hands, and slight shiverings shook the bed clothes which covered her. Madge still, with wicked speed,' pursued the broken tale-supplying the gaps which time had made in the verse, with singular comments of her own-all unfavourable to mankind in general, and the house of Morison in particular. At the conclusion of the wild and unequal rhymes, upstarted the hoary hag, exclaiming, Hegh, sirs!-are ye deaf-heard nae ye the lang drawn death-sough-the deathsough o' the Morisons is as hollow as a groan frae the grave'-so saying, she touched the body of Janet Morison, now motionless, and mute for ever, and proceeded- Aye, aye, the spirit has flown, and left auld cummer's carcase as empty as a drunkard's cup, when the simmer sun makes the hill-tops crack, and the wee dubs simmer-what do ye croon and crood there for, ye Cameronian corbie, when the fire o' the house is burnt out? Can ye bring back the spunk o' life to that fizzenless carcase-na! na! trouth atweel that cowes a' your gifts-wha can sweeten sour ale in the heat o' simmer, or fill this breathless vessel o' clay with the blessed water o' life? Hoot, away with ye-gang an' clash yereself down on the knocking stone at the door, and lay yere douce noddle up to the lugs in this timmer quaigh -and if red wine can cheer ye, e'en sigh and souk away, and leave me to straughten this crooked bouk, and stove and fume the haddin with my medicinal herbs. And when I have smoothed down and snodded a', if she binna as dink and as lady-like a corse as ye ever looked upon, say Madge Mackittrick's skill has failed her in daikering out a dead dame's flesh.'The Cameronian elder, more from a natural sense of propriety than in compliance with the order of the loathsome hag, arose from his knees, and, taking his daughter by the hand, stood gazing with me for one moment on the body of Janet Morison. The dimness of death was visible in her eye; and her face, rigid and sharp, had already caught the waxen hue of the grave. Her forefinger remained in the act of tracing the Redeemer's sign on her withered brow. There she lies,' said John Mackmukle, in the throes of the last mortal agony-and the wicked love o' popery has been strong at her heart, even as she sobbed awa see, the forefinger has been making the blessed sign-waes me, for the outward sign will do small marvel for a sinking sinner, if it binna weel crossed on the heart by the winsome forefinger of faith and repentance.' Havering bodie,' interrupted Madge Mackittrick, think ye I kenna the cause whilk crooked that forefinger-the blessed sign, quoth I-an' the saving o' a precious soul, quoth I-deel claw me at kirking time, an' that's an Annandale saying, if ye ken ought at a' anent it-It was to ward off the foul and the unholy forms that ever haunt the dying eye of a Morison-I'll tell ye, there's nae truth like seen trutha word I have said a thousand times, when fowk wanted to win me to the kirk, wi' legends o' saunts' miraclesI mind weel, owre weel, truly, when auld Lord Ronald died, the priest had been clavering about washing red hands white, and had sung me fairly asleep; when I awakened, the priest had departed, and there lay the dying Lord, gaping, and glowering, and signing his sweaty brow- Deel hae me,' quoth I, 'gin the donard lord disnae see something that nae other body can see.'-'Madge,' quoth he, my bonny woman, he wad hae been far gane when he didnae speak lovingly to a weel-faured face-Madge,' quoth the auld lord, 'canna ye ask that dark figure, in the black garment, to a seat.'-I kenned owre weel what it was to question the bidding o' a Morrison, whether living or dying-sae I rose, and said wi' a shudder-for to the four naked walls spake I-nought else was visible- It is the lord's will,' quoth I, 'dark figure, that ye be seated'-and sae saying, I pushed a seat, wi' a spread Bible, out toward the eastern corner, where I saw something like a black shadow-I canna say that I heard ought, but the chamber, that was dark as doomsday the one minute, became as light as a May morn the other; and Lord Ronald said, 'praise be blest, he's gane-so spirit part in peace. Sae my certe it's not for nought that a Morison crosses the brow.'