Вальтер Скотт
The Antiquary — Volume 01
CHAPTER EIGHTH
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep;
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear.
King Lear.
The shout of human voices from above was soon augmented, and the gleam of torches mingled with those lights of evening which still remained amidst the darkness of the storm. Some attempt was made to hold communication between the assistants above and the sufferers beneath, who were still clinging to their precarious place of safety; but the howling of the tempest limited their intercourse to cries as inarticulate as those of the winged denizens of the crag, which shrieked in chorus, alarmed by the reiterated sound of human voices, where they had seldom been heard.
On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled. Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with unwonted desperation to the very brink of the crag, and extending his head (his hat and wig secured by a handkerchief under his chin) over the dizzy height, with an air of determination which made his more timorous assistants tremble.
"Haud a care, haud a care, Monkbarns!" cried Caxon, clinging to the skirts of his patron, and withholding him from danger as far as his strength permitted — "God's sake, haud a care! — Sir Arthur's drowned already, and an ye fa' over the cleugh too, there will be but ae wig left in the parish, and that's the minister's."
"Mind the peak there," cried Mucklebackit, an old fisherman and smuggler — "mind the peak — Steenie, Steenie Wilks, bring up the tackle — I'se warrant we'll sune heave them on board, Monkbarns, wad ye but stand out o' the gate."
"I see them," said Oldbuck — "I see them low down on that flat stone — Hilli-hilloa, hilli-ho-a!"
"I see them mysell weel eneugh," said Mucklebackit; "they are sitting down yonder like hoodie-craws in a mist; but d'yo think ye'll help them wi' skirling that gate like an auld skart before a flaw o' weather? — Steenie, lad, bring up the mast — Od, I'se hae them up as we used to bouse up the kegs o' gin and brandy lang syne — Get up the pickaxe, make a step for the mast — make the chair fast with the rattlin — haul taught and belay!"
The fishers had brought with them the mast of a boat, and as half of the country fellows about had now appeared, either out of zeal or curiosity, it was soon sunk in the ground, and sufficiently secured. A yard across the upright mast, and a rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair, well secured and fastened, down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted. Their joy at hearing the preparations going on for their deliverance was considerably qualified when they beheld the precarious vehicle by means of which they were to be conveyed to upper air. It swung about a yard free of the spot which they occupied, obeying each impulse of the tempest, the empty air all around it, and depending upon the security of a rope, which, in the increasing darkness, had dwindled to an almost imperceptible thread. Besides the hazard of committing a human being to the vacant atmosphere in such a slight means of conveyance, there was the fearful danger of the chair and its occupant being dashed, either by the wind or the vibrations of the cord, against the rugged face of the precipice. But to diminish the risk as much as possible, the experienced seaman had let down with the chair another line, which, being attached to it, and held by the persons beneath, might serve by way of gy, as Mucklebackit expressed it, to render its descent in some measure steady and regular. Still, to commit one's self in such a vehicle, through a howling tempest of wind and rain, with a beetling precipice above and a raging abyss below, required that courage which despair alone can inspire. Yet, wild as the sounds and sights of danger were, both above, beneath, and around, and doubtful and dangerous as the mode of escaping appeared to be, Lovel and the old mendicant agreed, after a moment's consultation, and after the former, by a sudden strong pull, had, at his own imminent risk, ascertained the security of the rope, that it would be best to secure Miss Wardour in the chair, and trust to the tenderness and care of those above for her being safely craned up to the top of the crag.
"Let my father go first," exclaimed Isabella; "for God's sake, my friends, place him first in safety!"
"It cannot be, Miss Wardour," said Lovel; — "your life must be first secured — the rope which bears your weight may" —
"I will not listen to a reason so selfish!"
"But ye maun listen to it, my bonnie lassie," said Ochiltree, "for a' our lives depend on it — besides, when ye get on the tap o' the heugh yonder, ye can gie them a round guess o' what's ganging on in this Patmos o' ours — and Sir Arthur's far by that, as I'm thinking."
Struck with the truth of this reasoning, she exclaimed, "True, most true; I am ready and willing to undertake the first risk — What shall I say to our friends above?"
"Just to look that their tackle does not graze on the face o' the crag, and to let the chair down and draw it up hooly and fairly; — we will halloo when we are ready."
