51
10
639
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8
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3
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3072
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1890
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Illustration on title page of a tall ship at sea
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/eaeef5a2861cff3b5713c5fc8da4b4f9.pdf
b4e5dc7a9ba7cfa958ae89b4242956a4
PDF Text
Text
THE
PENNY-WORTH OF WIT'S
GARLAND,
IN THREE PARTS.
F A R T I.-—Showing how a Merchant was deluded from
his Lady by a Harlot.
P A R T I I . — H o w he sailed into a far Country.
P A R T I I I , — H o w he returned to the British shore.
GLASGOW:
P R I N T E D FOR THE
i».
BOOKSELLE&&
�T H E PENNY W O R T H OF WIT'S G A R L M B .
P A R T I.
Here is a penny worth of wit,
F o r those that ever went astray?
If warning they will take by me
'Twill do them good some other day.
It is a touch stone of true love,
Betwixt a harlot and a w i f e ;
The former doth destructive prove,
The latter yields the joys of life.
A s in this book you may behold,
Set forth by William Lane,
A wealthy merchant, brave and bold,
W h o did a harlot long maintain.
A l t h o u g h a virtuous wife he had,
Likewise a youthful daughter dear,
W h i c h might have made his heart full glad,
Y e t he seldom would them come near.
The finest silks that could be bought,
N a y , jewels, rubbies, diamonds, rings,
H e to his wanton harlot bought,
W i t h many other costly things.
She'd still receive them with a smile
W h e n he came from the roaring seas.
A n d said, with words as smooth as oil,
M y dearest come and take thy ease;
T o my soft bed of linen fine,
Thou art right welcome love, said she,
B o t h I and all that e'er was mine
still at thy devotion be.
�3
Aye that I will thou needs not fear,
And so embraced him with a kiss,
Then took the wealth, and said, my dear
I'll have a special care of this.
To her he said, my joy, my dear,
With me what venture wilt thou send,
A good return thou needs not fear,
I'll be thy factor and thy friend.
In goods, my dear jewel, I'll send above
Ten pounds, which you shall take on board,
I know that unto me my love
A treble gain thou wilt afford.
This said, next to the wife he goes
And asked her in scornful ways,
What venture she will now propose
To send by him for merchandise.
I'll send a penny love by thee,
Be sure to take great care of it,
When you're in foreign part, said she,
Pray buy a penny worth of wit.
He put the money up secure,
A n d said I'll take a special care
T o lay it out you may be sure,
So to his miss he did repair.
And told her what he was to buy,
A t which she laughed his wife to scorn;
On board he went immediately,
And set to sea that very morn.
�riSl
4
P A R T II.
N o w were they gone with merry hearts,
The merchant and his jovial crew,
From port to port in foreign parts
T o trade as they were wont to do.
A t length when he had well bestowed
The cargo which was outward bound,
He did his trading vessel load
W i t h rich treasures which he found.
A s this merchandise did vend,
They turned the gems and golden ore,
W h i c h crowned his labour with content,
H e never was so rich before.
The wanton harlot's venture then,
Did run to great account likewise,
For every pound she would have ten,
Such was their lucky merchandise.
The merchant then with laughter mov'd,
Said he for wit had never sought,
M y harlot's venture is approved,
But of my wife's I never thought.
She bid me use my utmost skill
T o buy a penny-worth of wit,
B u t I have kept the penny still
A n d ne'er so much as thought of it.
A n aged father sitting by,
W h o s e venerable locks were grey,
Straight made the merchant this reply,
Hear me a word or two I pray.
�Thy harlot in prosperity,
She will embrace thee for thy g o l d ;
But if in want and misery
You'll nought but frowns from her behold.
And ready ,to betray thy life,
W h e n wretched, naked, poor, and low,
But thy true hearted faithful wife
Will stand by thee in well or woe.
If thou will prove the truth of this,
Strip off thy gaudy rich array,
And so return to thy lewd miss,
Declare that thou wast cast away.
Thy riches buried in the main,
Besides as you passed through a wood,
One of your servants you had slain
For which your life in danger stood ; Beseech her for to shelter thee,
Declare to her you so depend,
And then, alas, full soon you'll see
How far she'll prove a faithful friend.
Then if she frowns go to thy wife,
Tell her this melancholy t h i n g ;
W h o labours most to save thy life,
Let her be most in thy esteem.
Further the merchant then reply'd,
Y o u must this single penny take,
And when I have passed the ocean wide,
A proof of this I mean to make.
�6
P A R T III.
\i
: : b. •
/ i i 'it V
With full sail to sea they went,
Neptune the golden cargo bore,
Thro' roaring waves, to their content
A t length they reached the British, shor
he merchant put on poor array,
The very worst of ragged clothes,
And then without the least delay
He to his wanton harlot goes.
He cried no man was ere so crossed
As I have been, sweet heart delight,
My ship and all I had is lost,
Without thy aid I'm ruined quite.
My loss is great, yet that's not all,
One of my servants I have slain,
As we did both at variance fall,
Some shelter let me here obtain.
1 dare not now go near my wife
Whom I have wronged for many years^
Into thy hands I'll put my life,
Take pity on my melting tears
Y e bloody villian, she replied,
Do'nt in the least on me depend,
Begone, or as I live, she cried,
I for an officer will send.
�7
Then to his loving wife he came,
Both poor and naked, in distress,
He told her all the very same,
Y e t she received him ne'ertbeless.
My dear, she cried, since it is so,
Take comfort in thy loving wife;
All that I have shall freely go
To gain a pardon for thy life.
I'll lodge thee in a place secure,
Where 1 will daily nourish thee.
Unto his virtuous wife, he said,
My jewel set thy heart at rest.
Behold I have no servant slain,
N o r have T suffered any loss;
Enough I have us to maintain,
The ocean seas no more I'll cross.
M y loaded ship lies near the shore,
With gold and jewels richly fraught,
So much I never had before,
The penny-worth of wit I've bought.
Once more he to his harlot goes
With fourteen sailors brave and bold.
All clothed in new and Costly clothes
Of silk and embroider'd gold.
The miss when she his
Did offer him a kind
But he With wrath and
Did straight upbraid
pomp beheld,
embrace,
anger filled,
her to her face.
�8
But she with smiles there words expressed,
I have a faithful love for thee,
What e'er I said was but a jest,
W h y didst thou go so soon from me ?
T w a s full time to go from thee,
Y o u have another love in store,
Whom you have furnished with my gold,
And jewels which I brought on shore.
l i s false, she cried, I have them all;
With that the merchant straight replied
L a y them before me and I shall,
Be soon convinced and satisfied.
Then up she ran and brought thein down,
His jewels, gold, and rubbies. bright;
He seized them all, and with a frown,
He bad the wanton jilt good night.
When he had seized the golden purse
And swept up every precious stone,
She cried, what! will you rob me thus ?
Y e s that I will, of what's my own.
Y o u wanted to betray my life
But thanks to God. there's no such fear;
These jewels shall adorn my wife*
Henceforth your house I'll not come near.
Home he returned to his sweet wife,
A n d told her all that he had done;
E'er since they live a happy life,
And he'll to harlots no more run.
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W h o m you have furnished with my gold,
A n d jewels which I brought on shore.
T i s false, she cried, I have them all;
W i t h that the merchant straight replied
L a y them before me and I shall,
Be soon convinced and satisfied.
Then up she ran and brought them down,
His jewels, gold, and rubbies b r i g h t ;
H e seized them all, and with a frown,
He bad the wanton jilt good night.
THE
PENNY-WORTH OF
W Y F &
GARLAND,
IN THREE PARTS.
P A R T I . — S h o w i n g how a M e r c h a n t was deluded from
his L a d y by a Harlot.
P A R T I I . — H o w he sailed into a far Country.
P A R T III,—^How he returned to the British shore.
W h e n he had seized the golden purse
A n d swept up every precious stone,"
She cried, w h a t ! will you rob me t h u s ?
Y e s that I will, of what's my own.
Y o u wanted to betray my life
But thanks to God there's no such f e a r ;
These jewels shall adorn my wife,
Henceforth your house F i l not come near.
H o m e he returned to his sweet wife,
A n d told her all that he had done;
E'er since they live a happy life,
A n d he'll to harlots no more run.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE
t%
BOOKSELLEB&
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7
T H E PENNY W O R T H OF WIT'S GARLAND.
P A R T I.
Here is a penny worth of wit,
F o r those that ever went astray,
If warning they will take by me
'Twill do them good some other day.
It is a touch stone of true love,
Betwixt a harlot and a w i f e ;
The former doth destructive prove,
The latter yields the joys of life.
A s in this book you may behold,
Set forth by William Lane,
A wealthy merchant, brave and bold,
W h o did a harlot long maintain.
A l t h o u g h a virtuous wife he had,
Likewise a youthful daughter dear,
W h i c h might have made his heart full glad,
Y e t he seldom would them come near.
The finest silks that could be bought,
N a y , jewels, rubbies, diamonds, rings,
H e to his wanton harlot bought,
W i t h many other costly things.
She'd still receive them with a smile
W h e n he came from the roaring seas.
A n d said, with words as smooth as oil,
M y dearest come and take thy ease;
T o my soft bed of linen fine,
Thou art right welcome love, said she,
B o t h I and all that e'er was mine
Shal 1 stil* at thy devotion be.
Then to his loving wife he came,
Both poor and naked, in distress,
H e told her all the very same,
Y e t she received him ne'ertheless.
M y dear, she cried, since it is so,
Take comfort in thy loving wife;
A l l that I have shall freely g o
T o gain a pardon for thy life.
I'll lodge thee in a place secure,
W h e r e I will daily nourish thee.
U n t o his virtuous wife, he said,
M y jewel set thy heart at rest.
Behold I have no servant slain,
N o r have I suffered any loss;
E n o u g h I have us to maintain,
The ocean seas no more I'll cross.
M y loaded ship lies near the shore,
With gold and jewels richly fraught,
So much I never had before,
The penny-worth of wit I've bought.
Once more he to his harlot goes
W i t h fourteen sailors brave and bold,
A l l clothed in new and costly clothes
Of silk and embroider'd gold.
The miss when she his
Did offer him a kind
B u t he with wrath and
Did straight upbraid
pomp beheld ,
embrace,
anger filled,
her to her face.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Woodcut 081: Title-page illustration of a tall ship at sea.
Document
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Penny-Worth of Wit's Garland, In Three Parts. Part I.--Showing how a Merchant was deluded from his Lady by a Harlot. Part II.--How he sailed into a far Country. Part III.--How he returned to the British shore.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923384313505154">s0564b74</a>
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831033505154">s0615b44</a>
Extent
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8 pages
16 cm
Description
An account of the resource
<span>Woodcut #81: Illustration on title page of a tall ship at sea</span>
19 printed at the bottom of the title-page.
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1840-1850?] per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Is Part Of
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part of unbound collection (s0564b74)
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Type
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wit & humor
Subject
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Travel
Courtship and Marriage
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: wit & humor
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Outdoor Scene
Transportation: ship/boat(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b81666d0c50cd26b089fe7f42e97addd.jpg
91f22af895335412a07c643847510a5c
Omeka Image File
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Bit Depth
8
Channels
3
Height
3367
Width
1959
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/7e7c3c250a0bbae2b866b49815970be8.pdf
07b5531778acd47afc82eeaf4c862349
PDF Text
Text
STORIES
Mk T H E
T W O
OF
D R O V E R S ,
COUNTESS OF EXETER.
GLASGOW
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS,
M
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40
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8 1 1 K V O H . (i
O W
JH3THX3; TO 88aTKUD3
V/008A JO
•BHSLIJiiBHOaa 5 H HOI IJ3TM
TT
�THE TWO DROVERS,
IT was the day after the Doune Fair when my story
commences. It had been a brisk market, several
dealers had attended from the northern and midland
counties in England, and the English money had flown
so merrily about as to gladden the hearts of the Highland farmers. Many large droves were about to set
©ff for England, under the protection of their owners,
Dr of the topsmen whom they employed in tke tedious,
laborious, and responsible office of driving the cattle for
many hundred miles, from the market where they had
been purchased, to the fields or farm-yards where they
were to be fattened for the shambles.
Of the number who left Doune in the morning, and
with the purpose we have described, not a Glunamie
of them all cocked his bonnet more briskly, or gartered
his tartan hose under knee over a pair of more promising spiogs (legs), than did Robin Oig M'Combich,
called familiarly Robin Oig, that is Young, or the
Lesser, Robin. Though small of stature, as the epithet Oig implies, and not very strongly limbed, he was
as light and alert as one of the deer of his mountains.
He had an elasticity of step, which, in the course of a
long march, made many a stout fellow envy him ; and
the manner in which he busked his plaid, and adjusted
his bonnet argued a consciousness that so smart a John
Highlandman as himself would not pass unnoticed
among the lowland lasses. The ruddy cheek* red lips,
and white teeth, set off a countenance which had gained
by exposure to the weather, a healthful and hardy
rather than a rugged hue. If Robin Oig did not laugh,
ven smile frequently, as indeed is not the practice
his countrymen, his bright eyes usually gleamed
�4)
from under his bonnet with an expression of cheerfulness
1
rea 1 * * J
' '
was an incident in the
little lowu^ iirmiu near which he had many friends male
and female. He was a topping person in his way,
transacting considerable business on his own behalf, and
was intrusted by the best farmers in the Highlands, in
preilerenGe to any other drover in that district.
Many were the Affords of gratulation and good luck
which were bestowed on Robin Oig. The judges commended his; drove, especially the best of them, whicV
were Robin's own property. Some thrust out theil
snuff-mulls for the parting pinch—others tendered the
doch-an-dorrach, or parting cup. All cried-—" Goodluck travel out with you and come home with you.—
Give you luck in the Saxon market-—bravje notes in the
ivabhar-dhu, (black pocket-book,) and plenty of Eng
iish gold in the sporran (pouch of goat-skin.)"
The bonny lasses made their adieus more modestly,
and more than one, it was said, would have given her
best broach to be certain that it was upon her that his
eye last rested as he turned towards his road.
Robin Oig had just given the preliminary " IIoohoo ,to urge forward the loiterers of the drove, when
there was a cry behind him. " Stay, Robin—bide a
blink. Here, is Janet of Tomahourich—auld Janet,
your father's sister." " Plague on her, for an auld
Highland witch and spaewife," said a farmer from the
Carse of Stirling ; " she'll cast some of her cantrips on
the cattle.'' " She canna do that," said another sapient of the same profession—Robin Oig is no the lad
to leave any of them, without tying Saint Mungo's
knot on their tails, and that will put to her speed the
best witch that ever flew over Dimayet upon a broomstick,"
It may not be indifferent to the reader to know, that
the Highland cattle are peculiarly liable to be taken, or
infected, by spells and witchcraft, which judicious people guard against by knitting knots of peculiar corn-
�5
plexity on the the tuft of hair which terminates the
animal's tail.
But .the old woman who was the object of the
farmer's suspicion seemed only busied about the drover,
without paying any attention to the flock. Robin, on
the contrary, appeared rather impatient of her presence.
" What auld-world fancy," he said, " has brought you
so early from the ingle-side this morning, Muhnae ? I
am sure I bid you good even, and had your God-speed,
last night." " And left me more siller than the useless
old woman will use till you come back again, bird ci
my bosom," said the sibyl. " But it is little I would
care for the food that nourishes me, or the fire that
warms me, or for God's blessed sun itself, if aught but
weal should happen to the grandson of my father. So
let me walk the deasil round you, that you may go safe
out into the far foreign land, and come safe home."
Robin Oig stopped, half embarrassed, half laughing,
and signing to those around that he only complied with
the old woman to soothe her humour. In the meantime, she traced around him, with wavering steps, the
propitiation, which some have thought has been derived
from the Druiclical mythology. It consists, as is well
known, in the person who makes the deasil, walking
three times round the person who is the object of the
ceremony, taking care to move according to the course
of the sun. At once, however, she stopped short, and
exclaimed, in a voice of alarm and horror, " Grandson
of my father, there is blood on your hand J" " Hush,
for God's sake, aunt,11 said Robin Oig; "you will
bring more trouble on yourself with this TaUhataragh
(second sight) than you will be able to get out of for
many a day." The old woman only repeated, with a
ghastjy look, " There is blood on your hand* and it is
English blood. The blood of the Gael is richer and
redder. Let us see—let us
" Ere Robin Oig
could prevent her, which, indeed, could only have been
by positive violence, so hasty and peremptory were her
proceedings, she had drawn from his side the dirk which
�6
lodged in the folds of his plaid, and held it up, exclaiming, although the weapon gleamed clear and bright in
the sun, " Blood, blood—Saxon blood again I Robin
Oig M'Cornbich, go not this day to England !" " Prutt,
trutt,' 1 answered Robin Oig, " that will never do neither—it would be next tiling to running the country.
For shame, Muhme—give me the dirk. You cannot
tell by the colour the difference betwixt the blood of a
black bullock and a white one, and you speak of knowing Saxon from Gaelic blood. All men have their
blood from Adam, Muhme. Give me my skenedhu,
and let me go on my road. I should have been half
way to Stirling brig by this time—Give me my dirk,
and let me go." x< Never will I give it to you," said
the old woman—" Never will I quit my hold on your
plaid, unless you promise me riot to wear that unhappy
weapon."
The women around him urged him also, saying few
of his aunt's words fell to the ground; and as the
Lowland farmers continued to look moodily on the
scene, Robin Oig determined to close it at any sacrifice.
< Well, then," said the young drover, giving the
cabbard of the weapon to Hugh Morrison, " you JLowanders care nothing for these freats. Keep my dirk
for me. I cannot give it you, because it was my father's; biit your drove follows ours, and I am content
it should be in your keeping, not in mine.—Will this
db, Muhme?" " I t must," said the old woman—
" that is, if the Lowlander is mad enough to carry the
knife." The strong westlandman laughed aloud.
"Goodwife/1 said he, " I am Hugh Morrison from
Glenae, come of the Manly Morrisons of auld langsyne, that never took short weapon against a man
in their lives. And neither needed they: They had
their broadswords, Mid I have this bit supple (showing
a formidable cudgel)—for disking ower the board, I
leave that to John HigMandman.-—Ye needna snort,
none of you Highlanders, and you in especial, Robin.
I'll keep the bit knife, if you are feared for the auld
�7
spaewife's tale, and give it back to you whenever you
want it."
Robin drove on his cattle, and waved farewell to all
behind him. He was in the greater haste, because he
expected to join at Falkirk a comrade and brother in
profession, with whom he proposed to travel in company.
Robin OigV chosen friend was a young Englishman,
Harry Wakefield by name, well known at every
northern market,. and in his way as much famed and
honoured as our Highland driver of bullocks. He was
nearly six feet high, gallantly formed to keep the rounds
at Smithfield, or maintain the ring at a wrestling
match; and although he might have been overmatched,
perhaps, among the regular professors of the Fancy, yet
as a chance customer, he was able to give a bellyful
to any amateur of the pugilistic art. Doncaster races
saw him in his glory, betting his guinea, and generally
successfully; nor was there a main fought in Yorkshire, the feeders being persons of celebrity, at which
he was not to be seen, if business permitted. But
though a sprack lad, and fond of pleasure and its
haunts, Harry Wakefield was steady, and not the
cautious Robin Oig M'Combich himself was more attentive to the main chance. His holidays were holidays
indeed; but his days of work were dedicated to steady
and persevering labour. In countenance and temper,
Wakefield was the model of Old England's merry yeomen, whose clothyard shafts, in so many hundred battles, asserted her superiority over the nations, and whose
good sabres, in our own time, are her cheapest and
most assured defence. His mirth was readily excited ;
for, 6trong in limb and constitution, and fortunate in
circumstances, he was disposed to be pleased with
every thing about him ; and such difficulties as he might
occasionally encounter, were, to a man of bis energy,
rather matter of amusement than serious annoyance.
With all the merits of a sanguine temper, our you
English drover was not without his defects. He
�^
j Ui
. 8
^
•, ~
irascible, and sometimes to the verge of being quarrelsome ; and perhaps not the less inclined to bring his
disputes. tp a pugilistic decision, because he found
few antagonists able to stand up to him in the boxing
ring.
The pair of friends had traversed with their usual
cordiality the grassy wilds of Liddesdale, and crossed
the opposite part of Cumberland, emphatically called
The Waste. In, these solitary regions, the cattle under
the charge of our drovers subsisted themselves cheaply,
by picking then food as they went along the droveroad, or sometimes by the tempting opportunity of a
start and owerloup, or invasion of the neighbouring
pasture, where an occasion presented itself. But now
the sc^ne changed before them ; they were descending
towards a fertile and inclosed country, where no such
liberties could be taken with impunity, or without a previous arrangement and bargain with the possessors of the
ground. Tins was more especially the, case, as a great
northern fair was upon the eve of taking place, where
both the Scotch and English drover expected to dispose
of a part of their cattle, which it was desirable to produce in the market^rested and in good order* Fields
were- .therefore ....difficult to be obtained, aijd* only upon
high terms. This necessity occasioned a, temporary
separation betwixt the two friends, who went to. bargain, each as he could, for the separate accommodation
of his herd. Unhappily it chanced that both of them*
unknown to each other, thought of bargaining for the
ground they wanted on the property of a country gentleman of some fortune, whose estate lay in the neighbourhood. The English drover applied to the bailiff on
the property, who was known to him. It chanced that
the Cumbrian,Squire, who had entertained some suspicions of his Manager's honesty was taking occasional
measures to ascertain how fax they were wpll founded,
and had desired that any inquiries about his inclosures,
with a view to occupy them for a temporary purpose,
should be referred to himself. As, however, Mr I rely
�9
had gone the day before upon a journey of some miles'
distance to £he nortjiward, the bailiff fcp colder
the check upon his full powers as for tjgfc tinje,^emQyed,
and concluded that he should W s t e q n s ^ j l ^ paster's
interest, and perhaps his own, in making sjn agreement
with Harry Wakefield. Meanwhile, ..igjQ^nt^fjf what
his comrade was doing, Robin Dig, on his sid^ chanced
to be overtaken by a well-looked smart little man upon
a pony, most knowingly hogged and capped, as was
then the fashion, the rider wearing tightfeatherbreeches,
and long-necked bright spurs. This cavalier asked one
or two pertinent questions about markets and the price
of stock. So Donald, seeing him a well-judging civil
gentleman, took the freedom to ask him whether he
could let him know if there was any grass-land to be
let in that neighbourhood, for the temporary accommodation of his drove. He could not have put the question to more willing ears. The gentleman of the buckskins was the proprietor, with whose bailiff Harry
Wakefield had dealt, or was in the act of dealing.
" Thou art in good luck, my canny Scot," said Mr
Ireby, to have spoken to me, for I see thy cattle have
done their day's work, and I have at my disposal the
only field within three miles that is to be let in these
parts/ " T h e drove can pe gang two, three, four
miles very pratty well indeed—0 said the cautious Highlander ; put what would his honour pe axing for the
beasts pe the head, if she was to tak ^he park for twa
or three days ?" We wont differ, Sawney, if you let
me have six stots for winterers, in the way of reason."
" And which peasts would your hpnour pe for having ?*'
" Why—let me see—the two black—the dun one—yon
doddy, him with the twisted horn-—the brocket— How
much by the head ?" Ah," said Robin, " your honour is a shudge—a real shudge—I couldna have set off
the pest six peasts petter mysell, me that ten them as
if they were my pairns, puir things." " Well, how
much per head, Sawney," continued Mr Ireby. " It was
high markets at Doune and Falkirk," answered Robin.
�10
And thus the conversation proceeded until they had
agreed on the prix juste for the bullocks, the Squire
throwing in the temporary accommodation of the inclosure for the cattle into the boot, and Robin making,
as he thought a very good bargain, providing the grass
was but tolerable; The Squire walked his pony alongside of the drove, partly to show him the way, and see
him put into possession of the field, and partly to learn
the latest news of the northern markets.
They arrived at the field, and the pasture seemed
excellent. But what was their surprise when they saw
the bailiff quietly inducting the cattle of Harry Wakefield into the grassy Goshen which had just been assigned
to those of Robin Oig M'Combich by the proprietor
himself. Squire Ireby set spurs to his horse, dashed up
to his servant, and learning what had passed between
the parties, briefly informed the English drover that his
bailiff had let the ground without his authority, and
that he might seek grass for his cattle wherever he
would, since he was to get none there. At the same
time he rebuked his servant severely for having transgressed his commands, and ordered him instantly to
assist in ejecting the hungry and weary cattle of Harry
Wakefield, which were just beginning to enjoy a meal
of unusual plenty, and to introduce those of his comrade, whom the English drover now began to consider
J
as a rival.
\
,
The feelings which arose in Wakefield's mind would
have induced him to resist Mr Ireby s decision; but every
Englishman has a tolerably accurate sense of law and
justice, and John Fleecebumpkin, the bailiff, having acknowledged that he had exceeded his commission,
Wakefield saw nothing else for it than to collect his
hungry and disappointed charge, and drive them on to
seek quarters elsewhere. Robin Oig saw what had
happened with regret, and hastened to offer to his
English friend to share with him t-he disputed possession. But Wakefield's pride was severely hurt, and he
snewered disdainfully, " Take it all, man—take it all
�11
— never make two bites of a cheny—thoa canst talk
over the gentry, and blear a plain man's eye—Out upon
tou, man—I would not kiss any man's dirty latchets
fbr leave to bake in his oven."
Robin Oig, sorry but not surprised at his comrade's
displeasure, hastened to entreat his friend to wait but
% hour till he had gone to the Squire's house to receive
n
payment for the cattle he had sold, and he would come
back and help him to drive the cattle into some convenient place of rest, and explain to him the whole mistake they had both of them fallen into. But the Englishman continued indignant: " Thou hast been selling,
hast thou ? Ay, ay—thou is a cunning lad for kenning
the hours of bargaining. Go to the devil with thyself,
for I will ne'er see thy fause loon's visage again—thou
should be ashamed to look me in the face.1 " I am
ashamed to look no man in the face," said Robin Oig,
something moved ; " and, moreover, I will look you in
the face this blessed day, if you will bide at the Clachan
down yonder." " Mayhap you had as well keep
away," said his comrade; and turning his back on his
former friend, he collected his unwilling associates, assisted by the bailiff, who took some real arid some affected interest in seeing Wakefield accommodated.
After spending some time in negotiating with more
than one of the neighbouring farmers, who could not,
or would not afford the accommodation desired, Henry
Wakefield at last, and in his necessity, accomplished his
point by means of the landlord of the alehouse at which
Robin Oig and he had agreed to pass the night, When
they first separated from each other. Mine host was
content to let him turn his cattle on a piece of barren
moor, at a price little less than the bailiff had asked for
the disputed inclosure; and the wretchedness of the
pasture, as well as the price paid for it, were set down as
exaggerations of the breach of faith and friendship of
his Scottish crony. This turn of Wakefield's passions
was encouraged by the bailiff, (who had his own reasons for being offended against poor Robin, as having
�been the unwitting ca^ise of His falling into disgrace with
his master,) as well as by the innkeeper, and two or
three chance guests, who soothed the drover in his resentment against his quondam associate,—some from the
ancient grudge against the Scots, which, when it exists
anywhere is to be found lurking in the border counties,
and some from the general love of mischief, which characterises mankind in all ranks of life, to the honour of
Adams children be it spoken. Good John Barleycorn
also, who always heightens and exaggerates the prevailing passions, be they angry or kindly, was not wanting in his offices on this occasion; and confusion to false
friends and hard masters, was pledged in more than one
tankard, u • hY-v--.
. ••
•
In the meanwhile Mr Ireby found some amusement
in detaining the northern drover at his ancient hall. He
caused a cold round of beef to be placed before the Scot
in the butler's pantry, together with a foaming tankard
of home-brewed, and took pleasure in seeing the hearty
appetite with which these unwonted edibles were discussed by Robin Oig M'Combich. The Squire himself
lighting his pipe, compounded between his patrician
dignity arid his love of agricultural gossip, by walking
up and down while he conversed with his guest. " I
passed another drove,1' said the Squire, " with one of
your countrymen behind them—they were something
less beasts than your drove, doddies most of them—a
big man was with them—none of your kilts thougn, but
a decent pair of breeches—D'ye know who he may be H11
" Hout ay—that might, could, and would pe Hughie
Morrison—I didna think he could hae peen sae weel up.
He has made a day on us ; put his Argyleshires will
have wearied shanks. How far was he pehind ?" " I
think about six or seven miles,'1 answered the Squire,
"for I passed them at the Christenbury Cragg, ana
I overtook you at the Hollan Bush. If his beasts be
leg-weary, he will be maybe selling bargains.11 ff Na,
na, Hughie Morrison is no the man for pargains—
maun come to some Highland body like Robin Oig he
�13
sell for the like of these—put I maun pe wishing you
goot night, and twenty of them, let alane ane, and I
maun down to the Clachan to see if the lad Henry
Waakfelt is out of his humdudgeons yet,"
The party at the alehouse were still in full talk, and
the treachery of Robin Oig still the theme of conversation, when the supposed culprit, entered the apartment.
His arrival, as usually happens in such a case, put an
instant stop to the discussion of which he had furnished
the subject, and he was received by the company!assembled with that chilling silence, which, more than a
thousand exclamations, tells an intruder that he is unwelcome. Surprised and offended, but not appalled by
the reception which he experienced, Robin entered with
an undaunted, and even a haughty air, attempted no
greeting as he saw he was received with none, and
placed himself by the side of the fire, a little apart from
a table, at which Harry Wakefield, the bailiff, and two
or three other persons, were seated. The ample Cumbrian kitchen would have afforded plenty of room even
for a larger separation.
Robin, thus seated, proceeded to light his pipe, and
call for a pint of twopenny. " We have no twopence
ale," answered Ralph Heskett the landlord; but as
thou find'st thy own tobacco, it's like thou may'st find
thine own liquor too—it's the wont of thy country, I
wot." " Shame, goodman," said the landlady, a blithe
bustling housewife, hastening herself to supply the guest
With liquor—" Thou knowest well enow what the
strange man wants, and it's thy trade to be civil* man*
Thou shouldst know, that if the Scot likes a small pot,
he pays a sure penny."
Without taking any notice of this nuptial dialogue,
Ihe Highlander took the flagon in his hand, and adiressing the company generally, drank the interesting
loast of " Good markets," to the party assembled.
* The better that the wind blew fewer dealers from
tie north," said one of the farmers, " and fewer Highand runts to eat up the English meadows." " Saul of
�u
my pody, put you are wrang there my friend," answered
Robin, with composure, 44 it is your fat Englishmen
that eat up our Scots cattle, puir things." " I wish
there was a summat to eat up their drovers," said another; " a plain Englishman canna make bread within
a kenning of them." ( ( Or an honest servant keep his
master's favour, but they will come sliding in between
him and the sunshine," said the bailiff. " If these pe
jokes," said Robin Oig, with the same composure,
44
there is ower mofiy jokes upon one man." 44 It's no
joke, but downright earnest," said the bailiff. " Hark
ye, Mr Robin Ogg, or whatever is your name, it's
right we should tell you that we are all of one opinion,
and that is, that you, Mr Robin Ogg, have behaved to
our friend Mr Harry Wakefield here, like a raff and a
blackguard." 44 Nae doubt, nae doubt,'1 answered
Robin, with great composure ; 44 and you are a set of
very feeling judges, for whose prains or pehaviour I
wad not gie a pinch of sneeshing* If Mr Harry Waakfelt kens where he is wranged, he kens where he may
be righted." " He speaks truth," said Wakefield,
who had listened to what passed, divided between the
offence which he had taken at Robin's late behaviour,
and the revival of his habitual habits of friendship.
He now rose, and went towards Robin, who got up
from his seat as he approached, and held out his hand.
" That's right, Harry—go it—serve him out," resounded on all sides—tc tip him the nailer—show him the
mill." 44 Hold your peace all of you, and be
—,"
laid Wakefield; and then addressing his comrade, he
took him by the extended hand, with something alike
of respect and defiance. 44 Robin," he said, thou hast
used me ill enough this day; but if you mean like a
frank fellow, to shake hands, and take a tussel for love
on the sod, why I'll forgie the man, and we shall be
better friends than ever." 44 And would it not pe petter to be cood friends without more of the matter ?"
said Robin ; " w e will be much petter friendships with
our panes hale than broken."
�15
Harry Wakefield dropped the hand of his friend, or
rather threw it from him. " I did not think I had
deen keeping company for three years with a coward."
u
Coward pelongs to none of my name," said Robin*
whose eyes began to kindle, but keeping the command
of his temper. " I t was no coward's legs or hands,
Harry Waakfelt, that drew you out of the fords of
Frew, when you was drifting ower the plack rock, and
every eel in the river expected his share of you.1' " And
that is true enough, too,11 said the Englishman, struck
by the appeal. " Adzooks !" exclaimed the bailiff—
" sure Harry Wakefield, the nattiest lad at Whitson
Tryste, Wooler Fair, Carlisle Sands, or Stagshaw
bank, is not going to show white feather ? Ah* this
comes of living so long with kilts and bonnets—*men
forget the use of their daddies.11 " I may teach you,
Master Fleecebumpkin, that I have not lost the use ot
mine,11 said Wakefield, and then went on. " This will
never do, Robin. We must have a turn-up, or we
shall be the talk of the country side. I'll be d
-d
if I hurt thee—I'll put on the gloves gin thou like.
Come, stand forward like a man," " To pe peaten
like a dog," said Robin ; " i s there any reason in that ?
If you think I have done you wrong, I'll go before
your shudge, though I neither know his law nor his
language."
A general cry of " No, no,—no law, no lawyer ! a
bellyful and be friends," was echoed by the bystanders.
" But," continued Robin, " if I am to fight, I have
no skill to fight like a jackanapes, with hands and
nails." " How would you fight then ?" said his antagonist: " though I am thinking it would be hard to
bring you to the scratch anyhow." " I would fight
with proadswoards, and sink point on the first blood
drawn
like a gentlernans."
A loud shout of laughter followed the proposal, which
indeed had rather escaped from poor Robin's swelling
heart, than been the dictates of his sober judgment.
Gentleman, quotha I" was echoed on all sides, with
�1.6
a shout of unextinguishable, laughter: " a very pretty
gentleman, God wot—Canst get two swords for the
gentleman to fight with, Ralph Heskett ?'' " No, but
I ean send to the armoury at Carlisle, and lend .thetu
two forks to be making shift .with* in the meantime,"
' Tush,, man,1' said another, " the bonny Scots come
into the world with the blue bonnet on their heads, and
dirk and pistol at their belt." " Uest send post," said
Mr Meecebumpkin, " to the Squire of Corby Castle,, to
come and stand second to the gentleman,
In the midst Of this torrent of general ridicule, the
Highlander instinctively griped beneath the folds of his
plaid. " But it's better not," he said in his own language. " A hundred curses on the - swine-eaters, who
know neither decency nor civility ! Make room, the
pack of you," he said, advancing to the door. But his
former friend interposed his sturdy bulk, and opposed
his leaving the house; and when Robin Oig attempted
to make his way by force, he hit him down on the floor,
with as much ease as a boy bowls down a nine-pin. " A
ring ! a ring !" was now shouted, until the dark rafters, and the hams that hung on them, trembled again,
and the very platters on the bink clattered against each
other. i6 Well done, H a r r y . ' " Give it him home,
Harry."—" Take care of him now—he sees his own
blood!"
Such were the exclamations, while the Highlander,
starting from the ground, all his coldness and caution
lost in frantic rage, sprung at his antagonist with the
fury, the activity, and the vindictive purpose, of an incensed tiger-cat. But when could rage enCotffrter
science and temper ? Robin Oig again wen t. down in
the unequal contest; and as the blow was necessarily
a severe one, he lay motionless on the floor of the
kitchen. The landlady ran to offer some aid, but Mr
Fleecebumpkin would not permit her to approach.
" L e t him alone," he said, " he will come to within
time, and come up to the scratch again. He has not
got half his broth yet." " He has got all I mean to
�17
give him, though," said his antagonist, whose heart
began to relent towards his old associate; " and I
would rather by half give the rest to yourself, Mr
Fleecebumpkin for you pretend to know a thing or
two, and Robin had not art enough even to peel
before setting to, but fought with his plaid dangling
about him.—Stand up Robiri, my man! all friends
now; and let me hear the man that will speak a
word ag&inst you, or your country for your sake."
Robin Oig was still under the dominion of his passion, and eager to renew the onset; but being withheld
on the one side by the peace-making Dame Heskett,
and on the other, aware that Wakefield no lotiger
meant to renew the combat, his fury sunk into gloomy
sulleiiness. " Come, come, never grudge so much at
it, man," said t|ie brave-spirited Englishman, with the
placability of his country, shake hands, and we will
be better friends than ever.1' Friends !" exclaimed
Robin Oig with strong emphasis—" friends P—Never.
Look to yourself, Harry Waakfelt." " Then the
curse of Cromwell on your proud Scots stomach, as the
man says in the play, and you may do your worst and
bed——d ; for one man can say nothing more to another after a tussel, than that he is sorry for ft."
On these terms the friends parted; Robin Oig drew
out, in silence, a piece of money, threw .it on the table,
and then left the alehouse. But turning at the door,
he shook his hand at Wakefield, pointing1 with his forefinger upwards, in a manner which might imply either
a threat or a caution. He then disappeared in the
moonlight.