-To all this John Macmukle answered not one word, but with sore head-shakings and looks of deep compassion, he left the cottage, accompanied by his daughter and me, leaving the last of the noble name of Morison in the graceless clutches of Madge Mackittrick. "We stood for a moment on the sky, and feel her white and innocent green sward platform before the door; hand, surrendered so sister-like to my on the threshold stood bread and a clasp, without losing all sense of su quaigh full of wine, which the Camer- pernatural alarm in the unbounded onian elder leaving untasted, sudden- bliss of such a moment. Such a situly dived into the bosom of the neigh- ation might, from the wisest, win bouring grove; and the sound of his their best resolves,' and might well voice, in loud and earnest devotion, overpower me; but pure and unmingave token of a full hours absence gled love could only reign by fits in for that was the measure of his com- such a region as the haunted glen of mon prayers-Brevity he sometimes Ae. The terrible realities around practised on remarkable occasions. The crushed and confounded my spiritbeautiful Cameronian maiden and me and though I strove to utter something seated ourselves on the smooth grassy of love, it was in a strain of such pure margin of the pool, into which the wo and dolour, that my fair compariver descended in one perpendicular nion, conceiving it to be an apostrophe and unbroken leap-foaming and ra- to the spirit of Janet Morison, entered ging in the wide basin, which its wa- at once into this uncongenial subjectters had fashioned in a dizzy depth 'Oh Mark,' said she, 'the woman that's below. It is said there is something gane was a fearful woman, and a wise poetically sweet-some have gone so -but the wisdom she possessed above far as say, delicious and divine, in sit- others, was more a misery than a blesting by the side of a lovely woman be- sing. I have small doubt, but that neath the round bright moon; and through the intercession of the souls many whom sunshine kept mute, have of good men made perfect, she will poured out melting discourses under find grace-for grace canna weel be the influence of this noble planet. It withheld from a spirit stricken and was not so with me-to be seated by blighted with an ancient curse. But the haunted stream of Ae, with a win- I maun speak lowne,' continued the some lass at ae side, and the corse of cautious maiden, dropping her voice to an uncannie witch at the other; with something like a half-audible whisper unembodied spirits playing their I maun speak lowne-for the Moripranks by land and by water-there sons return-and walk the earth for a will be more of awe than love reigning time and a season-the auld saye and at the time. And yet, surrounded as the auld sang, called Sir Allan's WooI was by objects of terror, it was im- ing, is no for nought'-and laying her possible to gaze at the beauteous face cheek to mine, and seating herself of the Cameronian damsel, as it ap- closer to my side, she repeated, in an peared meek and composed, with its under tone of melody, the old and fine outline pictured on the clear blue imperfect ballad. SIR ALLAN'S WOOING. I. Nor shroud can hap, nor the marble hide, And if ye maun wi' a Morison wed, Frae nae mortal lips shall yere doom be read; II. 'Sir Allan looked thrice to the rushing flood, And the stream seemed changed to a stream of blood; And a dark shape sailed between him and the moon; And the stream lay as quiet and mute as death; If May Morison and he would be blessed in their love. III. The linn seem'd changed to a mourning hall; And their looks were of wrath and their dark brows frowned. IV. And then a grim form, from the haunted linn, V. ́ Cold, dark, and disdainful, and fierce in its pride; I am a true knight, and I love a leal maid. With an eye streaming light, waxing fiercer of mood, VI. 'Sir Allan knew not his love's brother was near- If maid, like May Morrison, blesses my bed. The vision's bright dagger came down with a gleam- "The Cameronian maiden, while she repeated this rude and mysterious ballad, glanced frequently round, casting the scrutiny of her beautiful dark eyes on all suspicious places; but probably, the powerful intercession of her father, which resounded loud and louder from the adjoining grove, kept the troops of phantoms at bay, with which traditionary belief peopled the vale of the Morisons. I partook very largely of the maiden's fear, and began to meditate an early flight from an ominous place, where every rood of ground had its tradition of murder, and its ballad of blood. "At this moment approaching footsteps became audible, and I never heard a more welcome sound. Presently two rustics appeared, and elevating their heads above the green bank, held the following singular con sultation:- Aweel, Willie, what you say may be true enough-but by my conscience man, an' that's a black oath though we have had mony a merry blink at the wauking of a corse-no a living corse in lily white dematy, with a pair o' Willie Daes' shoon on its feet but just the auld empty husk that contained the ripe kernel o' man-Od I never lent my leisure to the wauking o' a warlock's or a witch's corse a' my life-they maun have well sained lips, and lucky anes too, that lick a witch's ladle.