The Brownie of Bodsbeck, and Other Tales Volume Ii Part 1

The Brownie of Bodsbeck, and Other Tales.

by James Hogg.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER I.

Next morning Davie Tait was early astir, and not having any thing better to do, he took his plaid and staff and set out towards Whithope-head, to see what was become of his five scores of ewes, the poor remains of a good stock. Davie went slowly up the brae towards Riskinhope-swire, for the events of last night were fresh in his mind, and he was conning a new prayer to suit some other great emergency; for Davie began to think that by fervent prayer very great things might be accomplished--that perhaps the floods might be restrained from coming down, and the storms of the air from descending; and that even the Piper Hill, or the Hermon Law, might be removed out of its place. This last, however, was rather a doubtful point to be attained, even by prayer through the best grounded faith, for, saving the places where they already stood, there was no room for them elsewhere in the country. He had, however, his eye fixed on a little green gair before him, where he was determined to try his influence with heaven once more; for his heart was lifted up, as he afterwards confessed, and he was hasting to that little gair to kneel down and ask a miracle, nothing doubting.

Let any one guess, if he can, what Davie Tait was going to ask. It was not that the rains and storms of heaven might be restrained, nor that the mountains might be removed out of their places; but Davie was going to pray, that "when he went over at the Hewn-gate-end, as soon as he came in sight of Whithope, he might see all his master's ewes again; all his old friends, every one of which he knew by head-mark, going spread and bleating on their old walk from the Earl Hill all the way to the Braid-heads." So intent was Davie on this grand project, that he walked himself out of breath against the hill, in order to get quickly at the little gair to put his scheme in execution; but, as he sagely observed, it had been graciously fore-ordained that he should not commit this great folly and iniquity. He paused to take his breath; and in pausing he turned about, as every man does who stops short in climbing a hill. The scene that met Davie's eye cut his breath shorter than the steep--his looks were rivetted on the haugh at Chapelhope--he could scarcely believe his own eyes, though he rubbed them again and again, and tried their effects on all things around.--"Good Lord!" said Davie, "what a world do we live in! Gin a hale synat had sworn, I coudna hae believed this! My sooth but the Brownie o' Bodsbeck has had a busy night!"

Walter of Chapelhope had ten acres of as good corn as ever grew in a moor-land district. Davie knew that when he went to his bed the evening before, that corn was all growing in the field, dead ripe, and ready for the sickle; and he had been lamenting that very night that such a crop should be lost for want of reapers, in a season when there was so much need for it. But now Davie saw that one half of that crop at least was shorn during the night, all standing in tight shocks, rowed and hooded, with their ends turned to the south-west.--Well might Davie exclaim, "My sooth, but the Brownie of Bodsbeck has had a busy night!"

Davie thought no more of his five scores of ewes, nor of his prayer, nor the miracle that was to take place in consequence of that, but turned and ran back to Riskinhope as fast as his feet would carry him, to arouse the rest of the people, and apprise them of this wonderful event that had occurred beneath their noses, as he called it. He did so, and all of them rose with wonder and astonishment, and agreed to go across the lake and look at the Brownie's workmans.h.i.+p. Away they went in a body to the edge of the stubble, but durst not set foot thereon for fear of being affected by enchantment in some way or another; but they saw that the corn had been shorn exactly like other corn, except that it was rather more neat and clean than ordinary. The sheaves were bound in the same way as other bandsters bind them; and in the shocking, the corn-knots were all set outermost. "Weel, is not he a most unaccountable fellow that Brownie of Bodsbeck?" said Davie Tait.

While they were thus standing in a row at the side of the shorn field, wondering at the prowess and agility of Brownie, and trying to make some random calculations of the thousands of cuts that he had made with his hook that night, Katharine went by at a little distance, driving her father's cows afield and at the same time directing her father's dog far up the hill to turn the ewes from the Quave Brae. She was dressed in her usual neat morning habit, with a white short-gown, green petticoat, and her dark locks bound up with a scarlet snood; she was scolding and cajoling the dog in a blithsome and good-humoured way, and scarcely bestowing a look on the workmans.h.i.+p of her redoubted Brownie, or seeming to regard it.

