence in a comparative

estimate of moral and intellectual qualities. I am told that in his

manner he resembles Mr. Pitt; be this, however, as it may, he is

evidently a speaker, formed more by habit and imitation, than one whom

nature prompts to be eloquent. He lacks that occasional accent of

passion, the melody of oratory; and I doubt if, on any occasion, he could

at all approximate to that magnificent intrepidity which was admired as

one of the noblest characteristics of his master's style.

But all the display of learning and eloquence, and intellectual power and

majesty of the House of Lords, shrinks into insignificance when compared

with the moral attitude which the people have taken on this occasion.

You know how much I have ever admired the attributes of the English

national character--that boundless generosity, which can only be compared

to the impartial benevolence of the sunshine--that heroic magnanimity,

which makes the hand ever ready to succour a fallen foe; and that sublime

courage, which rises with the energy of a conflagration roused by a

tempest, at every insult or menace of an enemy. The compassionate

interest taken by the populace in the future condition of the queen is

worthy of this extraordinary people. There may be many among them

actuated by what is called the radical spirit; but malignity alone would

dare to ascribe the bravery of their compassion to a less noble feeling

than that which has placed the kingdom so proudly in the van of all

modern nations. There may be an amiable delusion, as my Lord Castlereagh

has said, in the popular sentiments with respect to the queen. Upon

that, as upon her case, I offer no opinion. It is enough for me to have

seen, with the admiration of a worshipper, the manner in which the

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 to take place to-morrow, and that

I accompany the happy pair to France.--Yours truly,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

"This is a dry letter," said Mr. Snodgrass, and he handed it to Miss

Isabella, who, in exchange, presented the one which she had herself at

the same time received; but just as Mr. Snodgrass was on the point of

reading it, Miss Becky Glibbans was announced. "How lucky this is,"

exclaimed Miss Becky, "to find you both thegither! Now you maun tell me

all the particulars; for Miss Mally Glencairn is no in, and her letter

lies unopened. I am just gasping to hear how Rachel conducted herself at

being married in the kirk before all the folk--married to the hussar

captain, too, after all! who would have thought it?"

"How, have you heard of the marriage already?" said Miss Isabella. "Oh,

it's in the newspapers," replied the amiable inquisitant,--"Like ony

tailor or weaver's--a' weddings maun nowadays gang into the papers. The

whole toun, by this time, has got it; and I wouldna wonder if Rachel

Pringle's marriage ding the queen's divorce out of folk's heads for the

next nine days to come. But only to think of her being married in a

public kirk. Surely her father would never submit to hae't done by a

bishop? And then to put it in the London paper, as if Rachel Pringle had

been somebody of distinction. Perhaps it might have been more to the

purpose, considering what dragoon officers are, if she had got the doited

Doctor, her father, to publish the intended marriage in the papers

beforehand."

"Haud that condumacious tongue of yours," cried a voice, panting with

haste as the door opened, and Mrs. Glibbans entered. "Becky, will you

never devawl wi' your backbiting. I wonder frae whom the misleart lassie

takes a' this passion of clashing."

The authority of her parent's tongue silenced Miss Becky, and Mrs.

Glibbans having seated herself, continued,--"Is it your opinion, Mr.

Snodgrass, that this marriage can hold good, contracted, as I am told it

is mentioned in the papers to hae been, at the horns of the altar of

Episcopalian apostacy?"

"I can set you right as to that," said Miss Isabella. "Rachel mentions,

that, after returning from the church, the Doctor himself performed the

ceremony anew, according to the Presbyterian usage." "I am glad to

heart, very glad indeed," said Mrs. Glibbans. "It would have been a

judgment-like thing, had a bairn of Dr. Pringle's--than whom, although

there may be abler, there is not a sounder man in a' the West of

Scotland--been sacrificed to Moloch, like the victims of prelatic

idolatry."

At this juncture, Miss Mally Glencairn was announced: she entered,

holding a letter from Mrs. Pringle in her hand, with the seal unbroken.

Having heard of the marriage from an acquaintance in the street, she had

hurried home, in the well-founded expectation of hearing from her friend

and well-wisher, and taking up the letter, which she found on her table,

came with all speed to Miss Isabella Tod to commune with her on the

tidings.

Never was any confluence of visitors more remarkable than on this

occasion. Before Miss Mally had well explained the cause of her abrupt

intrusion, Mr. Micklewham made his appearance. He had come to Irvine to

be measured for a new coat, and meeting by accident with Saunders Dickie,

got the Doctor's letter from him, which, after reading, he thought he

could do no less than call at Mrs. Tod's, to let Miss Isabella know the

change which had taken place in the condition of her friend.