-Sae be advised, lad and rather let us wag our ways to wauk the bouk of Bauldy Moffat the Cameronian, wha ran short o' breath in an attempt to sing the hundred and nineteenth Psalm to the tune of the Bangor-he's no half such a kittle subject as this auld farrand and fearfu' beldame.' Was there ever such a gowspittle extant,' said William Dargavel-a joyous plowman from the holms of Nith-'od if I wadnae plough down an acre o' better fallows than thee without ever halting my horse to reserve ane as a specimen! Leave the cannie and sponsible carline to wauk the corse of a Cameronian? Leave red wine and meikle pastime for lang prayers and continued fasting? What comfort could ye hae-for I'm out o' the question-in sitting on the bare ground, till the living clay grows as cauld as the dead, hearkening a lang loud sermon into the lug o' a lifeless man-or sit and skirl and scraich at the psalms till ye grow as hoarse as a howlet, and as dry as a sandbank in summer? Ye see, Samuel, my man, it wad never do; and though we might gain a great name doubtless, and be meikle looked to whan a dreigh prayer lacked a listener, and a strong voice was wanted for a lang psalm-and though we might have a chance o' becoming elders, and hearing sappy tales at the session-yet take my council, sic things wad never do-it wad be the hardest o' a' names to maintain. O, man, the self-denial! the self-denial! I'm no certain that Andrew Wilson's brandy wad let thee keep thy name for a full week; and I'm fearing too, that Jenny Haining wad spill my eldership afore the coming o simmer-sae even let us lend our gifts to a mair sinful subject; besides, I'm tauld that witches' wine gives ye a' the glory o' gude drinking, without the sorrows o' drunkenness a pleasant thing for thee; and I have heard it whispered that bonny Cameronian Mary is ane o' the waukers of auld Cummer, a pleasant thing for me; sae, Samuel, e'en let us buckle to the darke.' And slowly towards the cottage door proceeded these two hopeful rustics to volunteer to wake the corse of Janet Morison, according to the ancient usage of Caledonia. The Cameronian maiden seemed much incensed at the manner in which the ploughman had introduced her name; and, anxious to shew how little he had to hope, she said, loud enough to be heard, Aye, poor woman, the ancient name o' the Morisons has got a sad downcome, when twa sic graceless ne'er-dogoods as Sam Wamphray and Will Dargavel minister at its last rites.'Round on us turned the two voluntary mourners, Aye, and are ye here, my lovely lass, and a leal,' said the ploughinan; 'faith, ye're come as ready to ane's lips as a drap ripe cherry.' And whare come ye from, my sonsie saft simpleton,' said his companion to me; Willie, man, canna ye catch a kiss frae kimmer there till I have a swoom wi' simpleton in the Morison's pool-he will streak alang bonnily amang the siller water and the siller moonlight.' And, suiting the action to these deriding words, he attempted to lay hold of me, while the other caught my Cameronian sweetheart in his arms. The hot blood of the whole house of Macrabin came to my veins at this twofold outrage-and I have often thought much of the ancient strength too-for full on mine adversary I flew, seized him round the waist, and, exerting my whole force, suddenly and effectually, I fairly measured him his full length on the ground, and there he lay half-stunned by the fall, and me uppermost to keep him from rising, with the bloody wrath burning in my brow and tem ples. He made an ineffectual effort to rise-and down I kept him, though he swore by the three lakes of Lochmaben, and the winged spur of the house of Johnston-current oaths of Annandale-that unless I quitted his throat, he would infallibly regale Janet Morison's ravens with me-body and spirit. Quitting the Cameronian maiden, the ploughman came and looked on his fallen companion, and I shall never forget the lamentation which he poured over him. Haud him harder down, my young Cameronian slip, for he is an uncannie corse, and may come again; oh, sirs! wha wad hae thought that sinfu' Samuel Wamphray, the best psalm-singer and stoup toomer in a' the holms o' Dryfe, a pious man at paste, and yule, and daimen times, wad hae made sic a sudden an' sweet hinderend-aye, but he makes a lang and a comely corse. I wish I could fee some sponsible man to pour a becoming prayer owre him -Î wad do't myself, sinner as I am, but I never can say even a brief grace to an end without a cough, and then, wi' the cursed cough, comes a fit o' hard swearing-a sad