"Ay, ye may speel the brae, Keatie Laidlaw," said Davie Tait, apostrophising her, but shaking his head all the while, and speaking in a low voice, that his fellow-servants only might hear--"Ay, ye may speel the brae, Keatie Laidlaw, an' drive your ewes an' your kye where ye like; but wae's me for ye! Ye hae a weel-faurd face o' your ain, an' a mak that's liker to an angel than a thing o' flesh an' blude; but och!

what a foul heart ye boud to hae within!--And how are ye to stand the aftercome? There will be a black reckoning with you some day. I wadna that my fit war i' your shoe the night for a' the ewes on the Lang Bank."

Old Nanny went over, as usual, and a.s.sisted her to milk the cows, and make the b.u.t.ter and cheese, but spoke no word that day to her young mistress, good or bad. She regarded her with a kind of awe, and often took a long stolen look of her, as one does of a dog that he is afraid may be going mad.

As the people of Riskinhope went home, Dan chanced to say jocularly, "He's a clever fellow the Brownie--I wish he would come and shear our croft too."

"Foul fa' the tongue that said it," quoth Davie, "an' the heart that thought the ill! Ye thinkna how easily he's forespoken. It was but last night I said he hadna wrought to the gudeman for half his meat, an' ye see what he has done already. I spake o' him again, and he came in bodily. Ye should take care what ye say here, for ye little ken wha's hearing. Ye're i' the very same predicament, billy Dan, as the tod was in the orchard,--'Afore I war at this speed,' quo' he, 'I wad rather hae my tail cutt.i.t off,'--he hadna the word weel said before he stepped into a trap, which struck, and snapt off his tail--'It's a queer place this,'

quo' he; 'ane canna speak a word but it is taen in nettle-earnest.' I'

the same way is Brownie likely to guide you; an' therefore, to prevent him taking you at your word, we'll e'en gang an' begin the shearing oursels."

Davie went in to seek out the hooks; he knew there were half-a-dozen lying above the bed in the room where the spirit had been the night before. They were gone! not a sickle was there!--Davie returned, scratching his head, biting his lip, and looking steadily down to the ground. "It hasna been Kirky's ghost after a'," said he; "it has been Brownie, or some o' his gang, borrowing our hooks."

Davie lost all hope of working any great change in the country by dint of prayer. His faith, which never was great, gave way; but yet he always said, that when he was hasting up to the rash-bush in the little green gair that morning, to pray for the return of his master's ewes, it was at least equal to a grain of mustard-seed.

About eight days after that, when the moon was in the wane, the rest of Walter's corn was all cut down in one night, and a part of the first safely stowed in the barnyard. About the same time, too, the shepherds began to smear their flocks at a small sheep-house and fold, built for the purpose up nigh to the forkings of the Chapelhope-burn. It is a custom with them to mix as much tar with grease before they begin as they deem sufficient to smear all the sheep on the farm, or at least one hirsell of them. This the herds of Chapelhope did; but, on the very second morning after they began, they perceived that a good deal of their tar was wanting; and judging that it had been stolen, they raised a terrible affray about it with their neighbours of Riskinhope and Corse-cleuch. Finding no marks of it, old John Hay said, "We must just give it up, callants, for lost; there is nae doubt but some of the fishers about Dryhope has stown it for fish-lights. There are a set of the terriblest poachers live there that's in all the Forest."

In the afternoon John went out to the Ox-cleugh-head, to bring in a houseful of white sheep, and to his utter astonishment saw that upwards of an hundred ewes had been smeared during the night, by the officious and unwearied Brownie of Bodsbeck. "The plague be in his fingers," quoth old John to himself, "gin he haena smeared crocks an' fat sheep, an' a'

that has come in his way. This will never do."

Though the very hairs of John's head stood, on coming near to the sheep that had been smeared by Brownie, yet seeing that his sensible dog Keilder was nothing afraid of them, but managed them in the same way as he did other sheep, John grew by degrees less suspicious of them. He confessed, however, as he was shedding them from the white ones, that there was a ewe of Brownie's smearing came running by very near him, and he could not help giving a great jump out of her way.