Thus were all the correspondents of the Pringles assembled, by the merest

chance, like the _dramatis personae_ at the end of a play. After a

little harmless bantering, it was agreed that Miss Mally should read her

communication first--as all the others were previously acquainted with

the contents of their respective letters, and Miss Mally read as

follows:--

LETTER XXX

_Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn_

DEAR MISS MALLY--I hav a cro to pik with you conserning yoor comishon

aboot the partickels for your friends. You can hav no noshon what the

Doctor and me suffert on the head of the flooring shrubs. We took your

Nota Beny as it was spilt, and went from shop to shop enquirin in a most

partiklar manner for "a Gardner's Bell, or the least of all flowering

plants"; but sorrow a gardner in the whole tot here in London ever had

heard of sic a thing; so we gave the porshoot up in despare. Howsomever,

one of Andrew's acquaintance--a decent lad, who is only son to a saddler

in a been way, that keeps his own carriage, and his son a coryikel,

happent to call, and the Doctor told him what ill socsess we had in our

serch for the gardner's bell; upon which he sought a sight of your

yepissle, and read it as a thing that was just wonderful for its

whorsogroffie; and then he sayid, that looking at the prinsipol of your

spilling, he thought we should reed, "a gardner's bill, or a list of all

flooring plants"; whilk being no doot your intent, I have proqurt the

same, and it is included heerin. But, Miss Mally, I would advize you to

be more exac in your inditing, that no sic torbolashon may hippen on a

future okashon.

What I hav to say for the present is, that you will, by a smak, get a

bocks of kumoddities, whilk you will destraboot as derekit on every on of

them, and you will before have resievit by the post-offis, an account of

what has been don. I need say no forther at this time, knowin your

discreshon and prooduns, septs that our Rachel and Captain Sabor will, if

it pleese the Lord, be off to Parish, by way of Bryton, as man and wife,

the morn's morning. What her father the Doctor gives for tocher, what is

settlt on her for jontor, I will tell you all aboot when we meet; for

it's our dishire noo to lose no tim in retorning to the manse, this being

the last of our diplomaticals in London, where we have found the Argents

a most discrit family, payin to the last farding the Cornal's legacy, 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 a dreadful rat, by which

the pesents hav falen more than a whole entirr pesent. I wish our fonds

were well oot of them, and in yird and stane, which is a constansie. But

what is to become of the poor donsie woman, no one can expound. Some

think she will be pot in the Toor of London, and her head chappit off;

others think she will raise sic a stramash, that she will send the whole

government into the air, like peelings of ingons, by a gunpoother plot.

But it's my opinion, and I have weighed the matter well in my

understanding, that she will hav to fight with sword in hand, be she ill,

or be she good. How els 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 the blood-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, and no to see

the king. Is it not a hard thing to come to London, 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, like one of the anshent wooden images of idolatry, the

which is a great peety, he beeing, as I am told, a beautiful man, and

more the gentleman than all the coortiers of his court.

The Doctor has been minting to me that there is an address from Irvine to

the queen; and he, being so near a neighbour to your toun, has been

thinking to pay his respecs with it, to see her near at hand. But I will

say nothing; he may take his own way in matters of gospel and

spiritualety; yet I have my scroopols of conshence, how this may not turn

out a rebellyon against the king; and I would hav him to sift and see who

are at the address, before he pits his han to it. For, if it's a radikol

job, as I jealoos it is, what will the Doctor 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 been forethocht. Having a washin, I

went down to see how the lassies were doing; but judge of my feelings,

when I saw them triomphing on the top of pattons, standing upright before

the boyns on chairs, rubbin the clothes to juggins between their hands,

above the sapples, with their gouns and stays on, and round-cared

mutches. What would you think of such a miracle at the washing-house in

the Goffields, or the Gallows-knows of Irvine? The cook, howsomever, has

shown me a way to make rice-puddings without eggs, by putting in a bit of

shoohet, which is as good--and this you will tell Miss Nanny Eydent;

likewise, that the most fashionable way of boiling green pis, is to pit a

blade of spearmint in the pot, which gives a fine flavour. But this is a

long letter, and my pepper is done; so no more, but remains your friend

and well-wisher,

JANET PRINGLE.

"A great legacy, and her dochtir married, in ae journey to London, is

doing business," said Mrs. Glibbans, with a sigh, as she looked to her

only get, Miss Becky; "but the Lord's will is to be done in a'

thing;--sooner or later something of the same kind will come, I trust, to

all our families." "Ay," replied Miss Mally Glencairn, "marriage is like

death--it's what we are a' to come to."

"I have my doubts of that," said Miss Becky with a sneer. "Ye have been

lang spair't from it, Miss Mally."

"Ye're a spiteful puddock; and if the men hae the e'en and lugs they used

to hae, gude pity him whose lot is cast with thine, Becky Glibbans,"

replied the elderly maiden ornament of the Kirkgate, somewhat tartly.