With the sedulous attention of a parent to a child, Lovel bound Miss Wardour with his handkerchief, neckcloth, and the mendicant's leathern belt, to the back and arms of the chair, ascertaining accurately the security of each knot, while Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet. "What are ye doing wi' my bairn? — what are ye doing? — She shall not be separated from me — Isabel, stay with me, I command you!"
"Lordsake, Sir Arthur, haud your tongue, and be thankful to God that there's wiser folk than you to manage this job," cried the beggar, worn out by the unreasonable exclamations of the poor Baronet.
"Farewell, my father!" murmured Isabella — "farewell, my — my friends!" and shutting her eyes, as Edie's experience recommended, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who were above. She rose, while the chair in which she sate was kept steady by the line which Lovel managed beneath. With a beating heart he watched the flutter of her white dress, until the vehicle was on a level with the brink of the precipice.
"Canny now, lads, canny now!" exclaimed old Mucklebackit, who acted as commodore; "swerve the yard a bit — Now — there! there she sits safe on dry land."
A loud shout announced the successful experiment to her fellow-sufferers beneath, who replied with a ready and cheerful halloo. Monkbarns, in his ecstasy of joy, stripped his great-coat to wrap up the young lady, and would have pulled off his coat and waistcoat for the same purpose, had he not been withheld by the cautious Caxon. "Haud a care o' us! your honour will be killed wi' the hoast — ye'll no get out o'your night-cowl this fortnight — and that will suit us unco ill. — Na, na — there's the chariot down by; let twa o' the folk carry the young leddy there."
"You're right," said the Antiquary, readjusting the sleeves and collar of his coat, "you're right, Caxon; this is a naughty night to swim in. — Miss Wardour, let me convey you to the chariot."
"Not for worlds till I see my father safe."
In a few distinct words, evincing how much her resolution had surmounted even the mortal fear of so agitating a hazard, she explained the nature of the situation beneath, and the wishes of Lovel and Ochiltree.
"Right, right, that's right too — I should like to see the son of Sir Gamelyn de Guardover on dry land myself — I have a notion he would sign the abjuration oath, and the Ragman-roll to boot, and acknowledge Queen Mary to be nothing better than she should be, to get alongside my bottle of old port that he ran away from, and left scarce begun. But he's safe now, and here a' comes" — (for the chair was again lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it, without much consciousness on his own part) — "here a' comes — Bowse away, my boys! canny wi' him — a pedigree of a hundred links is hanging on a tenpenny tow — the whole barony of Knockwinnock depends on three plies of hemp —respice finem, respice funem— look to your end — look to a rope's end. — Welcome, welcome, my good old friend, to firm land, though I cannot say to warm land or to dry land. A cord for ever against fifty fathom of water, though not in the sense of the base proverb — a fico for the phrase, — better sus. per funem, than sus. per coll."
While Oldbuck ran on in this way, Sir Arthur was safely wrapped in the close embraces of his daughter, who, assuming that authority which the circumstances demanded, ordered some of the assistants to convey him to the chariot, promising to follow in a few minutes, She lingered on the cliff, holding an old countryman's arm, to witness probably the safety of those whose dangers she had shared.
"What have we here?" said Oldbuck, as the vehicle once more ascended — "what patched and weather-beaten matter is this?" Then as the torches illumed the rough face and grey hairs of old Ochiltree, — "What! is it thou? — Come, old Mocker, I must needs be friends with thee — but who the devil makes up your party besides?"
"Ane that's weel worth ony twa o' us, Monkbarns; — it's the young stranger lad they ca' Lovel — and he's behaved this blessed night as if he had three lives to rely on, and was willing to waste them a' rather than endanger ither folk's. Ca' hooly, sirs, as ye, wad win an auld man's blessing! — mind there's naebody below now to haud the gy — Hae a care o' the Cat's-lug corner — bide weel aff Crummie's-horn!"
"Have a care indeed," echoed Oldbuck. "What! is it my rara avis— my black swan — my phoenix of companions in a post-chaise? — take care of him, Mucklebackit."
"As muckle care as if he were a graybeard o' brandy; and I canna take mair if his hair were like John Harlowe's. — Yo ho, my hearts! bowse away with him!"