mixture-sae prayer frae me's out o' the question; but if I dinna gaur Elder Crombie, the mortality head-stane maker, cover ye owre wi' a handsome trough, and on the same shall be cut-a peeled scull wi' a shank-bane atween its teeth; De'il hae me gin the corse binna wakening as I speak, and sae my sorrow gangs for an auld sang.'' Fiend make a fiddle-board out o' my spule-bane,' said Samuel Wamphray, gin I fail to make ye sing a sang o' sorrow for this -whan I win to my feet, my cannie man, ye sall tine the power o' thine for thae bonnie taunts ;' and struggling furiously to be free, he addressed me in a soothing tone: I say quat thy grips, Mark, my man, and see if I disna make Willie Dargavel's noddle as saft as his aunt's woo-creel-else I'se give ye leave to bait foumart traps wi' my maist precious flesh.' Pleased with the prospect of immediate strife between those rustic visitors, I relinquished my hold, and up leaped the man of Annandale to his feet, and flew on his friend the ploughman with an aspect of the fiercest hostility. Blows were rapidly interchanged, but the interference of a third person closed the fray. This was Madge Mackittrick, who, with her remaining hairs uncovered and unbound, her girdle loose, her feet unshod, and her long yellow arms naked to the shoulder-blades, came running forth with a blazing torch of dried herbs in each handmore like a fury fresh risen from the lake of darkness than a human being, and uttering a shriek as she came, thrust the torches under their chins and so the strife ceased. Back leaped the two friends, affrighted at this unusual and effectual interference, and stood on either side staring on this fearful apparition, which I, accustomed as I was to the sight, could not regard without amazement. Madge looked on the one and looked on the other, and exclaimed, 'Gowks and gomerals, yoke till't again-fight awa, hinnies, fight awa-I thought it was auld feckless Francie and dour and donard John that had grown weary o' their drap drink, an' e'en took a tulzie to make life lightsome-an' there's no as meikle breath extant atween them baith as gangs to the cheep o' a cuttiewren-sae faught awa, my bonny lads -clour brows and crack ribs, for eh! it's a pleasant thing to see strife afore a Morison's door ance again-it brings back byganes to my auld een. Francie Mackittrick, my man, quat your comfortable cup an' come herehere's a bonnie battle. I wish I could find them bits o' sharp cauld steel, it's a red metal when life's in the road, and does its darke cleverly-sickerer far than flint and powder, and sonsier than rowed neeves.' This exhortation to battle damped the ardour of the men of Nithsdale and Annandale; the latter seemed ready to sink to the ground, while the former, with a look in which more humour than apprehension lurked, addressed himself to the hoary Amazon. • May I never touch a lass's white loof again-waur than banishment to me-gin this binna my ain auld cozie and cantie cummer, mensfu' Madge Macmurdy-preserve me, cummer, where in the creation caught ye thae wanchancie looks? If I didna just take ye wi' that fearful look and that hemlock candle for the gyre carline herself, collecting witchmail amang the wise men o' Cotimpon, or the auld marble statue wi' the curled brow and the burning torch on the monument of Andrew Morison come daun'ering down the glen for the sake o' the sweet moonlight.' The old beldame's wrath subsided as he spoke, and before he had finished his address, it was evident he stood high in her favour. An' can this be my ain auldfarrand sonsie fere, Willie Dargavel o' Gowkspittle? Mony's the time I have wished myself a sappy saft young kimmer for thy sake-sae come awa, my winsome chield, here I'm lady for the while, o' a feal free haddin wi' a cozie corse in lily-white linens, and bruntith in the kindly shape o' burial cheer; and here too, will be younkers belyve, cannie and cunning hands, and maidens too, my man, baith leal and rosie-mair tempting than the buckram cheeks and lucken brows o' thy ain auld Madge Macmurdy.' "In obedience to the beldame's greeting, the rustic mourners, dropping their wrath, entered the cottage, and were soon followed by the Cameronian elder, interrupted in his prayer by the din of their quarrel; and interrupted too, when he was putting up a pithy remonstrance against the partiality of Providence to the destroyers of Israel, at the brig of Bothwell. The cottage on which Mary Macmukle and I now gazed, wore an altered look. It was clean swept and trimmed-the walls hung with linen-and four large candles-each flanked by a bunch of herbs and flowers-illuminated the apartment, and rendered it fit for the |