Here Mr. Snodgrass interposed, and said, he would read to them the letter

which Miss Isabella had received from the bride; and without waiting for

their concurrence, opened and read as follows:--

LETTER XXXI

_Mrs. Sabre to Miss Isabella Tod_

MY DEAREST BELL--Rachel Pringle is no more! My heart flutters as I write

the fatal words. This morning, at nine o'clock precisely, she was

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 fairest maidens.

My mind is too agitated to allow me to describe the scene. The office of

handmaid to the victim, which, in our young simplicity, we had fondly

thought one of us would perform for the other, was gracefully sustained

by Miss Argent.

On returning from church to my father's residence in Baker Street, where

we breakfasted, he declared himself not satisfied with the formalities of

the English ritual, and obliged us to undergo a second ceremony from

himself, according to the wonted forms of the Scottish Church. All the

advantages and pleasures of which, my dear Bell, I hope you will soon

enjoy.

But I have no time to enter into particulars. The captain and his lady,

by themselves, in their own carriage, set off for Brighton in the course

of less than an hour. On Friday they are to be followed by a large party

of their friends and relations; and, after spending a few days in that

emporium of salt-water pleasures, they embark, accompanied with their

beloved brother, Mr. Andrew Pringle, for Paris; where they are afterwards

to be joined by the Argents. It is our intention to remain about a month

in the French capital; whether we shall extend our tour, will depend on

subsequent circumstances: in the meantime, however, you will hear

frequently from me.

My mother, who has a thousand times during these important transactions

wished for the assistance of Nanny Eydent, transmits to Miss Mally

Glencairn a box containing all the requisite bridal recognisances for our

Irvine friends. I need not say that the best is for the faithful

companion of my happiest years. As I had made a vow in my heart that

Becky Glibbans should never wear gloves for my marriage, I was averse to

sending her any at all, but my mother insisted that no exceptions should

be made. I secretly took care, however, to mark a pair for her, so much

too large, that I am sure she will never put them on. The asp will be

not a little vexed at the disappointment. Adieu for a time, and believe

that, although your affectionate Rachel Pringle be gone that way in which

she hopes you will soon follow, one not less sincerely attached to you,

though it be the first time she has so subscribed herself, remains in

RACHEL SABRE.

Before the ladies had time to say a word on the subject, the prudent

young clergyman called immediately on Mr. Micklewham to read the letter

which he had received from the Doctor; and which the worthy dominie did

without delay, in that rich and full voice with which he is accustomed to

teach his scholars elocution by example.

LETTER XXXII

_The Rev. Z. Pringle_, _D.D._, _to Mr. Micklewham_, _Schoolmaster and

Session-Clerk_, _Garnock_

LONDON.

Dear Sir--I have been much longer of replying to your letter of the 3rd

of last month, than I ought in civility to have been, but really time, in

this town of London, runs at a fast rate, and the day passes before the

dark's done. What with Mrs. Pringle and her daughter's concernments,

anent the marriage to Captain Sabre, and the trouble I felt myself

obliged to take in the queen's affair, I assure you, Mr. Micklewham, that

it's no to be expressed how I have been occupied for the last four weeks.

But all things must come to a conclusion in this world. Rachel Pringle

is married, and the queen's weary trial is brought to an end--upon the

subject and motion of the same, I offer no opinion, for I made it a point

never to read the evidence, being resolved to stand 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, and looking both at

the head and the tail of the proceeding, I was of a firm persuasion, that

all the sculduddery of the business might have been well spared from the

eye of the public, which is of itself sufficiently prone to keek and

kook, in every possible way, for a glimpse of a black story; and,

therefore, I thought it my duty to stand up in all places against the

trafficking that was attempted with a divine institution. And I think,

when my people read how their prelatic enemies, the bishops (the heavens

defend the poor Church of Scotland from being subjected to the weight of

their paws), have been visited with a constipation of the understanding

on that point, it must to them be a great satisfaction to know how clear

and collected their minister was on this fundamental of society. For it

has turned out, as I said to Mrs. Pringle, as well as others, it would

do, that a sense of grace and religion would be manifested in some

quarter before all was done, by which the devices for an unsanctified

repudiation or divorce would be set at nought.

As often as I could, deeming it my duty as a minister of the word and

gospel, I got into the House of Lords, and heard the trial; and I cannot

think how ever it was expected that justice could be done yonder; for

although no man could be more attentive than I was, every time I came

away I was more confounded than when I went; and when the trial was done,

it seemed to me just to be clearing up for a proper beginning--all which

is a proof that there was a foul conspiracy. Indeed, when I saw Duke

Hamilton's daughter coming out of the coach with the queen, I never could

think after, that a lady of her degree would have countenanced the queen

had the matter laid to her charge been as it was said. Not but in any

circumstance it behoved a lady of that ancient and royal blood, to be

seen beside the queen in such 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 is content with me.