Lovel did, in fact, run a much greater risk than any of his precursors. His weight was not sufficient to render his ascent steady amid such a storm of wind, and he swung like an agitated pendulum at the mortal risk of being dashed against the rocks. But he was young, bold, and active, and, with the assistance of the beggar's stout piked staff, which he had retained by advice of the proprietor, contrived to bear himself from the face of the precipice, and the yet more hazardous projecting cliffs which varied its surface. Tossed in empty space, like an idle and unsubstantial feather, with a motion that agitated the brain at once with fear and with dizziness, he retained his alertness of exertion and presence of mind; and it was not until he was safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff, that he felt temporary and giddy sickness. As he recovered from a sort of half swoon, he cast his eyes eagerly around. The object which they would most willingly have sought, was already in the act of vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the path which her father had taken. She had lingered till she saw the last of their company rescued from danger, and until she had been assured by the hoarse voice of Mucklebackit, that "the callant had come off wi' unbrizzed banes, and that he was but in a kind of dwam." But Lovel was not aware that she had expressed in his fate even this degree of interest, — which, though nothing more than was due to a stranger who had assisted her in such an hour of peril, he would have gladly purchased by braving even more imminent danger than he had that evening been exposed to. The beggar she had already commanded to come to Knockwinnock that night. He made an excuse. — "Then to-morrow let me see you."
The old man promised to obey. Oldbuck thrust something into his hand — Ochiltree looked at it by the torchlight, and returned it — "Na, na! I never tak gowd — besides, Monkbarns, ye wad maybe be rueing it the morn." Then turning to the group of fishermen and peasants — "Now, sirs, wha will gie me a supper and some clean pease-strae?"
"I," "and I," "and I," answered many a ready voice.
"Aweel, since sae it is, and I can only sleep in ae barn at ance, I'll gae down with Saunders Mucklebackit — he has aye a soup o' something comfortable about his begging — and, bairns, I'll maybe live to put ilka ane o' ye in mind some ither night that ye hae promised me quarters and my awmous;" and away he went with the fisherman.
Oldbuck laid the band of strong possession on Lovel — "Deil a stride ye's go to Fairport this night, young man — you must go home with me to Monkbarns. Why, man, you have been a hero — a perfect Sir William Wallace, by all accounts. Come, my good lad, take hold of my arm; — I am not a prime support in such a wind — but Caxon shall help us out — Here, you old idiot, come on the other side of me. — And how the deil got you down to that infernal Bessy's-apron, as they call it? Bess, said they? Why, curse her, she has spread out that vile pennon or banner of womankind, like all the rest of her sex, to allure her votaries to death and headlong ruin."
"I have been pretty well accustomed to climbing, and I have long observed fowlers practise that pass down the cliff."
"But how, in the name of all that is wonderful, came you to discover the danger of the pettish Baronet and his far more deserving daughter?"
"I saw them from the verge of the precipice."
"From the verge! — umph — And what possessed you dumosa pendere procul de rupe?— though dumosa is not the appropriate epithet — what the deil, man, tempted ye to the verge of the craig?"
"Why — I like to see the gathering and growling of a coming storm — or, in your own classical language, Mr. Oldbuck, suave mari magno— and so forth — but here we reach the turn to Fairport. I must wish you good-night."
"Not a step, not a pace, not an inch, not a shathmont, as I may say, — the meaning of which word has puzzled many that think themselves antiquaries. I am clear we should read salmon-length for shathmont's-length. You are aware that the space allotted for the passage of a salmon through a dam, dike, or weir, by statute, is the length within which a full-grown pig can turn himself round. Now I have a scheme to prove, that, as terrestrial objects were thus appealed to for ascertaining submarine measurement, so it must be supposed that the productions of the water were established as gauges of the extent of land. — Shathmont — salmont — you see the close alliance of the sounds; dropping out two h's, and a t, and assuming an l, makes the whole difference — I wish to heaven no antiquarian derivation had demanded heavier concessions."
"But, my dear sir, I really must go home — I am wet to the skin."
"Shalt have my night-gown, man, and slippers, and catch the antiquarian fever as men do the plague, by wearing infected garments. Nay, I know what you would be at — you are afraid to put the old bachelor to charges. But is there not the remains of that glorious chicken-pie — which, meo arbitrio, is better cold than hot — and that bottle of my oldest port, out of which the silly brain-sick Baronet (whom I cannot pardon, since he has escaped breaking his neck) had just taken one glass, when his infirm noddle went a wool-gathering after Gamelyn de Guardover?"