Some words passed after his departure, between the
bailiff, who piqued himself on being' a l;ttle of a bully,
and Harry Wakefield, who with geneims inconsistency,
was now not indisposed to begin a new combat in defence of Robin Qigs reputation, " although he could
fiot use his daddies like an Englishman, as it did not come
natural to him." But Dame Heskttt prevented this
second quarrel from coining to a head by her peremptory
�18
interference. 44 There should be no more fighting in
iier house," she said ; " there had been too much already.—And you, Mr Wakefield, may live to learn,"
she added, " what it is to make a deddly enemy out of
a good friend." ; " Psha, dame! Robin Oig is an
honest fellow, and will nev«r keep malice." " Do not
trust to that—you do not know the dour temper of the
Scotch, though you have dealt with thein so often, I
have a right to know them, my mother being a Scot."
"And.so is well seen in her daughter," said Ralph
Heskett.
This nuptial sarcasm gave the discourse another turn;
fresh custpmers entered the tap-room or kitchen, and
others left it. The conversation turned on the expected
markets, and the report of prices from the different parts
of Scotland and England—treaties were commenced,
and Harry Wakefield was lucky enough to find a chap
for a part of his drove, and at a very considerable profit ; an event of consequence more than sufficient to blot
out all remembrances of the unpleasant scuffle in the
earlier part of the day. But there remained one party
from whose mind that recollection could not have been
Yflped away by possession of every head of cattle betwixt
Esk and Eden.
This was Robin Oig M'Combich.—" That I should
have had no weapon," he said, and for the first time in
my life !—-Blighted be the tongue that bids the Highlander part with the dirk—the dirk—ha ! the English
blood !—My Muhme's word—when did her word fall
to the ground?"
The recollection of the fatal prophecy confirmed the
deadly intention which instantly sprung up in his mind.
" Ha ! Morrison cannot be many miles behind ; and if
it were an hundred, what then !"
His impetuous spirit had now a fixed purpose and
motive of action, and he turned the light foot of his
country towards the wilds, through which he knew, by
Mr Ireby's report, that Morrison was advancing. His
jnind was wholly engrossed by the sense of injury—in-
�}[)
uiry sustained from a friend ; and by the desire of vengeance on one whom he now accounted his most bitter
enemy. The treasured ideas of self-importance and
self-opinion—of ideal birth and quality, had become more
precious to him, (like the hoard to the miser,) because
he could only enjoy them in secret. But that hoard
was pillaged, the idols which he had secretly worshipped
had been desecrated and profaned. Insulted, abused,
and beaten, he was no longer worthy, in his own opinion, of the name he bore, or the lineage which he belonged to—nothing was left to him—nothing but revenge ; and, as the reflection added a galling spur to
every step, he determined it should be as sudden and
signal as the offence.
When Robin Oig left the door of the alehouse, seven
or eight English miles at least lay betwixt Morrison and
him. The advance of the former was slow, limited by
the sluggish pace of his cattle ; the last left behind him
stubble-field and hedge-row, crag, and dark heath, all
glittering with frost-rime in the broad November moonlight, at the rate of six miles an hour. And now the
distant lowing of Morrison's cattle is heard; and now
they are seen creeping like moles in size and slowness
of motion on the broad face of the moor; and now he
meets them—passes them, and stops their conductor.
" May good betide us," said the Southlander
Is
this you, Robin M'Combicft, or your wraith !" ' * If
is Robin Oig M'Combich," answered the Highlander,
"and it is not.—But never mind that, put pe giving
me the skenedhu." " What! you are for hack to the
Highlands—The devil!—Have you selt all off before
the fair ? This beats all for quick markets." " 1
have not sold-—I am not going north—May pe I will
never go north again.—Give me pack my dirk, Hugh
Morrison, or there wTill be words petween us."
Indeed, Robin, 111 be better advised or I gie it back to
you—it is a wanchancy weapon in a Higland man's
hand, and I am thinking you will be about some barnsbreaking." "Prutt, thrtt ! let me hav£ my wea-
�20
pon," said Robin Oig, impatiently. " Hooly and
fairly," said his well-meaning friend, £( I'll tell you what
\yill do better than these dirking doings—Ye ken Highlander and Lowlander, and Border-men, are a' ae man's
bairns when you are over the Scots dyke. See the
Eskdale callants, and fighting Charlie of Liddesdale,
and the Lpckerby lads, and the four Dandies of Lustruther, and a wheen mair grey plaids, are coming up
behind ;; and if you are wronged, there is a hand of a
manly Morrison, We'll see you righted, if Carlisle and
gtanwix baith took.ujp the feud." " To tell you the
truth," said Robin Oig, desirous of eluding the suspicions
of his friend, " I have enlisted with a party of the
Black Watch, and must march off to-morrow morning.'1
Enlisted I Were you mad or drunk P—You must buy
yourself off—I can lend vou twenty notes, and twenty
to that, if the§ drove sell. ' " I thank you, thank ye,
Hughie; but I go with good will the gate that I am
going,,—so the dirk—the dirk !" " There it is for
you then, since less wunna serve. But think on what
I was saying.—Waes me, it will be sair news in the
braes of Balquidder, that Robin Oig M'Combich should
have run an ill. gate, and ta'en on." " I l l news in
Balquidflei;, indeed !" echoed poor Robin; ''put Cot
speed you, Hughie, and send you good marcats. Ye
vvinna meet with Robin Oi<j again either at tryste or
fair."
So saying, he shook hastily the hand of his acquaintance, and set out in the direction from which he hadf
advanced, with the spirit of his former pace.
" There is something wrong with the jad/' muttered
the Bforrison to himself; " but we will maybe see better into it the morn's morning."
But long ere the morning dawned, the catastrophe of
our tale had taken place/ It was two hours after the
affray had happened, and it was totally forgotten by
almost every one, when Robin Oig returned to Heskett's
inn. The place was filled at once by various sorts of
men. and with noises corresponding to their character.
�21
There were the grave, low sounds of men engaged in
busy traffic, with the laugh, the song, and the riotous
jest of those who had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves. Among the last was Harry Wakefield, who
amidst a grinning group of smock-frocks, hob-nailed
shoes, and jolly English physiognomies, was trolling
5
forth the old ditty,
" What though my name be Roger,
Who drives the plough and cart—"
when he was interrupted by a well-known voice, saying
in a high and stern Voice, marked by the sharp Highland accent, " Harry Waakfelt—if you be a man, stand
up ! * What is the matter ?—-what is, it ? 5 t h e guests
*
demanded of each other. " It is only a. d—d Scotsman," jsaid Fle^cebumpkin, who was by this time very
drunk, " whom Harry Wakefield helped to his broth
to-day, who is now come to havfe his tauld hail hett
again." iC Harry Waakfelt,'1 repeated' the same ominous summons, " stand up, if you be a man'!"
There is something in the tone of deep and concentrated passion, which attracts attention and imposes
awe, even by the very sound. The guests shrunk back
on every side, and gazed at the Highlander, as he stood
in the middle of them, his brows bent, and his features
rigid with resolution. " I will stand up With all my
heart, Robin, my boy, but it shall be to shake hands'
with you, and drink down all unkindness. It is not the
fault of ^otir heart, man, that yoii don't know how to
clench your hands."
By this time he stood opposite to his antagonist; his
open and unsuspecting look strangely contrasted with
the stern purpose, which gleamed w d , dark, arid vindictive in the eyes of the Highlander. "'Trs not' thy
fault, man, that, not having the luck to be an Englishman, thou canst not fight more than a school-girl." u I
can light," answered Robin Oig sternly, btiii calmly,
" and you shall know it. You, Harry Waakfelt,
showed me to-day how the Saxon churls fight^—l show
ou now how the Highland Dunniewassal fights."
�22
He seconded the word with the action, and plunged
the dagger, which he suddenly displayed, into the broad
breast of the English yeoman, with such fatal certainty
and force, that the hilt made a hollow sound against the
breast-bone, and the double-edged point split the very
heart of his victim. Henry Wakefield fell, and expired
with a single groan. His assassin next seized the bailiff
by the collar, and offered the bloody poinard to his
throat, while dread and surprise rendered the man incapable of defence. " I t were very just to lay you beside
him," he said, " but the blood of a base picK-thank shall
never mix on my father's dirk with that of a brave man."
As lie spoke, he cast the man from him with so much
force that he fell on the floor, while Robin, with his
other hand, threw the fatal weapon into the blazing
turf-fire. " There," he said, " take me who likes—
and let fire cleanse blood if it can."
The pause of astonishment still continuing, Robin Oig
asked for a peace-officer, and a constable having stepped
out, he surrendered himself to his custody. " A bloody
nights work you have made of it," said the constable.
" Your own fault," said the Highlander. " Had you
kept his hands off me twa hours since, he would have
been now as well and merry as he was twa minutes
since." " It must be sorely answered," said the peaceofficer. " Never you mind that—death pays all debts;
it will pay that too."
The horror of the bystanders began now to give way
co indignation ; and the sight of a favourite companion
murdered in the midst of them, the provocation being, in
their opinion, so utterly inadequate to the excess of venr
geance, might have induced them to kill the perpetrator
of the deed even upon the very spot. The constable,
however, did his duty on this occasion, and with the assistance of some of the more reasonable persons present,
procured horses to guard the prisoner to Carlisle, to abide
his doom at the next assizes. While the escort was
preparing, the prisoner neither expressed the least in terest, nor attempted the slightest reply.
�33
My story is nearly ended. The unfortunate Kig
*ander stood his trial at Carlisle, and was sentenced
death. He met his fate with great firmness, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence. But he repelled
indignantly the observations of those who accused him
of attacking an unarmed man. " I give a life for the
life I took," he said, " and what can I do more ?*
COUNTESS OF EXETER.
1 A no teller of stories ; but there is one belonging to
M
Burleigh House, of which I happen to know some of
the particulars. The late Earl of Exeter had been divorced from his first wife, a woman of fashion, and of
somewhat more gaiety of manners than " lords who love
their ladies'1 like. He determined to seek out a second
wife in an humbler sphere of life, and that it should be
one who, having no knowledge of his rank, should love
him for himself alone. For this purpose, he went and
settled incognito, under the name of Mr Jones, at Hodnet, an obscure village in Shropshire. He made overtures to one or two damsels in the neighbourhood, but
they were too knowing to be taken in by him. His
manners were not boorish,—his mode of life was retired,
—it was odd how he got his livelihood,—and at last he
began to be taken for a highwayman. In this dilemma,
he turned to Miss Hoggins, the eldest daughter of a
small farmer at whose house he lodged. Miss Hoggins,
it would seem, had not been used to romp with the
clowns : there was something in the manners of their
quiet but eccentric guest which she liked. As he found
that he had inspired her with that land of regard which
he wished for, he made honourable proposals to her, and
at the end of some months they were married, without his
etting her know who he was. They set off in a postchaise from her father's house, and travelled across the
country. In this manner, they arrived at Stamford, and
�24
passed through the town without stopping till they came
to the entrance of Burleigh Park, which is on the outside of it. The gates flew open, the chaise entered,
and drove down the long avenue of trees that leads up to
the front of this fine old mansion. As they drew nearer
to it, and she seemed a little surprised where they were
going, he said, " Well, my dear, this is Burleigh House,
it is the house I have promised to bring you to, and you
are the countess of Exeter !"—It is said the shock of
this discovery was too much for the young creature,
and that she never recovered it.—It was a sensation
worth dying for. The world we five in was worth making, hud it been only for this. I never wish to have
been a lord, but when I think of this stoiy.
�
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V E R S
TO T H E
E
S
MEMORY
OF
JAMES
T H O i S O N,
A U T H O R OF T H E S E A S O N S , -&C.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED
FOR
AND
SOLD
Blr
Brafh & Reid.
B A R D of the Seafons, hail! thou who hail oft
Imprefs'd with energy and reasoning ftrong,
Upon my youthful m nd, poetic truths,
The tend'reft fympathies, the purefi flame,
The love of order, and the foul of fong!
Smit with fmcereft gratitude, -the Mufe
Would fain attempt her humble voice to raife
Thy praife to frng, thy genuine worth applaud,
And blend the Chriftian's with the Poet's praife.
But why ihould I in this great talk engage?
Where find refources for the high defign ?
Great Hayley! thou who lepd'ft the tuneful band,
Say, why neglect a nation's debt to pay ?
Record in numbers worthy of thy Mufe
The Poet of the Seafons? Beattie! thou
Whofe Minftrel raifes thee in high efteem,
Say, why unfung thy fav'rite Thomfon's praife?
Since none of you have yet effay'd the fong,
Permit an humble Bard, unknown to fame,
A Mufe unbred in academic fhades,
In untaught ftrains to wake the fleeping lyre.
�C 2 ]
But where begin? where all the beauties trace
That charm the youthful fancy? Where but in
His tranfcript of the Seafons? There we view
The animated verfe; the fervid thought;
The juft and pleafmg metaphor, that fteals
In grateful raptures o'er th' enamoured heart.
'Twere endlefs to recount the various charms
That Ihine confpicuous in his matchlefs long,
And court our obfervation; yet of thofe
Moft obvious and alluring let the Mufe
Shew in fucceffion to th' aftonilhed eye
Of nice difcrimination; thence to trace
Some pleafmg moral from the harmlefs lay.
See; in his Spring, how beautiful he paints
The rural labour of the fimple fwain,
Then bids the thoughtlefs fons of luxury
Shew due refpe6l " and venerate the plow!"
Next, mark what philofophic judgment he difplay*
In pointing out the regular advance
Of vegetation, from the infant bud
To the full bloffom in the leafy ihade.
Much muft remain unfung: yet why omit
The Bard's defcription of the Golden Age,
" Where reafon and benevolence were law?5''
Can I pafs -over, with incurious eye,
The portrait of Amanda ; where each line
Chains down attention to his magic lay?
But let me hafte to where the Poet lings
The Spring's mild influence on the mind of man,
Whofe feelings are alive to tuft reflexion;
Who in his neighbour's wants can view his own,
And feel a fympathy for all mankind.
Thence, in a fine tranfition, fweetly flows,
'In copious ftrains, devoid of venal praife,
A juft eulogium on th' intrinfic worth
Of virtuous Lyttleton, whofe lib'ral heart
Was ever prompt to fuccour and fupport
�C 3
]
Virtue deprefs'd, or Merit left forlorn.
It gives me joy to find fuperior worth
Difplay'd in Thomfon's everlalting fong.
But, O ye youth! for whom our Poet flill
Exerts his genius, pours his pleafing lay,
Lofe not the moral in the charms of fong.
He next efifays to paint th* illufivejoys,
The madd'ning tranfports of illicit love;
Where all the paffions are fubfervient made
To fetter and enchain the a<5tive foul.
Ah, fly thefefcenes! and turn th* admiring eye
To the chafte portrait of connubial blifs,
Where ev'ry beauty language can convey
Confpire to heighten and enhance the joy!
For me, I blufh not candidly to own,
The beauteous pidture fo enchants my fenfe
I read in rapture as my eyes overflow!
What eye can gaze undazzled at the view
Of fervid Summer; when ev'n Spring " averts
Her blooming face!" And now the Bard
Haftes to the cool retreat, and courts the aid
Of infpiration. Arts like thefe prepare
Th' attentive mind, and fofter in the foul
A tafte for compaction; confcious Hill
That the Mufe dilates what the verfe conveys*
The Bard, who copies Nature, always-gains
Our admiration and deferv'd applaufe*
Who follows Nature, and purfues her walks,
Takes up each image as it ftrikes the fenfe,
And holds the faithful tranfeript to our light,
Whate'er of beauty to the vulgar eye
Difpenfes pleafure, this, when juftly drefs'd
In all the magic of heroic verfe,
Is fure to charm, as 'tis refle&ing back,
With heighten'd luftre, what we lov'd before.
What man, who thinks at all, but mult adore
That Pow'r who guides the planets in their courfe
�[
4 1
Amid the flux of many thoufand years,
Unvary'din their motions! yet ev'n this,
Drefs'd up in Thomfon's lays, ne'er fails to pleafe.
Who has not mark'd the beauteous train of thought
That prompts the lay when " meek-ey'd morn appears,,
Mother of dews!'* What makes thefe beauties pleafe,
But that the Poet gives Us back our thoughts
EmbelliihM and adorn'd? For, be afFur'd,
What pleafes mofl muft be in part our own*
1 mull pafs over the feraphic hymn,
The glorious tribute, to the Orb of day;
In which is ihewn,. with admirable ikill.
The vivid tints, the various rays of light,
Refle&ed from the furfaces of things.
The limits of my fang will not admit
To dwell on lighter beauties; with regret,
I check the rifing tranfport, confcious ft ill
I do injuftice to the Bard I love!
But who can view, without apparent dread,
Nature convuls'd; the livid lightning's glare;
And rattling thunder fhake the aftonifk'd world!
Who can without emotion read the page
Where fine imagination has portray'd
The chafte Amelia, torn from the embrace
Of tier !ov'd Celadon ! Who read their loves*
But mull confefs that Power which chains the mindr
And rivets the attention;, anxious flill
To dwell enamour'd on the tender theme h
Nor let the prude, with fupercilious air,
(Mere affectation!) check th' admiring fwatn s .
Whoffe curious, eye runs o'er the pkafing verfe
Where Mufidora, like Diana, laves
The limpid ftreani, fair emblem of herfelf!
Did ever Poet, on a theme like this,
Exert fuch pow'rs, and yet preferve the Song:
Inviolate and pure., as is the rofe
Or virgin-lily, 'midthe morning dew!
�in fweet tranfition, here the tuneful Bard
Points out the Worthies who have added f one
T o Britain's annals by their martial deeds,
Aided her Science, or improv'd her fong,
Nor are the Britiih Fair forgot, but here
Their beauties and their merit ftand confefs'd;
Serene Philofophy, the foul of fong,
That fureft guide to truth, clofes the fcene;
And leaves the mind in pleafmg tranfport loft s
Intent to wonder, worfhip, and adore.
Ripe Autumn opens with the Doric reed
Attun'd to rural labour. Still the Bard,
With philanthropic love, raifes the fong
T o cheer the labour of the fimple fwain.
A mind like his, alive to ev'ry fenfe,
Survey'd mankind as brethren^ all allied"
T o one indulgent Father, who regards
The monarch and the fiave with equal eyev
The annual'labours of the ripen'd field
Calls forth our Poet's unexhaufted gow'rsj
And, in a chafte delightful epifode,
Adorns our language with enchanting tale
Of young Lavkna. «Say,. ye Britifh youth!"
Does any tale in modern novel charm,
Or touch the heart with fympathy like this T
Can any retrofpe& of conquer'd charms
Infpire fuch tranfports of ingenuous joy,
As when fair Virtue meets its jufi: reward!
On ev'ry theme, the Bard of Nature melt*
With kind compaixion for another's woe.
The feather'd tribes his tender pity fharej
He j,uftiy cenfures ev'ry wanton fport
That brings untimely death; confcious he
(Whatever daring fophiAs may advance)
T h a t rapine, oft repeated, Heels the heart.
Muft not the fentlmental fportfman blufh.
At his poor con quell o'er the timid hare!
�I .6
]
Our Poet next, in relaxation, fings,
In burlefque ftrain, the great and noble chace,
That makes the fportfman's heart with joy elate?
And buries in oblivion all his cares.
See with what tender caution how he warns
The Britilh Fair to Ihun thefe dang'rous^fportsj
That ill become the foftnefs of their fex;
But in their native luftre always Ihine.
His heart ftill beats in unifon with thofe
Who follow Nature in her humble walks;
Hence with the farmer he rejoices ft ill,
And fings in dulcet {trains his " harveft-home."
Their paftimes, too, are not beneath his care,
But chants, like Maro, ev'ry rural fport.
But who can form a happier ftate on earth ?
Ev'n in idea, than the rural life
So finely painted in his matchlefs fong!
Ambition, read; compare with this thy ft ate;
Then, in the fcale of Reafon, fairly weigh
Thy fplendid phantoms' 'gainfc his real joys.
Stern Winter, too, our Poet's firft effay,
Difplays uncounted beauties; genius here
Shines forth in ftrong defcription; manly fenfe;:
Bold metaphor; attemper'd with that charm
Which always pfeafes, love of God and man..
How ftrong each image preffes on the fenfe,.
As Fancy's eye furveys the boiling wave
Lafn'd into foam with agitation fierce,
Then burfting in a loud tremendous roar!
Or, when on land the wat'ry deluge pours
In dreadful torrents, fweeping in one train
The jufl-earn'd labours of the peaceful hind.
But fee, the God of Nature, awful now
And great amidft the ftorur, puts forth his hand:,
The ocean lleeps, and all the winds are ftill.
But keener tempefts now pervade; and man,
Obnoxious ftill to ev'ry wayward blaft,
�V
C 7 1
{Feels the chill froft on all his fenfes feize;
The drooping cattle penfive feek the ftied,
And in dumb filence let their wants be known.
The red-breaft, too, a humble refuge feeks,
Makes man his friend, and craves his little dole;
"Sweet Bird! though fimple thou and ufelefs deenvd.
Thou liv'ft immortal in the Poet's lay.
But let me pafs th' affii&ive tale of woe
That draws our feeling forth, where haplefs now
The poor benighted trav'ler breathlefs lies
A vi&im to the florin's reftftlefs rage,
T h ' unnumber'd miferies that prey on man,
In his rough paffage through this checquer'd fcene,
Prefs on the Poet's heart; hence we obferve
What juft refle&ions ufher from his mind,
Alive to ev'ry virtue; panting ftill
To meliorate each woe that mo rtals feel.
And thou, great Howard! facred to the Mufe
(Might ihe but dare € interrogate thy fhade,)
Waft thou the firft of all the " gen'rous band,
Who, limit with human woe, redreftive fearch'd
Into the horrors of the gloomy goal?'''
"No! Thomfon wept their woes; an-d inward felt
What fympathizing fpirits only feeL
His gen'rous mind was ever prompt to aid
With counfel or with wit; to cheer diftrefs;
T ' inflrud', admonilh, and to blefs, mankind.
*Twas he too fang Britannia *; much Ihe owes
To his fuperior genius; for, his fong
Stoop'd not to party; but,, afpiring ftill,
And emulous to roufe her fleeping fons,
Held up to view fair Liberty's bright form,
Mild, yet majeftic; bold as erft Ihe ihone
In the bright forum of illuftrious Rome.
Through all this poem matchlefs beauties rife,
And ftrong defcription marks each nervous line;
* Britannia, a poem.
�r s i
lefs the cliaims of d l e g o r j pleafe
Than the jiift maxims that his verfe conveys*
Hear what that Mufe prophdtkally frngs,' . \
And let each Briton ponder on the thought :
But, foon as Independence ftoops the head*
To vice enflav'd, and yice-created wants;
Then to fome foul corrupting hand, whofe Wafte
Thefe heighten'd wants with fatal bounty feeds;
From man W m a ^ ' t h e flack'ning ruin, runs}
Till the .whole ft ate, unnerv'd, in flav'r y: ftnkf ! "*
Nor let the Mufe forget the friendly lay
T o virtuous Taitfot f due; his high defert
Sands- fairrecofded' in |)kthetic Vetffe,
Uhmixt with adulation. ThomfohT thou
^
Difdain'dfi: the vtsial ftmg. Thy nobler foul
Still rofe fuperior to fome low defigris;'
Thy grateful heart,* fu-fceptibie and
firm,
Imbib'd each ftrong imprefiion; always felt
The warm emiltion.4 of a rnuvl furchar'g'd
With obligation"sy n#er to be repaid.
Hence glow-d-the fervour of thy adi-rc foul-,
Diifuffive, yet fincere;' collecting all
The noble vk*wes:that-aderh'd thy friend*
His mild endearing manners, that attach'd
T h ' admiring audience, with fach other pleas'd.
Illuftrious Eardf thrice happy they whofc worth
Procurd the meed of tliy immortar lays,
T o placet&eir virtu-es in "the &r-ongefHight, f)
Still unimpair'd by time!
But who fhall thine'rehearTe! Say, who will" rife
With pow'rs lufficient to enrich the theme,
y^nd paint thy genuine merit, riling ftill
As more thy beauties ftrike each raviih'd fenfe !
<
f See Liberty, a poem, part IT. 1. 495 to 500,.
t See hisjpoem to the memory of Lord Chancellor Talbot*
•
FINIS.
�
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Verses to the memory of James Thomson, Author of the Seasons, &c.
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[1798] per National Library of Scotland
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8 pages
16 cm
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Text
4
A
VINDICATION
OF
T H E
Church of Scotland,
F R O M
T H E
Malicious and Groundless Aspersions
O F
Mr. William. Dugud.
W I T H
AN
INTRODUCTORY
EPISTLE
in Defence of the C h u r c h o f Scotland, f r o m
the Charge of Persecution : A n d the
Behaviour
of
LONDON:
Printed for J . Bell, at the Bible and
CrossKeys
in Cornh
��A
N
Introductory Epistle
To Sir James Steuart, of Good trees, Kt,
and Bart, and Member of Parliament
for the City of Edinburgh.
S I R,
THE Zeal you have exprest both for
the Ecclefiaftick and Civil Rights
of your Country5 may oblige any one
to pay theutmostRegard to your
Character.Youcould give no higher
Testimony
of your Sincerity, than by
preferring its Interest to all your private Advantages, which
Sacrifice to the Resentment of a Party, who are
intent
up
every Impediment to their Designs. Therefore as you
stood firm against all Attempts of Violence and Unnatural Severities, I could n
a2
Truth
�An Introductory•Epistle.
Truth of which your self can vouch, in Concurrence
with many others.
1 was Ambitious toobserveyour Commands in giving these P
Compared with the Representation Mr. Dugud gives
of his own Case, wherein it is Obvious to the Meanest
Capacity, that there are no Attempts omitted to
involve the Church of Scotland in a new Scene of
Troubles. And therefore when their Authority, which
is so well Secured to them by Law, and unalterably
Estabish'd by the Union, is insulted withsuchscandalo
Power, to connive at those insolent Attempts, which
would effectuallysupersedetheir whole Jurisdiction.
This Person makesuseof Her Majesty's Letters of
Presentation, not only as an Argument to Stifle all
their Inquiries into his Character, and Conversation,
hutalsoto Bully them into a Compliance with his
Demands
against the Authority ofthoseCensures,they had
justly
past
u
have the World believe were nothing but a contrived,
heap of Calumnies, industriously invented to prejudice
his Reputation, for accepting the Queens Presentation to the Paris
The question is not whether the Restoringthe Act
of Patronages be Justifiable or not, or whether it be
anInfringementof the Jurisdiction of the Church of
Scotland, or a Violation of that Security which was
granted to them by the Union, oragainstthe general
Opinion of the Church of Scotland ; but whether by
that Act they are obliged to accept aPersonwithout
examining his Ability for theMinisterialOffice,and
whether his Character be suitable to those Rules, Christianity
�An Introductory Epistle.
obliges the Governors of the Church to
observe
Restraint of their Authority in this Respect, their
Connivance at Irregular and Scandalous Persons
would be to Betray the Trust Our Lord hath reposed
in them, and to give up their Constitution they are
obliged to preserve. And what can be a greater
Blemish to Her Majesty's Character, so Adorn'd with
Piety and Virtue, than to suppose She would make
use of Her Right of Presentation, to fill up
those
Churches in Her Gift with Scandalous andInsufficientMinisters? N
they had given sanction to Men of an Immoral
Behaviour
to assume t
Exemplary Virtues are as necessary, as the Knowledge
of several Parts of Literature, to keep up its Dignity,
and to render them fit toanswerthe Noble Ends and
Purposes of Religion.
°Tis surprizing Insolence in a Young Man to give
such a Defiance, as he has done, to all the
Judicatories
his Immoralities from the Notice of the world, by
insinuating,
That their common Prejudice to the
Queen's Letter of Presentation was the Reason of
their Rejecting him. The Method he has taken can
never be thought effectual for his Vindication by
Indifferent
as he pretends why should he decline a Legal Trial
which any onemustthink would have been the only
Step he could have taken to silence the Clamours of
Malice or Prejudice, and to convince the Worlds (if
there had appeared nothing in these Reports,) That
his accepting the Queen's Letters had been the Cause
of the Chu
Judges.
�An Introductory Epistle.
of all the severe Usage he had met with. But to
Insult
Execution of it and to use all the Artifices
imaginable
to stifle
Guilt of Licentiousness, that it rather confirms the
Reports, andstrengthenstheSuspicionof it. These
are such mean Subterfuges, which none can judge a
regular Defence, however they may serve to conceal
the Blemishes of a sullied Reputation. For if evasions, Assertions,
Serve thepresentpurpose,shouldpassfor an Apology,
I do not doubt but the greatest Villain might appear
as Harmless and Innocent as Mr. Dugud.
Can he imagine either the Queen or Parliament
inclined to justify his Conduct, without, at the fame
time, believing them to be Partial, when there has
beensoclear a Proof by sufficient witnesses, that he
is guilty of all those Immoralities he is Charged with ?
Be must imagine, either that Her Majesty willinsiston
their Acceptance of him,notwithstandingallthe
Evidence
Virtue of Her Letters of Presentation; or else,That
Her Majestyshouldbe lead to Regard his
Representation
against him by the Several Judicatories of the
Church,composedof so many Pious,Wife,and
Learned
but a Delirious Man would depend on; and none but
an III Man could hope, Her Majesty would be brought
tosodishonourablea Resolution.
It is very likely he may have some Hopes of
bespeaking
of
�An Introductory Epistle.
the whole Presbyterian Constitution, as
contrary to Scripture, Reproaching it with the
Invidious
Name o
Characters of several of their Celebrated Ministers,
Impeaching their Libels of Nonsense andAbsurdities,tho'theseare but poo
tend to justify his Innocence, as the Noise and
Rattling
The Argument he urges for the breach of hispromisedSubmission
is the Alteration of his Opinion ; for tho' he had
owned it, yet he tells us, This was owing to his
Ignorance
and
Necessity(asmaybe supposed) run him into a
Detestation
belief, that the Constitution of the Church of
England is the most exact Copy of the
Government
of the Pri
determine how far this Plea mayseemcredible. But
I have known it very frequent among ourselves,when
a Young Man has so sunk his Reputation, that he
can't find aSubsistenceamongstthe dissenters, he flys
to the Church as the onlyConstitutionthat can
support
him
Character should pursue him, it is commonly interpreted to be theE f f e c to
This very Pretence has lead the Church to give
sanctuary
to
should have made themAbhorredby any Community hi
the World. We alwaysexpectourResentmentof their
conduct,
to be requited with theseverestReflections
they can cast upon us. So that we do not wonder,
when they launch out into an Extravagant Zeal for
the Church, which, inConsequence,transportsthem
into
�An Introductory Epistle.
into the Extreams of Prejudice against us, which
they express by representing us much with the fame
Colours, and loading us with the like Epithets this
young Man makes use of to brand the Church of
Scotland with
The more moderate Part of the
Clergy, who are pleased toConversewith us, know the
Truth of this as well as I do ; for which Reason,
they generally entertain suspicious Apprehensions of
their new Converts.
Mr. Dugudinsinuatesthis Procedure of the Church
of Scotland against him, to be of the same kind with
Persecution for Considencesake,and therefore puts it
upon the Level with that Treatment, which, he says,
the Episcopal Ministers have met with since the
Revolution ; whom he would represent as
extrem
Sufferers upon the Account of their differing
Principles
and op
of the Presbyterians is compared with those Severities the Episco
the gentle Corrections of an Indulgent Father and
the scorching Heat of Nebuchadnezzar's Furnace.
I shall endeavour, in a succinct Account, to clear this
by Facts, as I find them related in the Account of the
Proceedings of the Parliament of Scotland, which
met at Edinburgh M a y the 6th,
and several
other well attested Pamphlets ; and the ratherbecauses
selves, have amused People with strange Stories of
Severities
Episcopal Clergy.
Episcopalians.
The Scots are divided into Presbyterians and
The Latter, when in Power,
executed
Humanity
it with that
�An Introductory Epistle.
Humanity had been quite defaced and extinguished
amongst that Sort of People. They were
apprehensive
Genius of the Country , therefore they came into all
the Measures of the Court, as being the only Method
they had to support their Establishment. This, in
Consequence,
lead them on to advance Prerogative,
to the Destruction of their Laws and Liberties, and
to a Bloody Administration both in Council and
Camp. Hence it was they branded the Principles of
the Presbyterians, with the reproachful Characters
of Sedition and Rebellion, and every thing else
which they thought would Blacken and make them
Odious.
how little ag
It must be owned, the Presbyterians were
tenacious
of the P
Church and State; they conceived them to be
founded
that Kings are appointed for the Good of the People,
and accountable to the Estates, from whom, in that
Country, they received their Authority they could
not be persuaded to come into any Principles destructive of their Legal C
which was ever a Limited Monarchy, and consequently opposed the Position of
was never established, either by Custom or Statute.
The Bishops, knowing how ungrateful this
Doctrine
Humane Nature, gave into all those Usurpations of
Power, which had a natural Tendency to suppress
every Restraint of it.
This brought them into a
Consent to those Sanguinary Laws whichpassedagainst
was to
�An Introductory Epistle.
the Presbyterians, and into allthoseOppressio
last, to a Surrender of their Liberties, in the Reigns
of King Charles the Second and James theSeventh,so
Bishops to be a great and insupportable Grievance
to the Nation; which mayeasilybe justified by
Considering
bad a great influence in Passing, and also their.
severe
Executio
They Enacted, That all Petitioning, Writing,
Printing, Praying, or Preaching, showing any
Dislike of the King's Absolute Prerogative and
Supremacy in Causes Ecclesiastical, or any
Dislike of episcopacy, should be punished as
Seditious.
Sess
Non-Conformists) who presume to exercise their
Ministry be punished as Seditious Persons, and
that all Persons, in Acknowledgment of his
Majesty's Government Ecclesiastical and Civil,
attend the Sermons of Episcopal Ministers;
Noblemen and Gentlemen refusing, to lose 'a
fourth Part of their Rents; burgesses their
Freedom,
and
Yeomen the fourth Part of their 'Moveables;
and others Twenty Shillings a Time, with
Liberty
Enacted, That the King, by the Virtue of his
Supremacy, may have a Power to dispose and
settle the external Government and Policy of
the Church, and emit filch Constitution's, Acts,
and Orders concerning the same Government.
�An Introductory Epistle.
as he in his Royal Wisdom shall think fit.
c 2 P2.sess 1 act 1
Further it was Enacted, That all who shall be
required to depone upon Oath, concerning their
Knowledge of Meetings, or Persons that had
been present at them, should declare the same,
on Pain of being Fined, Imprisoned, Banished,
or sent to the Plantations in the Indies, or
act 2.
elsewhere,
as
It was Enacted by the 5th act.,of the same
Session, That all outed Ministers who preached
or prayed in any House but their own, should
be Imprisoned till they find Bond for Five
Thousand Marks not to do the like again.
every Hearer to be Fined for every Offence, a Freeholder the fourth Part of his Yearly Rent;
every Farmer Twenty Five Pound Scots ; and
Sub-Tenant Twelve; each Servant a fourth
Part of their Wages; Merchants and Chief
Traders, not Living in Burghs, to be Fined
25
Scots;
and Infe
each was to pay half as much for Wife or Child
at Meeting.
By the same Act, those who
preachedinthe Fields, or in any House, where
the People flood Without-Doors, were liable to
Death and Consiscation: And Five Hundred
Marks Reward was promised to those, who' apprehended any, who pre
of those Meetings.
And afterwards all Baptisms, Ordinations,Marriages
upon the severest Penalties.
Preaching at Field
Mee
�An Introductory Epistle.
and Hearing with the like. I might mention many
other Acts subservient to these; but these are
these Men were acted.
sufficient
But as to the execution of these Acts, no Words can
sufficiently aggravate the Barbarity of it. The most
Rhetorical Declamation would give but an imperfect
Image of Such a horrid Scene of Cruelties; and it is
impossible to give a Detail of them, without seeming
to extend the Degeneracy of humane Nature to an
excess. Many were formally executed, others
murdered
in
Slaves to Barbados', others vexd andoppressedwith
illegal and exorbitant Fines and Exactions; many
Families were cast out of their Habitations some
had their Houses burnt down, others shut up, their
Goods and Moveables all seized„ and their Crop and
Cattle disposed of at the Pleasure of their Persecutors. And b
Sanguinary and oppressive Laws, they gave Orders to
the Officers of the Army to execute the same, which
they did with so much Severity, as it strikes one
with horror to express it. They were left at Liberty to put w
they thought fit upon thelaws,whichwasneverac ordingtothemostmercifulpart.
Men inspired with the most
Savage Disposition, Treating the People in the
same hostile Manner as if they had been declared
Th're
Enemies t
�An Introductory Epistle.
There was an Inconsiderable Number of People
call'd Cameronians * who
disowned
the Civil Government, which tho'it
was a Distracted Notion, yet these
Severities lead them to Embrace it.
Thereforethosewho did not approve of
their Principles, yet thought theydeserv'dCompassion,and would by no means be
them, knowing many of them to be Persons of Singular
Piety. The Nation, however, wasextremelyharassed
by the 23d, ACt of the said Parliament of James
the 7th which made it Treason to refuse to
Abjure the Cameronian Declaration, which that
Party had Fixt on Church Doors and elsewhere,
threatening to Treat those who pursued them for
their Lives in the same Manner, as they themselves
were Treated. The Soldiers were Commissoned to
Impose this Abjuration upon all Travellers,Gentlemen
Refusers immediately upon the Spot. No man was
Suffered to Travel about his Ordinary Affairs
without
a Pas
Passes were not Forged, and those who refused it were
immediately hurry*d to Execution.
This dreadful Ravaging of the Country, and
Loading
might Naturally Prompt People to a Self Defence.
And thisoccasionedthat first Insurrection at
Pentland
with Highland Hofts,* which stirred
up that greater Insurrection at Both
every p
Hills,
�An Introductory Epistle.