I was in the House of Lords when her majesty came down for the last time,

and saw her handed up the stairs by the usher of the black-rod, a little

stumpy man, wonderful particular about the rules of the House, insomuch

that he was almost angry with me for stopping at the stair-head. The

afflicted woman was then in great spirits, and I saw no symptoms of the

swelled legs that Lord Lauderdale, that jooking man, spoke about, for she

skippit up the steps like a lassie. But my heart was wae for her when

all was over, for she came out like an astonished creature, with a wild

steadfast look, and a sort of something in the face that was as if the

rational spirit had fled away; and she went down to her coach as if she

had submitted to be led to a doleful destiny. Then the shouting of the

people began, and I saw and shouted too in spite of my decorum, which I

marvel at sometimes, thinking it could be nothing less than an

involuntary testification of the spirit within me.

Anent the marriage of Rachel Pringle, it may be needful in me to state,

for the satisfaction of my people, that although by stress of law we were

obligated to conform to the practice of the Episcopalians, by taking out

a bishop's license, and going to their church, and vowing, in a pagan

fashion, before their altars, which are an abomination to the Lord; yet,

when the young folk came home, I made them stand up, and be married again

before me, according to all regular marriages in our national Church.

For this I had two reasons: first, to satisfy myself that there had been

a true and real marriage; and, secondly, to remove the doubt of the

former ceremony being sufficient; for marriage being of divine

appointment, and the English form and ritual being a thing established by

Act of Parliament, which is of human ordination, I was not sure that

marriage performed according to a human enactment could be a fulfilment

of a divine ordinance. I therefore hope that my people will approve what

I have done; and in order that there may be a sympathising with me, you

will go over to Banker M---y, and get what he will give you, as ordered

by me, and distribute it among the poorest of the parish, according to

the best of your discretion, my long absence having taken from me the

power of judgment in a matter of this sort. I wish indeed for the glad

sympathy of my people, for I think that our Saviour turning water into

wine at the wedding, was an example set that we should rejoice and be

merry at the fulfilment of one of the great obligations imposed on us as

social creatures; and I have ever regarded the unhonoured treatment of a

marriage occasion as a thing of evil bodement, betokening heavy hearts

and light purses to the lot of the bride and bridegroom. You will hear

more from me by and by; in the meantime, all I can say is, that when we

have taken our leave of the young folks, who are going to France, it is

Mrs. Pringle's intent, as well as mine, to turn our horses' heads

northward, and make our way with what speed we can, for our own quiet

home, among you. So no more at present from your friend and pastor,

Z. PRINGLE.

Mrs. Tod, the mother of Miss Isabella, a respectable widow lady, who had

quiescently joined the company, proposed that they should now drink

health, happiness, and all manner of prosperity, to the young couple; and

that nothing might be wanting to secure the favourable auspices of good

omens to the toast, she desired Miss Isabella to draw fresh bottles of

white and red. When all manner of felicity was duly wished in wine to

the captain and his 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 once replied, that an express had

come from Garnock for Nanse Swaddle the midwife, Mrs. Craig being taken

with her pains. "Mr. Snodgrass," said Mrs. Glibbans, instantly and

emphatically, "ye maun let me go with you, and we can spiritualise on the

road; for I hae promis't Mrs. Craig to be wi' her at the crying, to see

the upshot--so I hope you will come awa."

It would be impossible in us to suppose, that Mr. Snodgrass had any

objections to spiritualise with Mrs. Glibbans on the road between Irvine

and Garnock; but, notwithstanding her urgency, he excused himself from

going with her; however, he recommended her to the special care and

protection of Mr. Micklewham, who was at that time on his legs to return

home. "Oh! Mr. Snodgrass," said the lady, looking slyly, as she

adjusted her cloak, at him and Miss Isabella, "there will be marrying and

giving in marriage till the day of judgment." And with these oracular

words she took her departure.

CHAPTER X--THE RETURN

On Friday, Miss Mally Glencairn received a brief note from Mrs. Pringle,

informing her, that she and the Doctor would reach the manse, "God

willing," in time for tea on Saturday; and begging her, therefore, to go

over from Irvine, and see that the house was in order for their

reception. This note was written from Glasgow, where they had arrived,

in their own carriage, from Carlisle on the preceding day, after

encountering, as Mrs. Pringle said, "more hardships and extorshoning than

all the dangers of the sea which they met with in the smack of Leith that

took them to London."