So saying he dragged Lovel forward, till the Palmer's-port of Monkbarns received them. Never, perhaps, had it admitted two pedestrians more needing rest for Monkbarns's fatigue had been in a degree very contrary to his usual habits, and his more young and robust companion had that evening undergone agitation of mind which had harassed and wearied him even more than his extraordinary exertions of body.
CHAPTER NINTH
"Be brave," she cried, "you yet may be our guest,
Our haunted room was ever held the best.
If, then, your valour can the sight sustain
Of rustling curtains and the clinking chain
If your courageous tongue have powers to talk,
When round your bed the horrid ghost shall walk
If you dare ask it why it leaves its tomb,
I'll see your sheets well air'd, and show the Room."
True Story.
They reached the room in which they had dined, and were clamorously welcomed by Miss Oldbuck.
"Where's the younger womankind?" said the Antiquary.
"Indeed, brother, amang a' the steery, Maria wadna be guided by me she set away to the Halket-craig-head — I wonder ye didna see her."
"Eh! — what — what's that you say, sister? — did the girl go out in a night like this to the Halket-head? — Good God! the misery of the night is not ended yet!"
"But ye winna wait, Monkbarns — ye are so imperative and impatient" —
"Tittle-tattle, woman," said the impatient and agitated Antiquary, "where is my dear Mary?"
"Just where ye suld be yoursell, Monkbarns — up-stairs, and in her warm bed."
"I could have sworn it," said Oldbuck laughing, but obviously much relieved — "I could have sworn it; — the lazy monkey did not care if we were all drowned together. Why did you say she went out?"
"But ye wadna wait to hear out my tale, Monkbarns — she gaed out, and she came in again with the gardener sae sune as she saw that nane o' ye were clodded ower the Craig, and that Miss Wardour was safe in the chariot; she was hame a quarter of an hour syne, for it's now ganging ten — sair droukit was she, puir thing, sae I e'en put a glass o' sherry in her water-gruel."
"Right, Grizel, right — let womankind alone for coddling each other. But hear me, my venerable sister — start not at the word venerable; it implies many praiseworthy qualities besides age; though that too is honourable, albeit it is the last quality for which womankind would wish to be honoured — But perpend my words: let Lovel and me have forthwith the relics of the chicken-pie, and the reversion of the port."
"The chicken-pie! the port! — ou dear! brother — there was but a wheen banes, and scarce a drap o' the wine."
The Antiquary's countenance became clouded, though he was too well bred to give way, in the presence of a stranger, to his displeased surprise at the, disappearance of the viands on which he had reckoned with absolute certainty. But his sister understood these looks of ire. "Ou dear! Monkbarns, what's the use of making a wark?"
"I make no wark, as ye call it, woman."
"But what's the use o' looking sae glum and glunch about a pickle banes? — an ye will hae the truth, ye maun ken the minister came in, worthy man — sair distressed he was, nae doubt, about your precarious situation, as he ca'd it (for ye ken how weel he's gifted wi' words), and here he wad bide till he could hear wi' certainty how the matter was likely to gang wi' ye a' — He said fine things on the duty of resignation to Providence's will, worthy man! that did he."
Oldbuck replied, catching the same tone, "Worthy man! — he cared not how soon Monkbarns had devolved on an heir-female, I've a notion; — and while he was occupied in this Christian office of consolation against impending evil, I reckon that the chicken-pie and my good port disappeared?"
"Dear brother, how can you speak of sic frivolities, when you have had sic an escape from the craig?"
"Better than my supper has had from the minister's craig, Grizzle — it's all discussed, I suppose?"
"Hout, Monkbarns, ye speak as if there was nae mair meat in the house — wad ye not have had me offer the honest man some slight refreshment after his walk frae the manse?"
Oldbuck half-whistled, half-hummed, the end of the old Scottish ditty,
O, first they eated the white puddings,
And then they eated the black, O,
And thought the gudeman unto himsell,
The deil clink down wi' that, O!
His sister hastened to silence his murmurs, by proposing some of the relies of the dinner. He spoke of another bottle of wine, but recommended in preference a glass of brandy which was really excellent. As no entreaties could prevail on Lovel to indue the velvet night-cap and branched morning-gown of his host, Oldbuck, who pretended to a little knowledge of the medical art, insisted on his going to bed as soon as possible, and proposed to despatch a messenger (the indefatigable Caxon) to Fairport early in the morning, to procure him a change of clothes.