All shepherds are accused of indolence, and not, perhaps, without some reason. Though John dreaded as death all connection with Brownie, yet he rejoiced at the progress they were likely to make in the smearing, for it is a dirty and laborious business, and he was glad by any means to get a share of it off his hands, especially as the season was so far advanced. So John took in to the fold twice as many sheep as they needed for their own smearing, put the crocks and the fat sheep out from among them, and left them in the house to their fate, taking good care to be out of sight of the place before dark. Next morning a certain quant.i.ty of tar was again gone, and the sheep were all neatly smeared and keeled, and set to the hill. This practice the shepherds continued throughout smearing-time, and whether they housed many or few at night, they were still all smeared and set to the hill again next morning. The smearing of Chapelhope was finished in less than one-third of its wonted time.

Never was the labour of a farm accomplished with such expedition and exactness, although there were none to work, to superintend, or direct it, but one simple maiden. It became the wonder and theme of the whole country, and has continued to be a standing winter evening tale to this day. Where is the cottager, dwelling between the Lowthers and Cheviot, who has not heard tell of the feats of the Brownie of Bodsbeck?

CHAPTER II.

Walter was hardly used in prison for some time, but at last Drummelzier found means of rendering his situation more tolerable. Several of his a.s.sociates that were conducted with him from Dumfries died in jail; he said they seemed to have been forgotten both by the council and their friends, but they kept up so good a heart, and died with such apparent satisfaction, that he could scarcely be sorry for their release by death, though he acknowledged, that a happiness beyond the grave was always the last kind of happiness that he wished to his friends. His own trial was a fire-side theme for him as long as he lived, but he confounded names and law terms, and all so much through other, that, were it given wholly in his own words, it would be unintelligible. It came on the 12th of November, and Sir George Lockhart and Mr Alexander Hay were his counsel. His indictment bore, that he had sheltered on his farm a set of the most notorious and irreclaimable rebels in the whole realm; that sundry of his majesty's right honest liege subjects had been cruelly murdered there, very near to the prisoner's house, and a worthy curate in the immediate vicinity. It stated the immense quant.i.ty of victuals found in his house, and the numbers of fugitive whigs that were seen skulking in the boundaries of his farm; and also how some false delinquents were taken and executed there.

Clavers was present, as he had a right to be when he desired it, and gave strong and decided evidence against him. The time had been, and not long agone, when, if the latter had manifested such sentiments against any one, it had been sufficient for his death-warrant; but the killing time was now nearly over, and those in power were only inst.i.tuting trials in order to impose heavy fines and penalties, that they might glean as much of the latter vintage of that rich harvest as possible, before the sickle was finally reft from their grasp. Several witnesses were examined to prove the above accusations, and among the rest Daniel Roy Macpherson, whose deposition was fair, manly, and candid. As soon as his examination was over, he came and placed himself near to Walter, who rejoiced to see him, and deemed that he saw in him the face of a friend.

Witnesses were next called to prove his striking Captain Bruce with his fist, and also tripping the heels from Ingles, and tossing him over a steep, while in the discharge of his duty, whereby he was rendered unable to proceed in the king's business. Walter, being himself examined on these points, confessed both, but tried to exculpate himself as well as he could.

"As to Bruce, my masters," said he, "I didna ken that he was a captain, or what he was; he pu'd up his bit shabble of a sword an' dang aff my bonnet, when I was a free man i' my ain ben-end. I likit nae sic freedoms, as I had never been used wi' them, sae I took up my neive an'

gae him a yank on the haffat till I gart his bit bra.s.s cap rattle against the wa'. I wonder ye dinna ceete me too for nippin' Jock Graham's neck there, as he ca'd himsel, that day, an' his freend Tam Liviston--There's nae word o' that the day!--Nah! but I could tell an' I likit what I hae been put to a' this plague for."

Here the advocate stopped him, by observing that he was wandering from the point in question, and his own counsel were always trembling for him when he began to speak for himself. Being asked, what defence he had to offer for kicking and maltreating a king's officer in the discharge of his duty?

"If it was that drunken dirt Ingles that ye mean," said Walter, "I dinna ken what ye ca' a man's duty here, but it surely coudna be a duty, when my hands war tied ahint my back, to kick me i' the wame; an' that's what he was doing wi' a' his pith, whan I gart him flee heels-ower-head like a batch o' skins."