As soon as Miss Mally received this intelligence, she went to Miss

Isabella Tod, and requested her company for the next day to Garnock,

where they arrived betimes to dine with Mr. Snodgrass. Mrs. Glibbans and

her daughter Becky were then on a consolatory visit to Mr. Craig. We

mentioned in the last chapter, that the crying of Mrs. Craig had come on;

and that Mrs. Glibbans, according to promise, and with the most anxious

solicitude, had gone to wait the upshot. The upshot was most

melancholy,--Mrs. Craig was soon no more;--she was taken, as Mrs.

Glibbans observed on the occasion, from the earthly arms of her husband,

to the spiritual bosom of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, which was far

better. But the baby survived; so that, what with getting a nurse, and

the burial, and all the work and handling that a birth and death in one

house at the same time causes, Mr. Craig declared, that he could not do

without Mrs. Glibbans; and she, with all that Christianity by which she

was so zealously distinguished, sent for Miss Becky, and took up her

abode with him till it would please Him, without whom there is no

comfort, to wipe the eyes of the pious elder. In a word, she staid so

long, that a rumour began to spread that Mr. Craig would need a wife to

look after his bairn; and that Mrs. Glibbans was destined to supply the

desideratum.

Mr. Snodgrass, after enjoying his dinner society with Miss Mally and Miss

Isabella, thought it necessary to dispatch a courier, in the shape of a

barefooted servant lass, to Mr. Micklewham, to inform the elders that the

Doctor was expected home in time for tea, leaving it to their discretion

either to greet his safe return at the manse, or in any other form or

manner that would be most agreeable to themselves. These important 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 see the Doctor coming home in his own coach.

All the boys of Garnock assembled at the braehead which commands an

extensive view of the Kilmarnock road, the only one from Glasgow that

runs through the parish; the wives with their sucklings were seated on

the large stones at their respective door-cheeks; while their cats were

calmly reclining on the window soles. The lassie weans, like clustering

bees, were mounted on the carts that stood before Thomas Birlpenny the

vintner's door, churming with anticipated delight; the old men took their

stations on the dike that incloses the side of the vintner's kail-yard,

and "a batch of wabster lads," with green aprons and thin yellow faces,

planted themselves at the gable of the malt kiln, where they were wont,

when trade was better, to play at the hand-ball; but, poor fellows, since

the trade fell off, they have had no heart for the game, and the

vintner's half-mutchkin stoups glitter in empty splendour unrequired on

the shelf below the brazen sconce above the bracepiece, amidst the idle

pewter pepper-boxes, the bright copper tea-kettle, the coffee-pot that

has never been in use, and lids of saucepans that have survived their

principals,--the wonted ornaments of every trig change-house kitchen.

The season was far advanced; but the sun shone at his setting with a

glorious composure, and the birds in the hedges and on the boughs were

again gladdened into song. The leaves had fallen thickly, and the

stubble-fields were bare, but Autumn, in a many-coloured tartan plaid,

was seen still walking with matronly composure in the woodlands, along

the brow of the neighbouring hills.

About half-past four o'clock, a movement was seen among the callans at

the braehead, and a shout announced that a carriage was in sight. It was

answered by a murmuring response of satisfaction from the whole village.

In the course of a few minutes the carriage reached the turnpike--it was

of the darkest green and the gravest fashion,--a large trunk, covered

with Russian matting, and fastened on with cords, prevented from chafing

it by knots of straw rope, occupied the front,--behind, other two were

fixed in the same manner, the lesser of course uppermost; and deep beyond

a pile of light bundles and bandboxes, that occupied a large portion of

the interior, the blithe faces of the Doctor and Mrs. Pringle were

discovered. The boys huzzaed, the Doctor flung them penny-pieces, and

the mistress baubees.

As the carriage drove along, the old men on the dike stood up and

reverently took off their hats and bonnets. The weaver lads gazed with a

melancholy smile; the lassies on the carts clapped their hands with joy;

the women on both sides of the street acknowledged the recognising nods;

while all the village dogs, surprised by the sound of chariot wheels,

came baying and barking forth, and sent off the cats that were so doucely

sitting on the window soles, clambering and scampering over the roofs in

terror of their lives.

When the carriage reached the manse door, Mr. Snodgrass, the two ladies,

with Mr. Micklewham, and all the elders except Mr. Craig, were there

ready to receive the travellers. But over this joy of welcoming we must

draw a veil; for the first thing that the Doctor did, on entering the

parlour and before sitting down, was to return thanks for his safe

restoration to his home and people.