Bridge. ^ Andhavingdisarmed
all the Nobility and Gentry of the
West, and other Parts of the
Kingdom^
and Levied Money and Provisions to Maintain them
contrary to Law, they brought the Kingdom into
most
Deplorable circumstances.
who assumed a Parliamentary Power, and Imposed
Bonds upon theSubjectsin an Illegal and Arbitrary
Manner, and gave Orders to the Army to execute
their Imperious Commands, who Pulled Sheriffs off
the Benches5 and disturbed other Magistrates in the
Execution of their Office. So that at last King
James usurped an Absolute power,
RepealedallLaws which Secured th
Religion, Erected Mass~Houses, Popish, Schools5 and
' Seminaries, which Tyrannical Proceedings made way
for the Glorious Revolution.
This is a Short Account of the State of Scotland
in the Reign of King Charles the Second, and
James the Seventh4 which is not only Attested by
many Authentic Printed Accounts, but also bymanyLivingwitness
it to every one to apply proper Epithets to such a
Scene of Calamities. If such Bloody Principles as
these
are Interwov
there cm be no Stronger Argument in the World to
throw it out of the Articles of Christianity % the
doctrines
of which so
Charity,Kindness,Gentleness,Meekness,Patience
and Good Will to Mankind, that if would be the
�An Introductory•Epistle*
highest Contradiction and Absurdity to suppose any
ones Article may be Supported by Brutal Passion and
Fury, To Love and Hate., to be Friendly and
Oppress%
Reverse of each others that nothing can make Religion
look more Ridiculous, than to Imagine the Christian
doctrineShouldgive sanction to such Contrarieties.
to
This Principle of Persecution might% with a
better Grace, be Adopted by Pagans, because they
wanted Rational Evidence to Recommend their
Idolatrous worship but 'tis meerburlesquingDivineRevelation to
3
Tis not to be wondred at, if the Scots, by this
extravagant Usage, were thrown into a Ferment, and
vented their Rage upon the Episcopal Clergy, at
the Revolution^ who were looked upon to be the
Authors of all those Hardships they were oppress with,
It was this apprehension which let loose the Fury of
the Populace upon many of them, which the
Government
put a Sto
as was said before^ when the Convention met% they
Declared the Bishops to be aninsupportableGrievanceto the Nation*, and some
will excute5 when they consider how great an Influence
they had in making the above-mentioned Laws, and
in that severe Execution of them, which drove
many into a Compliance against their Inclination,
and Hurried others to a Fatal Execution.
However, the Presbyterians, who found not only
a Release from their severe Prosecutions by the
Revolution,
but were prefer'd to Power% did not
forget to act agreeable to the character of Christians.
Therefore instead of resenting the Cruel Usage they
had
�An Introductory • Epistle*
had met with theytemper'd their Government with
all Moderation and Christian Prudence. They might
have made it Death to deny the Parliamentary
Settlement, The Title of King William and Queen
M a r y , to be present at the Jacobite Conventicles,
Nonconformity to Presbyterian Government, or
have Plunder'd and Murderd those of the contrary
Party $ but instead of ImitatingsuchHarshPrecedents,they grant
Clergy, by which such of them as were Possest of
Churches at the making of the Act, were confirmed
in thePossessionof their Benefices. This appears
by that Act concerning the Church, Dated J u l y
the 16tb } 1695. The Abridgment of which is as
follows.
Our Sovereign Lord, being Sensible of the
Hurt and Mischief that may ensue, upon the \
exposing People's Minds to the Influence of
thoseMinisters,who refuse to give Proofs, required
by L a w , of their good Affection to the
Government,
and
that all gentle and easy Methods should be
us'd to Reclaim Men to their Duty, whereby
the present Establishment of this Church may
bepreserved, &c. thought good to allow, with
the Advice and Consent of the Estates in
Parliament,
themselves Conform to the Act of Parliament,
1693, Intituled An Act for taking the Oath of
Allegiance, and the Assurance, a New and
further
present Tear 1695, to come in and take the
laid Oath of Allegiance, and to Subscribe the
same,with the Assurance, betwixt and the said
Day
9
�An Introductory•Epistle*
Day
and that either before the Sheriff or
Sheriff's Deputy of the Shires, or the Provost, or
the Bailiffs of the Respective Burghs, or any
other Inferior Magistrate of the Bounds where
they Live, or before any Privy Counsellor, to
be reported to the Lords of "His Majesty's Privy
Council, or their Clerk, within the Space of One
and Twenty Days, after the Date of the said
Certificate, declaring, That all such as shall
duly come in and qualify themselves, as said
is, and shall Behave themselves Worthily in
Doctrine,
Life, and Conversation, as becomes
Ministers of the Gospel, shall have, and enjoy
His Majesty's Protection as to their Respective
Kirks, and Benefices and Stipends § they always
containing themselves within the Limits of
their Pastoral Charge within their said Parishes,
without offering to exercise any Power, either of
Licencing,
or Ordaining Ministers, or any part
of Government in General Assemblies, Synods^
or Presbyteries, unless they be first duly assumed
by a Competent Church Judicatory 5 in which
Case* it is hereby further declared, That the
aforesaid Ministers, first qualifying themselves
as above, may be assumed by the Respective
Church Judicatories to which they belong, and
shall apply, to partake with them in the present
Established Government thereof &c. But such
Ministers as shall not come in betwixt and the
said D a y , are hereby, and by Force of this
present Act, ipso Facto, deprived of their Respective
Vacant, without a n y further Sentence
~ And
if afterwards any Minister settled in a Church
c
or
Kirks, and St
�An Introductory Epistle.
or not, be judged fit to be assumed, heshallbe
allowed to qualify himself, by taking the Oath
of Allegiance fJ?c. tho* the first of September
be Elapsed.
I believe it would be difficult either for theEpiscopalMinis
England, who have been so lavish in pouring out
Complaints of hard Usage, to give anInstancefrom
history,
of so much Moderation and Mildness to a
Set of ministers whoactuallydisownedthe C i v l
Government $ several of whom, as appears by this,
Act, were continued Six Tears in Possession of their
Benefices, without taking the Oath to King
William,
for the Depriving them In the years 1689, and
1690, there were about 315 turned out by the
Committee;
William and Queen Mary \ yet we may observe
there was all the Condescension shewn them that
could be. Room was still left for their
Continuance
in t
the Oath of Allegiance, and behavethemselvesas
become Ministers of the Gospel, without being
obliged
Church.
The Church of England, as Free as it would be
thought from all Imputations of Persection, can
hardly venture to Censure this Proceeding as such,
Since they have gone as far in Excluding their own
Members who have refused to give that Security
the C i v i l G o v e r n m e n t required for its own safety.
But as to Dissenters they have gone a Degree further%
Favourable
having
�An Introductory•Epistle*
Favourable Comprehension to them, that the
very
Attempt of it would have brought on the
utmost
Exclamations of Danger to the Church, tho5 they
have took the Oath of Allegiance, Sub]cribed their
Doctrinal Articles, and were inseparable from the
Interests of the Church at the time of their Real
Danger, have paid their Taxes with a great deal
of Chearfulness%and exerted themselves upon every
Occasion,
with an equal Zeal to Support the Civil
Government.
But more effectually, to Silence ail the Cavils
of
a Clamorous party, it may be easily made
appear
that, according to their own Principles, they could
have comply'd with theEcclesiasticalConformityrequiredby Law.
There is an Act I
m
That the Disposal of the External Government,
and Policy of the Church, was declared to be in
His Majesty, and his Successors, as an Inherent
Right of the Crown, and that he might Settle
and Dispose of it as he thought fit in his Royal
Wisdom*
This past with the Concurrence of the
Lords, the Bishops in Parliament and their Clergy
and Laity submitted to it without any further
Reluctancy. The Consequence is plain^ that
pursuant
to this
the present Constitution of the Church, as it is
now Established by theSuccessorsof King Charles
the Second, with the Consent of Parliament. This
induced many of them quietly to submit, and there
can be no other Reason for the Refusal of any, but
that they looked upon all the Acts of King William
and Queen M a r y , and our Present Sovereign, as
c
2
so
�An Introductory•Epistle*
so many usurpations of the Supreme Power.
However
Consciencesuponthis Head, had not same Great
Men dissuaded them from a Compliance, partly that
they might make a more considerable Figure at
Courts and seem necessary to the Government, and
partly because they knew this would recommend them
to the Notice of the Church of England^ and had
them to Sympathize with them*
.
many cou
* After the Estates had lodged
Gove nment
r
°f th* Church in
the Hands of the PresbyterianMinisters,t
the
purge out scandalous and insufficient
Ministers,
and to Suspend and Deprive such as they
found Contumacious and Guilty. '
The first Assembly met October the 16th, 1690,
consisting of an Hundred Forty Seven Ministers%
and Forty Seven Ruling Elders, who proceeded
according to the Power they were entrusted with,
hit with that Gentleness and Moderation as the
Episcopal Party never gave them any Pattern for9
and this will appear by the following Instances. '
1 . It is manifest by the Index of their Acts
not Printed, that on the Sixth Day of their
Meeting., there was a Declaration publicly
made by the Moderator, in the Name of the
Assembly, that they would depose no Incumbents Simply, for their Ju
the Government of the Church, &c.
2•
In their Printed Instructions to their
Comittee
for
�An Introductory•Epistle*
against the late Conformist* and that they
proceed in the matter of Censure very deliberatel y , for as none might have occasion to complain
of their Severity.
3. That if they were informed of any
precipitant
or unwar
Consequence to the Churchy they Should stop
those Proceedings till either the Synod or
the next General assembly had taken Cognizance
of it,
as may beseenby the Acts of theGeneralassembly,Pri
Masman, in 1690.
4. In their Letter to his Majesty, they
acquaint
Him they
Commissioners,
That none of the late Conformist should be removed from the
as were Insufficient, or Scandalous, or
Erroneous,
or supin
due Trial, should be found Orthodox in
Doctrine,
of C
Peaceable, and Loyal Conversation, and who
should be judged Faithful to God and the Government.
Thus the assembly concluded, with great
Satisfaction
Time against none of the Episcopal Clergy ^ but one
whoseDepositionthey confirmed, for Celebrating an
Incestuous Marriage,
And they deputed Two of
their Number to attend his Majesty^ and give him
an Account of this Proceeding.
The Assembly had appointed two Committees *
One
to his Maje
�An Introductory Epistle.
One for the South,composedof grave andexpertenc'dMiniste
visit the Churches, to purge outinsufficientMinistlers,and to re
exercised by Inferior Judicatories.
At the first
Meeting ofthosefor the South, they received many
of the Episcopal Clergy into MinisterialCommuni
Church, and reversed Sentencespastagainstseveral
others by Inferior Judicatories, and depos'd some
who declined their Authority5 as they were empowered
to do by Act of Parliament,
This moderate Proceeding of the Church threw
the Jacobites into a new Fit of Clamouring, knowing the Conseque
their Interest, and therefore% to support the Credit
of their Insinuations, they imputed the precipitant
Management of some of the Inferior Judicatories
to the whole Church, tho* at that TimetheseCommitte
Pretences they furnished cut their Complaints,
which they posted up to Court, and by the Interest of
some High-Church Men in England, (whom they
always found ready to receive any Prejudices against
Presbyterian Government) they procured an
Order
were no way Culpable, unless Acting according to
Law can be charged as a Fault. Tho' the King was
pleased to makeuseof this extraordinary Stretch of
power which, as the Constitution then stood was
judged by some to be Illegal, yet they submitted%
knowing what powerful Enemies they had to conflict
with, till they had an Opportunity of giving his
Majesty
�An Introductory Epistle.
There were divers Artifices made use of to deprive
the Church of the good Opinion of hisMajesty,and
also to divide them among themselves, which would
have had great Success> had not some Incidents
given
an Interru
of L a Hogue came to Scotland, they could notconcealth
their Old Master King James, which very much
cur'd the King from giving ear to their Remonstrances for the future.
But the Parliament which met in April
1693, who best Knew the State of theirCountry
Law, and the dangerous Consequence of those
Proceedings of the King, which, very probably, he
was betrayed into> by the invidious Intimations of
somenearhis Person, who wanted neither Will nor
Prejudice to overturn the whole PresbyterianSettlemen
Importunity of the Court, and to assume the
Episcopal Clergy by the Lump. Therefore by
their Act of M a y the 23d, They enjoyed a l l
Ministers,
of what Persuasion forever3 to take
the Oath of Allegiance, and to Sign the
Assurance
by a
the prevailing Humour of Jacobinism in the
episcopal
Clergy, for, n
with the General assembly, there were not above
Thirty of them who took the Oath. On June the
12th, 1693, They Enacted, That no Person be
admitted,
within
�An Introductory • Epistle*
within this Church, without he first take the
Oath of Allegiance, and assurance, subscribe the
Concession of Faith, and declare the same to be
the Concession of his own Faith, and own it
to be true, and that he acknowledge Presbyterian
Government to be the only Government of this
Church, and that he never will, directly or indirectly, endeavo
Church, 0V.
The Assembly when they met, notwithstanding
somedispleasingDifficulties thrown in their Way%
addressedthemselvesto act with all Moderation, according to the T
might give the best Testimony of it, they made an
Act of their own, Discharging all ChurchJudicato
Clergy, who had not yet qualifyedthemselvesaccordingto t
many as made Application to them upon the Terms
of the Act. They concluded with great satisfaction
to his Majesty's commissioner, and left the
Execution
appointed for the South and North.
These Committees proceede
commission.
That for the South, Meeting with
less Opposition%receivedseveralEpiscopalMinisters
according to the Act % Others they put off] till they had
Legally cleared themselves of the Accusations
received again them. That for the North deposed
Five for habitual Drunkenness, and other
Immoralities
the sober Episcopal Clergy they^ received upon due
Application $ but most were deprived by the Civil
Government, for Refusing the Oaths.
This
�An Introductory•Epistle*
This is a short Extract, taken from the * larger
Accounts of the Proceedings of the Church of
Scotland.
And if
or Religious Community can be preserved without
it. To reform them]elves from Men of Immoral
Characters cannot, under any Pretence, come under
soseverea Denomination, since 'tis nothingelsebut
a Restraining the Sensitive Part, when it rises up in
Rebellion against Reason, to disturb the Peace of the
Society to which they belong. It is agreed, on all
Hands, that Vice and Immorality are pernicious to
every Community, and so of right it belongs to
the Civil Magistrate to punish it.
Therefore
the Depositions of Such who were Licentious, cannot
he interpreted severe, since as every Civil Constitution ought to provide against
Should every Religious Society, abstracted from all
particular Denominations and Opinions, guard
against
theInvasionsof Extravagance, which would soon undermine all the Restraints Re
defeat its noble'Design,which is to correct the corrupt
Prejudices of our Minds, and to direct us in every
action to glorify our Great Creator, and promote the
Common Good of each other.
As to those, who have lost their Preferments for
Refusing the Oath of Allegiance to the Civil Government, this can, in no Se
it self and to demand a sufficient Security for that
Purpose.
How far theyshouldindulge a Protection
to their Persons, while they behavethemselvesPeaceably,and without any
Welfare, I Should determine on the merciful Side of
at
the
question^
same Time, when they are
�An Introductory Epistle.
learning of Rome, have Played every Artifice upon •
ustoRegain their vast Revenues^ andInfallibleJurisdiction.But th
back to the Romish Persuasion5 has brought us into
great variety of Troubles. Indeed, the ill examples
and consequences of Popery abroad, might give a
considerableassistanceto our Firmness and Prejudice
against it $ but when we reflect onthoseFatal
Experiments
undermine us, one would think nothing couldstrikeus
with a greater Dread of it. Throughout Queen
Mary's Reign, the Papists made Fuel of the
Protestants
with
•Elizabeth, perused Her with continued Plots and
Attempts upon Her Person, andstirredup that
Invasion
had given Order to exclude King James and. Seconded
that with the Gun-Powder-Treason, In the Reign of
King Charles the First, they laboured to introduce
themselves by a French Marriage, promoted the
Civil Wars, and the Irish Rebellion, and then
pretended his Authority and Commission for it.
In the Reign of King Charles the Second, they
Fired the City of London, and had f o r m e d Deep
Plot both against his Person and Government. And
in the time of King James the Second, I need not
mention how they Hurried that unfortunate Prince
into an extravagant Zeal to promote their Designs,
which entirely ended in his Ruin andBanishment.But
Alas Iamongstall the Arts5 Plots, and Attempts, which
they have formed against us, there is not one that
has had a more Fatal influence, then that
of
Dividing
us
'
Is it then a bard- Matter toGuessfromwhat Quiver
that
�An Introductory•Epistle*
that Fatal Arrow was drawn, I mean that Sermon
which was Preached at St. Paul's, which gave Rise
to those Heats and Animosities, that divided Man
and Wife, Brother and Sister, Master and Servant,
Neighbour and Neighbour ? And what was yet more
Melancholy, this Spirit 0f Discord was suffered by
the Judicial Hand of God, to spread throughout all
the Dominions of Great Britain. And what is the
Consequence of this dreadful infatuation? We were
alarmedwith the Imaginary Danger of the Church,
when by this means it is brought into a Real one $
for now we are divided from the Revolution, that
was brought about by the peculiar Agency of the
Supreme Being, whichsavedourConstitutionfrom an
entire Dissolution, our Religion from the abuses of
Popery, and our Persons from the Barbarity and
Cruelty of it. We are divided from those Victories 4
of the late Wars, and the gloriousConsequenceswe
mightexpectfrom them. We are divided about our
Commerce, which brought the Treasure of the World
in upon us, whereby Multitudes of our Poor, for want
of work, are reduced to a Starving condition. And
to mention no more, what can we expect since we
seem also divided from commonSense,'andare
willing
but that some Heavy Judgment of God will fall on
us, and teach us Wisdom, Love, and Charity, by the
extremity of ourSufferings?
This new and extraordinary Step inimposingFresh
Hardships upon Dissenters, after so manypublicDeclarationsin the
Principles ofthe Church of England aresouncertain
as weshallnot know when to depend on them. In the.
reign of King Charles the Second, it was voted
�The Introductory Epistle.
in Parliament, that theProsecutionsagainstDissenters,were Grievous to the Su
the Kingdom. However, this did not stop the
Vigorous Execution of the Penal Laws against them,
who were harassed with Rage and Fury, till
Nation was alarmed with the Apprehensions of a
General Ruin. This brought the Bishops to the
Temper of recommending liberty of Conscience, and
a Tenderness to their Dissenting Brethren, in that
Celebrated Petition they presented to King James |
the Consequence of which was their Imprisonment in
the Tower, at which the Dissenters were not at all
behind Hand in Joining in the Public! Concern^ and
Consideration.
the Dissenters, notwithstanding the King had
given them a Release from their Sufferings, by an
Extraordinary Dispensing Powerr were yet apprehensive
of the design of it. But because they accepted of
this Indulgence of Worshipping God according to the
dictates of their ownConsciences,which they justly
conceived they had a Natural Right to, they were
reproached with falling in with Arbitrary Measures 5
as if they were a People so fond of the Anguish of
persecution,
that theymustnecessarilycontinue under
all the Extremities of it,, till they had a deliverance
by a Legal Toleration $ which is so wild a
least the want of Compassion to the Sufferings of
Humane Nature, could invent.
The Bishops,. when they saw? their whole
Constitution^
were alarmed with an excess of fear, left- their
'
severities
Co
and
�The Introductory Epistle.
Severities towards the Dissenters should have
them in to such a Warmth of Resentment, as would
lead them to take the Opportunity of Revenging
themselves,
tho" to the Hazard of the Publick Safety*
This brought them at least into a present conviction *
of their Error, which softened their Prejudices?
and cooled the Spirit of Persecution, which had Jo
visibly exposed them to so Manifest a Hazard,
And
therefore to prevent those mischievous consequences,
their Tempers were converted into compassiony and all
the Tenderness of Expression towards them nay, and
because they were apprehensive this might not be
sufficient to draw the Dissenters into a Reconciliation>
they Solicited the Prince and Princess of Orange,
to exert the utmost of their interest,for preventing
them from running into the King's Declaration, and
the design of Animating their Prejudices against the
Church.
3
Tis very probable the same Reason persuaded that
incomparable Statesman, the Marquise of Hallifax 3
to direct his ^Letter of Advice to them, wherein he
insinuates this double Caution: First,That they should
entertain a Suspicion of their new Friends ^ and
also that it would ha inconsistent with
Christianity,
the Public Safety, out of a Desire of Ease or
Revenge. And afterwards he declares, in behalf of
the Church Party, That their former haughtiness
towards Dissenters was quite extinguished ^ and
that the Spirit of Persecution was turned into a
Spirit of Peace, Charity, and Condescension;
that the Church of England was convinced of
its Error in being severe to them $ and all
thinking Men were come to a General Agreement
as we
�An Introductory•Epistle*
agreement,
no more to cut our selves off from
Protestants Abroad, but rather to enlarge our
Foundations, upon which we are to build our
Defences against the Common Enemy.
Besides
all
the Bishops would not stir one fot from their
Petition,
would be better than their Words given in their
famous
Petiti
Should offer.
The Dissenters, who had given the utmost Evidence, that they w
Confidence by the Whole of their Religions Conduct,
in the Course of their Sufferings, were glad that the
Church, tho^ by the Force of affliction, was brought
to a conviction and Acknowledgment of the Sin of
Persecution;
and therefore like Christians inspired
with the generous Part of Christianity, they gave
up their Animosity, and were forward to fall in
with every Overture which tended to Peace and
Unity.
This will be confirmed by two remarkable passages*
The first was of the Reverend Mr. Jer. White, who
was Chaplain to Oliver, and very well known to
divers
Stratagems, that were made use of to exasperate the
Dissentersagainstthe Church, and to divide them
from its Interest, endeavoured, by a particular Message to Mr. Whit
give an Historical Account of the Persecutions of
the Dissenters by the Church; which Mr. W^hite
verygenerouslyrefused for divers Reasons, and among
the rest, there was this Comical one, that he desired
the
�An Introductory Epistle.
the Messenger to tell his Master, That he would not
write against the Israelites to please the Egyptians. Which, at that ti
by a Number of the Clergy, who were met together,
that, to express their Gratitude, they deputed Two
of their Body to acknowledge it and also as a
further
Evidence
Gold, which he likewise refused, to convince them
that hescornedall such Mercenary Views \ adding
however this Caution, That they would go, and
Persecute no more for the future.
The other Passage carries a Stronger Evidence,
which was this. The Reverend Dr. Williams, when
he first came from Ireland, went, without any other
Design, to pay his Respects to that Great and
Learned
Man the l
timewith him,o f f e r e dto take his Leave $ which Mr.
How prevented by Pressing his Stay, intimating,s
That presently there would be anextraordinaryOccasionfor his Advice, W
happened for in a while after, there came in the
famous William Pen, and Mr. Lob, from King
James, with a Message, to desire them to Sign a
Paper, Expressing their Content to, and
Satisfaction
in the Kin
and likewise Engaging themselves to stand by
it. Which, after they had importunatelyrecommended
this, they were greatly Surprized, and for some time
silent,
but after they had recovered themselves, Dr.
Williams offered something to divert this
Proposal
and furthe
to consult with their Brethren. But this was
refused.
Upon w
must
�An Introductory • Epistle*
must: speak for himself* andsointroducedAnswer,with this Short P
was a M a n , who, being ill, had made use of
Quacks, till they had brought him beyond a l l
Hopes of Recovery
and then, finding how his
Case was, he sent for a Regular Physician, who,
when he had looked upon him, told him, It
was too late for any Service he could do him.
However, observing his Lips to bechappedwith
the Heat of the Fever, he ordered some in the
Room to dip a Feather in the Water Gruel he
saw in the Window, and wet his Lips with it,
which might a little refresh him. The
Gentleman
die
save their Credit, attributed his Death to this
Wetting of his Lips. Which Story the Doctor applied after t
had been Preaching up for many Years the
Doctrines
and the Unlimited Power and Prerogative of the
King, whereby they were reduced tothosedangerousCircumstances* so that
concur to Sign such a Declaration, the present
Misery they were in, would be charged upon
their Conduct Therefore as f a r as concerned
himself,
he made this Answer, T h a t he was
thankful to his Majesty for his Gracious Indulgence, in Al
than he would Sign such a Declaration, he
would humbly lay his Liberty at his Majesty's
Feet to Morrow. To which Answer, all the rest
of the Ministers gave their Assent.
Dr.
Williams hath further assured me, They
were
�An Introductory•Epistle*
so far from Complying withanyCondescensions
from the King in Favour of Popery * or any Attempt
which might give Jealousy of their Falling in with
suchMeasuresas were prejudicial either to the
Church of England, or to the Common Protestant
Interest * that when Sir Nicholas Butler came with
repeatedMessagesfrom the King to Sir John Shorter*
then Lord-Mayor, that he would let the Dissenters
have Guild hall-Chappel to Preach in, the Doctor
very freely hid before his Lordship the great
Inconvence
his Complying with such a Request \ which so fully
satisfied his Lordship, that he absolutely refused it.
and Mischief w
I could give many more instances of the generous
Behaviour of the Dissenters at this juncture towards
the Church, but these are sufficient to convince the
World, that they well understand the true Interest of
their Country% and the great Blessing we have in the
Enjoyment of the Protestant Religion ^ and that no
Temptation can induce them to joyn with the
Common Enemy, in Sacrificing its real Advantage
to gratify their Resentment, or their Indulgence
and Ease, This, while a Sense of the Merit of the
Dissenters, and the warmImpressionsof theirDeliverancelasted}was freely ack
of England with Relation to the Spirit of
Persecution,
for whi
retain some of their little Peevish Animosities} against the Dissenters, yet so
more Serious Heads of that great and worthy Body, see now their Error
them on it, till they hoped to have ruined them
e
2
by
�if
An Introductory Epistle.
by Men who pretended the highest Regard to
Religion,
late famed Writer has^ in this severe Mannerdescribed
will
make
them
wiser
-
1
''desire to know whether the Conduct of the C
altered for the better, or their Persecuting Humour
abated^ tho' by it they became Tools to the
papists
of Distress^ that the most Eminent amongst
them, with the general Approbation of the rest5
made solemn Declarations of Easing their Protestant Brethren
their Power. Yet when the Convocation in 1689
had by the Favour of Heaven, an Opportunity
of Performing those Promises, were there not a
Party among them, who resolved to keep Faith
as little with Scbifmaticks^ as some former
Councils
with
rejected all Terms of Accommodation, and
thought the very recommending to them such
Alterations in things indifferent, as would make
Conforming to the Church so easy, as few
Protestants
an Affront never to be forgiven * which was the
Foundation of the inveterate Malice with which
that glorious Prince, to whom we owe our
Religion
could the Bishops, even those who had finalized
themselves in defence^ of the Church receive better Quarter
�An Introductory
Epistle.
If the Violation of those Promises could be dispensed with so early after our e
present Age may justly think those Restraints are
entirely
worn
of
to trample upon all such Obligations% which now they
pretend were only Temporary. Therefore they
ridicule
our Exp
Thought we h i d , That they were under as lasting an
Obligation to observe their Promises, as they were to
regard those Precepts of the Gospel which require
Charity, and Forbearance in doubtfulDeputations,and G
have the less Reason to be surprised at this Unfaithfulness, when we may observe th
t out such Distinctions tosatisfytheirConsciences,as will elude the
Force of all oaths, and Arguments
to justify those Practices which stand
in a Defiance of them \ which shews they are as
Perfidious
in
to Us. How far these wretched Principlesmaydisposesomeweak
by the Completion of our affairs, God seems to be
Preparing
and probably our Pubic Treachery maystandfirst
in that long Catalogue he has to charge us with.
How can We, or our Posterity, ever depend on any
Declaration of this Sort of Men in our Favour, or
they expect the least Concurrence of assistance in any
future Calamity they may be exposed to• Theymustbe
extremelyStupid>to suppose their Oppressions laid
upon us can be Arguments to persuade us to this, for
if their Pleading for Depriving us of all Places in
the
�AnIntroductory•Epistle*
the Civil Government, which we have so faithfully
contributed to the Support of and Forcing our
Children
their Education, are the bestRecompense'sthey can
affo
of their Trouble,mustnot every one entertain a
Contem
And is it not very natural to expect, that
should
treated would be careful, more effetually to
secure
themselvesagainstsuchOppressiveKindnessesIt
was impossible to have thought on a more forcible
Method to prejudice Persons against them., than by
Putting this hardship upon their Children^ who
have a stronger Interest in their affection than all
their other Properties. The Dissenters ever thought
the End of Civil Government had been to preserve
their Natural Nights, and plead that it is evident,
God has given them as indisputable a Property to
their Children, as to their Lives, by that Care and
Concern he has wrought for them in their Constitution% that so
Restraint laid upon them, seems to militate against
the Laws of Heaven, and the Common Sense of
Mankind, as also a Prostitution of the very End
of Civil Government.
Have we not as much reason to upbraid the
know ourTransgression? We have took the Oaths of
Allegiance and Abjuration-, we have as readily
pay*d our Proportion of the pubic 'taxes as any 5
we have thrown in our Estates to support the Public
Credit we have been unanimous in the Design of
Maintaining the Protestant Succession in the
Injustice,
�An Introductory Epistle.
House
of Hanover our Loyalty to the
queen has been without Exception \ nay, tho* we
Challenge the most forward of our Enemies to Charge
us with any attempt upon the Tranquillity of the
Church, or State, ever since the Revolution yet%
we are Branded as a Set of Malignants, and rendered
the Administration, and even of being trusted with
the Education of our own Children.
uncapable of filling u
Can this Scheme of Politics Support the Church?
At the Revolution they own'd it to be a folly to
Persecute
their D
Terms of their Communion, and Divide themselves
from the Protestants Abroad * because it opened a
Gap to the Common Enemy, by which they were very
wear the Accomplishment of their Purposes* I wonder
what Reason there is, that makes it Sense now 5 there
is as fair aprospectas ever, that this Argument will
betray those, who espouse it% into their own Ruin.
We know it is a Popish Maxim to divide us, and
they giveinstructions,and Rules to their emissaries,
whereby they may promote Heats and Animosities \and
if those that are the immediateInstrumentsof our
presentConfusionare not their Tools, yet we are sure
from theCircumstanceswe are in, they flatter their
Expectation, that the Cause of Popery shall most
certainly succeed by it. We are frequently alarmed
with Accounts from Abroad of the great
Preparations
of the Pretender
for our Sins, Should suffer the Attempt tosucceed,can
we ever suppose he will place a Confidence in
those
for his Security, who in his Infancy drove him into
Banishment ? There is just as muchReasonto depend
on this9 as to expecta Roman Catholic will keep
i
Faith
�An Introductory•Epistle*
Faith with Hereticks. Or can any Person be so
stupid as to think the French King, who all along
has been represented as the greatest Usurper upon
the Rights of Mankind, and the Grand
Persecutor
it in England, when he has with so muchViol
just as wild an Imagination^ as to think God will
work Miracles for our Safety, when we havenotori
us in the Deliverance he gave us from the
Miseries
evident enough that great Numbers of Popish
Missionaries are crowded in upon us, their
expecta
of the Pretender are ready to receive him, we
have so great a Confidence in the Bona Fide
of the^ French King, that he will not support him>
Precautions which we might take for our Safety. The Nation
the Fears of the Friends to Her Majesty's just
Title and Person, and the Danger of the
Hanover Succession were never Stronger $ can
we think this a proper Season to divide Protestants, and p
between the Church and Dissenters, who differ
from them in no Essential Point? If this be
thought the Way to preserve the Church, and
the Protestant Religion, I shall as soon believe
that Fire will not burn, or thegreatestcontradictionsto comm
our
�An Introductory•Epistle*
Common Enemy will lets l i psucha fair
Opportunity
of Devourin
1 know, Sir, your Goodness will excuse this
Tedious Trespass upon your Patience% which I
should
not have ventured upon, but from an assurance
that your great concern for the Interest of our
Common Welfare, will bear with my Infirmity in
pouring out these Complaints. If I have said any
thing amiss, impute it to the Excess of my Trouble„
which is too great for Expression. We seem yet
but on the Borders of our Calamities, and I
Pray God strengthen your Faith and Patience
against
the Day of Tryal ^ as we
God seems to Threaten all the Dominions of
Great Britain with severe Tokens of his Displeasure, which may lead
Y Causes of those Troubles, your Country has
been affected with, as well as our own. I have
endeavoured, with all Faithfulness, to relate
facts that Respect one and the other 5 which as
I doubt not but you will find I have done with
the greatest Impartiality, so it gives me Hopes
that you will please to accept thissmallPerformance,as a Sincere T
Country, as well as your Self, From,
SIR,
your
most Faithful
and Obedient, Servant,
Andrew Lowe.
A
��(
1
T H E
Church of Scotland
VINDICATED
F R O M
T H E
Malicious and Groundless Aspersions
OF
Mr. William Dugud, See.
I
T is evident from Scripture, That the Ministerial Office is of Divin
for the better Obtaining the Important
Ends of it, (which are the Practice of
Virtue,
and
hath required a competent Knowledge and an
unblamable Conversation, asnecessaryQualificationsof such who are willin
Pursuant to this, the Church of Scotland have
manifested an agreeable Concern, in the many
Laudable Canons and Constitutionsthey have
appointed,
in Ref
none suffered to take upon them the Work of a
A
Minister
�Minister,
to wit, The Cure of Souls, or the Charge of
a Congregation, but such as have been previously
Licenced by Competent Judges to Preach as
Probationers for some Time. Or more
particularly
in t
Presbyteries to examine such Students in Divinity
who aresupposedto have made a competent Proficiency : And to t
Engaging solemnly to own and maintain theDoctrine,Worship,Discipline,and
the Church 5 and to be subject to its Judicatories,
and to follow no Divisive Courses, to the Prejudice of the Peace and Unity thereof.
During this Time of their Licence, they have
frequent Occasion to give Proof of their Fitness
and Qualifications for the Ministerial Office.
The Presbyteries in whose Bounds they Reside,
are strict in Observing their Carriage, and Dutiful Behaviour
fame. And when an Opportunity offers of
Settlings any of them in a particular Ministerial
Charge, then he is, in thePreferenceof the whole
Congregation, solemnly Ordained to the Work of
the Ministry, and entrusted with the Care of that
particular Charge. But this is not done before
his Passing a second Examination of hisLearning,Soundne
and Fitness for the Charge he is called to : And
if any Thing appears that should render him
unworthy of that Sacred Office, this Promotion
is not only stopped, but his License reversed,
and also such further Censures are inflicted, as
the
�(3)
the Scandals, Errors, or Immoralities he is
Convicted
of, s
Time antecedent to this, these Candidates are
specified,
by their Licence, to be in a State of
Probation, in Order to their moresolemnConsecration,therefore are com
Of this Rank and Number was Mr. William
Dagudy Student in Divinity, who, uponRecommendationand A
Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, was by them, according to
Custom,
examined March the 2 2d, Anno 1 7 1 0 ,
and after Licensed to Preach on July the 27th of
the same Year.
r
The Church of Burntisland being vacant, the
People of that Paroch, upon the 22d of January,
1 7 1 2 , offered to the Presbytery two Calls, one to
Mr. Ebenezer areskin,, Minister at Portmouge $ the
other to Mr, William Dugud, Probationer; each of
them Signed by Fifteen Persons, who claimed a
Right of Suffrage in the Election of a Minister,
with mutual Protestations of each Party against
the other.
The Presbytery, whose Right it is to decide in
this Competition, did not prefer Mr. Areskin,
tho5 an Ordained Minister, and one of their own
Number: But to allay the growing Ferment, and
to preserve Peace and Unity amongst that People,
they judged it most convenient to lay both these
Calls aside and earnestly recommended to the
Yet those who were for Mr. Digud's Cally were so
far from Yielding to this Peaceable and Healing
A 2
De
People
o
�( 4 )
Determination of the Presbytery, that, upon the
14th of February, they enter'd an Appeal from
it, to the Provincial Synod of Fyfe, to meet at St.
Andrew's the first Tuesday of April, 1 7 1 2 .
The Synod, after having fully heard allParties^endeavour
tho' without the desired Effect therefore they
peremptorily approved of the Determination of
thePresbyteryin Superseding both Calls $ and at
the same Time earnestly exhorted the People of
Burntisland to Christian Love, and Charity, and
Entreating them to lay aside all Strife and
Contention,
and
the Choice of a Pastor to watch over them for
their Spiritual Advantage. Whereupon Mr.
Dugud's Party were so dissatisfied, that they
Appealed
from
Generalassemblyof the Church of Scotland, who were
to meet at Edinburgh in May following.
This Appeal being, according to the usual
Manner, brought before the Committee,appoint
the General assembly. And there, in the
Presence
which was occasioned thro3 the Competition of
the two Calls, there was also a flagrant Report
spread Abroad, ofsomescandalousMiscarriages
which Mr. Dugud had been guilty of at Blair of
Athol, and dunkelden, Anno 1 7 1 0 , when he was
there at a Highland Hunting, To which, Mr.
dugadansweredbefore that Committee, That the
Hunting spoken of was before he was Licenced, and
that
�( 5 )
that the Report of his being Drunk was false« but
* as to Dancing, he had indeed (being muchpressedto
it) gone thro5 the Floor, a Thing he had heard,
grave Persons had often done. Here Mr. Dugud
not only extenuated his Miscarriages, but did
alsogrosslyprevaricate, as to the Time of that
Hunting, which was afterward made evident by
the Deposition of witnesses. The Committee
transmitted the Appeal, and Mr.Dugudconsideringthe Report, wh
might be prejudicial to his Cause, gave in a
Petition
with
Scandal before the Committee of Bills, and
Deferring
the Vene
it, in Order to his Vindication.