Sir George MacKenzie and Dalrymple of Stair both laughed outright at this answer, and it was some time before the business could proceed. Sir George Lockhart, however, compelled them to relinquish these parts of the indictment, on account of the treatment offered to the prisoner, and the trial proceeded on the charges previously mentioned, which were found relevant. Walter was utterly confounded at the defence made for him by Sir George Lockhart. He was wont to say, "Aih but he's a terrible clever body yon Geordie Lockie! od he kend mair about me, and mair that was in my favour, than I did mysel."

The conclusion of this trial must be given in Walter's own phrase. "I pretendit to be very crouse, an' no ae bit fear'd--aha! I was unco fear'd for a' that--I coudna swally my spittle for the hale day, an' I fand a kind o' foost, foost, foostin about my briskit that I coudna win aneath ava. But when the chield MacKenzie began to clink thegither the evidence against me, gude faith I thought it was a' ower wi' me then; I saw nae outgate, an' lost a' hope; mair than aince I tried to think o'

auld Maron Linton an' the bairns, but I could think about naething, for I thought the house was heaving up i' the tae side, and gaun to whommel a' the judges an' jurymen on the tap o' me. He revert.i.t aye to the evidence of Clerk the curate, wha had said that I had a private correspondence wi' the whigs, an' then he brought a' the ither proof to bear upon that, till he made my guilt perfectly plain; an' faith I coudna say that the chiel guessed far wrang. Then my Lord Moray, wha was head judge that day, was just gaun to address the jurymen, an' direct them to hang me, when up gat Geordie Lockie again for the hindmost time; (he had as mony links an' wimples in his tail as an eel that body,) an'

he argyed some point o' law that gart them a' glowr; at last he said, that it was hard, on a point of life an' death, to take the report of a man that wasna present to make oath to the information he had gi'en, which might be a slander to gain some selfish end; and he prayed, for the satisfaction of the jury, that his client might be examined on that point, (he ca'd me aye _a client_, a name that I abhorred, for I didna ken the meaning o't, but I trowed it meant nae good,) for, says he, he has answered very freely, and much to the point, a' that ye hae speered at him. I was just considering what I should say, but I could get nought to say ava, when I was start.i.t wi' a loud Hem! just amaist at my elbow.

I naturally lift.i.t up my een, very stupit like, I dare say, to see what it was; and wha was it but the queer Highland chap Roy Macpherson, makin' sic faces to me as ye never saw. I thought he was wanting to mak me recollect something, but what it was I coudna tell. I was dumfoundered sae, that when the judge put the question to me about Clerk I never answered a word, for I was forefoughten wi' another thought. At length I mindit the daft advice that honest Macpherson gae me at parting with me in Dumfries, which was sic a ridiculous advice I had never thought o't mair. But now, thinks I to mysel, things canna be muckle waur wi' me; the scrow's come fairly to the neb o' the miresnipe now; an' never had I better reason to be angry than at the base curate whom I had fed an' clad sae aften. Sae I musters a' my wrath up into my face, and when the judge, or the advocate, put the question again, I never heedit what it was, but set up my birses an' spak to them as they had been my herd callants. What the deil are ye a' after? quoth I. G----d d----n the hale pack o' ye, do ye think that auld Wat Laidlaw's a whig, or wad do aught against his king, or the laws o' his country? They ken little about him that say sae! I aince fought twa o' the best o' them armed wi'

swords, an' wi' nought but my staff I laid them baith flat at my feet; an' had I ony twa o' ye on the Chapelhope-flow thegither, if ye dared to say that I was a whig, or a traitor to my king, I wad let ye find strength o' arm for aince. Here the wily chap Geordie Lockie stappit me in great agitation, and beggit me to keep my temper, and answer his lords.h.i.+p to the point, what defence I had to make against the information given by Clerk the curate? He be d----d! said I: he kens the contrair o' that ower weel; but he kend he wad be master an' mair when he gat me away frae about the town. He want.i.t to wheedle my wife out o'

ilk thing she had, an' to kiss my daughter too, if he could. Vile brock! gin I war hame at him I'll dad his head to the wa'; ay, an' ony twa o' ye forby, quo' I, raising my voice, an' shaking that neive at them,--ony twa o' ye that dare set up your faces an' say that I'm a whig or a rebel.--A wheen d----d rascals, that dinna ken what ye wad be at!