The carriage was then unloaded, and as package, bale, box, and bundle

were successively brought in, Miss Mally Glencairn expressed her

admiration at the great capacity of the chaise. "Ay," said Mrs. Pringle,

"but you know not what we have suffert for't in coming through among the

English taverns on the road; some of them would not take us forward when

there was a hill to pass, unless we would take four horses, and every one

after another reviled us for having no mercy in loading the carriage like

a waggon,--and then the drivers were so gleg and impudent, that it was

worse than martyrdom to come with them. Had the Doctor taken my advice,

he would have brought our own civil London coachman, whom we hired with

his own horses by the job; but he said it behoved us to gi'e our ain fish

guts to our ain sea-maws, and that he designed to fee Thomas Birlpenny's

hostler for our coachman, being a lad of the parish. This obliged us to

post it from London; but, oh! Miss Mally, what an outlay it has been!"

The Doctor, in the meantime, had entered into conversation with the

gentlemen, and was inquiring, in the most particular manner, respecting

all his parishioners, and expressing his surprise that Mr. Craig had not

been at the manse with the rest of the elders. "It does not look well,"

said the Doctor. Mr. Daff, however, offered the best apology for his

absence that could be made. "He has had a gentle dispensation, sir--Mrs.

Craig has won awa' out of this sinful world, poor woman, she had a large

experience o't; but the bairns to the fore, and Mrs. Glibbans, that has

such a cast of grace, has ta'en charge of the house since before the

interment. It's thought, considering what's by gane, Mr. Craig may do

waur than make her mistress, and I hope, sir, your exhortation will no be

wanting to egg the honest man to think o't seriously."

Mr. Snodgrass, before delivering the household keys, ordered two bottles

of wine, with glasses and biscuit, to be set upon the table, while Mrs.

Pringle produced from a paper package, that had helped to stuff one of

the pockets of the carriage, a piece of rich plum-cake, brought all the

way from a confectioner's in Cockspur Street, London, not only for the

purpose of being eaten, but, as she said, to let Miss Nanny Eydent pree,

in order to direct the Irvine bakers how to bake others like it.

Tea was then brought in; and, as it was making, the Doctor talked aside

to the elders, while Mrs. Pringle recounted to Miss Mally and Miss

Isabella the different incidents of her adventures subsequent to the

marriage of Miss Rachel.

"The young folk," said she, "having gone to Brighton, we followed them in

a few days, for we were told it was a curiosity, and that the king has a

palace there, just a warld's wonder! and, truly, Miss Mally, it is

certainly not like a house for a creature of this world, but for some

Grand Turk or Chinaman. The Doctor said, it put him in mind of Miss

Jenny Macbride's sideboard in the Stockwell of Glasgow; where all the

pepper-boxes, poories, and teapots, punch-bowls, and china-candlesticks

of her progenitors are set out for a show, that tells her visitors, they

are but seldom put to use. As for the town of Brighton, it's what I

would call a gawky piece of London. I could see nothing in it but a

wheen idlers, hearing twa lads, at night, crying, "Five, six, seven for a

shilling," in the booksellers' shops, with a play-actor lady singing in a

corner, because her voice would not do for the players' stage.

Therefore, having seen the Captain and Mrs. Sabre off to France, we came

home to London; but it's not to be told what we had to pay at the hotel

where we staid in Brighton. Howsomever, having come back to London, we

settled our counts,--and, buying a few necessars, we prepared for

Scotland,--and here we are. But travelling has surely a fine effect in

enlarging the understanding; for both the Doctor and me thought, as we

came along, that everything had a smaller and poorer look than when we

went away; and I dinna think this room is just what it used to be. What

think ye o't, Miss Isabella? How would ye like to spend your days in't?"

Miss Isabella reddened at this question; but Mrs. Pringle, who was as

prudent as she was observant, affecting not to notice this, turned round

to Miss Mally Glencairn, and said softly in her ear,--"Rachel was Bell's

confidante, and has told us all about what's going on between her and Mr.

Snodgrass. We have agreed no to stand in their way, as soon as the

Doctor can get a mailing or two to secure his money upon."

Meantime, the Doctor received from the elders a very satisfactory account

of all that had happened among his people, both in and out of the

Session, during his absence; and he was vastly pleased to find there had

been no inordinate increase of wickedness; at the same time, he was

grieved for the condition in which the poor weavers still continued,

saying, that among other things of which he had been of late meditating,

was the setting up of a lending bank in the parish for the labouring

classes, where, when they were out of work, "bits of loans for a

house-rent, or a brat of claes, or sic like, might be granted, to be

repaid when trade grew better, and thereby take away the objection that

an honest pride had to receiving help from the Session."

Then some lighter general conversation ensued, in which the Doctor gave

his worthy counsellors a very jocose description of many of the lesser

sort of adventures which he had met with; and the ladies having retired

to inspect the great bargains that Mrs. Pringle had got, and the splendid

additions she had made to her wardrobe, out of what she denominated the

dividends of the present portion of the legacy, the Doctor ordered in the

second biggest toddy-bowl, the guardevine with the old rum, and told the

lassie to see if the tea-kettle was still boiling. "Ye maun drink our

welcome hame," said he to the elders; "it would nae otherwise be canny.