The Assembly referred the Appeal and Processes
about the Calls which were in Competition, to
be determined by theirCommission,who were to
meet immediately after the Close of the Assembly,,
And in Answer to Mr. Digud's Petition, tho*
they might have remitted that Scandal to be
T r y ' d after the ordinary Method, before the Inferiour Judicatories j yet Con
before the Committee for Bills, and atsucha
Juncture, when the Process, wherein he was
concerned,
was to be finally de
they gave this Instruction to their Commission%
That,
in the first Place, they should enquire into
the Scandal, and whether any Accuser would
appear before them, to give any Proof of if?
A
3
But
�( 6 )
But if no Accuser appeared, then they should
proceed to determine in the Causes, without
Regard to any Surmises against Mr. Dugud.
And the General Assembly further ordered, That
i f Mr. Dugud should be found Innocent of these
supposed Miscarriages, the same should be
intimated
Thecommission,upon the 16 th Day of May,
addressedthemselvesto examine this Affair,
pursuant to the Reference which was made to
them but none appeared to accuse Mr. Dugud.
Wherefore they went on to take Cognizance of
the two Calls which were in Competition, as
they had been laid before the Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy,
heard the Parties on both Sides, they approved
of the Conduct of that Synod and Presbytery, in
Superseding both these Calls.
And for the
further Vindication of Mr. Dugud"s Innocence^
the Committee appointed the Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy,
further into the Scandal as they should see fit*
The Occasion of this was, that tho' no Accuser
had at that Time appeared before the
Commission
ye
there were some Gentlemen in the Shire of Fife,
who were present in Company with Mr. Dugud,
at that Highland Hunting, who could when called,
give Evidence to the Truth of his Miscarriages.
Thus ended this Process, whereof Mr. Dugud
was pleased to complain, as being the first Round
he had obliged himself to run thro • the several
judicatories of the Church its true, in this
�( 7 )
Competition of Calls for the Church of Burntisland,
Mr. Dugud, a Probationer, was not preferred to Mr,
Areskin, a Minister of an untainted Character and
Reputation: But whether herein he met with
their Injustice or Severity, is left to any unprejudiced Judgment to determine.
Mr. Dugud, in the next Place, apply'd
himself
in private to some of the Ministers of the
Presbytery
of Kirk
submissively his indigent Condition, and that
being now disappointed of a Settlement in their
Bounds, he resolved to go North to his Friends,
from whom he expected Encouragement: And
in Order thereto, he earnestly besought them to
plead with the Presbytery for the Extract of his
License,
and a Testimonial. These Ministers to
whom he had applied, Judging Charitably of
Mr. Dugud, and Commiserating his Circumstances, did undertake, andafte
his Desire, as we shall now give an Account of.
Mr .Dugud, upon the 14th of August, 1 7 1 2 ,
addressed the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy for an
Extract
of
his good Behaviour among them. Some were
for Complying with his Desire, but others
objected,
and laid, Tha
of the Commission of the late General assembly 1
Wherefore, that some Regard might be shewn to
their Authority, it was agreed, That two Ministers should be sent to conve
of Naughtan and Parbroth, two Gentlemen who
Were said to have taken Notice of Mr. dugud's
A 4
Mis*
�(8)
Miscarriages at the Highland Huntings and that
these two Ministers Should report the Account
they gave, to thePresbytery,at their next
Meeting*
who
September, 1 7 1 2 , reported, They had
conversed
with these Gentlemen, who told them> That they
hadobservedsomeImprudencies in Mr. Dugud's Carriage at that H
Behaviour were offensive to him, and Such as he
thought unbecoming his character. Yet so great
was the Prejbytery's Compassion and Kindness to
Mr. Dugud, that,x upon this overly Account,
without anyg further Enquiry, they carried it by
a Majority, to grant him their Testimonial of his
good Behaviour within their Bounds, which was
delivered to him upon the 11th Day of
September,
prudently for Time to come. The Synod'sJudgm
Shall be taken Notice of in its proper Place.
When this Testimonial had been obtained,
there was no more heard of Mr. Dugud's going to
the North: And the following Event confirmed
the Suspicion of some, that tho3 this was the
Pretence
his License and a Testimonial, yet he had
some
other Design in View h for on the 27th of
November
or 7th of the same Month) Nominating Mr.
Dugud to the Church of Burntisland, was
offered
to the Presbytery, which they caused to be Read,
and defer'd their Confederation of it till their
following Meeting on December the 25th. The
* Presbytery
�( 9 )
Presbytery thought it necessary maturely to
Consider,
and to
in this matter, because it was new to them $ and
this was the very first Presentation brought
before
them, from the T
of Calling and Admitting Ministers into
Churches,
had been alter
Parliament, Restoring to Patrons the Power of
Presentation.
~
The Presbytery, at their Meeting, received a
Paper Sign'd by many of the Inhabitants of
Burntisland,
Craving Mr. Dugud might pass his
T r i a l s , in Order to his Admission to be their
Minister:
And Considering that all the usual
Parts of Examination could not be finished before the Ensuing Meet
of Fyfe, they referr'd the Settlement of Mr.
Dugud at Burntisland to the Determination of the
Synod, Resolving, in the mean Time, to go upon
Mr. Dugud's Examination, and accordinglypreferred
on it in Latin before the Presbytery, at their
/next Meeting, and also appointed him to Preach
in the Church of Burntisland every Lord's-Day
till that Time. Here the Presbytery went on
with too great a Precipitancy $ for, according
to the Order of the Church, they ought to have
advis'd, by Letters, the Neighbouring Presbyteries
of the Synod, that they were resolved to proceed
to Mr. Dugud's Examination, and to have waited
Six or Eight Weeks for their Answer, to know
if any Thing could be Objected against: their
Proceeding by those Neighbouring Presbyteries.
On
�(10 )
ver'd hisThesison the Common Head: And, for a
Second
Comment on Romans the n t h , which he deliver'd
at their next Meeting, upon February the 26 th ;
And the Presbytery Confide ring that their next
Meeting, before the Sitting of the Synod, was, by
the Act of the General assembly, and Custom of
the Church, to be employ'd in Prayer andprivateCens
Business*
therefore they delayed to give Direction about the other usual Parts of Examination
at that Time; but appointed him in the mean
while, to Preach in the Church of Burntisland untill their next Meet
of Dunckeir, in the Name of some of the Heretors
of Burntisland, protested against this Proceeding
of the Presbytery, and Appealed to the Queen
and Parliament. And Mr. DugudlikewiseAppealedfro
Fyfe-> because, as he alleged, the Presbytery
had unjustly delayed his Trials.
This was the Gratitude Mr. Dugud express'd „
to that Presbytery, who had shewn so much
Lenity
a
to pass his second Trials, for his moreexpeditio
Overt act of his undutiful Behaviour towards the
Presbytery;
contrary to his express Engagement at
the Time he receiv'd his License. And it
seems
a very unaccountable Piece of Conduct, that
Mr. Dugud, for so frivolous an
Occasion,
Should
oppose the Authority of the whole Presbytery;
Were it not that he was now engaged to gratify
�(11)
another Party, who deigned him for a Tool to
break in upon the Peace of this Church and
The Provincial Synod of Fyfe, Convened at
Dunsermlin, on the first Tuesday of April, 1 7 1 3 .
Mr. Dugud gave in his Appeal to their Committee
for Bills, and Overtures, to be by them transmitted
to the Synod: And also the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy
gave in their Reference concerning Mr. Dugud's
Settlement at Burntisland. While these were under
the Consideration of the Committee, the Revisors
of the Register of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy
Reported
of that Presbytery ^ Where upon, among other
Things, they conceived them Culpable in the
Business of giving a Testimonial to Mr. Dugud.
insult
its
to the Synod the
The Synod ordered to be Read that part
of the Presbytery's Register, and found (primo)
That tho5 there was a Fama clamofa of a Scandalous Behaviour in Mr. Du
Sitting of the late General assembly, andparticularlycondescendedupon before thei
for BillS) yet the Presbytery makes mention of it,
but very generally in their Register. ( 2 0 ) That
tho3 it was particularly recommended to that
Presbytery,
by theCommissionof the late General
assembly,
to take Trial of that reported
Scandal
as they fee Caus
their Enquiry in a private and Extrajudicial
way. ( 3 0 ) That thus they have left Mr. Dugud
Legally impurged of that Scandal, and yet have
given hirn a Testimonial recommending him to
otherpresbyteries.(4 0 ) That with the Testimonial
�( 1 2 )
trial, and notwithstanding thereof, they gave
him a Presbyterial Admonition, without being convicted
that they had Neglected to Advertise the other
Presbytery'swithin this Synod, before they entered
M r . Dugud on Trials, in order to his Settlement
inBurntisland. And thePresbyterybeing heard on
these particulars, they were judged Censurable by
the Synod, and publicly Rebuked by the
Moderator.
eith
Next Day, being the 9th of April, in the
Forenoon, Mr. Dugud compeared before the Synod^
and protested in manner following, viz. 4 Mr,
%
Dugud thinking himself lesed, by the Remarks
* on the presbytery-books of Kirkcaldy, does
Protest,
his Character, in Regard that the assembly
c
T
* on Mr. Dugud's Petition, order'd, that no
Regard
there were a particular fubfcribed Libel
offering
c
at the Commiffion, (to whom the Thing was
6
referred by the AfTembly, with the aforefaid
c
Caution) none compeared to offer or own
Probation
c
was order'd to be intimated next GeneralAJfem
6
The Taking Trial of what was fuggefted againft Mr, D
c
* Legal, to do as they found necessary. (4 0 )
The Affair is Res Hactenus Judicata, by Virtue
* of the assembly their Declaration, That nothing
I can be good against him, without a particular
•
sub*
4
�c
(I3)
subscribed Libell and thePresbyteryof Kirkcaldy^
* taking Trial hereof, and giving him an ampler
4
Testimonial, and therefore, in this Affair, the
c
Thing in the said Affair be left open
and
t
Assembly
are the on
, € thereupon took Instruments and Protests for
* Extracts^ and he refers himself to the Minutes
of the assembly and Commission for Probation.
M r . Alexander Anderson, in the Presbytery of
Cupar, and Mr. James Walker, in the Presbytery of
St. Andrews, who had been appointed by the
Synod, to revise the Register of the Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy, Observing that Mr. Dugud's Protection did insinuate. That the Re
by them were injurious to his CharacterAnswered^Thatthe cont
much as the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy had been
Rebuked
for the In
Confession of any Scandal: And that his
endeavouring,
by this Pro
Synod from Taking the Orderly and Judicial
Way to vindicate him from the Scandal laid to
his Charge, before the- Assembly's Committee for
Bills, hath given greater Cause than before of
Suspicion,
of his being really guilty: Which
renders it the more necessary, there be yet a
Legal
and
Mr James Curthbert, Minister at Culross, added9
That as the Synod's Fourth Remark on that
Part of the Register, relative to Mr. Dugud's Affair, was directly in Favour o
likewise were the other Three, upon Supposition
of his Innocency; Seeing a general Mention of
�(14 )
a Scandal in the Register, whereof there was a
fama
Enquiry thereto, and a leaving him Legally
Unpurged, were the Way to conceal, and not to
declare his Innocency ^ and therefore Mr. James
Curthbertprotested,That the Synod is no ways
precluded from using the proper Methods for
bringing this Affair to a Trial and Sentence
thereupon: And that they are so much the more
concerned to do it, that Mr.Dugud'sProtestationagainstthe Remark
Dugud's Protestation, as being, in its own
Nature,
in this Affair 5 which is not Res hactenus Judicata, as he alle
Mr. Dugud adhering to his former Protestation,
added, c That he needed no Purgation, seeing
c
there is no Libell exhibited against him, so that
c
there may be an equal Risk betwixt the
Accuser
c
the Minutes of the assembly andCommissionbeforementioned,by Mr. Du
c
Protestation; therefore no Regard can be had
c
to Mr.Curthbertand Mr. Anderson theirProtestati
c
Regard be had to private Surmises against him,
* in the R. Synod's Judging of his Appeal from
c
the R. Presbytery of Kirkcaldy to them, unless
c
there be a formally subscribed Libell.
/* The Synod in the Afternoon had two Distinct
r
Points
�#
( 1 5 )
Points laid before them, viz. The Reference of the
Presbytery
of Kirkcaldy ab
Burntisland,
and Mr. Dugud's own Appeal from
thatPresbytery,for alleged delay in his Trials ;
and Mr. Dugud having pleaded that his Appeal
might be taken in before the Reference; The
Synod in the first place having Caused read his
Appeal with the Reasons thereof, and the
Answers
of theP
his Appeal, because the Reasons thereof, were all
Frivolous and Inefficient to warrant an Appeal.
For further Satisfaction to all whodesireimpartiallyto judge of the p
Appeal Signed with his own Hand, with Answers
thereto are here Subjoined.
Reasons of Mr. Dugud"s Appeal from the
Presbytery
of Ki
contrary to the known Practice of this Church
c
did not call Mr. Dugud, and Judicially intimate his Exegesis to him, for the
* adjourned before Mr. Dugud knew when the
c
Subject appointed him was, and so could not
4
have Access to propose his Exceptions against
I the foresaid Appointment.
€
Answer,
When Reasons fail, something must: be
- advanced to make a shew, there is nothing here
becoming the dutiful Subjection of a Probationer
to a Presbytery: The Presbytery did not wait for
Mr. Dugud% but adjourned without intimating to
him Judicially, the Common head they had
prescirib'd
then was sufficient Intimation, And Probationers
him: But an
�(16)
life not to put in Exceptions against the Subjects
prescribed for their Trial.
. csecondly 5The Presbytery delayed approving
4
Mr. Dugud's Exegesis, tho3 they would not
1
particularly condescend on the Reasons of their
1
so doing, but only in general, that they were
4
not Satisfied with the State of the Question.
Answers
And was n
of Delay, till Mr. Dugud by defending, in the
usual manner, his Theses on that Head, had
given further proof of his Knowledge and Orthodoxy, whic
the Trial.
c
c
c
thirdly^ The Presbytery approved Mr. Dugud's
Exercise as a part of his Trials, yet did not
call him, and intimate the same to him,
contrary
Anfwer^ Mr. Dugud was acquainted with the
Presbytery s approving this part of hisTrial,else
he could not have this for one Reason of Appeal:
And Mr. Dugud himself prevented the Intimation
thereof, by an Appeal against the Presbytery at
that very Dyett^ before they adjourned, contrary
to the Duty and Practice of Probationers in the
Church.
4
fourthlyi The Presbytery would not appoint a
4
new Trial to Mr. Dugud, but hath delayed
4
and Shifted the same, without Condescending
4
on Sufficient Reasons for their so doing.
Answer,
The Presbytery didCondescendupon
the Reasons of their Delay to prescribe another
part of Trial at that time, viz. because they
could not have time to receive it at their next
Dyett of meeting, which was to be imployed in
Prayers
�(
17 )
Prayers and Privy Censures, according to
Appointment
Sufficiency of this Reason was not to be
measured
have more than the usual Time for his next
Trial.
4
4
c
of the Ge
by Mr
fifthly, c The Presbytery desireth Mr. Dugud to
resolve Questions they propose to him,
contrary
to a plain
at Intrants to Churches, but such as are mentioned in the said Act
Mr. Dugud thinks himself lesed, (sicSubscribitur)Willi
Answer. Mr. Dugud doth either grossly mistake,'
or misrepresent the Tenth A f t of the General
assembly, 1 7 1 1 , which indeed contains the
Questions
to be p
when their other Trials are over 5 but it doth
not at all discharge Presbyteries to ask any other
Questions at Probationers, in the Course of their
Trials, concerning their Knowledge in
Divinity,
and Orthodoxy
and Sense of Religion, and theirharmlessConvention.And Mr, Dugud cann
that the Resolving of Questions in Divinity is a
Part of the usual Extemporary Trials. If Mr;
Dugud mean any particular Question put to
him by the Presbytery, it's true, they did ask him,
when he paid a Sum of Money for his Presentation and they were ob
had been openly affected before them, that Mr.
Dugud himself had Said so. Which Question Mr.
Dugud shifted, tho3 it be very agreeable to the
B
Questions
�(18
)
questions mentioned in the said Act, where the
7th question is, Have you used any undue Methods by
your selves, or others, for Procuring this Call ?
The Synod having found no sufficient Ground
to support Mr. Dugud's Appeal, did, in the next
Place, call for the Reference of the Presbytery
of Kirkcaldy, about Mr. Dugud, (now
Presented
Admission to the Church of Burntisland and
Considering that by the Divine Direction i Tim.
by
27. He who is to be admitted into the Office
of a Bishop, or Overseer of the Church, ought to
be blameless, and of good Report ^ and that by
the Rules of this Church, he is not only to pass
the Trial of his Learning and Fitness to teach;
but also of his Piety and goodConversation,beforehe is to
the Ministry ^ and having understood, that beside
the Particular which the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy
had so lightly Shuffled over, there were now
strong Reports spread Abroad of Mr. Dugud's
gross Immoralities, and scandalous Practicesve
thought fit regularly to examine into his Life
and Conversation. But Considering that they
could not undertake this at theirpresentMeeting,a
with a full Power to determine about Mr. dugud*s Settlemen
Trial of his Life and Conversation, they might
see cause. Mr. Dugud, upon Intimation hereof,
Resolving to avoid all Enquiries into his L i f e
and
�( 19 )
and Conversation, endeavoured to put aStopto
the Synod's Procedure $ and thereupon entered an
Appeal from the Synod to the General assembly
of the Church of Scotland, which was ^ to
Reasons of this Appeal$ the Validity whereof
may be weighed by the Answers here subjoined
to each of them.
c
c
Convene
Reason
1 . < This
Fife, to the General assembly of the Church of
Scotland, is to testify my Regard to the
Judicatories
Appeal fro
of the Ch
Answ. If by Regard Mr. Dugud means Contempt, tho3 it be true,
of Appeal
It's a Piece of confident Banter for
M r . Dugud to pretend to a Regard to the
Judicatories
of the C
them. His Regard to the! Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy
hath be
their Backs, in Company with his Burntisland
Abettors, who were Attending the Synod at that
Time, he said, The Ministers were a Pack of Knaves
and Rascals, and swore, BY" GOD, he would
never
ca
of the Magistrates of Burntisland, hath since
testify'd upon Oath.
And what Regard he
testified
when he Appealed therefrom to the queen and
Parliament, shall be afterwards related,
B 2
Reason
Presi
2.
4
For Rejecting
�€
Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, and the Reasons thereof*
to the Reverend Synod.
answ.
The Reasons of his former Appeal being already exposed, do Sufficiently evince the
Weakness of this.
Reason
3. 6 For
4
Reference of his Affair, merely upon pretended
4
Surmises against him, and until they shall
4
take Trial thereanent, altho5 there be no Libel
4
'or Accuser, and that Affair being determined
4
already by the Assembly.
- Answ. The Synod did take in the Presbyter's
Reference, but could not, in Conscience, appoint
his Ordination to the holy Ministry, without an
Orderly Trial of his Life and Conversation.
By the Rules of this Church a flagrant Report of
Scandal, tho' there be no other Accuser, is a
sufficient Ground of Trial and his Libel was
to be given him by the Committee to whom the
Trial was to be referred and in vain doth
Mr. Dugud plead the Determination of theGeneralassem
thereanent, did appoint theCommissionto proceed
in Judging the Competing Calls of Burntsland, if
no Accuser appeared before them against Mr.
Dugud, But it was not the Mind of the General
assembly,
that Mr. Dugud Should be exempted
from all other Trials of that very Scandal before
all other Judicatories of the Church $ neither did
thatCommissionunderstandit so, for they recommended to the
Trial of that same Scandal. And further,
thert were not meerly pretended Surmises, but
flagrant Reports of other Scandals passing upon
4
Mr.
�( 21 )
Mr. Dugud, which that General assembly had
never heard of, and which were afterwards verified
the General assembly would dispense with the
Established Order of the Church in Favour of
Mr. Dugud as if (of all the Probationers in
Scotland) he alone, in all Time Coming, and for
all Scandals, was to be Try'd in* a Singular
Way, not upon any fama Clamofa, or flagrant
Report, but upon an Accuser's Subscribing a
Libel against him.
by the Deposi
Reason 4. 6 Mr. Dugud having a Legal Presentation, in his Fav
Magistrates, Town Council, Heretors, and Elders
c
of the Town and Paroch of Burntisland: A l l
* which are rejected by the Synod, withoutCondescending
c
answ. The Falsehood of this appears by what'
was said on the former; but Mr. Dugud thought
fit to add this, in Compliance with his Abettors
in Burntisland, who, a little before, hadOfficiousl
them to the Parliament, on Pretence of their
Rejecting their Queen's Prefentation, which was
as sufficiently answered at that Time by a
Member
reject Her Majesty's Presentation, neither was
there Occasion of Moving any Question about
it but the Question was, Whether Mr. Dugud%
under a Fame of gross Immoralities,Shouldundergoa fai
�(
.22
)
to be ordained a Minister of Burntisland. The
Synod were apprized of Her. Majesty's declared
good Intentions, to have vacant Churches supply'd with Pious an
that it could not be acceptable to 2dmit ascandalousMinistert
Dugud did palpably abuse and mistake HerMajes
to Screen himself from a Fair and Orderly
Trial of his Life and Practice. And Mr.
Dugud seems to have taken Encouragement to go
on in his Licentious Courses, from his having
obtained Her Majesty's Presentation. For
having
upo
attempted the Modesty of one Mrs. Moubray a
W i d o w Gentlewoman, it was said to him, Surely
Mr. Dugud you have given over all thoughts of the
Ministry,
when you are Guilty of such things : T o
which he answered, I Laugh at all these things,
for now I have the Queen's Letters.
The
Truth of this Mrs. Moubray hath declared upon
Solemn Oath, being called thereto by order of
th$ R. Presbytery of Edinburgh.
The Synod being Satisfied that they had given
no Just Grounds for Mr. Duguds Appealing $ and
Perceiving his Design and Endeavour was to
prevent all Enquiries into his Scandals $ didnotwithstandingPursueth
Appointed a Committee of their own Number,
with Power to receive informations, and to
form a Libell or Libells upon the Fama Clamofa,
of Mr. Duguds Scandalous Practices, and to
deliver the same to him to see3 and Answer, to
^ , '
'
Cm
�( 23 )
Cite witnesses to make Faith thereupon, and to
pass Sentence as they shall see Cause, and to do
every thing needful in order to Mr. Dugud's
Purgation* or Censure, as he ^ shall be found
Innocent or Guilty. And after the Committee
Shall have brought this Trial to an Issue, that
then they Judge and determine in the Reference
of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy about his Ordination
to the Ministry and Admission to the Kirk of
Burntisland.
And they ordered their first Meeting
to be at Kirkcaldy on the last Tuesday of May then
Ensuing* that they might know, if the intervening General assembly should se
any further Instructions, or make any
Alterations
in this their
Mr. Dugud being resolved to carry on his
Design of Insulting the Judicatories of this
Church, brought his Appeal from the Synod of
Fife, before the General assembly, which on
May the 7th, 1 7 1 3 . was Received and Read.
The General assembly Considering that they had
several other Weighty Affairs before them, did
refer this Appeal, and Mr. Dugud1 s whole Affair entire to their Com
them at their first Meeting after the Close of the
General assembly. Hereupon Mr. Dugud having
quitted all Obligations of Subjection, and
Regard,
even to
Church, did in a most Insolent manner, in the
Face of Her Majesty's HighCommissioner,protest
against the General assembly, and gave in
Judicially
a
Protestation,
*That the assembly rejected his
1
saidl Appeal, without condescending upon any
�( 24 )
* just Ground, that they affirm the Sentence of
4
the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, and Synod of Fife
c
against him; and that the assembly opposed
4
only Her Majesty's Presentation, andtherefo
4
the said Written Protestation more fully Expresses.
Never was any Probationer Guilty of a more
Insolent Practice, to Support a Bad Cause, he
endeavours to make Lies his Refuge, and to Cover
himself under Falshood^ which is so very
Palpable,
t
the Reasons he has urged, are but so manyNotori
That the assembly rejected his Appeal : Here
is Impudence beyond Expression. Mr. Dugud
telleth the assembly that they had Rejected his
Appeal $ when the very Minute before they had
openly told and Intimated to him, that they
referred his Appeal to their
Commission
The Second, That the Assembly affirmed the
Sentences of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, and
Synod of Fife against him, isalsoManifestly
False:
For Mr. Dugud knew very well, that the
assembly had neither affirmed, or confirmed, any
Sentence against him 5 but (as was Intimated
unto him) had referred his Affair entirely to their
Commission.Besidesit's evident, from the matter
of Fact above related, that neither the Presbytery,
nor Synod had Pronounced any Sentence against
him, having only appointed a Trial of the
Scandals he was reported to be Guilty of. His
Third' Reason^ is as False as the Former, viz,
that the ' assembly ' opposed ' only • Her Majesty's
:
* s
*''
* "
Presentation,
�( 25 )
Presentation•
The Resolve of the Synod of
Fife, to enquire into Mr. Dugud's Practice, was
by him Accounted a Rejecting of Her Majesty's
Presentation,
and now the Assembly's referring
the Affair to theirCommission,he says, is only to
oppose it. But there is a Plain Differencebetwix
and an orderly Trial of theRequisiteQualifications,and Blameless Life of th
agreeable to the Divine Rule, and the Duty of
all Christian Churches. And the Honour of our
Holy Religion requires that Ministers be of
good Report, by whomsoever they be Presented
to Churches: Seeing a Prophane Clergy
r would be the Ruin of Christianity2 andwherebyAtheistsare en
The General assembly having Considered Mr*
Dugud's most insolent and undutiful Carriage
towards the Supreme Judicatory of this Church,
and the notorious and impudentFalsehoodsexpressedin his Protestati
their Disapprobation thereof
and therefore
declared his License, as a Probationer, Void and
Null, and so discharged him from Preaching;
Ordering this Censure to be dulyIntimated.Afte
x
caused
a Memorial to
Case and Carriage, which they Humbly offer'd
to his Grace the Duke of Athol, Her Majesties
High Commissioner to this Assembly, to be laid
before Her Majesty, which His Grace was pleased
kindly to undertake.
TheCommissionconvened after the dissolution
of
�(
26 )
of theAssembly,and took into Consideration Mr;
Dugud's Appeal, from the Synod of Fife to the
General assembly,, according to the Reference
made to them by the Assembly. They order'd
Mr. Dugud to be call'd, but he appear'd not, to
insist upon his Appeal to have it judged and
discussed.
And therefore by the Order of this .
Church, his Appeal became void and fallen, and
herein Mr. Dugud acted consistently with what
he had done before the Assembly * for having
protested against them, and declined their
Authority,
of their commission,by compearing before them.
Mr. Dugud, to give further Testimony of his
Regard to the Judicatories of this Church, resolves
to add thereto the Contempt of Civil Authority, by
violating the Laws made for Securing the Rights,
and Privileges of the Church. For the next Lord's
Day, after the Generalassemblyhad depriv'd him
of his Licenfe to Preach, he invades the Church of
Burntisland \ and tho5 two of the Magistrates of
the Town did intimate to him the Sentence of the
Assembly,Discharginghim from Preaching, and
delivered to him an Authentic Extract thereof, yet
he Preached in the Church, by the Favour of a
Part of the Mob, whom he had Cull'd into his
Interest.
And when thePresbyterysentMinisters
to Preach in the Church, and to Intimate the
Sentence of the Assembly against Mr. Dugud*
this Mob was employed violently to
their Entrance, either into the Church or the
town. Thus Mr. Dugud continued his Intrusion
for Six or Seven Months, until he was called
before the Lord Justice Generally and the Lords
of
stop
�(
27 )
of Justiciary ^who finding Mr, Dugud Guilty of
him to Goal, till he gave Security not to Preach
any more there, unless he shall recover his
Intrusion
License
On the last Tuesday of May, 1 7 1 3 , the
Committee
into Mr. Augur's Praflice and Conversation,
met within the Church of Kirkcaldy, according to
the Appointment of the Synod And finding that
the Intervening General Assembly had made no
Alteration in the Affair before the Committee, but
had referred M r . Dugud's Appeal and whole
Process intirely to theirCommission,where, through
Mr. Dugud's not compearing either by himself, or
Proxy,
to pursue his Appeal, and insist in his
Process,againstthe Synod of Fife, his said Appeal
was dropt and became Void
and so the Remora,
whereby Mr. Dugud endeavoured to stop the
Inquiry
might have no cause to complain of any unfair
and irregular Procedure, they appointed a
Libel
Articles of Information they had received against
him. And because Mr. Dugud was not present,they
ordered him to be Cited to compear before them
on the First Day of July ensuing, that then he
might receive his Libell, and have Competent
time to answer the same; and if in his answers
heshalldeny Matter of Fact, that then he may
have .a L i f t given him of the Names of the
witnesses,
in the C
from the Churc
of the Synod o
into his Pra
to b
�( 28 )
Witness,
who are to be called to give Evidence,
that so Mr. Dugud might offer his just Exceptions
against them, if he hath any.
Accordingly Mr. Dugud being cited, did on the
First of July, compear before the Committee,
then convened in the Church of Kirkcaldy, where
they Caused to be read and delivered to him
Libell containing some of the Articles alledg'd
against him, and acquainted him that they had
Information of some other Articles.
The
were to be delivered to him afterwards, when
they were extended in Mundo. Mr. Dugud
desir
a List of the Witnesses who were to prove his
Libell, and to know the time when he was to
to prepare his answers $ and if thereby it
sh
appear needful to lead Probation by Witnesses,
he shall then have a Lift of their Names.
Here Mr. Dugud seemed to have relented from
his former Insolence, and become willing to
submit to a Trial 5 but we shall find him
quickly returning to his former Temper, and as
Averse from Inquiry in his Conversation as ever. ;
Upon July 2 9 ^ , Mr. Dugud compeared again
before the Committee, and' being desired to
gi
in his Answers, He represented that the
Committee
were designed to give him an Addition Libell, he
desired to have that also. that he might give in
his answers to both at the same time, and that
he might have a List of the
Wit
Names, and Designations. T o which theCom
�( 29 )
in Readiness, to which, with the former, they
appoint him to give in his Answers on Monday
the 28th of September next. At which time, if
by his answers they found, there shall be any
occasion for Witnesses, he then shall have a List
of their Names. Hereupon the Additional Libell was Read, and delivered to
Here
follows the Substance of both
LIBELLS.
these
Information and Libel against Mr.
William Dugud, late Preacher of
the Gospel, delivered to him by the
Committee of the Synod of Fife y at
Kirkcaldy, July 1 ft Anno 1 7 1 3 .
c
WHEREAS all who profess the Name of Jesus
** c Christ, and particularly such as set out
5
for the Holy Ministry, ought to be of a Christian
1
Tender Conversation, and of good Report:
c
Yet it's commonly and credibly Reported,
4
That Mr. William Dugud, late Preacher of the
i
Gospel in the Bounds of the Presbytery of
4
whereof are these following, (The Committee
4
referring others to an Additional Libel.)
^4 1. At a publick Hunting at Blair of Athol,
in Anno 1 7 1 0 , August 20th, or about that Time,
4
he was guilty of great Levity in Dancing over
c
the Sword in a publick Company, tho' on July
I \ the 27th preceding, he was Licensed to Preach
I the
i
Kirkcaldy,
is guilty of
�(
4
30)
the Gospel by the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, as their
4
Records testify. And thereafter, on another
- Day of the same Month, and Year, at
Dunkelde
4
he did did bite the Glass and made his Mouth
4
to Bleed.
2. 4 Upon March 22d, 1 7 1 0 , the Night after
the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy had Examined him
4
in his Extemporary Trials, and prescribed him
4
a Text for a Homily, he was very Drunk in
4
the House of Bailiff John Greig in Linkton of
4
Kirkcaldy.
3. 4 On Sabbath, May 24th 1 7 1 3 , he Travelled
4
from Burntisland, after his Preaching there, to
4
Pitteuchar, where he was seen very Drunk, from
4
which place he came to Paddock-Hall, betwixt
4
the Hours of Twelve at Night, and T w o of the
4
Clock Monday Morning, where also he was
4
seen very Drunk.
4. 4 On * April the 9th, or about that Time, Anno
1 7 1 3 , at Dunfermlin, while the Synod was
meeting
4
the Synod were a Pack of dammed Villains and
4
Rascals ^ and also at that Time he was very
4
Drunk.
4
5. 4 About the same Time, while the Synod
was Meeting, the said Mr. Dugud being in
Compan
4
looked Grave and Thoughtful, asked his
Company,
4
upon? Who said. They could not tell Then J
4
(said he, in a Scoffing Manner) I will tell you,
4
He is Thinking Godliness is great Gain.
4
6. He
I
�;
6.
c
(
31
)
He was guilty of Lying and Prevaricateting, in that having obtained a
* Probationers within the Bounds of the
Presbytery
of Kirkcaldy, on
Earl of Leven, for some 20/ms. resting by the
c
Paroch of Markinch, for his Preaching there, he
c
promised to the said Mr. Russell, never to
trouble
him more ab
4
with the aforesaid Charles Hay, on whom the
4
Bill was drawn : Yet he delivered that Bill
4
to David Malcolm, Writer in Kirkcaldy, m
Ordering
him to get P
4
Charles Hay, or to return on the Drawer of the
6
Bill. And thereafter the Collector aforesaid
4
being charged with Horning at Mr. Dugud's
4
Instance, when on January the 30th, 1 7 1 3 , Mr.
'Russell, Collector aforesaid, challenged him for
4
Charging him with Homing contrary to his
4
Promise at Getting the B i l l : Mr. Dugud
answered,
He had given David
c
to trouble him about that Bill. And again the
c
same Day when David Malcolm challenged him,
4
for his Denying he gave Orders to trouble
c
*
4
the Collector aforesaid about the Bill, he acacknowledgedhe gave David Malcolm Orders to
4
return on the Collector , but that he then
4
4
4
7. c Tho3 Mr. Dugud Solemnly owned and
acknowledged before the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy,
on July the 27th^ 1 7 1 0 , when he was Licensed
[to
behoved
to have Mo
�(
€
32
)
to Preach the Gospel, thePresbyterianChurch Government by K
* General assemblies to be the only Government,
agreeable to the word of G o d ; and in like manner promised to
€
of his Power, to follow no Divisive Courses,
c
and to be Subject to the Judicatories of this
c
* Church: Yet when the General assembly had
most Unanimously declared his License void
4
and null, for the Insolence he shewed before
€
* them, he, in High Contempt of their Authority, hath
disorderly manner, to Preach in the Church of
4
Burntisland, tho' Archibald Angus, and Robert
4
Thallane two of the Magistrates there, did
intimate
4
particularly upon Sabbath May the 10th, 1 7 1 3 ,
4
when the Presbytery had appointed Mr. John
c
Meldrum, to Supply that Vacancy for that Day.
4
And on Sabbath May 17th, when the Presbytery
4
had appointed Mr. James Williamson to Preach
4
in that Vacancy, he, the said Mr. Dugud
c
Preached there. In regard of which Scandals
4
aforesaid, Mr. Dugud ought not only to be
debarr'd
4
4
4
c
4
Censure inflicted on him, assuchgrossScandals,(if
Glory of God, Mr. Dugud's own Edification,
and the Terror of others, that they commit not
the like in time coming.
Additional
I
i
made
�( 33 )
Additional Libel against Mr. William
Dugud > late Preacher of the Gofpel\
delivered to him by the Committee
of the Synod of Fyfe at Kirkcaldy,
July the 29thy 1 7 1 3 .
l . cc
4
i
N the Spring time, Anno 1 7 1 0 , Mr. Dugud
JL happeningsomeNights to Lodge with Mr.
Andrew Baxter, Chaplain to the Laird of Cavers
Kerr, in the House of Mrs. Moubray, Relict to
* George Moubray, Merchant, Burgess ofEdinburghfrequ
4
4
Vomited again, being the greatest part of four
Pints of Ale, i. e. Eight English quarts. And
&
likewiseone Night in the same House, after
5
Mrs. Moubray had taken her leave of him
and Mr. Baxter, the said Mrs. Moubray was
4
again called in to them, where Mr. Dugud was
6
standing in the Bed Stark Naked 5 upon
4
which she run Back, and Cried out, sbe thought
1
the Devil was in the Man. But Mr. Dugud
followed
4
to keep her, yet she got away from him. Also
4
about twelve Months ago, the said Mr. Dugud
6
came to the same Mrs. Moubray in the Street,
4
upon the Lord's Day, immediately after
Sermon,
4
Ross°s House, where after Sitting a little
4
with her he shut a Window that was open,
6
4
5
and to her Surprize threw her on the Bed,
and put his Hand under her Clothes, upon
4
€
which
her, and took he
and followed h
�c
( 34 )
which she immediately cried out, and getting up
4
She saw his Nakedness expos'd^ upon which she
c
called her Landlady, who came into the Room,
4
and stayed with her till Mr. Dugud was gone.
2. 4 Upon September the 29th 1 7 1 0 , being the
4
Friday before the Administration of the
Sacrament
4
that time Mr. Dugud was all Night in the
4
House ofnicollicollMason Skipper in Leith, where he
4
was seen Drunk. And that same Night he spoke
4
and behaved very Indecently to Mrs. Mason,
4
Spouse to the said Nicoll Mason and also was
4
extreamly Rude to anne Fairhom, her Servant
4
Maid, when she came that Night to take away
4
his Shoes, or Candle, in that, being a Bed
4
he catched hold of her, and Struggled with her
f to pull her to him.