"The hale court was thunnerstruck, an' glowred at ane anither like wullcats. I gae a sklent wi' my ee to Daniel Roy Macpherson, an' he was leaned ower the back o' the seat, and fa'n into a kink o' laughing. The hale crowd ahint us got up wi' a great hurra! an' clappit their hands, an' I thought the fock war a' gaen mad thegither. As soon as there was a wee quiet, my lord the Earl o' Moray he speaks across to Clavers, an' he says: 'This winna do, my lord; that carl's nae whig, nor naething akin to them. Gin that be nae a sound worthy man, I never saw ane, nor heard ane speak.' An' wi' that the croud shout.i.t an' clappit their hands again. I sat hinging my head then, an' looking very blate, but I was unco ma.s.sy for a' that. They then spak amang themsels for five or sax minents, and they cried on my master Drumelzier, an' he gaed up an'

crackit wi' them too; an' at last the judge tauld me, that the prosecution against me was drappit for the present, an' that gin I could raise security for twa thousand merks, to appear again if cited before the first of June, 1686, I was at liberty to go about my business. I thankit his lords.h.i.+p; but thinks I to mysel, ye're a wheen queer chaps!

Ye shoot fock for praying an' reading the Bible, an' whan ane curses an'

d.a.m.ns ye, ye ca' him a true honest man! I wish ye be nae the deil's bairns, the halewort o' ye! Drumelzier an' Lockie cam security for me at aince, an' away I sets for hame, as weel satisfied as ever I was a' my life, that I mind o'.

"Weel, when I came out to the closs at the back o' the prison, a' the fock croudit about me; an' _he_ shook hands wi' me; an' _he_ shook hands wi' me; an' the young chaps they hurra'd an' waved their caps, an'

cried out, Ettrick Forest for ever!--Auld Braid-Bonnet for ever,--hurra!

An' I cam up the Lawn-Market, an' down the Bow, wi' sic an army at my tail, as I had been gaun away to fight Boddell-Brigg owre again.

"I now begoud to think it wad be as weel to gie the lads the slip, for my army was gathering like a snaw-ba', an' I little wist how sic a hobbleshue might end; sae I jinkit into Geordie Allan's, at the West-Port, where I had often been afore, when selling my eild ewes and chasers; an' I whispered to them to keep out my sodgers, for there were too many of them for the house to haud; but they not perfectly understanding my jest, I was not well entered ere I heard a loud altercation at the head o' the stair, an' the very first aith that I heard I knew it to be Macpherson."

"Py Cot's preath, put she shall pe coing in; were not she her friend and couhnsel?"

"You his counsel? A serjeant of dragoons his counsel? That winna do. He charged that nae sodgers should get in. Get aff wi' your Hieland impudence--brazen-faced thief!"

"Fat? Tief? Cot t--n y' mack-en dhu na bhais.h.!.+

M'Leadle!--Trocho!--Hollo! Cresorst!"

"I ran to the door to take the enraged veteran in my arms, and welcome him as my best friend and adviser, but they had bolted the inner door in his face, through which he had run his sword amaist to the hilt, an' he was tugging an' pu'ing at it to get it out again, swearing a' the time like a true dragoon. I led him into my room, an' steekit the door o't, but there he stood wi' his feet asperr, and his drawn sword at arm's length ahint his back, in act to make a lounge at the door, till he had exhausted a' his aiths, baith in Gaelic an' English, at the fock o' the house, and then he sheathed his sword, and there was nae mair about it.

"I speered what I could do to oblige him?"

"Hu, not creat moach at hall, man; only pe kiffing me your hand. Py Cot's poy, put if you t.i.t not stonish tem! Vas not I peen telling you tat him's hearty curse pe te cood?"

"My certy," quo' I, "but ye did do that, or I wad never hae thought o't; ye're an auld-farrant honest chiel! I am sorry that I canna just now make ye sic a present as ye deserve; but ye maun come out an' see me."