But I'm sorry Mr. Craig has nae come." At these words the door opened,

and the absent elder entered, with a long face and a deep sigh. "Ha!"

cried Mr. Daff, "this is very droll. Speak of the Evil One, and he'll

appear";--which words dinted on the heart of Mr. Craig, who thought his

marriage in December had been the subject of their discourse. The

Doctor, however, went up and shook him cordially by the hand, and said,

"Now I take this very kind, Mr. Craig; for I could not have expected you,

considering ye have got, as I am told, your jo in the house"; at which

words the Doctor winked paukily to Mr. Daff, who rubbed his hands with

fainness, and gave a good-humoured sort of keckling laugh. This

facetious stroke of policy was a great relief to the afflicted elder, for

he saw by it that the Doctor did not mean to trouble him with any

inquiries respecting his deceased wife; and, in consequence, he put on a

blither face, and really affected to have forgotten her already more than

he had done in sincerity.

Thus the night passed in decent temperance and a happy decorum; insomuch,

that the elders when they went away, either by the influence of the

toddy-bowl, or the Doctor's funny stories about the Englishers, declared

that he was an excellent man, and, being none lifted up, was worthy of

his rich legacy.

At supper, the party, besides the minister and Mrs. Pringle, consisted of

the two Irvine ladies, and Mr. Snodgrass. Miss Becky Glibbans came in

when it was about half over, to express her mother's sorrow at not being

able to call that night, "Mr. Craig's bairn having taken an ill turn."

The truth, however, was, that the worthy elder had been rendered somewhat

tozy by the minister's toddy, and wanted an opportunity to inform the old

lady of the joke that had been played upon him by the Doctor calling her

his jo, and to see how she would relish it. So by a little address Miss

Becky 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 be supposed 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, were cracked by the Doctor; but, soon after

the table was cleared, he touched Mr. Snodgrass on the arm, and, taking

up one of the candles, went with him to his study, where he then told

him, that Rachel Pringle, now Mrs. Sabre, had informed him of a way in

which he could do him a service. "I understand, sir," said the Doctor,

"that you have a notion of Miss Bell Tod, but that until ye get a kirk

there can be no marriage. But the auld horse may die waiting for the new

grass; and, therefore, as the Lord has put it in my power to do a good

action both to you and my people,--whom I am glad to hear you have

pleased so well,--if it can be brought about that you could be made

helper and successor, I'll no object to give up to you the whole stipend,

and, by and by, maybe the manse to the bargain. But that is if you marry

Miss Bell; for it was a promise that Rachel gar't me make to her on her

wedding morning. Ye know she was a forcasting lassie, and, I have reason

to believe, has said nothing anent this to Miss Bell herself; so that if

you have no partiality for Miss Bell, things will just rest on their own

footing; but if you have a notion, it must be a satisfaction to you to

know this, as it will be a pleasure to me to carry it as soon as possible

into effect."

Mr. Snodgrass was a good deal agitated; he was taken by surprise, and

without words the Doctor might have guessed his sentiments; he, however,

frankly confessed that he did entertain a very high opinion of Miss Bell,

but that he was not sure if a country parish would exactly suit him.

"Never mind that," 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 no obstacle."

The two gentlemen then rejoined the ladies, and, after a short

conversation, Miss Becky Glibbans was admonished to depart, by the

servants bringing in the Bibles for the worship of the evening. This was

usually performed before supper, but, owing to the bowl being on the

table, and the company jocose, it had been postponed till all the guests

who were not to sleep in the house had departed.

The Sunday morning was fine and bright for the season; the hoarfrost,

till about an hour after sunrise, lay white on the grass and tombstones

in the churchyard; but before the bell rung for the congregation to

assemble, it was exhaled away, and a freshness, that was only known to be

autumnal by the fallen and yellow leaves that strewed the church-way path

from the ash and plane trees in the avenue, encouraged the spirits to

sympathise with the universal cheerfulness of all nature.

The return of the Doctor had been bruited through the parish with so much

expedition, that, when the bell rung for public worship, none of those

who were in the practice of stopping in the churchyard to talk about the

weather were so ignorant as not to have heard of this important fact. In

consequence, before the time at which the Doctor was wont to come from

the back-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 usually opened, and the

Doctor was wont to come forth as punctually as a cuckoo of a clock at the

striking of the hour; but a deviation was observed on this occasion.