This was the first intimation Miss Oldbuck had received that the young stranger was to be their guest for the night; and such was the surprise with which she was struck by a proposal so uncommon, that, had the superincumbent weight of her head-dress, such as we before described, been less preponderant, her grey locks must have started up on end, and hurled it from its position.
"Lord haud a care o' us!" exclaimed the astounded maiden.
"What's the matter now, Grizel?"
"Wad ye but just speak a moment, Monkbarns?"
"Speak! — what should I speak about? I want to get to my bed — and this poor young fellow — let a bed be made ready for him instantly."
"A bed? — The Lord preserve us!" again ejaculated Grizel.
"Why, what's the matter now? — are there not beds and rooms enough in the house? — was it not an ancient hospitium, in which, I am warranted to say, beds were nightly made down for a score of pilgrims?"
"O dear, Monkbarns! wha kens what they might do lang syne? — but in our time — beds — ay, troth, there's beds enow sic as they are — and rooms enow too — but ye ken yoursell the beds haena been sleepit in, Lord kens the time, nor the rooms aired. — If I had kenn'd, Mary and me might hae gaen down to the manse — Miss Beckie is aye fond to see us — (and sae is the minister, brother) — But now, gude save us!" —
"Is there not the Green Room, Grizel?"
"Troth is there, and it is in decent order too, though naebody has sleepit there since Dr. Heavysterne, and" —
"And what?"
"And what! I am sure ye ken yoursell what a night he had — ye wadna expose the young gentleman to the like o' that, wad ye?"
Lovel interfered upon hearing this altercation, and protested he would far rather walk home than put them to the least inconvenience — that the exercise would be of service to him — that he knew the road perfectly, by night or day, to Fairport — that the storm was abating, and so forth — adding all that civility could suggest as an excuse for escaping from a hospitality which seemed more inconvenient to his host than he could possibly have anticipated. But the howling of the wind, and the pattering of the rain against the windows, with his knowledge of the preceding fatigues of the evening, must have prohibited Oldbuck, even had he entertained less regard for his young friend than he really felt, from permitting him to depart. Besides, he was piqued in honour to show that he himself was not governed by womankind — "Sit ye down, sit ye down, sit ye down, man," he reiterated; — "an ye part so, I would I might never draw a cork again, and here comes out one from a prime bottle of — strong ale — right anno domini— none of your Wassia Quassia decoctions, but brewed of Monkbarns barley — John of the Girnel never drew a better flagon to entertain a wandering minstrel, or palmer, with the freshest news from Palestine. — And to remove from your mind the slightest wish to depart, know, that if you do so, your character as a gallant knight is gone for ever. Why, 'tis an adventure, man, to sleep in the Green Room at Monkbarns. — Sister, pray see it got ready — And, although the bold adventurer, Heavysterne, dree'd pain and dolour in that charmed apartment, it is no reason why a gallant knight like you, nearly twice as tall, and not half so heavy, should not encounter and break the spell."
"What! a haunted apartment, I suppose?"
"To be sure, to be sure — every mansion in this country of the slightest antiquity has its ghosts and its haunted chamber, and you must not suppose us worse off than our neighbours. They are going, indeed, somewhat out of fashion. I have seen the day, when if you had doubted the reality of a ghost in an old manor-house you ran the risk of being made a ghost yourself, as Hamlet says. — Yes, if you had challenged the existence of Redcowl in the Castle of Glenstirym, old Sir Peter Pepperbrand would have had ye out to his court-yard, made you betake yourself to your weapon, and if your trick of fence were not the better, would have sticked you like a paddock, on his own baronial midden-stead. I once narrowly escaped such an affray — but I humbled myself, and apologised to Redcowl; for, even in my younger days, I was no friend to the monomachia, or duel, and would rather walk with Sir Priest than with Sir Knight — I care not who knows so much of my valour. Thank God, I am old now, and can indulge my irritabilities without the necessity of supporting them by cold steel."
Here Miss Oldbuck re-entered, with a singularly sage expression of countenance. — "Mr. Lovel's bed's ready, brother — clean sheets — weel aired — a spunk of fire in the chimney — I am sure, Mr. Lovel," (addressing him), "it's no for the trouble — and I hope you will have a good night's rest — But" —
"You are resolved," said the Antiquary, "to do what you can to prevent it."
"Me? — I am sure I have said naething, Monkbarns."
"My dear madam," said Lovel, "allow me to ask you the meaning of your obliging anxiety on my account."