4
4
4
3. 4 .Upon a Sabbath day in April 1 7 1 3 , in
the House of the Laird of Grange in the Paroch
of Burntisland\ Mr. Dugud, in a Debate between
at Weem, Pleaded the Lawfulness of taking
money
him,
fro
4. 4 The said Mr.Dugudis Guilty of Lying and
Prevaricating, in that he said, before the Assembly Committee f
4
of Athol, and Dunkelden, was beforeenteringupo
4
Presbytery ofkirkcaldy^whileyet it happened not
4
till after he was Licensed. ^ Also he asserted
4
before the Synod at Dumferling in April 1 7 1 3 ,
' that the whole Parish of Burntisland were for
4
him in that Competition betwixt him and Mr.
4
4
areskin,
�5
( 35 )
Areskin, excepting Seven or Eight Persons
4
Whereas on Calculation made, as to both their
4
Calls, the Presbytery found Fifteen for each of
4
them.
4
Also about twelve Months ago, in the
4
Bowling Green, belonging to George Londie, in
4
Linkton, Mr. Dugud (being in Company of
Captain
4
and others) did Curse and Swear, saying. By
4
God it is my Bowl, when one Bowl struck upon
4
another.
James Jesse
6. 4 Mr. Dugud, since he was a Preacher, having been with Company,
Saturday Afternoon, in George Londie s House in
4
Linkton, till Nine of the Clock that Night, went
4
thereafter to Baylif George Greig's House there,
4
and continued Drinking with the LairdofGlasmond,Da
4
was late, Mr. Dugud said, Sutors and Taylors
4
counted Hours, but they were a Merry Company and
4
would take a further Glass.
4
^ Mr. Dugud having received both these Libels
Sign'd by the Clark of the Committee,useddivers
Shifts to divert the Trial, andprotestedagainst
the Committee, First,4 That the two Libells given
4
him were not Subscribed by any Person taking
4
upon him to prove the same, under an equal
4
Risk^ and therefore Illegal, Void and Null
4
of themselves. Secondly, For not allowing Mr.
* Dugud a List of Witnesses Names, and Designations
�c
(36)
nations conform to use. Thirdly, For protracting
so long a time as September, the 28th, for
answering
4
Desert him, and Discourage Mr. Dugud in his
4
Ministry there.
c
t
Unto this, Answer was made by Mr. James
Nairn, one of the Committee, that Mr. Dugud's
Protestation is groundless, and no Regard to be
had thereto in Respect, First, that Church Judicatories, by the
this Church, and especially the Form of Process
Established by the General assembly in 1 7 0 7 , may
proceed to Libell Persons on a Fama Clamosa,
without Subscribing an Accuser. Secondly, Because
this Committee hath not refused to give him the
Names and Designations of Witnesses, when he
shall have given in his Answers to both Libells,
and that it appears by his Denial that there
shall be need of them, which is the usual •and
proper Season for it.
Thirdly* This Dilature not occasioned by the
Committee, but by Mr. Dugud himself. Craving a
Delay in answering the First Libell, till he should
receive the Additional 5 whereas the Committee, at
their former Meeting, required him to give in
his Answers thereto this Day. Fourthly, Whereas
Mr. Dugud alledgeth that the Committee's Dilature
is on Design to Discourage him in the Exercise of
his Ministry, and to make his People desert him:
We know no Ministerial Relation he hath to the
parish of Burntisland, or any other 5 and know
no Right he hath to Preach the Gospel there, or
any where else, but look upon him as an open
and
�and scandalous Intruder, the General Assembly
having declared his License to be Void and Null,
and discharg'd him from Preaching there or any
where else. And with respect to Mr. Dugud's
first Reason,He added, that if Church Judicatories
were always obliged to have anAccuserSubscribinghis Libel agai
was never so Flagrant, there .could be but
few Processes of Scandal against any Person, nor
could any Person be Judicially Vindicated of the
Grossest Scandals laid to his Charge, by the most
Flagrant Fame. Whereupon he protested, that
the Committee do not stop Process upon Mr.
Dugud s groundless Protestation.
Thereafter Mr. Dugud reply'd c That but
Prejudice
to all f
but adhering thereto, he further protested* No
4
Regard might be had to Mr. Nairn'sProtestation,especiallyto the third Ar
4
the Appointment of the Day for answer being
c
only the Committee's Deed, and so the Dilature
4
is not Mr. Dugud's Fault. And in answer to the
* Fourth Article of Mr. Nairn $ Protestation : Mr.
c
Dugud looks upon himself to have a sufficient
c
Right to Preach, and be Minister of
Burntisland,
and that by Vi
c
ample Testimonial from the Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy,
and by Vir
£
in his Favour. And tho3 it be alleged, that the
4
assembly hath declared Mr. Dugud's License
4
Void and Null, yet, First, The same was never
4
Legally intimated to him. Secondly, Neither was
4
Mr. Dugud cited, nor had occasion to answer
C 3
? for
c
�(38 )
* for himself, therefore the Sentence of the
c
the assembly's Sentence was no Fault of Mr.
c
Dugud, being only protecting to queen and
assembly
* Parliament against the assembly in the Matter
c
of Civil Right, and therefore he is noScandalo
T o which Mr, Nairn, adhering to his former
Protestation,
duplyed : First, That Mr. Dugud
craving the Delay of Answering the first Libel,
until he should get the Second, and the Committee
granting the same at his desire, he hath no reason
to complain of it. As to the Appointment of
the Day made by the Committee, the Members
thereof lying at a Distance from this place could
not have the time of Meetingsooner,especially
at this Season, when Ministers areotherwiseimploy'din the
Mr. Dugud hath never offered to answer his Libel
as yet, tho5 required to do it this Day, whereby
he is in Mora. Thirdly, The General assembly upon
good Grounds declared Mr. Dugud's License Void
and Null, he having declined their Authority,
and appealed to a Judicatory not Competent
in 3 Cause purely Ecclesiastical * when the
assembly had done him no wrong, but referred his
Cause entire to their commission. Fourthly, That
there hath been Sufficient and Legal Intimation
made to Mr. Dugud of the Assembly's Sentence, by
Archibald Angus and Robert Thallane, two of the
Magistrates of Burntisland, and that before Witnesses, an
to Church Judicatories being one of the former
Articles of the Libels at the former Meeting given
to him. And so he hath no grounds to pretend
Ignorance
�( 39 )
Ignorance in this matter*, yea, the Sentence of the
Assembly was by their appointment intimated from
all the Pulpits in thePresbyteryof Kirkcaldy, except
that of Burntisland^ to which the Ministers could
not have Access, because of the Mobraisedagainstthem
The Committee resolved to proceed,notwithstandingall M
him, apud acta, to give in his answers to his
Libels, at the time assigned.
On September the 28tb9 1 7 1 3 , Mr. Dugud compeared before the Commit
not to stand his Trial by a Probation of
Witnesses,
but
Subjection and Attendance, thought fit to decline
the Authority of the,Synod &nd their Committee,
and gave in a Sign'd Paper, Intituled, c Answerers
c
for Mr. William Dugud, Preacher of the Gofspel,
4
to the pretended Libels raised by the Synod at
* Fyfe and their Committee, containing a
Declinature.
And because
proper to insert it entire, and is as follows.
28tb of September, 1 7 1 3 , Forasmuch as there are
two pretended Libels raised and mov'd against
me, by the Synod of Fyfe and this theirCommittee
make no other answer : But that any thing
therein
that seem
and Calumnious, raised and intended of purpose
to Blast my Reputation, and Discourage my
Ministry
�(
40
)
fentation, together with the concurrentApprobati
Remanent Inhabitants of Burntisland' and of the
Generality of the Heretors and other Parishioners
thereof, have been pleased to call me and
that in Evidence of the Calumnniousness of those
Libels, there is no Person who has hitherto had
the Confidence to own himself as an Accuser, by
Subscribing Libel, or Information, left otherways
he might be justly pursued for the fame, and
Branded with that Epithet of Satan, karfyofos
rm
Yet in Prosecution of my former
Appeal from the Synod of Fyfe (for appointing
this Committee) to the General assembly and from
them to queen and Parliament, I think my self
obliged to Decline, as I hereby do Decline this
Committee, as an Incompetent Judicatory in the
present
my Admission on HerMadjesftyesPresentation to the
Synod of Fyfe, and yet notwithstanding having
proceeded in my Trials, they, on purpose to
insnare
Patronatus in Ecclefia Dei: But because I did not
in Terminis disapprove Her Majesty's Right of
Presentation,theirdid not approve of the said
Trial, and, notwithstanding, having thereafter
assigned me another Trial tho? they approved
thereof, yet they stopped to proceed, and
appoint
to the Synod of Fyfe, which Reference and
Appeal being brought before the Synod of Fyfe
at Dunfermline in April last, theymostunjustly
refused to consider the said Appeal or Reference
anent
�( 41 )
anent my Admission upon HerMajesty'sPresentation%till such time as
Suggestions made against me, and Censured the
Presbytery for having given me a Testimonial of
my Innocence, and appointed this Committee to
take Trial of the said Suggestions, Against
which most unjust Sentence I protested, and
appealed
to t
and especially for the laying aside the Synod's
Appeal
and Refere
Her Majesty's Presentation, and appointing this
Committee to take Trial ofGroundlessSuggestions
and Surmises, contrary to the Sentiment of
the Preceding General Assembly, who at discussing
a former Appeal in Relation to a Populace Call
. I had to the said Paroch in 1 7 1 2 , declared, That
they would not regard Suggestions or Surmises
against me $ and notwithstanding that the
Presbytery
of
said Suggestions,found them either of no Moment,
or False, and thereupon gave me an ample
Testimonial
of my Innocen
of the said Appeal before the assembly, their
Committee
of Bills
having agreed to transmit my Appeal to the
Affably,
but with their Opinion, that there
should be no further Trial prescribed me, in
order to my Admission, till thiscommitteeshould
take Trial of the Matter referred by the Synod
to them, I protected against the said Opinion as
Prejudicial to the Grounds of my Appeal, which
ought to have been considered in plain
Assembly5
and which appe
the assembly, and they having, upon May the
9th
�( 42 )
9th} 1 7 1 3 , referred the same .to their Commission,
which was not to fit till after the Rising of the
Assembly,
I protested against the said Reference
and appealed to queen and Parliament, not only
because the Commission of the General Assembly
is a pretended Judicatory, which hath no
foundation
affirming of the Synod of Fyfe's, Procedure, and
of the Opinion of the Committee of Bills, Which
Appeal Striking at the Constitution of this
Committee,
to answer to the said pretended Libels, till my
said Appeal be discussed before Her Majesty, and
the Parliament of Great-Britain,
Secondly, If I had not appealed to queen and
Parliament
of Her Majesties Presentation, and my Trials in
order to my Admission thereupon, and Raising and
Moving groundless Suggestions to Blacken my
Reputation, notwithstanding the ample
Testimonial
of In
for Trying thereof, being the Chief ground of
my Appeal to^the assembly, and by them referred
to their Commission this Committee cannot
proceed in the Trial oftheseSuggestions,because
they are Parties appealed from, and the matter
is Res alibi Pendens, whereupon I protest and
take Instruments, (Sic Subscribitur) Will. Dugud.
Whereupon
�(43 )
Whereupon Mr. James Henry, Minister of the
Gospel
a
to be regarded, and therefore thispresentJudicatory(hall, or th
to morrow in this place may, notwithstanding
thereof, proceed to take all Legal and Regular
Steps by Citing, and Examining witnesses, and
doing all other things needful, for bringing this
Affair to an Issue, that he, may be Convict: or
Exculpate, and that for these following Reasons.
First,
It's the undoubted Right and Duty of Church
Judicatories to enquire into matters of Scandal,
being a thing purely Spiritual, and Necessary for
Maintaining the Authority of the Church. Secondly,
There are several things in the Libel and Informations given Mr. Dugud, which cannot be
Supposed
to
assembly,
and therefore could not be by them
referred to theirCommission,and so as to these at
least it is not Res alibi Pendens .Thirdly, By his former
appearances before this Judicatory, receiving the
Libels of their Hand, requiring Names of
witnesses,
and pr
this day, he hath already Homologate the
Authority
of the
Fourthly, The Judicatory being now in a fair way
to take Trial of the gross Scandals laid to his
Charge, he now refusing to give in answers, and
instead thereof declining the Authority of the
Judicatory, is, to say no Worse, a shrewd Presumption of Guilt in these t
Upon all which, the said Mr. Henry tookInstruments(cravingLiberty
if
�(
44 )
if needful,and thatthesemay be imbodied with Mr,
Dugud'sprotestation,andthat noExctractthereof be
given without this) in the Hands of the same
Clerks in whom Mr .Dugud hath taken Instruments.
This answer was made ex Tempore, to prevent
Mr. Dugudrs getting from his Clerk, or Notary,
an extended Instrument of his Declinature,
without a Reply. For now he cannot give an
Extract of Mr. Dugud's Declinature alone, unless
he dealt unfairly, in not Narrating the Full matter
of Fact, Prout Res gefta est.
Thus Mr. Dugud took his Leave of the
Judicatories
no further concerned to answer his Libels. And
the Committee finding that while Mr. Henry was
making his answer, Mr. Dugud had withdrawn,
himself,
they" referred the Affair to the Synod of
Fyfe, which was to Meet at Kirkcaldy on the
Morrow, being the last Tuesday of September 1 7 1 3 .
And any who is acquainted with Mr. Dugud"s
Character, and considers with attention this
last
Paper which he gave in to the Committee, will
readily Conjecture, that it was none of his own
Draught and Contrivance 5 but that its Stile,
Method, Words, and Phrases do Intimate
his Consultation with a Lawyer. Mr. Dugud had
gone too far in compearing before the Committee
several times, upon their Citation, in Receiving from
them his Libells, in Desiring a time might be
Assign'd
a List of the Witnesses, for this might quickly
have brought on a Probation by
Witnesses,
which
to shun, and which the Party who were to
manage this Tool, for the Trouble of the Church
thought
�C
45 )
thought fit by all Methods to prevent. Wherefore he must be brought o
Promises:
To decline the Authority of the Synod,
and their Committee, was thought the most proper
Expedient. And therefore Council must be
advis'd
Plausible Colours a Bad Cause would stand in
need o f ; Which yet proves but a Cobwebb when
compared with the plain matter of Fact, as it
is before related.
The Paper, in the first Place, infatuates an
Answer
that
Libel; viz! A Denyal But Omitting this, in the
next Place it contains a Declinature, supported
by two Reasons; First, That Mr. Dugud had formerly appealed from the
and from them to queen and Parliament Secondly,
That the assembly to whom he had appealed,
did refer this Affair to their Commission and
therefore it being Res alibi pendens, the Synod and
their Committee are not Competent. Judges. This
is the Sum of the Declinature, But whatever
Art of Barristery may be contained in it, Mr.
Dugud\ Advocate seems not to have consulted
his Reputation, when he advices him to give. up
his best Answer, which he should have stood to,
had he been Innocent, 4 Albeit (says he) I needed
5
make no other Answer, but that any Thing
4
therein that seems to be of moment, is grossly
4
False and Calumnious.
Why then do you
make any other Answer, if this be true ? Why
another Answer to cut off this? For the
Declining
the Autho
�(46)
firstAnswer.The Artfulness of the
Expression
is also observable. Any thing that seems to be of
moment isgrosslyFalseand Calumnious. An
Insinuation
Libel were of no Moment, and that others had
only the Appearance of being so. The Articles
of the Libels are therefore before particularly
set down, that the Reader may judge. But why
does he not condescend upon the Articles that
are of no Moment > Does he accountDrunkenne
be but seemingly of Moment? However, it*s
owned that Some Things in Mr. Dugud * Libel
seem
to be of Moment 3 but it's said, These are grossly False
and Calumnious. Well * How shall the
Falsehood
*of the Calumnies be discovered? How shall M r .
Dugud be vindicated from them ? B y the
Test
of Competent and Credible witnesses? No, faith
Mr. Dugud, if you offer to give Probation by Witnesses, I declin
on Mr. Dugud"s own Word, c These .Calumnies
4
are contrived and invented on purpose to
blast
c
his Reputation, and discourage his Ministry in
c
Burntisland. The Ruin of his Reputation is
Owing to his own Immoral and Scandalous
Practices; and his Pretence to the Ministry in
Burntisland (which must not be discouraged) is all
of a Piece with the reft of his Paper. He wants
Ordination by the Hands of the Presbytery, and
his License, as a Probationer, is
justly
reversed
by the General assembly. And what Right has he
then to exercise the Ministry in Burntisland?
Saith
�(
47 )
Saith Mr. Dugud, God in his Providence, Her
Majesty
byPr
have been pleasedto call me to it
This seems to
intimate, That the Judicatories of this Church
are Fighting against God, the queen, and the
,People.
But what
should persuade therm
that God calleth to the Ministry, or requireth
them to ordain any who are blemished in their
Conversion, and in the common Report of
their Character > They think it would be anundutifulReflectionon Her
imagine that Her Royal Presentation gives
Warrant or Encouragement to admit aScandalousPersoninto the
the People of Burntisland be resolved for such a
Pastor,
he is the most improper Person to be
planted among them. But the Calumniousness of
this Libel appears in that there is no Subscribing
Accuser.
This is, Crambe recota, and Mr. Dugud
hath been frequently acquainted, That an Accuser
Subscribing a Libel is not requisite in Processes of
Scandal And what a new Turn doth it receive
here? No Person: has hitherto .had the Confidence to
own himself as an Accuser, 8cc. Now grant this
to be true, will it therefore follow that all the
Reports of Mr. Dugud\ Immoralities are but
Calumnies,
tho5 they
by HabileWitnesses,mustMr. Dugud,notwithstanding,be recei
one Innocent, and Worthy of that SacredFoundation,merelybecausenone has ow
Accuser by Subscribing his Libel ? I think Mr.
�(
48 )
Dugud s Advocate will not avow this, if he owns
himself to be a Christian.
It would be too tedious to animadvert upon
every Sinister Insinuation, Invidious Turn and
Misrepresentation of matter of Fact, which
occurs
The first Part of Mr. Dugud's Declinature is
built upon his Appeal from the Synod to theGeneralass
Parliament. Now if these Appeals were unwarrantable and gro
shewn,
then this first Reason of Declinature goes
for nothing. Mr. Dugud says, c He cannot be
4
obliged to answer any pretended Libels, till
4
his Appeal be discussed before Queen and
Parliament.
His
the Appointing this Committee for Enquiring
into his Scandals, was the Reason of his Appeal:
Therefore hath he not put a very pretty Talk
upon the queen and Parliament, to determine
this grand Case, Whether Mr Dugud, who hath
obtained Her Majesty's Presentation, may be brought
to a Trial of his Christian Life andblamelessConversation,before
him to the HolyMimicry.?
His Second Reason of Declinature is, That
his Affair is Res alibi pendens $ viz. Before the
Commission of the General assembly. But it
hath been already observed, that, according to
the Order and Practice of this Church, when an
Appeal comes to be called, and the Appellant
doth
�doth not appear to insist for Discussing of his
Appeal,
judged, that the Appeal falleth and becometh
Void, and the Court appealed from may
proceed,
And this is the Case of Mr. Dugud's Appeal
from the Synod of Fife: He did not own, nor
compear before the General Assembly's commissiony
to whom the Discussing of it was referred, and
therefore it's not now Res ibi pendens. .
before the J
as if no
But it seems Mr. Dugud had some Scruple of
Conscienceagainsthis Compearing before the
commission of the General assembly at least he
hath found out a new Pretence of his Appealing
to Queen and Parliament, (tho' he omitted it at
y the Time) viz. That the Commission of the General Assembly, to whom his Affair was referred, is a
pretended Judicatory, that hath no Foundation in
Law.
Does not this show him to be a very
becoming
and dutifu
Engagements for Maintaining, to the best of his
Power, the Doctrine, Worship, Discipline, and
Government
of this
smattering Barrister ? The L a w Ratifying and
Establishing Kirk-Sessions,Presbyteries,Synods, and
General assemblies, doth lay asufficientFoundationfor their respective
these Courts, and very necessary for the more
expeditious dispatch ofBusiness.TheseCommitteesand Commissions are means which
Principal Judicatories find sometimes very
D
proper
�(50 )
proper to be employed in the Exercise of
Discipline
Matters purely Spiritual and Ecclesiastic, for
Preserving the Unity and Purity, and
Promoting
t
L a w which allows these principal Judicatories
their Work and Ends, muft be.aliosupposed
to approve of the suitable and proper Means,
whereby they perform their Work, and
compass
ever since the Reformation, and the first Legal
Sanction of Presbyterian Church Government, it
has been the constant Use, Custom, and Practice,
to have Committees andcommissionsof Ecclesiastic
Courts, which is a good Evidence of the true
and received Meaning of the Law. And of all
these,
the Commission of the General assembly is
mostrequisiteand reasonable. For the assembly
being the Supreme Court, from which there lies
no Appeal in Ecclesiastical Affairs, and
Convening
onl
in the short Time allowed for their Sitting.
And therefore such Affairs as either are of less
Moment, or require not speedy Dispatch, are
most fitly referred to be discussed in their Commission. Nor i
to concern themselves in any Matters, but what
are expressly referred to them, and are still .accountable to
whole conduct and Administration, of which
they
�(51)
they are obliged to keep an exact Register. But
Mr. Dugud's Displeasure must be ventedpeculiarlyagainstCommitt
some of them, perhaps, have been too diligent
and officious in Enquiring into his scandalous
Deportment.
The Synod of Fife meeting at Kirkcaldy the
last Tuesday of September, 1 7 1 3 , did take the
Reference
of
and having read the Minutes of the said Committee, and both the Libels
they approved their Diligence * and appointed
a new Committee of their own Number, to make
a further Enquiry into the Report ofthoseScandalsallegedagainstMr. Dugud, and to meet
Kirkcaldy on the Second Day of October, after
the Rising of the Synod, with Power to them to
meet de die in diem; appointing them to take
orderly Trial of these Scandals * to Cite
Witnesses,
and take
full Power to them to do every Thing that
they shall find necessary, or fit, for the
Dispatching
of this Affa
Thing extraordinary should fall out, which shall
require the same.
Accordingly after the Synod Rose, the
Committee
Second Day of October, 1 7 1 3 , and having read
their Instructions, with both the Libel? against
Mr. Dugud, and his Declinature 5 they found by
the List of the Witnesses, that some of them
were not within the Bounds of the Synod of Fife $
and the other Witnesses were so many, that they
met in t
�( 52 )
could not examine them all at one Dyet. They
resolved therefore to cite such witnesses as were
within the Bounds of their Synod to different
Meetings
of thi
written to other Judicatories, in whose Bounds
some of the witnesses resided, desiring them to
call these witnesses before them, and take their
Depositions before them, upon the particularArticlescondescend
this Committee and to appoint Sub-Committees
to take the Depositions of some witnesses, who
could not conveniently attend the Committee
itself,
tho3
After the Committee had, at several Meetings,
examined such witnesses as compeared before
them, who were all solemnly sworn, and
purged
their Sub-Committees, with those that were transmitted from oth
of January, 1 7 1 4 , they resolved to call the Synod
to meet at Kirkcaldy, on Wednesday the third of
February next ensuing, and they referred the
Affair
it as they should fee Cause.
On the 3d of February, 1 7 1 4 , the Synod of/Fife
met at Kirkcaldy, and having read the Minutes
of the last Committee, and considered the Depositions
'Dugud, on the 4th of February.
At
given
�At Kirkcaldy, February , the 4th, 1 7 1 4 .
4
T H E Provincial Synod of Fife Considering
^ the Libel given to Mr. William Dugud, late
V Preacher of the Gospel in the Bounds of the
c
Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, upon the 1 st Day of
€
July, 1 7 1 3 , by a Committee of their
Number$
and also the
4
by them to him, upon the 29th Day of the said
4
Month of July, both which were read before
4
them and also having considered the
Probation
upon the said
4
another Committee, appointed by the last Synod,
4
which was also read: Thereby they did
4
find, as to the first Article of the first Libel,
4
That the Laird of Naughton depones, The
4
said Mr. Dugud danced over the Sword, in a
4
Public Room, before aconsiderableCompanyin the Castle of Blair of
4
also that Alexander Norry depones, That he
4
danced over the Sword at Blair of Athol, in a
4
Company where were many Gentlemen and
4
others: And that Mr. Adair depones, That
4
Two Gentlemen danced over the Sword at
4
Blair of Athol And they further find, That
4
the Laird of Naughton depones, * That Mr.
4
Dugud chewed a Part of a Drinking Glass in
4
Mr. Fenton's House in Dunkeld, in a Company
4
where was Mr. Adair, and three Officers of
c
Dragoons. And by Mr. Adair $ Deposition,
c
they find, that Gentleman bit a Piece of the
6
Glass at Dunkeld, after he had drunk. They
c
D
3
4
find,
�(
54 )
c
_
find, moreover, a strong Presumption of his
4
Drunkenness at Dunkeld, from the Laird of
4
Naughton Deposition, who said, He heard Mr.
4
Dugud had sat up with the Company a great Part
4
of that Night at Dunkeld, in which Company he
4
heard there was Excess, and that Mr. Dugud
c
was not Sober. And by Alexander Norry'sDepositio
4
with Masters Nugent, Adair, and others, which
4
Company the said Alexander Norry left after
4
Ten of the Clock that Night, and heard in
c
that Room, where he left Mr. Dugud, a Bag
4
pipe5. and that next Morning, soon afterDAYLIG
4
the said Narry, lay, he overheard the Company
fc
still Speaking, and one faying, My Lord, Mr*
4
Dugud will not take his Glass. Whereupon my
4
Lord said, Mr. Dugud will you not drink my
4
Health ? To which, Mr. Dugud said, I will, if
4
it be your Lordship's Pleasure. And that the said
c
Norry heard from the Servants of the House,
4
That Mr. Dugud, and others, continued in
4
Company in that Room all Night Drinking.
4
Farther, they find by Naughtons Deposition,
4
That Mr. Dugud's Carriage was light and
unseemly,
an
4
him, that* he took Occasion to quarrel Mr.
4
Dugud, how he came to carry so in the
Highlands.
To
5
4
4
£
c
it to please them. And by Alexander Norry's
Deposition, That Mr. Dugud seemed rammage
and forward, and applied himself just as the
Company.
As to the Second Article
The
Synod finds, by the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy s Records
�* cords produced before them, thatMr.Dugud
was examined upon his extemporary Trials,
and had a Text prescribed to him, March the
22d, 1 7 1 6 . And that Mr. King depones, On
the Night and Place Libelled^ he obf^rved in
Mr. Dugud such Evidences of his being the
worse
for Drink, that were both offensive and
surprizing to him and Mr. Meldrum*Whereuponthe
Chamber^ which he did and next Morning,
when they came to his Room, they found he
bad vomited very much, thebed-clothesbeingspoiledwith the Vomit, and a g
of the Chamber-Floor, the Smell whereof was
very noisome. And that Mr. Meldrum depones,
The fame Night and Place he thought Mr.
Dugud drunk, he' appeared Merry, and was
Singing. Whereupon Mr. King and he
desired
him to forbear, and after, on a sudden, he fell
mute whereupon he, with Mr, King,
desired
him to go to Bed, and helped him off with
his Clothes, and to his Bed, in regard he was
not able to do it himself and that next
Morning
he did see
the bed-cloths, and some Parts of the Room,
which was very noisome to him. As to the
Third Article $ The Synod finds, That Thomas
Christy depones, That one, who called himself
Mr. Dugud, came to the Door of his Mother's
House
at Pitteuchar, one Sabbath-Evening,
about Bed-Time, in May Just, who said, He
had Preached at Burntisland that Day 5 and
that
Man
was then over-taken
with
Drink, that he saw him stagger as he went,
D 4
V and
�(56
)
and when upon the Horse, he saw him sway
6
from Side to Side ^ and that when he lighted,
c
he made his Water with his Face towards him
c
twice, so that he saw his Nakedness both
c
Times ^ and that he stayed about Half an
4
Hour at Pitteuchar, and that in Telling his
4
Name, he said twice William, before he added
* Dugud. And he farther depones, That it's T w o
* Miles betwixt Pitteuchar and Paddock-hall
* And that John Honeyman depones, That he
4
thought that the Man that came by Pitteuchar
4
that Night was Mr. Dugud. And that Alexander Cufchett depo
4
he was Leaping upon his Horse, as if he had
4
been like to fall to, the Ground, tho5 he did not
4
fall. And that Robert Cufchett depones, He
4
saw his Nakedness when he made Water, and
4
heard him spew the Way to Balbirny-Bridge.
4
And further they find, by an Extract from
€
the Records of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy, that
4
the Assembly's Sentence, Declaring Mr.Dugud'sLice
4
from the Pulpit by the several Ministers in
4
their Bounds, on the 17th Day of May last.
4
And that Janet Bogie depones, That Man
aforefaid
came
4
that immediately followed, that Sabbath
* whereupon Mr. Dickson read out Mr. Dugud s
4
Name from the Pulpit in the Kirk of
Markinch,
4
the Sun-Set when Mr. Dugud came to
Pitteuchar.
4
Dugud came to Paddock-hall about the middle
I of the Night, upon a Sabbath, in the End of
t May
An
�( 57 )
* May last, and called for a Gill of Aqua Vit
c
which the said James brought to him^ and
c
Mr. Dugud asked the same Questions about
c
the Way and Distance to Loupar, over1 and
4
over again, twenty Times, and that he
staggered
betwixt the Hou
4
fell to the Ground and broke his Pipe. And
4
Mr. Dugud declared, He had Preached at
c
Burntisland that Day * and that Mr. Dugud was
4
in great Confusion and Disorder, as appeared
4
by the whole of his Behaviour. And that
c
Henry Anderson depones, He knew very well
4
Mr Dugud went from Burntisland that Night
4
Libelled, after both Sermons, and hired his
4
Horse to Mr. Dugud's Father's House about
4
Decide. As to the Fourth Article ^ The Synod
i 4 finds, Bailie Thallan depones, That Mr. Dugud,
4
at Dunfermline, the Second Day of the Synod
4
there, called the Ministers a Pack of K N A V E S
4
and R A S C A L S , and bid the said Bailie Thallan
4
go tell them so much. And that Mr. Dugud
4
swore B Y GOD, he would never call themBrother,and
4
depones, That at that Time Mr. Dugud took
4
a hearty Bottle in his House, tho' he could
4
not say he was Drunk. And the said Robert
4
Anderson Coming and Going to the Company,
c
heard Mr. Dugud call the Ministers a SAD
4
PACK. AS to the Fifth Article h The Synod
4
finds, Mr. John Meldrum depones, That while
4
the Synod were Meeting at Dunfermline, he
being
4
Man went by, who looked Grave and
4
Serious, upon which Mr. Dugud merrily,
! and^
�( 5 8 )
.
and, as Mr. Meldrum thought, heering*
c
said, Ob! GODLINESS is great GAINc
As to the Sixth Article The Synod finds, that
c
Mr. George Oliphant depones, He heard Mr. Dugud promise
1
for payment of the Money $ and that he heard
* Mr. Dugud declare, after Mr. Ruffel was charged
c
with Horning up the Bill, in the presence of
4
Mr. Eliot, Mr. Dall, and Mr. Drysdale, that it
4
was without his Knowledge and Consent * and
4
that" he gave no Orders to David Malcolm to
4
recover upon the Drawer • and that after he
4
heard Mr. Dugud acknowledge before Mr.
Russel,
c
Malcolm Orders to Recur upon the Drawer,
c
and say, He behooved to have Money, or
something
4
Mr. Eliot, Mr. Dry/dale, and Mr. Oliphant, say,
4
He had given Mr. Malcolm no Orders to pursue
4
Mr. Russell, by Recurring on him, as Drawer
4
of the Bill. And that Mr. Drysdale depones,
4
Mr. Dugud declared, He knew nothing of Mr.
4
Russels getting the Charge, and that he never
4
designed it and that he had given David
Malcalm
n
4
And that Mr. Eliot depones, Mr. Dugud said,
4
He had given Mr. Malcolm no Orders to charge
4
Mr. Russel with Horning. And that Mr. Russel
4
depones, Mr. Dugud promised, in the Forenoon,
4
that the Horning should not militate against
4
him v yet in the Afternoon he was charged
4
with it. And that Mr. Malcolm having said to
4
'
4
Mr,
�4
Mr. Dugud, you ordered me to Recur upon the
Drawer, Mr. Dugud did not refute thesame y
4
but said to this Purpose, I must have Money.
4
And that David Malcolm depones, That Mr.
4
Dugud ordered him to have Recourse upon the
c
Drawer, if Mr. Hay refused the Bill, and that
c
Mr. Dugud owned the same before the faid
David
Malcolm, Mr. Russ
4
to the Seventh Article
The Synod finds, from
c
the Presbytery Book of Kirkcaldy, That on the
4
27th of July, 1 7 1 0 , Mr. Dugud was Licenfed
4
to Preach the Gospel, and that at that time
4
he owned and acknowledged the Confession of
4
Faith to be the confession of his Faith, and
4
subscribed the same, together with the Formula%
4
in Face of the Presbytery and that he owned
* and acknowledged the Presbyterian Church Government by kirk-sessions
4
and GeneralAssemblies,to be the only Church
4
Government agreeable to the Word of God,
4
and that he would maintain the same to the
4
utmost of his Power 5 and that he would follow
4
, no Divisive Courses, and that he would be
subject
to
4
they find, by the Formula subscribed by him
4
at the same Time, that he engaged, in the most
4
solemn Manner, to cleave to the Doctrine of
4
this Church, concerning the Headship of our
c
Lord Jesus Christ over his Church, as her
4
King, Lord, and Lawgiver * as also to the
4
PresbyterianGovernment, by the Parity of
Preaching
and Ruling
4
4
Spiritual, .
�(60)
* Spiritual, by an intrinsic Power derived to
c
them from the Lord Jesus Christ, different
4
from, and independent upon the secular Power of Te
4
Judicatories, according to the Principles and
4
known Practice of this Church $ andpromisedfaithfully
4
maintain and defend the Doctrine; Worship,
4
Discipline, and Government of this Church
4
against Papists, Aminians, Prelatists, Erastians,
4
Independents, and all Adversaries whatsoever,
4
according to our solemn and frequentlyrene
4
whereof he thereby acknowledged.
They
4
further find, by an Extract under the Hand of
4
the General Assembly s Clerk, that Mr.
Dugud
4
License was, by the assembly, in May last,declared Void a
4
shewed before them* and that the said Sentence of
4
several Ministers of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy,
4
from their Pulpits, on the 17th of May last,
4
by an Extract under the Hand of the Clerk
4
of the said Presbytery. They further find,
4
That Bailie Thallan depones, That he and
4
Bailie Angus delivered the assemblys Sentence
4
the Tuesday after it was passed to Mr. Dugud,
4
who looked upon it, and delivered it to Bailie
4
Anderson, who read it in their Hearing. And
4
that John Cowan depones, That Bailie Angus
4
and Bailie, Thallan - intimated to Mr. Dugud
4
the Assembly's Sentence, before Bailie Anderson
s
and the said John Cowan, without 3 Notary.
4
They
�( 61 )
c
c
c
They further find, by the Depositions of Bailie Anderson, Mr. James Guthrie,
Grange, Henry Anderson, James Clark, and
many
others, That he
the Church of Burntisland, for many Sabbaths
* after the Time aforesaid. And theSynodfinds;
€
by the Depositions of several, That Mr.
Dugud
* had Preached in Burntisland everySabbathday,except on
€
after the said Sentence of the General Assembly
€
Moreover, the Synod finds, as to the First
Article
of the Sec
c
depones, That about the Time Libelled, (he
c
has seen Mr. Dugud drink four Pints of Ale
€
alone, tho5 she cannot positively say, She saw
V him drink so as to stagger; , and when
she
c
challenged him, he said, He was a Strong Man%
c
and durst not take a Vomit, but chewed Tobacco^
Q
and drank Tippony Ale till he vomited, for his
c
Health. And that sh'e has frequently seen him
c
vomit after his Drinking. And that (he
being
called into t
6
Dugud and Mr. Baxter to go to Bed, she saw
* Mr. Dugud standing stark naked on his
BEDSIDE,
Mr. Dugud stretched forth his Hand, and took
c
hold on her Coat. Also that Summer, a Year
£
By-go. •, one Lords-day Afternoon, when
4
she was Coming from the New Church, Mr*
4
Dugud met her, and went along with her to
€
her Lodging; and when she acquainted him
c
with some Things which troubled her, they
c
being alone in her Chamber, Mr. Dugud shut
6
a Window that was open, and, to her great
4
! Sur-
which made her s
�(
62 )
* Surprize, threw her back on the Bed, and
offer'd
* but she, Crying out, recovered herself, and as
4
she rose up, saw his Nakedness exposed. After
4
which, she said to him, Surely you must have
4
given over all Thoughts of the Ministry, when you
4
do such Things, and are in so bad Order.