Formerly, Mrs. Pringle and the rest of the family came first, and a few

minutes were allowed to elapse before the Doctor, laden with grace, made

his appearance. But at this time, either because it had been settled

that Mr. Snodgrass was to officiate, or for some other reason, there was

a breach in the observance of this time-honoured custom.

As the ringing of the bell ceased, the gate unclosed, and the Doctor came

forth. He was of that easy sort of feather-bed corpulency of form that

betokens good-nature, and had none of that smooth, red, well-filled

protuberancy, which indicates a choleric humour and a testy temper. He

was in fact what Mrs. Glibbans denominated "a man of a gausy external."

And some little change had taken place during his absence in his visible

equipage. His stockings, which were wont to be of worsted, had undergone

a translation into silk; his waist-coat, instead--of the venerable

Presbyterian flap-covers to the pockets, which were of Johnsonian

magnitude, was become plain--his coat in all times single-breasted, with

no collar, still, however, maintained its ancient characteristics;

instead, however, of the former bright black cast horn, the buttons were

covered with cloth. But the chief alteration was discernible in the

furniture of the head. He had exchanged the simplicity of his own

respectable grey hairs for the cauliflower hoariness of a PARRISH {3}

wig, on which he wore a broad-brimmed hat, turned up a little at each

side behind, in a portentous manner, indicatory of Episcopalian

predilections. This, however, was not justified by any alteration in his

principles, being merely an innocent variation of fashion, the natural

result of a Doctor of Divinity buying a hat and wig in London.

The moment that the Doctor made his appearance, his greeting and

salutation was quite delightful; it was that of a father returned to his

children, and a king to his people.

Almost immediately after the Doctor, Mrs. Pringle, followed by Miss Mally

Glencairn and Miss Isabella Tod, also debouched from the gate, and the

assembled females remarked, with no less instinct, the transmutation

which she had undergone. She was dressed in a dark blue cloth pelisse,

trimmed with a dyed fur, which, as she told Miss Mally, "looked quite as

well as sable, without costing a third of the money." A most matronly

muff, that, without being of sable, was of an excellent quality,

contained her hands; and a very large Leghorn straw bonnet, decorated

richly, but far from excess, with a most substantial band and bow of a

broad crimson satin ribbon around her head.

If the Doctor was gratified to see his people so gladly thronging around

him, Mrs. Pringle had no less pleasure also in her thrice-welcome

reception. It was an understood thing, that she had been mainly

instrumental in enabling the minister to get his great Indian legacy; and

in whatever estimation she may have been previously held for her economy

and management, she was now looked up to as a personage skilled in the

law, and particularly versed in testamentary erudition. Accordingly, in

the customary testimonials of homage with which she was saluted in her

passage to the church door, there was evidently a sentiment of veneration

mingled, such as had never been evinced before, and which was neither

unobserved nor unappreciated by that acute and perspicacious lady.

The Doctor himself did not preach, but sat in the minister's pew till Mr.

Snodgrass had concluded an eloquent and truly an affecting sermon; at the

end of which, the Doctor rose and went up into the pulpit, where he

publicly returned thanks for the favours and blessings he had obtained

during his absence, and for the safety in which he had been restored,

after many dangers and tribulations, to the affections of his

parishioners.

Such were the principal circumstances that marked the return of the

family. In the course of the week after, the estate of Moneypennies

being for sale, it was bought for the Doctor as a great bargain. It was

not, however, on account of the advantageous nature of the purchase that

our friend valued this acquisition, but entirely because it was situated

in his own parish, and part of the lands marching with the Glebe.

The previous owner of Moneypennies had built an elegant house on the

estate, to which Mrs. Pringle is at present actively preparing to remove

from the manse; and it is understood, that, as Mr. Snodgrass was last

week declared helper, and successor to the Doctor, his marriage with Miss

Isabella Tod will take place with all convenient expedition. There is

also reason to believe, that, as soon as decorum will permit, any scruple

which Mrs. Glibbans had to a second marriage is now removed, and that she

will soon again grace the happy circle of wives by the name of Mrs.

Craig. Indeed, we are assured that Miss Nanny Eydent is actually at this

time employed in making up her wedding garments; for, last week, that

worthy and respectable young person was known to have visited Bailie

Delap's shop, at a very early hour in the morning, and to have priced

many things of a bridal character, besides getting swatches; after which

she was seen to go to Mrs. Glibbans's house, where she remained a very

considerable time, and to return straight therefrom to the shop, and

purchase divers of the articles which she had priced and inspected; all

of which constitute sufficient grounds for the general 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 the Sacrament.

{2} The honest Doctor's version of this _bon mot_ of her majesty is not

quite correct; her expression was, "I mean to take a chop at the King's

Head when I get to London."

{3} See the _Edinburgh Review_, for an account of our old friend, Dr.

Parr's wig, and Spital Sermon.