"Ou, Monkbarns does not like to hear of it — but he kens himsell that the room has an ill name. It's weel minded that it was there auld Rab Tull the town-clerk was sleeping when he had that marvellous communication about the grand law-plea between us and the feuars at the Mussel-craig. — It had cost a hantle siller, Mr. Lovel; for law-pleas were no carried on without siller lang syne mair than they are now — and the Monkbarns of that day — our gudesire, Mr. Lovel, as I said before — was like to be waured afore the Session for want of a paper — Monkbarns there kens weel what paper it was, but I'se warrant he'll no help me out wi' my tale — but it was a paper of great significance to the plea, and we were to be waured for want o't. Aweel, the cause was to come on before the fifteen — in presence, as they ca't — and auld Rab Tull, the town-clerk, he cam ower to make a last search for the paper that was wanting, before our gudesire gaed into Edinburgh to look after his plea — so there was little time to come and gang on. He was but a doited snuffy body, Rab, as I've heard — but then he was the town-clerk of Fairport, and the Monkbarns heritors aye employed him on account of their connection wi' the burgh, ye ken."
"Sister Grizel, this is abominable," interrupted Oldbuck; "I vow to Heaven ye might have raised the ghosts of every abbot of Trotcosey, since the days of Waldimir, in the time you have been detailing the introduction to this single spectre. — Learn to be succinct in your narrative. — Imitate the concise style of old Aubrey, an experienced ghost-seer, who entered his memoranda on these subjects in a terse business-like manner; exempli gratia— At Cirencester, 5th March, 1670, was an apparition. — Being demanded whether good spirit or bad, made no answer, but instantly disappeared with a curious perfume, and a melodious twang' —Vide his Miscellanies, p. eighteen, as well as I can remember, and near the middle of the page."
"O, Monkbarns, man! do ye think everybody is as book-learned as yoursell? — But ye like to gar folk look like fools — ye can do that to Sir Arthur, and the minister his very sell."
"Nature has been beforehand with me, Grizel, in both these instances, and in another which shall be nameless — but take a glass of ale, Grizel, and proceed with your story, for it waxes late."
"Jenny's just warming your bed, Monkbarns, and ye maun e'en wait till she's done. — Weel, I was at the search that our gudesire, Monkbarns that then was, made wi' auld Rab Tull's assistance; — but ne'er-be-licket could they find that was to their purpose. Aud sae, after they bad touzled out mony a leather poke-full o' papers, the town-clerk had his drap punch at e'en to wash the dust out of his throat — we never were glass-breakers in this house, Mr. Lovel, but the body bad got sic a trick of sippling and tippling wi' the bailies and deacons when they met (which was amaist ilka night) concerning the common gude o' the burgh, that he couldna weel sleep without it — But his punch he gat, and to bed he gaed; and in the middle of the night he got a fearfu' wakening! — he was never just himsell after it, and he was strucken wi' the dead palsy that very day four years. He thought, Mr. Lovel, that he heard the curtains o' his bed fissil, and out he lookit, fancying, puir man, it might hae been the cat — But he saw — God hae a care o' us! it gars my flesh aye creep, though I hae tauld the story twenty times — he saw a weel-fa'ard auld gentleman standing by his bedside, in the moonlight, in a queer-fashioned dress, wi' mony a button and band-string about it, and that part o' his garments which it does not become a leddy to particulareeze, was baith side and wide, and as mony plies o't as of ony Hamburgh skipper's — He had a beard too, and whiskers turned upwards on his upper-lip, as lang as baudrons' — and mony mair particulars there were that Rab Tull tauld o', but they are forgotten now — it's an auld story. Aweel, Rab was a just-living man for a country writer — and he was less feared than maybe might just hae been expected; and he asked in the name o' goodness what the apparition wanted — and the spirit answered in an unknown tongue. Then Rab said he tried him wi' Erse, for he cam in his youth frae the braes of Glenlivat — but it wadna do. Aweel, in this strait, he bethought him of the twa or three words o' Latin that he used in making out the town's deeds, and he had nae sooner tried the spirit wi' that, than out cam sic a blatter o' Latin about his lugs, that poor Rab Tull, wha was nae great scholar, was clean overwhelmed. Od, but he was a bauld body, and he minded the Latin name for the deed that he was wanting. It was something about a cart, I fancy, for the ghaist cried aye, Carter, carter— "