To
4
which he answered, I laugh at all these Things,
4
for now I have the Queen's Letters. And that
c
Margaret Thompson depones, That while she
4
served Mrs. Moubray, she has seen Mr. Dugud
4
drink more than he should have done, and
4
than became one of his Character to drink 5
4
'and that she has seen the Room, where Mr.
c
Dugud and Mr. Baxter lay, wet, when she
4
came to it in the Morning* but knows not,
4
whether it was by Drinking excessively or
4
not As to the Second Article of the
said
Libel
4
That Three Years ago, the Friday before
4
the Sacrament at South-Leith, Mr. Dugud
4
was in her House all Night, and then
4
she thought him drunk ^ he smell'd of Drink,
4
and his Discourse and Behaviour was such as
4
gave her Occasion to think he was drunk ^
4
and that he had a very undecent Carriage to v
4
her, by putting his Hand on her naked Breast,
4
as she gave fuck to her Child, asking, If she
4
was not Longing for her Husband ? A t which,
4
she was astonished, and rose up to come away,
4
but Mr. Dugud pressed her to stay, and kissed
4
her very immodestly, particularly by
Attempting
4
And further, That Mr. Dugud having chopped
4
very
�( 63 )
4
very loud, she sent up her Servant AnnaFairholm,sheherselffollowing
to the Door, and she heard Mr. Dugud press
4
her Servant to sit down by the Bed fide, and
4
call'd for a Dram, he having call'd for another
4
before. Upon which, her Servant came presently down, and refused to
4
he knocked very loud, giving this Reafon^
4
She had been Seven years and an half in her House
4
and never saw such Company. And also that
4
Mr, Dugud broke a Tobacco-Pipe, and threw
4
the Pieces through the Room with great Noise,
4
and that neither Mrs. Masan herself, nor her
4
Servant, durst enter the Room, that Night nor
4
the next Morning, till he was gone. And
Y that Anna Fairholm, late Servitrix to Mrs. Mason, depones, Mr. Dugud
4
about a Month or two before she left that
4
Service, which was at Martin-mass was three
4
Years, and that he called for a Chopin of Ale,
4
and half a Gill of Brandy, which she brought^
4
and removed out of the Room, leaving only
4
him and her Mistress Sitting in it * and a little
4
after, her Mistress came down, and left him %
4
and that Night he desired her to bring up
, 4 another Chopin of Ale, and half a Gill of
4
Brandy, and desired her to take a Chair and
4
sit down beside him, which she refused to do,
4
and went down Stairs ^ and, a very little
after,
he kno
4
found him in Bed, and he desired her to bring
4
the Candle to the BED-SIDE, which when she
4
did, he took her by the Hand, and desired
4
her to sit down on the BED-SIDE, which she
4
4
re-
�(
4
64
)
refused, and drew her Hand out of his. Then
* he desired her to give him a Book out of his
4
Pocket, which she also refused, but brought
4
the Coat to him, whereupon he endeavoured to
4
take her by the Hand again, but she got away
4
and further, that he knocked very loud again,
4
and her Mistress desired her to go up, but she
4
refused, because she was terrified with his
4
Carriage, and faid, She had been«Seven years
4
and a half in her Service, and never saw such
4
Company. Whereupon, her Mistress said, She
4
would not desire her to go up. As to the Third
4
Article ^ The Synod finds, by John Dury of
4
Grange his Deposition, That Mr. Campbell, Minister at W
4
House with Christian Bailie, at the Time
Libelled,
and
4
tho5 he minded not the State of the Question,
4
he going in and out from them* aud that he
4
heard Mr. Dugud say, He knew no Money the
4
Devil had. And that Christian Bailie depones,
4
That at the same Time and Place, she heard
4
Mr. Dugud, in Company with Mr. Campbell,
4
say, He would take Money from the Devil, and
4
that he would command the Devil ^ and spoke,
4
as the thought, like a Distracted Man. And
4
that - Mr. Archibald Campbell depones, That
being
4
Christian Bailie, and others, Mr. Dugud bad
4
that Expression, He would take Money from the
4
Devil, and endeavoured to maintain the
Lawfulness
4
Campbell and him, whereupon Christian Dury,
s
Daughter
�(65)
€
Daughter to the Laird of Grange beg'd Mr.
Dugud
to
\ of the said Libel, The Synod finds, That Mr,
6
Dugud was Licentiate by the Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy,
on th
4
Depositions of the Laird ofNaughton,Mr. Adair,
4
Alexander Norry, Henry Michel, andJAMESKinsman,That the
4
end of August that Year. They farther find,
4
That Mr. David Petcairn and Mr. Henry Dall,
4
depone, That Mr. Dugud asserted before the
4
Assembly's Committee of Bills, the Time and Place
4
specified in the Libel, That his being at the
4
Highland Hunting, or at Dunkeld, was prior to
^ his being Licensed. As to the Second Part of
4
this Article they find, Mr. Dall depones, he
4
heard Mr. Dugud say before the Synod at
Dimfermline,
The whole
4
for him, in that Competition of Calls betwixt
c
Mr. Erskin and him, except Seven or Eight
Persons*
and that, no
4
Calls were returned to the Presbytery, he knew
4
there were Fifteen for each. Mr. John Affleck
4
depones, Mr. Dugud said before the Synod, all
who had Right to Call were for him except
c
Seven or Eight Persons, and that the said Mr.
4
Affleck contradicted him in the mean time,
4
telling him there were Fifteen on each Side:
4
Which the said Mr. Affleck knew, havingModeatinhecal.AndMyJohDrsdailepn dm.Astohefitarcl,hesynodfi,thaJmesBrydpon,thaE\ Summer
�(66)
4
c
c
4
4
c
Summer two Years by-gone, he heard Mr.
Bowl, or the Jack, Swore either by God or the
Devil ^ but he cannot be positive which of the
two Words he used. And that Captain
depones, he heard Mr. Brymar, at the same
Time s a y , in the Bowling-Green, after the
Dugud
Jeffrey
* Captain Jeffery had play'd up his Bowl, which
4
struck upon some of the Rest, what are you
4
Swearing? Upon which the Captain asked,
4
who is that Swearing > And that the said James
c
Brymar answered, it is the Minister $ and that
4
the words were by God it is my Bowl: And the
c
said Captain remembers of no other Minister, or
* Probationer on the Green, at that Time, except
4
the said Mr. Dugud. As to the Sixth
A
4
The Synod finds, that William Adam depones,
4
That being in Company with Mr. Dugud, Glasmont, and
4
House in Lucktown, they continued together till
4
about Nine of the Clock that Night, and the
4
William Adam having said, It is Time for us all
c
to go Homeland particularly for you Mr. Dugud.
4
Mr. Dugud answered to this Purpose, Sutors and
4
Taylors counted Hours, but he inclined to be
4
merry with the Company. The Synod further^
4
finds, by Inspecting the Depositions, (i mo J
4
That Bailie Thallan depones, That he hath
4
seen Mr. Dugud several Times Drunk, and
particularly
o
4
Grange, Dury, and Bailie Anderson came over to
4
intimate Mr. Dugud*s Presentation to the
Presbytery
4
the said Bailie Thallan An the House of George
4
Wilson
�4
Twelve o'clock at Night, Mr. Dugud kissed
him several Times, and the said Bailie Thallan
4
thrust him from him, saying, I amashamedof
4
you, Man. (2do,) That Christian Bailie depones,
* That upon a Sabbath-Night, in the Laird of
4
Grange his House, after that SabbathwhereuponM
c
the Devil, while the said Christian was lying in
c
Bed with one of Grange's Daughters, in the
4
Room above where Mr. Dugud lay, he over
hea
4
saying, to which Christian Bailie said, We are
4
Speaking about the Subject of your Lecture,
4
and what you said concerning Purgatory, upon
V 4 which The distinctly heard Mr. Dugud cry out,
4
and say, Good Sooth, i'll say as a Lady said,
4
Hell and Purgatory are both a feft, and God
4
was never fo unjust as to make a Hell after this
4
Life, for they that suffer in this Life Suffer
4
Hell enough. (%tio.) Alexander Veitch depones, That upon one o
4
Synod sat last at Dunfermline, he being in
Company
with Mr.
4
Jests had passed, one said, I fancy the
Reverend
Club will n
4
which Mr. Dugud answered, No, they have not
4
the Souls to be so hearty. By all which, its
4
unquestionably evident, that he was guilty of
4
gross Drunkenness the 22d of March, 1 7 1 0 ,
being
the Nigh
4
And also that he was Drunk on Sabbath, 24th
I of May last, at Pitteuchar, and Paddock hall, after
4
E 2
he
�€
he had Preached in Burntisland that Day, and
that he had a most scandalous and
unse
£
Carriage towards Anna Fairholm, Servitrix to
4
Mrs. Mason at Leith, in pressing her to sit down
4
upon his BED-SIDE. As also that he was grossly
4
guilty of Lying and Prevaricating, in the Bill
6
drawn by Mr. ThomasRussel^ and in Saying
c
before the Assembly's Committee of Bills, that
4
the Highland Hunting, on Occasion whereof
4
he was at Blair of Athol and Dunkeld, was
4
prior to his being Licensed by the Presbytery of
4
Kirkcaldy? and in Saying before the Synod at
4
Dunfermline, all the Paroch of Burntisland were
4
for him in the Competition of Calls betwixt
4
him and Mr. Erskine, except Seven or Eight
4
Persons. As also that he said in Grange Dury
4
his House on aSABBATH-DAY,He would take
€
Money from the Devil $ and that he
endeavoured
4
Likewise the Synod finds, he is guilty of a
4
Degree of Contumacy to the Judicatories of
4
this Church, in Preaching at Burntisland, not
4
only without the Appointment of any Church
4
Judicatory, but also after the General Assembly had decla
4
and their Sentence was intimate by all the ^
4
Ministers of the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy from
c
their respective Pulpits-, yea, and after the
4
first Committee aforesaid had Libelled him
4
upon this very Account. And that he did,
4
with great Insolence and Injustice, appeal from
4
the highest Judicatories of this Church to Queen
4
and Parliament, in a matter purely Ecclesiastic,
I and Adhering to this, hath given in his
4
�(69)
4
declinatorsto the foresaid Committee of this
Synod
and t
their Proceeding to take Trial of his Scandals,
4
whereupon he was Libelled, notwithstanding
4
of his Receiving the Libels, and Promising to
4
give in his Answers thereto. A l l whichContumacystandsmostdeeply ag
4
after the most solemn manner, he engaged himself by Promise and S
4
Licensed as above: Moreover the Synod does
4
also judge there are many strong Presumptions,
4
if not Probations, of some other Articles above
4
mentioned by the foresaid Depositions * yea, all
4
of them are the more considerable in that they
4
speak a Tract and continual Course in those
4
Scandals and horrid practices as are above4
marked, clearly proven and aggravated, by his
4
once bearing the Character of a Preacher of the
4
Gospel. Whereupon the Synod did, and
hereby
do u
4
the said Mr. William Dugud worthy of the dreadful Sentence of the h
4
But to shew their Tenderness to him, and their
4
earnest Desire to reclaim him, if possible, they
4
think fit to defer the Passing of the said Sentence to the next Syn
4
St. Andrews, on the first Tuesday of April next:
4
That they may pass the same in what method
4
they judge best In the mean Time, they
appoint
this the
4
from all the Pulpits within the Presbytery of
4
Kirkcaldy on Sabbath first, and from all the
4
other Pulpits within the Bounds of the said
4
Synod, on Sabbath come a Fourteen Days'
4
being
�(
70
)
«• being the Twenty First Instant. And that
solemn
Warning
be the
* Mr. William Dugud to Repent, and Submit himself with
1
Certification as above Extracted by, Sic
Subscribitur,
4
•
George Gellespie Clerk.
W e need not enlarge in making Remarks upon this
Mans Case, we leave it to any who have any Regard to
the Glory of the ever Blessed Jehovah,
Father Son and
Holy Ghost, the Honour of Religion, the Credit and
Success
whether the Judicatories of the Church of. Scotland be at
all Culpable, for refusing to commit the Care of Souls to
such a Man as Mr. Dugud: And whether those who
suppor
they ought to have. It is most certain, a L e w d and
Profligate
Ministry,
Church, so it is what the Church of Scotland is most
apprehensive
as possible. It is to the Corrupt Principles and Profligate
Lives and Practices of churchmen, that we owe (in a great
measure)
the great Decay of Religion in this Island, and
elsewhere.
It's to a Prophane, Irreligious, and Scandalous
Clergy, that we owe mostof these Grievous Offences, that
have brought a Woe upon the World, Mat.18. 7. When Men
that minister in sacred things,and should be exemplary to the
Piety, Truth, Holiness, and Sobriety, and all manner of
Conversatio
they Say, Promise or S w e a r : Its no wonder if weak
Christians
Stumb
their ungodly Courses, and Encourage many to follow their V
Pernicious Ways to their own
Destruction.
It's
just
every way, that the Woe Denounced, Luke, 1 7 - 1 , 2 . Should
fall up on such, since they, above all other, have made the
way of Truth to be evil spoken of: And opened the Mouths
of the Enemies of the Lord to Blaspheme, such as the
atheists Libertines, Deists, and Infidels, who deny
Christianity,
plain, from what is above related, First, That how Solicitous forever M r .
might
�(71)
might not be prejudged.; he was Conscious to himself of
being
h i m ; And fully Sensible that a Judicial Inquiry into them,
would be so far from clearing him of those Immoralities,
wherewith he was Charged by Flagrant Report, that i t
would fix them upon him by a Legal Probation. And that
he had nothing of W e i g h t , to object against the
Witnesses
produced against him. For First, when t w o Libels were
given him by the Committee, he insisted to have aSubscribingAccuser.Second
Judicial Trial, pretending it w a s Res Hactenus Judicata
though there had been no Judicial Trial of the Scandal
laid to his Charge, either by the General assembly 9 or any
other Judicatories of this Church. T h e Presbytery of
Kirkcaldy
had rested in an overly Extrajudicial Inquiry,
contrary to the Established O d e r of this Church, and gave
him a Testimonial, for which they were Censured as
they
w e l l deserved. But there were other Scandals alleged
against him, which the Assembly had not heard off, when
they made that Reference about him he so much speaks of
Thirdly, When he° saw the Committee going to lead
Witnesses,
and t
Witnesses were cited before the Committee, he did not
desire Liberty to be present when they Deponed, or to
propone
Objections
o f Edinburgh
hearing he w a s in T o w n , cited h i m
before them, and sent him a List of the witnesses that
he might hear them Depone, and that he might offer his
Objections against them if he had a n y ; M r . Dugud
sent
a Declinature to the Presbytery, in w h i c h he told them,
T h a t as he had declined the Synod of Fife and Her
Committee,
so
he de
protested that they could not take any Depositions of
witnesses
againf
tho' some may Support him in his Insolence, contrary to
the Precepts of the Gospel, and the Rules of any
Constituted
Church among
and he appears in his o w n Colours, w e are Hopeful no
Sober People w i l l o w n him, nor any that have a Love to
the Gospel of Christ. W e are sure no Party can have
any
�(
72 )
any Credit by supporting such (who seems to have
W e have Reason to Suspect him a Tool of the Jacohites, for
it's deponed, that when our Queen was at War with France,
he Drunk a Health to the Duke of Berry, and a French
General, and one he called the best Blood in Europe-, and
this perhaps is the Reason which lead some People to be so
Fond of him, 3rdly, We would not be thought uncharitable,
but there is too good Ground to suspect him Corrupted
w i t h Libertine Principles, and the Leaven of these
Wretched Infidels who deny all Revealed Religion, feeing
a Gentlewoman Depones she heard him say, Distinctly, on
a Sabbath Night after he had Preached, That Hell was a
test, and that God was never so unjust as to make a Hell
after this Life.
Whatever Encouragement therefore this
Man may procure from some, who omit no Opportunity
of giving Trouble to the Church of Scotland (which has
as good Right to a Protection, and the Maintenance of
Her Right and Privileges, as any National Church on
Earth: If any Regard be had to the Faith of Nations, and
the Faith of solemn Treaties) yet it is Hoped he shall have
no Countenance from Her Majesty> or from the Parliament*
F
I
N
I
S
.
abandoned
�
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A Vindication of the Church of Scotland, from the Malicious and Groundless Aspersions of Mr William Dugud. With an introductory epistle in defence of the Church of Scotland, from the charge of Persecution : And the behaviour of the dissenters in England.
Date
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1714
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934168063505154">s0585b08</a>
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72 pages
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
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ESTC# <span>T113085</span>
<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
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religion
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London: A. Bell
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Chapbooks - England - London
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1711-1720
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Publisher - London: A. Bell
-
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PDF Text
Text
FOUR SONGS
CHERRY-CHEEKED PATTY.
JUDY O'FLANNIKIN.
NO PEACE ABOUT THE HOUSE.
MAGGIE LAUDER.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
68.
�SONGS.
CHERRY-CHEEKED PATTY.
Down in yon vale I lives so snug,
Thev call me Giles the ploughman's boy;
At the sound of the horn
I rise in the morn,
And I whittle, I whistle, and whoop gee wo I cry*
My work being done, to the lawn then* I fly,
Where the lads and the lasses all look very sly
And I'ze deeply in love with a girl, it is true,
'Cause I knows what I knows, but I munna tell you;
Then I'll whistle, I'll whistle, and of all the girls I ever
did see,
Oh ! cherry-cheeked Patty for me.
The squire, though so great, so happy mayn't be
As simple Giles, the ploughman's boy;
At the sound of the horn
I rise in t ie morn,
And I whistle, I whistle, and whoop gee wo I cry;
There's cherry-cheeked Patty, who lives in the vale,
That I help o'er the stile with her milking-pail,
And she has a right notion of me, it is true,
'Cause I knows, &c.
�3
So able and strong, and willing to work,
And when the lark rises, off trudge I ;
At the sound of the horn
I rise in the morn,
And I whistle, I whistle, and whoop gee wo I cry.
There's the lord of the valley, he tries in vain,
And does all he can my Patty to gain,
Let him do what he will, it never will do,
'Cause I knows, &c.
My Patty consented next week to be
The wife of Giles the ploughman's boy;
Then my cows up I'll call,
And I'll harness old Ball,
And I'll whistle, I'll whistle, and whoop gee wo I'll cry.
And when from the church we do trip it away,
Along with the old ones we'll spend the whole day,
But night coming on, we'll bid them adieu,
'Cause I knows, &c.
JUDY O'FLANNIKIN.
O whack ! Cupid's a mannikin,
Smack on my back he hit me a polter,
Good lack! Judy O'Flannikin,
Dearly she loves neat Looney Mactwolter.
Judy's my darling, my kisses she suffers,
She's an heiress, that's clear,
For her father sells beer,
He keeps the sign of the Cow and the Snuffers.
�4
She's so smart,
From my heart,
I cannot bolt her,
Oh whack, Judy O'Flannikin !
She is the girl for Looney Mactwolter.
Ochone! good news I need a bit,
We'd correspond, but learning would choke her,
Mavrone! I cannot read a bit,
Judy can't tell a pen from a proker.
Judy's so constant, I'll never forsake her,
She's as true as the moon,
Only one afternoon
I caught her asleep with a hump-back'd shoemaker.
Oh! she's so smart,
From my heart
I cannot bolt her,
Oh, whack! Judy O'Flannikin!
She is the girl for Looney Mactwolter
NO PEACE ABOUT THE HOUSE.
There is no peace about the house,
In kitchen, parlour, hall,
There is no comfort in the house
On Saturday at all.
Where'er you turn, a noise assails
Brushes, brooms and mops,
Besides a host of pans and pails,
For various stinking slops.
�5
Then there's rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, echoing every way;—
Of all the days throughout the week, the worst is
Saturday.
Hark, is that dread thunder near ?
Or noisy drum and fife ?
Oh no, the music that I hear
Is charwoman and wife;
Both laughing, scolding, talking, singing,
'Gad, there's such a din.
That all Babel's workmen ringing,
Conquer'd must give in—
To their rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, echoing
every way,—
Of all the days within the week, the worst is Saturday.
In apron blue, now comes your belle,
And gown well stored with holes ;
For colour, it might passing well
Claim kindred with the coals.
Then she says, ' You know, my dear,
Some make their husbands rue,
By taking their good clothes to wear,
When any thing will do,
For their scrubbing, rubbing, tearing, wearing/ O, curse
them all, I say,—
Of all the days throughout the week, the worst is Saturday.
Begrimed with dust, with dirt and grease,
She now sits down to dine;
�6
At banyan day, of bread and cheese
You must not now repine;
Your goods and chattels now displaced,
All in confusion stand;
Some are broke, and some defac'd,
By each destructive hand,
With their rubbing, scrubbing tearing, swearing, sounding every way,—
Of all the days that's in the week, the worst is Saturday.
At length, thank Fate, the warfare's o'er,
But now, the peevish trump
Insists that all across the floor
We must hop, skip and jump,
For fear that milk-white boards should soil,
Or furniture bewray,
Oh, wo to him that dares to spoil
The work of Saturday;
After rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, all their
time away,—
Of all the days that make the week, the worst is Saturday.
Then to avoid a din and noise,
For rational delight,
We haste to join some jolly boys,
On Saturday at night;
Then we're met—a jovial set,
We drive dull care away;
In harmony we soon forget
The woes of Saturday.
�7
And their rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, all the
live-long day;
But the night of mirth will soon requite the woes or
Saturday.
M A G G I E LAUDER.
Wha wadna be in love
Wi* bonnie Maggie Lauder ?
A piper met her gaun to Fife,
And spier'd what was't they ca'd her ?
Right scornfully she answer'd him,
Begone, you hallanshaker;
Jog on your gate, you bladderskate,
My name is Maggie Lauder.
Maggie, quoth he, and by my bags,
I'm fidging fain to see thee,
Sit down by me, my bonny bird,
In troth I winna steer thee:
For I'm a piper to my trade,
My name is Rob the Ranter,
The lasses loup like they were daft,
When I blaw up my chanter.
Piper, quoth Meg, hae you your bags
Or is your drone in order ?
If ye be Rab, I've heard of you,
Live you upon the border ?
�8
The lasses a' bailh far and near
Hae heai d of Rob the Ranter,
I'll shake my foot wi' right good will,
Gif you'll blaw up your chanter.
Then to his bags he flew with speed,
About the drone he twisted,
Meg up and walloped o'er the green,
For brawly could she frisk it.
Weel done, quoth he : play up, quoth she;
Weel bobb'd, quoth Rob the Ranter,
'Tis worth my while to play indeed,
When I hae sic a dancer.
Weel hae you play'd your part, quoth Meg,
Your cheeks are like the crimson;
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel,
Since we lost Habby Simson.
I've lived in Fife baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter;
Gin you should come to Anster Fair,
Spier ye for Maggy Lauder.
For a' the talk and loud reports
That ever ga'ed against her,
Meg proves a true and carefu' wife,
As ever was in Anster.
An' since the marriage knot was tied,
Rob swears he couldna want her,
For he loes Maggie as his life,
An' Meg loes Rob the Ranter.
�
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Four Songs. Cherry-Cheeked Patty. Judy O'Flannikin. No Peace about the house. Maggie Lauder.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228183505154">s0585b31</a>
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Cherry-Cheeked Patty.
Judy O'Flannikin.
No Peace about the house.
Maggie Lauder.
Date
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[1840-1850?] per National Library of Scotland
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8 pages
15 cm
Description
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68 printed at the bottom of the title-page.
Subject
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Ballads and songs
Wit and Humor
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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English
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Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: wit & humor
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): belted plaid
Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet
Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire
Fashion (Clothing): kilt
Fashion (Clothing): sporran
Furniture: stool(s)
Musical Instruments: bagpipe(s)
-
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https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/eddad7899f58dd98a9d2d9ec4cb7f9e1.pdf
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PDF Text
Text
STORIES
THE TWO
OF
DROVERS.
AND
COUNTESS OF EXETER.
G L A S G O W
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS,
�; • , e
>
.
V
-
,
.
.
..
!
\
�THE TWO DROVERS.
IT was the day after the Doune Fair when my story
commences.
It had been a brisk market, several
dealers had attended from the northern and midland
comities in England, and the English money had flown
so merrily about as to gladden the hearts of the Highland farmers. Many large droves were about to set
off for England, under the protection of their owners,
or of the topsmen whom they employed in the tedious,
laborious, and responsible office of driving the cattle for
many hundred miles, from the market where they had
been purchased, to the fields or farm-yards where they
were to be fattened for the shambles.
Of the number who left Doune in the morning, and
with the purpose we have described, not a Glunamie
of them all cocked his bonnet more briskly, or gartered
his tartan hose under knee over a pair of more promising spioys (legs), than did Robin Oig M'Combieh,
called familiarly Robin Oig, that is Young, or the
Lesser, Robin. Though small of stature, as the epithet Oig implies, and not very strongly limbed, he was
as light and alert as one of the deer of Ills mountains.
He had an elasticity of step, which, in the course of a
long march, made many a stout fellow envy him ; and
. lie manner in which he busked his plaid, and adjusted
his bonnet argued a consciousness that so smart a John
Mighlandman. as himself would not pass unnoticed
among the lowland lasses. The ruddy cheek, red lips,
and white teeth, set off a countenance which had gained
by exposure to the weather, a healthful and hardy
rather than a rugged hue. If Robin Oig did not laugh,
or even smile frequently, as indeed is not the practice
ng his countrymen, his bright eyes usually gleamed
�4
from under his bonnet with an expression of cheerfulness
ready to be turned into mirth.
The departure of Robin Oig was an incident in the
little town, in and near which he-had many friends male
and female. H e was a topping person in his way,
transacting considerable business on his own behalf, and
was intrusted by the best farmers in the Highlands, in
preference to any other drover in that district.
Many were the"words of gfatulation and good luck
which were bestowTed on Robin Oig. The judges commended his drove, especially the best of them, which
were Robin's own property. Some thrust out their
snuff-mulls for the parting^pinch—others tendered the
doch-an-dorrdch, or parting cup. All c r i e d — " Goodluck travel out w-ith you and come home with you.—
Give you luck in the Saxon market-—brave notes in the
leabliar-dhu, (black pocket-book,) and plenty of English gold in the sporran (pouch of goat-skin.)''
The bonny lasses made their adieus more modestly,
and more than one, it was said, would have given her
best broach to be certain that it was upon her that his
eye last rested as he turned towards his road.
Robin Oig had just given the preliminary " Moohoo 7" to urge forward the loiterers of the drove, when
there was a cry behind him. 6i'„ Stay, Robin—bide a
blink. Here is Janet of Tom ahourich—--auld Janet,
your fathers sister."
" P l a g u e on her, for an auld
Highland witch and spaewife," said a farmer from the
Carse of Stirling ; " she'll cast some of her cantrips on
the cattle." 66 She canna do that," said another sapient of the same profession—" Robin Oig'is no the lad
to leave any of them, without tying" Saint Mungo's
knot on their tails, and that will put to her speed the
best witch that ever flew over Dimayet upon a broomstick."
It may not be indifferent to the reader to know, that
the Highland cattle are peculiarly liable to be Uiiien, or
infected, by spells and witchcraft, which judicious people guard against by knitting knots of peculiar com-
�5
plexity on the the tuft of hair which terminates the
animal's tail.
But the old woman who was the object of the
farmer^ suspicion seemed only busied about the drover,
without'paying any attention to the flock. Robin, on
the contrary, appeared rather impatient of her presence.
<( What auld-world fancy," he said, f ' has brought you
so early from the ingle-side this morning, Muhme ? I
am sure I bid you good even, and had your God-speed,
last night." " And left me more siller than the useless
old woman will use till you come back again, bird of
my bosom," said the sibyl. " But it is little I would
care for the food that nourishes me, or the fire that
warms me, or for God's blessed sun itself, if aught but
weal should happen to the grandson of my father. So
let me walk the deasil round you, that you may go safe
out into the far foreign land, and come safe home;"
Robin Oig stopped, half embarrassed, half laughing,
and signing to those around that he only complied with
the old woman to soothe her humour. In the meantime, she traced around him, with wavering steps, the
propitiation, which some have thought has been derived
from the Bruidical mythology.
It consists, as is well
known, in the person who makes the cleasil, walking
three times round the person who is the object of the
ceremony, taking care to move according to the course
of the sun. A t once> however, she stopped short, and
exclaimed, in a voice of alarm and horror, " Grandson
of my father, there is blood on your hand !" C( Hush,
for God's sake, aunt,1' said Robin Oig; " y o u will
bring more trouble on yourself with this Talshataragh
(second sight) than you will be able to get out of for
many a day. 1 ' The old woman only repeated, with a
ghastly look, " There is blood on your hand, and it is
English blood. The blood of the Gael is richer and
redder. Let us see—let u s — — " Ere Robin Oig 5
could prevent her, which, indeed, could only have been
by positive violence,u so hasty and peremptory were her
proceedings, she had drawn from his side the dirk which
�6
lodged in the folds of his plaid, and held it lip, exclaiming, although the weapon gleamed clear and blight in
the sun, " Blood, blood—Saxon blood again ! Robin
Gig M'Combich, go not this day to England I''1 " x Prutt,
trutt,'' "answered Robin Oig, c t that will never do neither— it -would be next thing to running the - cpmitry.
For shame, Muhme—give me the dirk. You cannot
tell by the colour the difference betwixt the blood of a
black bullock and a white one, and you speak of knowing Saxon from Gaelic blood. All men have their
blood from Adam, Muhme.
Give me my shemdhv,
and let me go on my road. I should have been hah'
''
biig by, this time—Give me my dirk,
Never will 1 give it to you," said
itlie old woman-—" Never will X quit my hold on your
plaid, unless you promise me not to wear that unhappy
weapon.1'
The women around him urged him also, saying few
of his aunt's words fell to the ground; and ; as the
Lowland farmers continued to look moodily on the
scene, Robin Oig determined to close it at ajiy •sacrifice.
" Well, then," said the young drover, giving the
scabbard of the w7eapon to Hugh Morrison,
you L o w landers care nothings for these freats. Keep my.-dn'k
for me* I cannot/give it you, because it was my father's;. but your drove follows ours, and I am content
it should; be in your keeping, not in mine.—Will this
do, Muhme-H11 6(- It must," said the old woman-" that is, if the Lowdander is mad enough to c any the
k n i f e * T h e strong wrestlandman laughed auaid.
" Good wife," said he, i ( 1 am Hugh Morrison fiom
Glenae, come of the Manly Morrisons of auld kmgsyne, that never took short weapon against a nam
in their lives. And neither needed they: They iiu d
their broadswords, and I have this bit supple (showing
a formidable cudgel)—for dirking ower the board, I
leave that to John Bighlandrnan, — Y e needna snort,
* none of you Highlanders, and you in especial, Rob hi.
I'll keep the bi| knife? if you are feared for the auld
�7
«pae wife's tale, and give it back to you whenever you
want it,"
Robin drove on his cattle/and waved farewell to all
behind him. He was in the gi eater 'haste, because Ire
expected to join at Falkirk a comrade and brother in
profession, with whom he propose! to travel in comiiobin Gig's chosen friend was a young Englishman,
Harry Wakefield by name, well known at every
northern market, and in his way ap much famed and
honoured as our Highland driver of "bullocks. He was
nearly six feet high, gallantly formed to keep the rounds
at Smithfield, or maintain the ring at a wrestling
match; and -although he might have been overmatched,
ferhaps, among the regular professors of the Fancy, y t
as a chance customer, he was able to give a bellyful
to any amateur of the pugilistic art, Doncaster races
saw him in his glory, 'betting his guinea, and generally
successfully^ nor was there a hiaiii fought in Yorkshire, the feeders being persons of celebnty, at which
he was not to be seeii, if business permitted.
But
though a sprach lad, and fond of pleasure and its
haunts, Harry Wakefield was steady, and riot the
cautious Robin Org M'Combich }rimsell\ was more attentive- to the main chance. His holidays were holidays
indeed ; but his days of work Were dedicated to steady
and persevering labour.
In countenance and temper,
Wakefield was the model of Old England's merry yeomen, whose otothyard shafts, in so many hundred battles, asserted her superiority over the nations, and whose
good sabres, in our own time,, are her cheapest and
most assured defence. His mirth was readily excited ;
fcr. strong in limb and constitution, arid fortunate in
circumstances, he was disposed to be pleased with
every thing about him ; and such difficulties as he might
occasionally encounter, were, to a man of his energy,
rather matter of amusement than serious annoyance.
With all the merits of a sanguine temper, our young
English drover was not without his defects, B e was
�8
irascible, and sometimes to the verge of being quarrelsome ; and perhaps not the less inclined to bring his
disputes to a pugilistic decision, because he found
few antagonists able to stand up to him in the boxing^
ring.
The pair of friends had traversed with their usual
cordiality the grassy wilds of Liddesdale, and crossed
the opposite part of Cumberland, emphatically called
The Waste. In these solitary regions, the cattle under
the charge of our drovers subsisted themselves cheaply,
by picking their food as they went along the droveroad, f>r; sometimes by the tempting opportunity of a
start *and owerloup, or invasion of the neighbouring
pasture, where, an occasion presented itself. But now
the scene changed before them ; they were descending
towards a fertile and inclosed country, wdiere no such
liberties could be taken writh impunity, or without a previous arrangement and bargain with the possessors of the
ground. This was more especially the case, as a great
northern fair was upon the eve of taking place, where
both the Scotch and English drover expected t,o dispose
of a part of their cattle, which it was desirable to produce in the market, rested and in good order.
Fields
were therefore difficult to be obtained, and only upon
high terms. This necessity occasioned a temporary
separation betwixt the two friends, who went to bargain, each as he could, for the separate accommodation
of liis herd. Unhappily it chanced that both of them,
j unknowm to each other, thought of bargaining for the
ground they wanted on the property of a country gentleman of some fortune, whose estate lay in the neighbourhood. The English drover applied to the bailiff on
the property, who was known to him. It chanced that
the Cumbrian Squire, who had entertained some suspicions of his manager's honesty was taking occasional
measures to ascertain how far they were well founded,
and had desired that any inquiries about his inclosures,
with a view to occupy them for a temporary purpose,
should be referred to himself. As, however, M r Ireby
�9
had gone the day before upon a journey of some miles1
distance to the northward, the bailiff chose , to consider
the check upon his full powers as for the 'titan© removed,
and concluded that he should best consult his masters
interest, and perhaps his own, in making an agreement
with Harry Wakefield. Meanwhile, ignorant of what
his comrade was doing, Robin Oig, on his side, chanced
to be overtaken by a well-looked smart little man upon
a pony, most knowingly hogged and cropped, as was
then the fashion, the rider wearing tight leather breeches,
and long-necked bright spurs. This cavalier asked one
or two pertinent questions about markets arid the price
of stock. So Donald,^ seeing him a well-judging civil
gentleman, took the freedom to ask him whether he
could let' him know if there was any grass-land to be
let in that neighbourhood, for the temporary accommodation of his drove. He could not have put the question to more willing ears. The gentleman of the juick•skifts Was the proprietor, with whose
, any
Wakefield had dealt, or was in the act £>f' Gelling.
" T h o u art in good luck, my canny Scot," said M r
Ireby, to have spoken to me, for I see thy cattle have
done their day's work, and I have at my disposal the
only field within three miles that is to be let in these
parts." " The drove can pe gang two, three, four
miles very pratty well indeed™" said the cautious Highlander ; put what would his honour pe axing for the
beasts pe the head, if she was to tak the park for twa
or three days ? " W e wont differ, Sawney, if you let
me have six stots for winterers, in the way of reason,"
"' And which peasts would your honour pe for having
"•W'liy—let me see—the two black—the dun one—yon
doddy, him with the twisted horn—the brocket— How
much by the head ? " A h , " said Robin, " your honour is a shudge-—a real shudge—I couldna have set. off
the pest six peasts petter mysell, me that ken them as
if they were my pairns, puir things.11 " Well, how
much per head, Sawney," continued M r Ireby. " It was
high markets at Doune and Falkirk," answered Robin.
�10
And thus the conversation proceeded until they had
agreed on the prix juste for the bullocks, the Squire
throwing in the temporary accommodation of the inclosure for the cattle into the boot, and Robin making,
as he thought a very good bargain, providing the grass
was but tolerable. The Squire walked his<pony alongside of the drove, partly to show him the way, and see
him put into'possession of the field, and partly to learn
the latesjt ..news of the northern markets.
They arrived at the field, and the pasture seemed
excellent. But what was their surprise when they saw
the bailiff quietly inducting the cattle of Harry Wakefield into the grassy Goshen which had just been assigned
to tltfpse of Robin Gig M'Combich by the proprietor
himself. Squire Ireby set spurs to his horse, dashed up
to his servant, and learning what had passed between
the parties, briefly informed the English drover that his
bailiff had let the ground without his authority, and
tlia^rlve wimii seek grass for his cattle wherever he
woiikf, "siiftte^ie was to get none there. A t the same
time he rebuked his servant severely for having transgressed his commands, and ordered him instantly to
assist in ejecting the hungry and weary cattle of Harry
Wakefield, which were just beginning to enjoy a meal
of unusual plenty, and to introduce those of his comrade, whom the English drover now began to consider
as a rival.
The feelings which arose in Wakefield's mind would
have induced him to resist M r Ireby's decision; but every
Englishman has a tolerably accurate sense of law and
justice, and John Fleecebumpkin, the bailiff, having acknowledged that he had exceeded his commission,
Wakefield saw nothing else for it than to collect his
hungry and disappointed charge, and drive them on to
seek quarters elsewhere. Robin Oig saw what had
happened with regret, and hastened to offer to his
English friend to share with him the disputed possession. Rut V/akefiekTs pride was severely hurt, and he
answered disdainfully, " Take it all, man—take it all
�11
^•never make two bites of a cherry—thou eanst talk
over the gentry, and blear a plain man's eye—Out upon
you, man—1 would not kiss any man's dirty latchets
for leave to bake in his oven."
Robin Oig, sorry but not surprised at his comrade's
displeasure, hastened to entreat his friend to wait but
an hour till he had gvne to the Squire's house to receive
f, ay merit for the cattle he had sold, and he would come
back and help him to drive the cattle into some convenient place of rest, and explain to him the whole mistake they had both of them fallen into. But the Eng>
iMiman continued indignant: " Thou hast been selling,
hast thou ? A y , ay—thou is a cunning lad for kenning
the hours of bargaining.
Go to the devil with thyself,
tor I will ne'er see* thy fa use loon's visage again—thou
should be asliamed to look me in the face." " I am
ashanibd to look no mail in the face," said Robin Oij&
something moved ; " and, moreover, I will look yop&ya
the face this blessed day, if you will bide at the
en
down yonder.1'
" Mayhap you had as well keep
away/ 1 said his comrade; and turning his back on his
former friend, he collected his unwilling associates, assisted by the bailiff, who took some real and some affected interest in seeing Wakefield accommodated.
After spending some time in negotiating with more
than one of the neighbouring farmers, who could not,
oi would not afford the accommodation desired, Henry
Wakefieli at last, and in his necessity, accomplished his
point by means of the landlord of the alehouse at w hich
Robin Oig and he had agreed to pass the night, when
they first separated from each other. Mine host was
content to let him turn his cattle on a piece of barren
moor, at a price little less than the bailiff luyl asked for
the disputed inciosufte and the wretchedness of the
pasture, tis well as the price paid for it, Were set down as
exaggerations of the breach of faith and friendship of
his Scottish crony.
This turn of Wakefield's passions
was encouraged by the bailiff, (who had his own reasons for being' offended against poor Robin, as having
�12
been the unwitting cause of his falling into disgrace with
his master,) as well as by the innkeeper, and ,two or
three chance guests, who soothed the drover in his resentment against his quondam associate,-—-some from the
ancienc grudge against the Scots, which, when it exists
anywhere is to be found lurking in the border counties,
and some from the general love of mischief, which characterises mankind in all ranks of life, to the honour:Of
Adam's children be it spoken. Good John Barleycorn
also, who always heightens and exaggerates the prevailing passions, be they angry or kindly, was not wanting in his offices on this occasion; and confusion to false
friends and hard masters, was pledged in more than one
tankard.
In the meanwhile M r Ireby found some amusement
ih detaining the northern drover at his ancient hall. He
caused a cold round of beef to be placed before the Scot
fn the butler s pantry, together with a foaming tankard
^ r W n e - b r e w e d , and took pleasure in seeing the hearty
which these unwonted edibles were discussed by Robin Dig M'Combich. The Squire himself
lighting his pipe, compounded between his patrician
dignity and his love of agricultural gossip, by walking
up and down while he conversed with his guest.
"1
passed another drove,11 said the Squire, " with one of
your countrymen behind them— they were something
less beasts than your drove, doddies most qf them—a
big man was with them—none of your kilts though, but
a decent pair of breeches—D'ye know who he may be P11
4 e Hout ay—that might, could, and would pe Hughie
Morrison—I didna think he could hae peen sae weel up.
He has made a day on us ; put his Argyleshires will
have wearied shanks. H o w far was he pehind P1' " I
think about six or seven miles,11 answered the Squire,
" f o r I passed them at the Christenbury Craggy and
I overtook you at the Hollan Bush. If his, beasts be|
leg-weary, he will be maybe selling bargains.11 S£ N a , '
na, Hughie Morrison is no the man for pargains—-ye
maun come to some Highland body like Robin Oig her-
�13
sell for the like of these—put X maun pe wishing you
goot night, and twenty of, them, let alane ane,, arid! I
maun down to the Clachan to see if the lad Henry
lyaakfelt is out of his iuuiidudgeons yet, , J
The party at the alehouse were still in full talk, and
the treachery of Robin Oig still the theme of conversation, when the supposed culprit entered the apartment.
His arrival, as usually happens in such a case,' put an
instant stop to the discussion of which he had furnished
the subject, and he wTas received by the company assembled with that chilling silence, which, more than a
thousand exclamations, tells an intruder that he is unwelcome. Surprised and offended, but not appalled fey
the reception which he experienced, Robin entered with
an undaunted, and even a haughty air, attempted no
greeting as he saw he was received with none, and
placed himself by the side of the lire, a little apart from
a table, at which Harry Wakefield, the bailiff, and two
or three other persons, were seated. The ample Cumbrian kitchen would have afforded plenty of room even
for a larger separation.
Robin, thus seated, proceeded to light his pipe, and
call ibr a pint of twopenny.
" W e have no twopence
ale,'' answered. Ralph Heskett the landlord ; but as
thou find'st thy own tobacco, it's like thou may'st find
thine own liquor too—it's the wont of thy country) I
wot." " Shame, good man,'' said the landlady, a blithe
bustliug housewife, hastening herself to supply the guest
with liquor—" Thou knowest well enow what the
strange man wants, and it's thy trade To be civil, man.
Thou shouldst know, that if the Scot likes a small pot,
. he pays a sure penny."
| Without taking any notice of this nuptial dialogue,
the Highlander took the flagon in his hand, and ads dressing the company generally, drank the interesting
toast of " Good markets," to the. party assembled.
? " The better that the wind blew fewer dealers from
4 the north,11; said one of the farmers, .".and fewer Highland runts to eat up the English meadows." " Saul of
�14
my pody, put you are wrang there my friend/' answered
Robin, with composure, 66 it is your fat Englishmen
that eat up our Scots cattle, puir things."
" I wish
there was a summ-it to eat up their drovers," said another; " a plain Englishman canna make bread within
a kenning of them, ,h " Or an honest servant keep his
master's favour, but they will come sliding in between
him and the sunshine," said the bailiff.
If these pe
jokes," said Robin Oig, with the same composure,
" there is ower inony jokes upon one man." " It's no
ioke, but downright earnest," said the bailiff. " Harkye, M r Robin Ogg, or whatever is your name, it's
right we should tell you that we are all of one opinion,
and that is, that you, M r Robin Ogg, have behaved to
our friend M r Harry Wakefield here, like a raff and a
blackguard."
" i\Tae doubt, nae doubt, 1 ' answered
Robin, with great composure
" a n d you are a set of
very feeling judges, for whose prams or pehaviour I
wad not gie a pinch of sneeshing. If M r Harry Waalefelt kens where he is wranged, he kens where he may
be righted."
" H e speaks truth," said Wakefield,
who had listened to what passed, divided between the
offence which he had taken at Robin's late behaviour,
and the revival of his habitual habits of friendship.
He now rose, and went towards Robin, who got up
from his seat as he approached, and held out his hand.
" That's right, Harry—go it—serve him out," resounded on all sides—" tip him the nailer—show him the
mill."
" Hold your peace all of you, and b e —
said Wakefield; and then addressing his comrade, he
took him by the extended hand, with something alike
of respect and defiance. " Robin,11 he said, " thou hast
used me ill enough this day ; but if you mean like a
frank fellow, to shake hands, arid take a tussel for love
OP the sod, why I'll forgie the man, and we shall be
better friends than ever."
" And would it not pe petter to be cood frieiv's without more of the matter? 11
said Robin ; ** we will be much petter friendships with
our panes hale than broken."
�15
Harry Wakefield dropped the hand of his friend, or
rather threw it from him. " I did not think I had
been keeping company for three years with a coward.'''
" Coward pelongs to none of my name,1' said Robin,
whose eyes began to kindle, but keeping the command
of his temper. " It was no coward's legs or hands,
Harry Waakfelt, that drew you /out t)f the lord* of
Frew, when you was drifting ower the plack rock, and
every eel in the river expected his share of you. 1 ' " And
that is true enough, too, 1 ' said the Englishman, struck
by the appeal, " Adzooks I11 exclaimed the , bailiff—
" sure Harry Wakefield, the nattiest lad at Wiifcson
Tryste, Wooler Fair, Carlisle Sands, or Stagfhaw
bank, is not going to show white feather ? A h , this
comes of living so long with kilts and bonnets—men
forget the use of their daddies.'1
" I may teach you,
Master Fleecebumpkiii, that I have not lost the use of
mine," said Wakefield, and then went on. " This will
never do, Robin.
W e must have a torn-op, or we
shall be the talk of the country side. I'll be d
d
if I hurt thee—I'll put on the gloves gin thou like.
Come, stand forward like a man. '' " To pe peaten
like a .dog.," said Robin.; " is there any reason in that ?
•
If you think I have done you wrong, 111 go before
e, though I neither know his law nor his
A general cry of " N o , no,-—no law, no lawyer ! a
bellyful and be friends," was echoed by the bystanders.
" But,11 continued Robin, " if I am to fight, I have
no'skill to fight like a jackanapes, with hands and
nails," " How would you fight then
said his antagonist: " though I am thinking it would be hard to
bring you to the scratch anyhow."
" I would fight
with proadswoards, and sink point on the first blood
drawn—-Tike a gentlemans."
A loud shout of laughter followed the proposal, which
indee d had rather escaped from poor Robin's swelling
heart, than been the dictates of his sober judgment,
" Gentleman, quotha.!;" was echoed on all sides, with
�16
a shout of unextingnishable laughter: 6C a very pretty
gentleman,, God wot—Canst get two swords for the
gentleman to fight.with, RalphHeskett ?'J " No, but
I can send to the armoury at Carlisle, and lend them
two forks to be making shift with in the meantime;"
" Tush, man," said another, " the bonny Scots come
into the world with the blue bonnet on their heads, and
dirk and pistol at their belt."
Best send post/ 1 said
M r Fleecebumpkin, "-to the Squire of Corby Castle, to '
come and stand second to the gentleman."
In the midst of this torrent of general ridicule, the
Highlander instinctively griped beneath the folds of his
plaid. ** But it's better not," he said in his own language, " A hundred curses on the swine-eaters,-who
know neither decency nor civility ! Make room, the
pack of you," he said, advancing to the door. But.hife
former friend interposed his sturdy bulk, and opposed
his leaving the house; and w^en Robin Oig attempted
to make his way by force, he hit him down on the floor,
wTith as much ease as a boy bowls down a nine-pin. " A
rirfg ! a ring ! " wras now shouted, until the dark rafters/'and the hams that hung on them, trembled again,
and the Very platters 011 the Link clattered against each
other. " Well done, Harry."-—" Give it him home,
H a r r y . " — " Take care of him now—he sees his own
blood !"
Such were the exclamations, while the Highlander,
starting from the ground, all his Coldness and caution
lost in frantic rage, sprung at his antagonist with the
fury, the activity, and the vindictive purpose/of ! an incensed tiger-cat.
But when could rage encounter
science and temper P Robin Oig again Went down in
che unequal contest; and as the blow was necessarily
SL severe one, he lay motionless on the floor of the
Kitchen. The landlady ran to offer some aid, but Mr
Fleecebumpkin would not permit her to approach.
" Let him alone," he said, " he will come to within
time/and come up to the scratch again. He has not
got half his broth yet." " He has got all I mean to
v
�17
give-Mm, though/ 1 said his antagonist, whose heart
began to , relent . towards his old associate ; " and I
would rather by half give the rest to yourself, M r
jF'. ecebumpkin, for you pretend to..know,a. thing; or two,
and Robin had not art enough even to peel before setting to, .but fought with his plaid dangling about him.—
Stand up, Robin, my man I all friends n o w ; and let
me hear the man that will speak a word against you, or
your country^ for your sake."
Robim Oig was still under the dominion of his passion, and eager to renew the onset; but being withheld
on the one side by the peace-making Dame Heskett,
and on the other, aware that. Wrakefield no longer
meant to renew the combat, his fury sunk into gloomy
sullenness.
" , p o m e , come, never grudge so much at
it, man,\\ said the brave-spirited Englishman, with the
placability of his country, " s h a k e hands, anc] we will
better friends than, ever.." Friends I11: exclaimed
Oig with strong emphasis-— " friends, !-~Kever.
. tq yourself, Harry Waakfelt."
" Then the
curse q£ Cromwell on your proud Scots stomach, as ;the
man says in the play, a>id you may do your worst and
be.d—
d ; for one man can say nothing more to another after a tussel, than that he is sorry for it."
On these terms the frit3 ^sparted ; liobin Oig drew
out, in, silence,; a piece of money, threw it on the. table,
and then left the alehouse. .But turning at the door;,
he shook his hand at Wakefield, pointing, with hisToie% g e r upwards, in a manner which might imply either
a threat or a caution. He then disappeared in, the
moonlight.
Some words passed after his departure, between the
bailiff, who piqued fyims.eJf on being a little of a bully,
and Harry Wakefield, who with generous inconsistency,
was now not indisposed . to begin a new combat in defence of Robin O k ' s reputation, " although he could
not use his daddies like an Englishman, as it did not, come
natural to him." But ,Dame Heskett prevented this
second quarrel from coming to a head by her peremptory
�8
interference. <( There should be no more fighting in
her house,1' she said f " t h e r e had been too much already.— : And you, M r Wakefield, may live to learn,"
she added, " what it is to make a deadly enemy out of
a good friend."
" Fsha, dame!
Robin Oig is an
honest fellow, and will never keep malice." " 13o not
trust to that—you do not know the dour temper of the
Scotch, though you have dealt with them so often. I
have a right to know them, my mother being a Scot."
" And so is well seen in her daughter," said Ralph
Heskett.
This nuptial sarcasm gave the discourse another turn ;
fresh customers entered the tap-room or kitchen, and
others left it. The conversation turned on the expected
markets, and the report of prices from the different parts
of Scotland and England—treaties were commenced,
and Harry Wakefield was lucky enough to find a chap
for a part of his drove, and at a very considerable profit; an event of consequence more than sufficient to blot
out all remembrances of the unpleasant scuffle in the
earlier part of the day. But there remained one party
from whose mind that recollection could not have been
wiped away by possession of every head of cattle betwixt
Esk and* Eden.
This was Robin Oig M ' C o m b i c h . — " That I should
have had no weapon,11 he said, and for the first time in
my life !-—Blighted be the tongue that bids the Highlander part with the dirk—the dirk—ha ! the •English
blood 1 — M y Mr,lnne's word—when did her word fall
to the ground?"
The recollection of the fatal prophecy confirmed the
deadly- intention which instantly sprang up in his mind.
" Ha ! Morrison cannot be many miles behind ; and if
it were an hundred, what then ! "
His impetuous spirit had now a fixed purpose and
motive of action, and he turned the light foot of his
country towards the wilds, through which he knew, by
M r Ireby's report, that Morrison was advancing. His
mind was wholly engrossed by the sense of injury—in-
�19
jury sustained from a friend ; and by the desire of vengeance on one whombhe now accounted his most bitter
enemy.
The treasured ideas of self-importance and
self-opinion-—iof ideal birth and quality, had become more
precious to. him, (like the hoard to the miser,) because
he could only enjoy them hi secret. Hut that hoard
•was pillaged, the idols which he had secretly worshipped
had been desecrated and profaned. Insulted, abused,
-and beaten, he was no longer worthy, in his own opinion, of the name he bore, cr the lineage which he belonged to—nothing was left to him—nothing but revenge 5 and, as the reflection added a galling spur to
every *stop, he determined it should be as sudden and
signal as the offence.
When Robin Gig left the door of the alehouse, seven
or eight-English miles at least lay betwixt Morrison and
him. The advance of the former was slow, limited by
the sluggish pace of his cattle ,.; the last left behind him
stubbie-ntield and hedge-row, crag, and dark heath, all
glittering 'with frost-rime in the broad November moonlight, at. the rate of six miles an hour. And now the
distant lowing of Morrison's cattle Is heard ; and now
they are seen creeping like moles in size and slowness
of motion on the broad face of the moor ; -and now he
meets them—passes them, and stops their conductor.
" M a y good betide us,"^said the 8ou t blander
Is
this you, Robin M'Combich, or your wraith ! "
" It
is Robin Gig M'Combieh, , V answered the Highlander,
" and it is not.—But. never mind that, put pe .giving
me the skenedhu." " What ! you are for back to the
Highlands—The devil!—Have you. selt all oft7 before
the fair ?
This beats all for quick markets."
" I
have not sold—I am not going north—May pe I will
never go north again.—Give me pack my dirk, Hugh
Morrison, or there will be words pet ween us."
" Indeed, Robin, P11 be better advised or I gie it back to
you—it is a wanchancy weapon in a Higlandman5s
hand, and I am thinking you will be about some barnsbreaking, ?
" P r u t t , trutt ! let me have my wea-
�20
pon," said Robin Oig, impatiently.
" H o o l y and
fairly," said his well-meaning friendly " I'll tell you what
will do better than these dirking doings—Ye ken Highlander and Lowlander, and Border-men, are a' ae man's
bairns when you are over the Scots dyke. See the
Eskdale callants, and fighting Charlie of Liddesdale,
and the Lockerby lads, and the four Dandies of L u struther, and a wheen mair grey plaids, are coming up
behind ; and if you are wranged, there is a, hand of a
manly Morrison, we'll see you righted, if Carlisle and
Stanwixbaith took up the feud."
" T o tell you the
truth," said Robin Oig, desirous of eluding the suspicions
of his friend, " I have enlisted with a party of the
Black Watch, and must inarch off to-morrow morning.'•
Enlisted ! Were you mad or drunk P—You must buy
yourself off—I can lend you twenty notes, and twenty
to that, if the drove sell.'1 " I thank you, thank ye,
Hnghie ; but I go with good will the gate that .1 am
going,—-so the dirk—the dirk ! "
" There it is for
you then, since less wunna serve. But think on what
1 was saying.'—Waes me, it will be sair news in the
braes of Bakpiidder, that Robin Oig M'Combich should
have run an ill gate, arid ta en on." " I l l news in
Balquidder, indeed ! " echoed poor Robin; " p u t Cot
speed you, Hughie, and send you good marcats.
Ye
winna meet with Robin Oig again either at trysfe or
fair."
So saying, he shook hastily the hand of his acquaintance, and set out in the direction from wThich he had
advanced, with the spirit of his former pace.
" There is something wrang with the lad," muttered
the Morrison to himself; " but we will maybe see better into it the morn's morning."
But long ere the morning dawned, the catastrophe of
our tale had taken place.
It was two hours after the
affray had happened, and it Was totally forgotten by
almost every one, when Robin Oig returned to lieskett's
inn. The place was filled at once by various sorts of
men, and with noises corresponding to their character.
�21
There were the grave, low sounds of men engaged in
busy traffic, with the laugh, the song, and the riotous
jest'of those who had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.' Among the last was Harry Wakefield, who
amidst a grinning group of smock-frocks, hob-nailed
shoes, and jolly English physiognomies, was trolling
forth the old ditty,
".What though my name be Roger,
Who drives the plough and cart—"
when he was interrupted by a well-known voice, saying
in a high and stern voice, marked by the sharp . Highland accent, " Harry Waakfelt—if you be a man, stand
up I"' W h a t is the matter ? — w h a t is it ? " the guests
demanded of each, other. ££ It is only a d—-cl Scotsman," said Meecebumpkin, who was by this time very
d r u n k , w h o m Harry Wakefield .helped to his broth
to-day, who is now come to have his..cauld hail he it
again. "
" Harry. Waakfelt, 11 repeated the sameormnqusv suhunons, ( e stand up, if you be a man! 5 '.
There is something in the tone of deep and concentrated passion, which attracts attention and impose^
awe, even by the very sound. The guests shrunk back
on every side, and gazed at the Highlander,, as he stood
in the middle of them, his brqws bent, and his features
rigid'with resolution.
" I will stand up. ; with all my
heart, Robin, my boy, but it .shall be .to shake hands
with you, and drink down all unkindness. It is not the
fault of your heart, man, that you don't know how to
clench your hands."
B y , this time he stood opposite to his a n t a g o n i s t h i s
open and unsuspecting look strangely contrasted with
the stem purpose, which gleamed wild, dark, and, vindictive in the eyes of the Highlander.
" 'Tis not thy
fault, man? that, not having the luck to be an English-?
man, thou canst not fight more than a school-girl. 1 ' i ( I
can,fight,'1 answered Robin p i g sternly, but calmly,
" and you shall know it. . You, Harry Waakfelt?
showed me to-day how the Saxon churls fight—I show
you nowT how the Highland Dunniewassal fights/'
�22
He seconded (he word with the action, and plunged
the dagger, which he suddenly displayed, into the broad
breast of the English yeoman, with such fatal certainty
arid force, that the hilt made a hollow sound against the
breast-bone, and the double-edged point split the very
heart of his victim. Henry Wakefield fell, and expired
with a single groan. His assassin next seized thebaiiiil
by the collar, and offered the bloody poinard to his
throat, while dread and surprise rendered the man incapable of defence. " It were very just to lay you beside
him," he said, " but the blood of a base pick-thank shall
never mix on my father's dirk with that of,a brave man."
As he spoke, lie cast the man from him with so much
force that he fell on the floor, while Robin, with his
other hand, threw the fatal weapon into the blazing
turf-lire.
" There,'"' he said, " take me who likes—
and let fire cleanse blood if it can."
out, he surrendered himself to his custody. " A bloody
t's work you have made of it, 1 ' said the constable,
our own fault," said the Highlander.
" Had you
kept his hands off me twa hours since, he would have
been now as well and merry as he was twa minutes
since."
" It must be sorely answered," said the peaceofficer. " Never you mind that—-death pays all debts ;
it will pay that too."
The horror of the bystanders began now to give way
to indignation ; and the sight of a favourite companion
murdered in the midst of them, the provocation being, in
their opinion, so utterly inadequate to the excess of vengeance, might have induced them to kill the perpetrator
of the deed even upon the very spot. The constable,
however, did his duty on this occasion, and with the as
sistance of some of the more reasonable persons present,
procured horses to guard the prisoner to Carlisle, to abide
his doom at the next assizes. While the escort was
preparing, the prisoner neither expressed the least interest^ nor attempted tin:
' 'reply.
�23
M y story is nearly ended. The unfortunate Highlander stood his trial at Carlisle, and was sentenced to
death. He met his fate with great firmness, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence. But he repelled
indignantly the observations of those who accused him
of attacking an unarmed man. " I give a life for the
life I took," he said, " and what can I do more ? "
COUNTESS OF
EXETER.
I AM no teller of stories ; but there is one belonging to
Burleigh House, of which I happen to know some of
the particulars. The late Earl of Exeter had been divorced from his first wife, a woman of fashion, and of
somewhat more gaiety of manners than " lords who love
their ladies" like. He determined to seek out. a second
wife in an humbler sphere of life, and that it should be
one who, having no knowledge of his rank, should love
him for himself alone. For this purpose, he went and
settled incognito, under the name of M r Jones, at Hodnet, an obscure village in Shropshire. He made overtures to one or two damsel's in the neighbourhood, but
they were too knowing to be taken in by him. His
manners were not boorish,—his mode of life was retired,
—it was odd how he got his livelihood,—and at last he
began to be taken for a highw7ayman. In this dilemma,
he turned to Miss Hoggins, the eiclest daughter, of a
small farmer at wThose house he lodged. Miss Hogg'ns,
it would seem, had not been used to romp with the
clowns : there was something in the manners of th^Ir
quiet but eccentric guest which she liked. As he four d
that he had inspired her with that kind of regard whi<h
he wished for, he made honourable proposals to her, and
at the end of some months they wTere married, without his
etting her know who he was. They set off in a postchaise from her fathers house, and travelled across the
country. In this manner, they arrived at Stamford, and
�passed through the town without stopping till they came
to the entrance of Burleigh Park, which is on the outside of it. The gates,.flew open, the chaise -entered,
and drove down the long .avenue of trees that leads up to
the front of this fine old mansion. As they drew nearer
to it, and she seemed a little surprised where they were
going, he said, " Well, my dear, this is Burleigh House:
it is the house J have promised to bring you to, and you
are the countess of Exeter ! " — I t is said the shock 01
this discovery was too much for the young creature,
and that she never recovered i t . — I t was a sensation
worth dying, for. The world we live in was worth making, had it been only for this. I never wish to have
been a lord, but when I think of this: story.
�
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Woodcut 105: Title-page illustration of two sheep farmers leaning on staffs with a dog beside them. In the background is a flock of sheep and a mountain range.
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Stories of the Two Drovers, and Countess of Exeter.
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934198863505154">s0587b39</a>
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The Two Drovers
Countess of Exeter
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[1850?] per National Library of Scotland
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Woodcut image of two shepherds with their sheep on the title-page.
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Exeter, England
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks</a>
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BLUE BEARD;
OR, THE
EFFECTS OF FEMALE CURIOSITY.
T0 WHICH IS ADDED
THE MURDER
HOLE
AN ANCIENT LEGEND.
GLASGOW.
P I T DFORT E BOOKSELLERS.
RN E
H
20
��THE STORY OF
BLUE
BEARD.
THERE was, some time ago, a gentleman
who was extremely rich: he had elegant
town and country-houses; his dishes and
plates were of gold or silver; his rooms
were hung with damask; his chairs and
sofas were covered with the richest silks :
and his carriages were all magnificently
gilt with gold.
But, unfortunately, this gentleman had
a blue beard, which made him so very
frightful and ugly, that none of the ladies
in the neighbourhood would venture to go
into his company.
It happened that a lady of quality, who
lived very near him, had two daughters,
who were both extremely beautiful. Blue
Beard asked her to bestow one of them
upon him in marriage, leaving to herself the
choice which of the two it should be.
They both, however, again and again
refused to marry Blue Beard; but to be as
civil as possible, they each pretended that
they refused because she would not deprive
�4
her sister of the opportunity of marrying
so much to her advantage.
But the truth
was, they could
not bear the thoughts
of having a husband with a blue beard:
and, besides, they had heard of his having
already been married to several wives, and
nobody could tell what had afterwards become of them.
A s Blue Beard wished very much to gain
their favour, he invited the lady and her
daughters, and some ladies who were on a
visit at their house, to accompany him to
one of his country seats, where they spent
a whole week; during which nothing was
thought of but parties for hunting and
fishing, music, dancing, collations, and the
most delightful entertainments. No one
thought of going to bed, and the nights
were passed in merriment of every kind.
In short, the time had passed so
agreeably,
began to think that the beard which had so
much terrified her was not so very blue; and
that the gentleman to whom it belonged
was vastly civil and pleasing.
Soon after they returned home, she told
her mother that she had no longer any
were married.
About a month after the marriage had
objection
that th
to
�5
taken place. Blue Beard told his wife that
he should be obliged to leave her for a few
weeks, as he had some business to do in the
country. He desired her to be sure to procure
herself every kind of amusement; to invite
as many of her friends as she liked, and to
treat them with all sorts o f delicacies, that
the time might pass agreeably during his
absence, " H e r e , " said he, " a r e the keys
of the two large wardrobes. This is the
key of the great box that contains the best
plate, which we use for company: this
belongs to my strong box, where I keep my
money; and this to the casket in which
are all my jewels. Here also is a master
key to all the apartments in my house: but
this small key belongs to the closet at the
end of the long gallery on the ground floor.
I give you leave," continued he, " to open
or do what you like with all the rest
excepting
enter, nor even put the key into the lock,
for all the world. Should you disobey me,
expect the most dreadful of punishments."
She promised to obey his orders in the
most faithful manner; and Blue Beard,
after tenderly embracing her, stepped into
his carriage and drove away.
The friends of the bridle did not, on
this occasion, wait to be invited, so impatient
were they to see all the riches and magni
this closet: this,
�6
-icence
had been prevented from paying their
of the bridegroom.
she had gained by m
wedding
visit by t
No sooner were they arrived than they
impatiently ran from room to room, from
cabinet to cabinet, and then from wardrobe
to wardrobe, examining each with the utmost
curiosity,
and declaring that the last was
still richer and more beautiful than what, they
had seen the moment before.
A t length
they
came to the drawing rooms,
admiration
and astonishment were still
increased
by the c
g i r a n d o l e s , a n d l o o k i n g - g l a s s e s , the frames
o f w h i c h were s i l v e r g i l t , mostr i c h l yornamented,a n d in w h
from head to foot.
In
short, nothing could exceed the
magnificence
o f wha
did not cease to extol and envy the g o o d
fortune o f their friend, who all this time was
far from being amused b y thefinecomplimentsthey paid
desire to see what was in the closet her
husband had forbidden her to open. So great
indeed was her curiosity, that, withoutrecollectin
her guests, she descended a private staircase
that led to it, and in such a hurry, that she
�7
as two or three times in danger of breaking
her neck.
When she reached the door of the closet
she stopped for a few moments to think of
the charge her husband had given her, and
that
he would not fail to keep his
punishing her very severely, should she
disobey
know what was in the inside, that she determined to venture in spite of every thing.
She accordingly, with a trembling hand,
put the key into the lock, and the door
immediately opened. The window-shutters
being closed, she at first saw nothing; but
in a short time she perceived that the floor
was covered with clotted blood, on which the
bodies of several dead women were lying,
These were all the wives whom Blue Beard
had married and murdered, one after another.
She was ready to sink with fear, and the
key of the closet door, which she held in her
hand, fell on the floor. When she had
somewhat recovered from her fright, she took
it up, locked the door, and hastened to her
own room, that she might have a little time
to get into humour for amusing her visitors;
but this she found impossible, so greatly was
she terrified by what she had seen.
As she observed that the key of the closet
had got stained with blood in falling on the
floor, she wiped it two or three times over to
him.
But she w
�8
clean it; still, however, the blood remained
the same as before, she next washed it,but
the blood did not stir at all; she then scoured
it with brickdust, and afterwards with sand,
but notwithstanding all she could do, the,
blood was still there; for the key was a fairy,
who was Blue Beard's friend, so that as
fast as she got it off on one side, it appeared
again on the other.
Early in the evening Blue Beard returned
home, saying, he had not proceeded far
his journey before he was met by a
messenger
w
business was happily concluded without him
being present: upon which his wife
said
every thing she could think of, to make him
believe she was transported with joy at his
unexpected return.
The next morning he asked her for the
keys: she gave them to him; but as she
could not help showing her fright, Blue
Beard easily guessed what had happened,
"'How is it," said he, "that the key of the
closet upon the ground-floor is not here?
" I s it not? then I must have left it on.
my dressing-table," said she, and left the
room in tears. " B e sure you give it me
by and by," cried Blue Beard.
After going several times backwards and ]
forwards, pretending to look for the key,she
was at last obliged to give it to Blue Beard.
�9
He looked at it attentively , and then said .
" How came the blood upon the k e y ? " " I
am sure I do not know," replied the lady
turning at the same time as pale as death,
" You do not know," said Blue Beard sternly:
" but I know well enough. You have been
in the closet on the ground-floor : Vastly
well, madam; since you are so mightily
fond of this closet, you shall certainly take
your place among the ladies you saw there."
His wife, almost dead with fear, fell upon
her knees; asked his pardon a thousand times
for her disobedience, and entreated him to
any heart that was not harder than a rock.
forgive
her; lookin
But Blue Beard answered;
" No, no,
madam; you shall die this very minute !"
" A l a s !" said the poor trembling creature,
" i f I must die, allow me, at least, a little
time to say my prayers."
"
I give you," replied
" h a l f a quarter of an hour; not one moment longer."
When Blue Beard had left her to herself,
she called her sister; and after telling her,
as well as she could for sobbing, that she
had but half a quarter of an hour to live;
" Pr'ythee," said she, "sister A n n , " (this
was her sister's name,) " r u n up to the top
of the tower, and see if my brothers
�10
in sight; for they promised to come and
visit me to-day; and if you see them make
a sign for them to gallop as fast as possible."
Her sister instantly did as she was desired,
and the terrified lady every minute called
out to her, " Ann ! sister Ann ! do you see
any one coming ? " and her sister answered,
" 1 see nothing but the sun, which makes a
dust, and the grass which looks green.
In the meanwhile, Blue Beard, with a
great scimetar in his hand, bawled as loud
as he could to his wife " Come down
instantly;
" One moment longer, I beseech you,"
replied she; and again called softly to her
sister: " Sister Ann, do you see any one
coining?" To which she answered, " I see
nothing but the sun, which makes a dust,
and the grass which looks green,"
Blue Beard now again bawled out,
" C o m e down, I say, this very moment, or
I shall come and fetch you."
" I am coming: indeed I will come in one
minute;" sobbed his unhappy wife. Then
she once more cried out, " A n n ! sister
Ann ! do you see any one coming?" " I
see," said her sister, " a cloud of dust a little
to the left." " Do you think it is my
brothers?" continued the wife. " A l a s ! no,
dear sister," replied she; " i t is only a flock
of sheep,"
or I w
�11
Will you come down or not, madam ? "
said Blue Beard, in the greatest rage imaginable,
"Only one single moment more," answered
she. And then she called out for the last time,
" Sister Ann ! do you see any one coming ?"
"
1 see," repli
horseback coming to the house ; but they
are still at a great distance."
"Godbepraised!" cried she ; it is my
brothers : give them a sign to make what
haste they can.
At the same moment Blue Beard cried
out so loud for her to come down, that his
voice shook the whole house.
The poor lady with her hair loose, and her
eyes swimming in tears, instantly came
down, and fell on her knees to Blue Beard,
and was going to beg him to spare her life ;
but he interrupted her saying, " All this is
of no use at all, for you shall die
then
seizing
her with one
raising the scimetar beheld in the other,
was going with one blow to strike off her
head.
The unfortunate creature turning towards
him, desired to have a single moment alllowed
her to recollect herself.
4 No, no," said Blue Beard, "1 will give
you no more time, 1 am determined you
have had too much already
and again
�12
raising his arm Just at this Instant a
loud knocking was heard at the gates, which
made Blue Beard wait for a moment to see
who it was. The gates were opened, and two
officers, dressed in their regimentals,entere
instantly to Blue Beard; who seeing they
were his wife's brothers, endeavoured to
escape from their presence; but they pursued
and seized him before he had gone twenty
steps; and, plunging their swords into his
body, he immediately fell down dead at their
feet.
The poor wife who was almost as dead as
her husband, was unable at first to rise and
embrace her brothers. She soon, however,
recovered; and as Blue Beard had no heirs,
she found herself the lawful possessor of his
great riches.
She employed a portion of her vast fortune
in giving a marriage dowry to her sister
Ann, who soon after became the wife of a
young gentleman by whom she had long
been beloved. Another part she employed
in buying captains' commissions for her two
brothers; and the rest she presented to a most
worthy gentleman, whom she married soon
after, and whose kind treatment soon made
her forget Blue Beard's cruelty.
THE END,
�THE MURDER
HOLE.
AN ANCIENT LEGEND.
In a remote district of country belonging
to Lord Cassillis, between Ayrshire and
Galloway, about three hundred years ago,
a moor of apparently boundless extentstretchedsev
the eye of the traveller by the sameness and
desolation of its appearance; not a tree varied
the prospect not a shrub enlivened the eye
. by its freshness nor a native flower bloomed
to adorn this ungenial soil. One 'lonesome
desert' reached the horizon on every side,
with nothing to mark that any mortal had
ever visited the scene before, except a few
rude huts that were scattered near its centre;
and a road, or rather pathway, for those
whom business or necessity obliged to pass
in that direction. A t length, deserted as
this wild region had always been, it became
still more gloomy. Strange rumours arose,
that the path of unwary travellers had
been beset on this ' blasted heath,' and that
treachery and murder had intercepted the
solitary stranger as be traversed its dreary
�14
extent. When several persons, who were
known to have passed that way, mysteriously
disappeared, the enquiries of their relatives
led to a strict and anxious investigation •
but though the officers of justice were sent
to scour the country, and examine the inhabitants, not a t
persons in question, nor of any place of concealment which cou
lawless or desperate to horde in. Yet, as
inquiry became stricter, and the disappearance of individuals
inhabitants of the neighbouring hamlet
were agitated by the most fearful apprehensions. Some declared that the death-like
stillness of the night was often interrupted
by the sudden and preternatural cries of
more than mortal anguish, which seemed to
arise in the distance; and a shepherd, one
evening, who had lost his way on the moor,
declared he had approached three mysterious
figures, who seemed struggling against each
other with supernatural energy, till at length
one of them, with a frightful scream, suddenly
sunk into the earth.
Gradually the inhabitants deserted their
dwellings on the heath, and settled in distant
quarters, till at length but one of thecottag
woman and her two sons, who loudly lamented that poverty
�15
solitary spot. Travellers who frequented
this' road now generally did so in groups, to
protect each other: and if night overtook
them, they usually stopped at the humble
cottage of the old woman and her sons,
where cleanliness compensated for the want
of luxury, and where, over a blazing fire
of peat, the bolder spirits smiled at the
imaginary terrors of the road, and the more
timid trembled as they listened to the tales
of terror and affright with which their hosts
entertained them.
One gloomy and tempestuous night in
November, a pedlar boy hastily traversed
the moor. Terrified to find himself involved in darkness amidst its boundless wastes,
a thousand frightful traditions connected
with this dreary scene, darted across his
mind every blast, as it swept in hollow
gusts over the heath, seemed to teem with
the sighs of departed spirits and the birds,
as they winged their way above his head,
appeared, with loud and shrill cries, to warn
him of approaching danger. The whistle
with which he usually beguiled his weary
pilgrimage,
died away in silence, and he
groped with trembling and uncertain steps,
which sounded too loudly in his ears. The
promise of Scripture occurred to his memory,
and he revived his courage.
I will be
unto thee as a rock in the desert, and as a
�16
place of safety.'
This heart-consoling
promise inspired him with confidence, and
he continued for a time to make, with renewed vigour his way a
A t length, however, wearied and faint
through fatigue, he was compelled to cast
his pack on the ground, and in the midst of
the pitiless storm rested himself thereon.
Thus situated, he frequently, and with
much anxiety looked, to see, that if perchance, some place of shelter might be
near, but nothing met his eye but
darkness,
and that occas
ever anon struck through the gloom.
Resigning himself to his unhappy fate,
the poor benighted pedlar boy, anticipated nothing but perishing ere the cheering
light of day should again lighten the earth.
Despair had a second time nearly taken
possession of his soul, when he suddenly
started to his feet, and turning round,
to his great astonishment and joy, the
light of a taper appeared to come from a
pot not far distant; a few minutes' walk
brought him to he window whence the
light issued, he looked in and sawseveral
round a cheerful fire. He now made for
the door, which when he came at was firm
�17
ly locked. The boy in a frolicsome mood,
thoughtlessly tapped at the window, when
they all instantly started up withconsternationst
with an undefined feeling of apprehension ;
but before he had time to reflect a moment
longer, one of the men suddenly darted out
of the door, and seizing the boy roughly by
the shoulder, dragged him violently into
the cottage. "1 am not what you take me
for,' said the boy, attempting to laugh, 'but
only the poor pedlar who visited you last
year.' c Are you alone ?' enquired the old
woman in a harsh deep tone, which made
his heart thrill with apprehension. ' Yes,
said the boy, 6 I am alone here; and alas !'
he added with a burst of uncontrollable
feeling, ' I am alone in the wide world
also ! Not a person exists who would assist
me in distress, or shed a single tear if I died
this very night.' ' Then you are welcome!'
said one of the men with a sneer, while he
cast a glance of peculiar expression at the
other inhabitants of the cottage.
It was with a shiver of apprehension,
rather than of cold, that the boy drew
towards the fire, and the looks which the old
woman and her sons exchanged, made him
wish that he had preferred the shelter of any
one of the roofless cottages which were scat-
�18
tered
persons of such dubious aspect. Dreadful
surmises flitted across his brain ; and terrors
which he could neither combat nor examine
imperceptibly stole into his mind; but alone,
and beyond the reach of assistance, he
not increase the danger by revealing them.
The room to which he retired for the night
had a confused and desolate aspect; the
curtains seemed to have been violently torn
down from the bed, and still hung in tatters
around it the table seemed to have been
broken by some violent concussion, and the
fragments of various pieces of furniture lay
scattered upon the floor. The boy begged
that a light might burn in his apartment
till he was asleep, and anxiously examined
the fastenings of the door; but they seemed to
have been wrenched asunder on some former
occasion, and were still left rusty and broken.
near, rathe
resolved
It was long ere the pedlar attempted to
compose his agitated nerves to rest; but at
length his senses began to/steep themselves
in forget fulness,' though his imagination
remained painfully active, and presented new
scenes of terror to his mind, with all the
vividness of reality. He fancied himself
again wandering on the heath, which
appeared
beckoned to him not to enter the cottage,
to
to be people
�19
and as he approached it, they vanished with
a hollow and despairing cry. The scene
then changed, and he found himself again
seated by the fire, where the countenances
of the men scowled upon him with the most
terrifying malignity, and he thought the
old woman suddenly seized him by the arms,
and pinioned them to his side. Suddenly
the boy was startled from these agitated
slumbers, by what sounded to him like a
cry of distress; he was broad awake in a
moment, and sat up in bed, but the noise
was not repeated, and he endeavoured to
persuade himself it had only been a
continuation
door, he observed underneath it, a broad red
stream of blood silently stealing its course
along the floor. Frantic with alarm, it
was but the work of a moment to spring
from his bed, and rush to the door, through a
chink of which, his eye nearly dimmed with
affright, he could watch unsuspected, whatever might be done in the adjoining room.
of the fearful
His fear vanished instantly when he perceived that it was only a goat that they had
been slaughtering; and he was about to steal
into his bed again, ashamed of hisgroundlessapprehe
by a conversation which transfixed him
hast with terror to the spot
�20
This is an easier job than youhadyesterdays
' I wish all the throats "we've cut were as
easily and quietly done. Did you ever hear
such a noise as the old gentleman made last
night! It was well we had no neighbour
within a dozen of miles, or they must have
heard his cries for help and mercy.'
' Don't speak of it,' replied the other; 6 1
was never fond of bloodshed.'
' H a ! h a ! ' said the other with a sneer,
' you say so, do you ?'
' I do,' answered the first gloomily; ' the
Murder Hole is the thing for me that tells
no tales a single scuffle a single plunge
and the fellow is dead and buried to your
hand in a moment. I would defy all the
officers in Christendom to discover any
mischief
' A y , Nature did us a good turn when she
contrived such a place as that. W h o that
saw a hole in the heath, filled with clear
water, and so small that the long grass meets
over the top o f it, would suppose that the
depth is unfathomable, and that it conceals
more than forty people who have met their
deaths there ? it sucks them in like a
leech! '
How do you mean to dispatch the lad in
the next room ?' asked the old woman in an
nuder tone. The elder son made her a sign
there.'
�21
to be silent, and pointed 'towards the door
where their trembling auditor was concealed,
while the other, with an expression of brutal
ferocity, passed the blood knife across his
throat.
The pedlar boy possessed a bold and
daring
spirit, which was
were so completely against him, that flight
seemed his best resource. He gently stole
to the window, and haying by one desperate
effort broke the rusty bolt by which the
casement
had been fast
without noise or difficulty. This betokens
good, thought he, pausing an instant in
dreadful hesitation what direction to take.
This momentary deliberation was fearfully
interrupted by the hoarse voice of the men
calling aloud, 'The boy has fled let loose
the blood-hound! These words sunk like
a death-knell on his heart, for escape appeared
now impossible, and his nerves seemed to
melt away like wax in a furnace. Shall I
perish without a struggle! thought he,
rousing himself to exertion, and, helpless
and
terrified as a hare pu
hunters, he fled across the heath. Soon the
baying of the blood-hound broke the stillness
of the night, and the voice of its masters
sounded through the moor, as they endeavoured to accelerate its spe
�22
breathlesstheboy pursued his hopeless career,
but every moment his pursuers seemed to
gain upon his failing steps. The hound was
unimpeded by the darkness, which was to
him so impenetrable, and its noise rung
louder and deeper on his ear while the
lanterns which were carried by the men
gleamed near and distinct upon his vision.
A t his fullest speed, the terrified boy
fell with violence over a heap of stones, and
having nothing on but his shirt, he was
severely cut in every limb. With one wild
cry to heaven for assistance, he continued
prostrate on the earth, bleeding, and nearly
insensible. The hoarse voices of the men,
and the still louder baying of the dog, were
now so near, that instant destruction seemed
inevitable, already he felt himself in their
fangs, and the bloody knife of the assassin
appeared to gleam before his eyes, despair
renewed his energy, and once more, in an
agony of affright that seemed verging
towards madness, he rushed forward so
rapidly that terror seemed to have given
wings to his feet. A loud cry near the spot
he had left arose on his ears withoutsuspending
at the place where the Pedlar's wounds bled
so profusely, and deeming the chase now
over, it lay down there, and could not be
induced to proceed ; in vain the men beat it
�23
with frantic violence, and tried again to put
the hound on the scent, the sight of blood
had satisfied the animal that its work was
done, and with dogged resolution it resisted
every inducement to pursue the same scent
a second time. The pedlar boy in the meantime paused not in hi
dawned and still as he fled, the noise of
steps seemed to pursue him, and the cry of
his assassins still sounded in the distance.
Ten miles off he reached a village, and
spread instant alarm throughout theneighbourhoodthe inh
one accord into a tumult of indignation
several of them had
friends on the heath, and all united inproceeding
her sons, who were nearly torn to pieces by
their violence. Three gibbets wereimmediatelyrais
culprits confessed before their execution to
the destruction of nearly fifty victims in the
Murder Hole which they pointed out, and
near which they suffered the penalty of their
crimes. The bones of several murderedperson
the abyss into which they had been thrust;
but so narrow is the aperture, and so extraordinary the depth,
are inclined to coincide in the tradition of
the country people that it is unfathomable.
�24
The scene of these events still continues
nearly
as it was 300
of the old cottage, with its blackened walls,
(haunted of course by a thousand evil spirits,)
and the extensive moor, on which a more
modern inn (if it can be dignified with an
epithet) resembles its predecessor in every
thing but the character of its inhabitants;
the landlord is deformed, but possessesextraordinar
untaught skill, and if any discord be heard
in the house, or any murder committed in it,
this is his only instrument. His daughter
has inherited her father's talent, and learnt
all his tales of terror and superstition, which
she relates with infinite spirit; when she
describes, with all the animation of an
eyewitness,
the str
and trying to drag in their assassin as an
expiring effort of vengeance, when you
are told that for three hundred years the
clear waters in this diamond of the desert
have remained untasted by mortal lips,
and that the solitary traveller is still pursued
at night by the howling of the blood hound,
it is then only that it is possible fully to
appreciate the terrors of THE MURDER HOLE,
FINIS.
�
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 104: Title-page illustration in single-ruled circular border of a portrait of a king in full regalia with a long pike.
Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Story of Blue Beard; or, The Effects of Female Curiosity. To which is added The Murder Hole An Ancient Legend.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935682543505154">s0587b40</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Effects of Female Curiosity.
The Murder Hole
An Ancient Legend.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1850?] per National Library of Scotland
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Description
An account of the resource
20 printed at the bottom of the title-page.
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Type
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fairytale/folk lore
Subject
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Courtship and Marriage
Crime
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1851-1860
Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): regalia
Monarch: king
Portrait: Blue Beard
Portrait: king
weapons: long pike
-
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Omeka Image File
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Bit Depth
8
Channels
3
Height
3190
Width
1830
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PDF Text
Text
NEW AND IMPROVED SERIES
No. 9.
A SELECTION OP
RECEIPTS,
ADVICES,
AND
DIRECTIONS,
RELATIVE TO
H O U S E K E E P I N G , C L E A N I N G , &c,
FROM T H E MOST A P P R O V E D SOURCES.
GLASGOW:
P R I N T E D FOR THE
1850.
BOOKSELLERS
�C O NT E NTS.
rAGE,
T H E CHOICE OF A HOUSE,.... 3
Finishings,
,..
Tables,; Chairs, &c.,
Earthenware and China,...
Plate^.;.:/......................
Grates,
Gilding,
3
4
4
4
5
5
HOUSEKEEPING & CLEANING, 5
Servants,
6
Wooden Floors,
6
Carpets,
7
Oilcloths,
7
Marble Hearths and Chimney-pieces,
7
Walls of Houses,
. 7
Walls of Rooms,
8
Paper-hanging,
8
Picture-frames, ....*...
8
IvoVv, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Brass Initi al Work,
8
Windows and LookingGlasses,.......... . . ........... 9
Brass and Copper,............ 9
Grates and Stoves,...,
9
Kitchen Vessels,
10
J Knives,
10
Lamp Glasses,
10
10
t Furniture,
Varnishing,
12
Bottles,
12
Plate,
12
Flannel or Woollen Articles, 13
Silks,
...
,.13
Bed Feathers,
13
Lace,
Scarlet Cloth,
Clear Starching,.. *..
13
13
14
Stains,
...........1.14
VERMIN,
20
Ink Marks or Iron Moulds, 14
Paint or Grease Spots,
14
To Extract Grease from
Silk,
14
To Remove a Tight Stopper, 15
Economical Fuel,
15
To Light a Fire,
....15
Smoky Chimneys,
16
To Purify Water,
19
To Filter Water,
191?
Rats and Mice,
20
Bugs,
20
Fleas,..:
...21
• Lice,.:..;.:..:::.;;..*;..:..:.....2i ;
Beetles, Cockroaches, &c., 21
Flies,
21
Moths,
21
' Slugs, ..:...............
22,
DOMESTIC MANUFACTURES, ..22
Blacking for Shoes,
Blacking-Balls,
Blacking for Harness,
Cement,
Paste,
Waterproof Shoes,..
Ink,
Bottle Wax,
Potato Starch,.^,.
Potash.
22"
22:
22:
23'
23l|
23
24
24
24
24
�Tilh
XAMTLY
RECEIPT
BOOK.
T H E CHOICE OF A HOUSE.
Inhere are several important matters to be taken into con*
sideration in making choice of a liouse. In tlie first place,
take care that it is not damp. Dampness may arise from
-many, causes, but imperfect drainage, and close contact of tha
floors with the grqnpd, are the principal. When a house is damp
in any part, by all means avoid it, for it may produce the most
pernicious effects on the health of your family. Secondly,
see that the house has a free open exposure for fresh air, and,
if all other ^circumstances suit, prefer that which has an exposure to the south, for you will then have the beneficial
influence of the sun's rays. Thirdly, ascertain if there be a
plentiful supply of. good water in the premises, and if there
be proper means at hand for drying and bleaching clothes.
Fourthly, learn whether the vents go well, and do not smoke.
There are other inquiries you should also make, such as freedom from vermin, &c., but these are left to your own judgment.
FURNISHINGS.
When about to furnish a house, "take care to set out on a
right principle in the selection of articles, Neatness, and a
pleasing effect to the eye, require that there should be a harmony of colours, and a similarity of style in the main articles
pf furniture. Therefore, you must exercise a little taste and
judgment in your first selections, if you wish to avoid committing a blunder which will cost you much subsequent
annoyance. For example, let the tints of the carpet, of the
paper or pamt of the walls, and of the window curtains, be
•all in harmony in each room—that is, either possess a general
resemblance of colour, or various colours in pleasing contrast
with each other., Carpets being the most expensive articles, it
is safest to buy them first,.and. then to let their colour lead the
tone and style of hearthrugs, curtains, paper-hangings, &c. It is
also an economical plan to buy carpets of the same pattern
�4
for several rooms, because, in the CTf-nt 9 f
ai to a
house with different sized apartments, a piece of one carpet
may be taken to eke out another.
T A B L E S , C H A I R S , &C.
When ordering tables, chair* V - " f wooden articles of
a fine quality, tike - - " / P e c t f r that they mnst he of a
110 v e n e e r e ^ «
solid fabric v eneermg is only tolerable
i n „ jk>vv articles which are not to be subjected to much tear
and wear; nevertheless, a practice has begun of veneering
articles in daily use, such as chairs and tables, and consequently they are soon destroyed. Examine closely the back
and seat-frames of every mahogany chair, and reject it if it be
veneered. In ordering sofas, you should also take care to
bargain for genuine hair stuffing, for in many instances the
stuffing is composed of what is technically called pob, or a
composition of tow, wool, and other kinds of rubbish.
E A R T H E N W A R E AND C H I N A .
In purchasing your china and earthenware articles for the
table, take care to select sets which, in case of breakage, can
at all times and in all places be easily matched. If you buy
table ware of a peculiar or rare pattern, and afterwards break
several pieces, you may find it impossible to replace them.
Thus a particular set of earthenware or china, however beautiful and cheap, may ultimately prove a source of great
annoyance and no little expense.
PLATE.
Whatever silver articles you buy, let them be of a genuine
kind, or of sterling silver plate, which always keeps its value,
however old and worn it may become. Avoid all plated goods,
for the plating soon wears off, and then the article is valueless. If
you cannot afford to purchase sterling silver plate, your most
economical plan, consistent with elegance of appearance, will
be to get a few articles of German silver. This is properly
the metal called nickel, and closely resembles sterling silver
in texture and colour. In hardness and durability, it is
superior to sterling silver, and its price is only about a tenth
of what genuine plate would cost. German silver is now
manufactured to a large extent in England, and is made into
spoons, forks, ladles, tea-pots, salvers, dish-covers, and all
other articles for the table. The articles in Britannia metal,
such as tea-pots, coffee-pots, &c. should be of a durable fabric,
and always kept well scoured.
�5
GRATES.
In choosing grates for your rooms, do not buy those which have
burnished steel fronts, as they require more care in cleaning,
and are liable to rust during summer when not in use. The
best and neatest, as well as the cheapest, grates, are those
which are made of cast iron, and of an ornamental pattern.
Let the grates which you select be small or of moderate size
in the fire-place. Wide, open grates, by admitting cold air
into the chimney, are exceedingly liable to smoke.
GILDING.
Order all the gilding of your picture frames and other
articles to be done in oil: it is infinitely more durable, and
will wash when soiled.
HOUSEKEEPING A N D CLEANING.
Every good housewife should keep a regular and continuous
account of her income and expenditure. This is a very essential part of domestic duty, and should not be neglected.
When properly set about, there is little or no trouble in keeping the household accounts; and for the guidance of young
housewives, with whom frugality should be an object, we beg
to suggest the following simple plan of keeping them:—Procure a small slate-book—that is, a little book composed of
three slates, bound in a plain cover. This, which you write
upon with a slate pencil, is your day-booh; it is always at
hand for you to scroll down any note of outlay, and will keep
several days' or a week's accounts at a time. A t any leisure
moment, you carry the entries of outlay from the slates to a
small ruled paper book, which is your ledger. One page of
this is devoted to money received, and the opposite page to
money paid out. By doing this regularly, and comparing
the entries of sums received with the entries of sums expended, so as to see that they square with each other, you
will find that you possess a complete record of family expenses, satisfactory alike to yourself and to your husband,
should he make any inquiry into the subject. The keeping
of an account of receipts and disbursements, in this or any
other convenient manner, is calculated to check the tendency
to over-expenditure, or living beyond the means. Guard
against the practice of buying on credit, and running up bills
with tradesmen. If you can at all avoid taking credit, do so;
for by paying for every article with ready money, you possess
two decided advantages—you get every thing cheaper as you
want it, and you can go anywhere to seek out the best markets.
�6
SERVANTS.
The practice of hiring domestic servants for six months
at once has partly given place to engagements of one month.
It is better that the term hired for at the first should be short,
and if both parties- are pleased, a re-engagement can easily be
made afterwards. In this manner there is no vexatious obligations to keep together, and a separation can always take
place amicably. Many servants remain years in a place,
though hired on the understanding that it is only from month
to month, or, what is the same thing, hirecl for no fixed
period, but just so long as both parties agree; and that, in
the event of any dissatisfaction, there shall be a week or a
month's warning given to leave.
A good mistress generally makes a good servant. She
endeavours to. seek out and attach a good servant to herself.
She effects this attachment and good-will by simply laying
before the servant her line of duties, or what is expected of
her, and then leaving her to execute these duties in a regular
methodic manner. No servant likes to be interfered with in
her work, or to be called away from one thing to do another;
nevertheless, some mistresses are not happy "unless they are
going in and out of the kitchen, or bustling up and down the
house, ordering and counter-ordering or in some other way
worrying the servant out of all patience. W e advise the
young housewife to prescribe to her servants, in plain terms,
the duties which she expects they will daily and regularly
execute ; and if the servants are unfit to perform them, it is
better for both that there should be a separation. Where
two or more servants are engaged, the precise duties of each
should be expressly defined, in order to prevent disputes between them, and that the work of the house may be duly and
properly performed. ;
W O O D E N FLOORS,
If kept in order by daily, sweeping and other small attentions,
may be effectually cleaned by washing them with warm water
and soap; but if spots of grease are to be removed, the spots
must be previously taken out by fuller's earth. Ink spots
may be discharged with spirits of salt. The floors of bedrooms should be washed as seldom as possible. It is most
dangerous to the health of the person who occupies the bedroom to wash or scour it, unless the weather be fine, to allow
the window to be opened for thoroughly drying the room
before night. A damp mop may, when necessary, be passed
lightly over the floor.
�7
CARPETS.
Ordinary Kidderminster carpets can only be cleaned by
shaking and beating; if cleaned by means of washing, they
become so soft as to be speedily dirtied again, and their appearance is spoiled. Brussels carpets may be cleaned as
follows:—Take them np and shake and beat them, so as to
render them perfectly free from dust. Have the floor thoroughly
scoured and tlry, and nail the carpet firmly down upon it.
Take a pailful of clean cold spring water, and put into it about
three gills of oxgall. Take another pair with clean cold
water only. Now, rub with a soft scrubbing brush some of the
Oxgall water on the carpet, which will raise a lather. "When
a convenient sized portion is done, wash the lather off with a
clean linen cloth dipped in the clean water. Let this water
be changed frequently. When all the lather has disappeared,
rub the part with a clean dry cloth. After all is done, open
the window to allow the carpet to dry. A carpet treated in
this manner will be greatly refreshed in colour, particularly
the greens. In laying carpets, cover the floor beneath them
with large sheets of paper, to prevent dust from rising between
the boards. A carpet lasts longer by adopting this precaution.
OIL-CLOTIIS.
Oil or painted cloths should be laid only on dry floors; if
the floor be damp, the cloth will soon mildew and rot. Such
cloths, laid even in the driest situation, should be wetted as little
as possible. When to be cleaned, they should be wiped with
a wet cloth, and rubbed gently till dry.
M A R B L E H E A R T H S AND C H I M N E Y P I E C E S
May be cleaned as f o l l o w s M i x a gill of soap lees,
half a gill of turpentine, and a bullock's gall, and make them
into a paste with pipe-clay, which lay upon the marble, and
let it remain a day or two, then rub it off, and the stains will
have disappeared, unless they are of long standing, when the
paste must be again applied. Polished marble requires careful treatment, as any acid will destroy the polish. In general,
warm water and soap will be found the safest thing for cleaning chimney pieces.
W A L L S OF H O U S E S .
The outer surfaces of walls, formed of brick or sandstone,
sometimes imbibe moisture from the atmosphere, and this
gives a dampness to the interior. If it be found unsuitable to
plaster and white-wash the outside, the damp may be greatly
�8
prevented by painting the walls with a single coat of oil-paini;,
which, by being light in colour, will give a neat and clean
effect.
W A L L S OF ROOMS.
When walls of rooms or staircases are to be painted in oil,
let the paint be of the best description. It is not unusual for
inferior tradesmen to use whiting, instead of white lead, as
a pigment; by this deception, the paint will afterwards
scarcely endure washing. Supposing, however, that the paint
has been of the best kind, considerable care will be required
in cleaning it. The safest and most simple plan is to take a
pail of hot water and put into it as much common yellow or
soft soap as will raise a lather or froth. Now wash the walls
well with a flannel cloth dipped in this water ; then wash this
soapy water off with clean flannel and clean warm water.
Dry with a clean linen cloth. Do all this equally, so as not
to leave smears or parts better washed or wiped than others.
P A P E R HANGING.
Paper hanging should be first dusted and then cleaned by
a stale loaf of bread, with the crumb surface cut smoothly,
and gently rubbed, the dirty face of the bread being cut away
from time to time. The imitative marble-paper, highly varnished, may be washed with cold water and soap. PAPIER
MACHE, now much used for mouldings and ornaments in
rooms, may be cleaned with soap and water.
PICTURE FRAMES.
Picture frames of varnished or French-polished wood may
be washed with soap and warm v/ater, and sponge or flannel.
Frames which are gilt in the ordinary manner, or " watergilt," cannot endure washing or rubbing; but if "oil-gilt,"
they may be washed with cold water and a soft brush.
IVORY.
Ivory may be restored to its original whiteness by cleaning
it with a paste of burnt pumice-stone and water, and then
placing it under glasses in the sun's rays.
B R A S S INITIAL W O R K .
This is best cleaned as follows :—Mix tripoli and linseed
Oil, and dip into it a rubber of hat, with which polish the
work. If the wood be ebony or rosewood, polish it with a
little finely-powdered elder-ashes; or make a paste of rottenStone, a little starch, sweet oil, and oxalic acid, mixed with
�9
%
water. The ornaments of a French clock are, however, best
cleaned with bread -crumb, carefully rubbed, so as not to spoil
the wood work. Ormolu candlesticks, lamps, and branches,
may be cleaned with soap and water. They will bear more
cleaning than lacquered articles, which are spoiled by frequent rubbing, or by acids, or strong alkalies.
W I N D O W S AND LOOKING-GLASSES.
Dip a moistened rag or flannel into indigo, fuller's earth,
ashes, or rotten-stone, in impalpable powder, with which
smear the glass, and wipe off with a dry soft cloth. Powderblue or whiting, tied up in muslin, and dusted upon the
glass, and cleaned off with chamois leather, also gives glass a
fine polish. The spots in the silvering of old looking-glasses
are caused by damp at the back. Window-panes may be
made to resemble ground glass by daubing them with putty,
or a brush with a little thin paste.
B R A S S AND C O P P E R .
Brass and copper are best cleaned with sweet oil and tripoli, powdered bath-brick, rotten-stone, or red brickdust, rubbed on with flannel and polished with leather. A
strong solution of oxalic acid in water gives brass a fine
colour. Vitriol and spirits of salts soon make brass and
copper very bright, but they very soon tarnish, and consequently require more frequent cleaning. A strong ley of
roche-alum and water will also improve brass.
G R A T E S A N D STOVES.
Grates and stoves are cleaned with black lead mixed with
turpentine, or with stale beer and yellow soap, and polished off.
The finer lead is used dry in lump or powder. The bronzed
work of stoves should be only lightly brushed. Rottenstone,
or fine emery and sweet oil, is used for the bright work of
stoves and polished fire-irons ; the higher the latter are
polished, the less likely are they to rust. To prevent rust in
articles not often used, rub them with sweet oil, and dust over
them fine lime ; or with the following mixture :—To a quart
of cold water, add half a pound of quicklime; let it stand
until the top is clear, when pour off the liquid and stir up with
it some olive oil, until it becomes of a pasty consistence, when
it should be rubbed on the metal articles to be preserved. T o
fill cracks in stove backs, make a paste of wood ashes, salt,
and water. To remove rust, mix tripoli, sulphur, and sweet
oil, and clean the articles with it; or mix boiled soft soap
with emery No. 3, which will also discharge the fire marks
�10
from bright bars. Steel work may also be kept from rust by
varnishing it with turpentine in which is dissolved a small
proportion of India rubber. Polished* fire-irons may.'be best
preserved from rust by being closely wrapped up in strong
brown paper.
KITCHEN V E S S E L S .
The crust on boilers and kettles, arising from the hard
water boiled in them, may be prevented by keeping in the
vessel a marble, or a potato tied in a piece of linen. Tin
plate vessels are cleanly and convenient, but unless dried after
washing, will soon rust in holes. Iron coal-scoops are liable
to rust from the damp of t W coals. The tinning of copper
saucepans must be kept perfectly clean and dry, in which case
they may be used with safety. Copper pans, if put away
damp, or a boiling-copper, if left wet, will become coated with
poisonous crust, or verdigris. Untinned copper or brass vessels, even if scoured bright and clean, are always dangerous.
If made dishes be allowed to cool and stand in copper vessels,
the articles will become poisonous. In the year 1837, a lady
and her family, residing in Paris, were poisoned by partaking
of a stew which had been allowed to stand and get cold in a
copper pan. A German saucepan is best for boiling milk in.
This is an iron saucepan, glazed with white earthenware instead of being tinned, the glaze preventing its tendency to
burn. A stewpan made like it is also preferable to d copper
pan, since simple washing keeps it sweet and clean. A method
of glazing saucepans with earthenware has lately been the
obj ect of a patent in England. Zinc sieves are more easily kept
clean than those made of hair, will last longer, and not rust.
KNIVES.
Knives are best cleaned by rubbing on a flat board covered
with leather, on which is put finely powdered brick-dust.
Never put knives in hot water, for that loosens the handles
and spoils the temper of the steel. For simple cleaning after
use, wipe them only with a damp and then with a dry cloth.
L A M P GLASSES.
If the lamp glasses be ground, burnt spots upon them cannot be removed, but they may be cleaned from the effects of
smoke by washing with soap and water, and then rubbed with
a dry cloth. The glasses should always be ground on the
outside.
FURNITURE.
Mahogany furniture is always best cleaned by continual
rubbing; and no ordinary stuff that may be applied will com-
�11
perisate the want of this requisite. Some furniture is what
is called "French polished;" but this French polish is an
unguent possessed and applied only by cabinet-makers, and
readily to be had by housekeepers. In ordinary circumstances,
therefore, the furniture must be well rubbed, and with some
easily procurable material. The following are, the materials
we suggest:—Take a gill and a half of unboiled linseed oil,
one gill of turpentine, and a tea-spoonful of pounded loaf
sugar. Shake all well together, and rub a portion on the furniture with a piece of flannel, and polish with a linen cloth.
An oil for darkening furniture may be made as follows;—
Mix in one pint of linseed oil an ounce of powdered rose-pink,
to which add one ounce of alkanet root, beaten in a metal
mortar ; let the mixture stand in a warm place for a few
days, when the substances will have settled, and the oil, of a
deep rich colour, may be poured off for use : or mix one ounce
of alkanet root, four ounces of shell-lac varnish, two ounces
of turpentine, and the same quantity of scraped bees' wax,
with a pint of linseed o i l ; and when they have stood a week,
the mixture will be ready for use.
Furniture paste is made by scraping a quarter of a pound
of bees'-wax into half a pint of turpentine, and letting it stand
to dissolve. This will keep the wood light. If, however, a
quarter of a pint of linseed oil be added to the above, the
composition will darken the wood. Another paste, useful
for very light wood, is made as follows:—In a quart of hot
water dissolve six ounces of pearl-ash, add a quarter of a
pound of white wax, and simmer the whole for half an hour
in a pipkin ; take it off the fire, and when it has cooled, the
wax will float upon the surface, and should be worked in a
mortar, with a little hot water, into a soft paste. With this,
furniture maybe highly polished, as may also marble chimneypieces. It is necessary to mention, that furniture cleaned
with paste has the disadvantage of receiving heat-marks more
readily than if polished with linseed-oil, which, however,
requires more time and labour. In any case, the furniture
should be cleansed from grease and stains before polishing is
attempted; and this may be done by washing the wood with
hot beer, or with soap and water. The safest way to heat
furniture paste or oil is to place the vessel containing it in
another holding boiling water upon the fire.
A fine varnish for mahogany or other furniture may be
thus m a d e P u t into a bottle two ounces of gum-sandrac,
one ounce of shell-lac, half an ounce of mastic, half an ounce
of gum-benjamin, one ounce of Venice turpentine, anda pint
of spirits of wine. Colour red with dragon's blood, or yellow
)
\
�12
with saffron. Let it stand in a warm place until the gums
are dissolved, when strain it for use.
VAUNISHING.
Before new furniture is varnished, it should have a coat of
boiled oil, (if wished to be darkened,) or linseed oil, and be
left a day or two to harden; or a thin size, made from isingglass or gum-tragacanth, dissolved in water, or very thin
glue, is used; so that the pores of the wood be filled up, and
both varnish and time be thus saved. A good varnish may
be made by dissolving eight ounces of white wax and half an
ounce of yellow rosin in a pint of spirits of turpentine.
BOTTLES.
Cut a raw potato into small pieces, and put them in the
bottle along with a table-spoonful of salt, and two tablespoonfuls of water.
Shake all well together in the bottle
till every mark is removed, and rinse with clean water. This
will remove stains of wine, green marks of vegetation, and
other discolourations. Hard crust in bottles may be cleaned
off by rinsing with water and small shot. Take care to wash
out all the shot before putting the bottles aside.
PLATE.
Articles of plate, after being used, should be washed in hot
water, or, if stained, they should be boiled, and rinsed and
dried before you attempt to clean them. They should be
carefully handled, else they may receive deep scratches, which
are very difficult to remove.
Besides, the object is not
merely to clean the plate, but to polish it, so that it may
appear almost as brilliant as when it was received new
from the silversmith. For this purpose quicksilver was formerly much used in plate-powder, and it gave the silver great
lustre, which soon, however, disappeared, and the article
became tarnished and blackened.
The best plate-powder consists of dried and finely-sifted
whiting or chalk. The greater part of the whiting sold in
the shops is coarse trash, unfit for rubbing upon plate, and
great care must be taken to procure the finest London whiting, which will not scratch.
Brushes, hard and soft, sponge, and wash leather, are
requisites for cleaning plate; if the powder be mixed with
spirits of wine laid on with a sponge, and rubbed off with
wash-leather, all tarnish will be removed. Salt stains (blackish spots) and sulphur marks from eggs are more difficult to
remove. It is a good plan to boil a soft fine old cloth in
water with some prepared chalk dissolved in it, and to drv
�13
the cloth, and use it for polishing. The soft brush is for the
same purpose, the hard brush being for chased work, edges,
and crests, so that not a portion of dry powder may remain
in them. Plate should in all cases be finished with a fine dry
vvash-leather.
Plated articles should be carefully wiped dry after washing
them, else they will rust or canker at the edges, where the
silver first wears off; and on this account, also, they should
be cleaned as rarely as possible. German silver may be
cleaned in the same manner as plate.
F L A N N E L OK W O O L L E N A R T I C L E S .
Wash them quickly with warm water, with soap. Wring
and shake them well, and hang them up to dry. Do not let
them lie wet. The more quickly they are dried, the less
likely are they to shrink.
SILKS.
No silks look well after washing, however carefully it be
done, and should therefore never be resorted to but from absolute necessity. W e have seen it recommended to sponge
faded silks with warm water and soap, then to rub them with
a dry cloth on a flat board, after which to iron them on the
inside with a smoothing iron. Sponging with spirits will also
improve old black silks. The ironing may be done on the
right side, with thin paper spread over them to prevent
glazing.
B E D FEATHERS.
Put a manageable quantity into a pillow case or bag, which
wash with warm water and soap. Wring out the lather, and
rinse them in clean water. Wring them as dry as possible,
and hang them up to dry. Shake them frequently while
drying. When quite dry, beat them to free them from any
dust. They may be now taken from the bag, and are ready
for use.
LACE.
When lace has lost its colour, soap it well and put it in
cold water, just enough to cover it. If much discoloured,
change the water at the end of twenty-four hours. When
steeped sufficiently, rinse it out; starch it a little; pick it out
as evenly as possible; roll it in a towel, and when nearly dry,
iron it. All kinds of lace veils may be treated in a similar
manner.
*
SCARLET CLOTH.
Pour boiling water upon bran, strain it, and, while hot,
wash the cloth in it, and rinse with hot water. Soap should
�u
not be used. Purple cloth may be washed in hot water and
pure' ley. Saxony or dark print dresses should be washed in
two lathers, and in the second should be poured a little oxgall, which will freshen reds, blacks, and greens; and a handful of salt added to the last rinsing-water will prevent the
colours running;
.
- ,
,
C L E A R STARCHING.
Clear starching is practised as follows:—llinse the articles
in three waters, dry them, and clip them in a thick starch,
previously strained through muslin; squeeze them, shake them
gently, and again hang them up to dry; and when dry, dip
them twice or thrice in clear water, squeeze them, spread
them on a linen cloth, roll tjiem up in it, and let them lie an
hour before ironing them. Some persons put sugar into the
starch, to prevent it sticking while ironing, and others stir the
starch with a candle to effect the same end; we object to
these practices as injurious to the article starched, or as very
nauseous. The best plan to prevent sticking is to make the
starch well, and to have the irons' quite clean and highly
polished.
,
... STAINS.
.
,
Stains of fruit or wine may be generally removed from
linen or cotton cloth by placing the articles over the top of a
pail, and pouring boiling water through them till the marks
disappear.
I N K M A R K S OR I R O N M O U L D S .
Ink marks or iron moulds may be removed by placing a
plate (a pewter One is the best) on the top of a basinful of
boiling water; then spread the articles on the plate; wet the
spot, and rub it with a small quantity of the salts of lemon;
as the article dries, the stain will disappear. If this fail, repeat the operation. A small box of salts of lemon will be
found very useful in a household.
P A I N T OR G R E A S E SPOTS.
Paint or grease spots may be removed from woollen cloth
by turpentine. Smith's scouring drops is a liquid sold in
small bottles, which will also be found efficacious in removing
oil or grease marks ; it is more expensive than turpentine,
but has a less offensive odour.
T o E X T R A C T G R E A S E EROM S I L K .
As soon after the discovery of the injury as possible, hold
the part firmly, and with a clean soft white cloth, or an old
�15
cambric handkerchief, rub the spot briskly, changing the portions of the handkerchief frequently and in a minute or two
the spot will disappear. On silks which fray easily, this plan
will be unsuitable.
T o R E M O T E A T I G H T STOPPER.
It frequently happens that the stopper of a glass bottle or
decanter, becomes fixed in its place so firmly, that the exertion of force sufficient, to withdraw it would endanger the
vessel. In this case, if a cloth be wetted with hot water, and
applied to the neck of the bottle, the glass will expand, and
the neck will be enlarged, so as to allow1 the stopper to be
easily withdrawn.
.
ECONOMICAL F U E L .
.
,
In places where coal is scarce and dear, a tolerably good
fuel may be made by mixing the culm or refuse dross of coal
with clay, and moistening the whole with water—masses in
the form of bricks or balls • may be made, which, when dry,
will, burn with an intense heat. Where peat'prevails, that
article may be easily charred by burning in a covered pit or
stove ; and this charred peat will be found to give a great
heat when used in an open fire. The Dutch make much use
of their turf in this manner. Another economical fuel, easily
procurable where there are woods of Scotch firs, consists of
fir cones or tops, which contain a great quantity of solid
woody matter in addition to the resinous, and are excellently
adapted for domestic fires.
T o LIGHT A FIRE.
To light a fire, clear the ashes from the grate, leaving a
few cinders for a foundation, upon which put a piece of dry
crumpled brown paper, and lay on a few small sticks crosswise,
then some of larger size, and on them a few pieces of coal,
and next the large cinders; and when the flames have caught
the coal, add a backing of small coal and cinders. When the
fire has become low, stir it together, but do not turn the large
cinders; clear the front of the lower bar to admit air, and
pass the poker into the bottom of the fire, to clear it of
ashes; and then with tongs put on a few large pieces of
coal towards the front of the fire, but not on the upper,
else the fire will smoke. Coals should not be thrown on,
but put on gently with a scoop or shovel ; and even the
smallest ashes may be burnt at the back of the fire, if they be
covered with small coal. The best and quickest mode of restoring a neglected fire is to stir out the ashes, and. with the
tongs to fill up the spaces between the bars with cinders. If
�16
carefully done, it is surprising how soon this process will produce a glowing fire.
Ashes and small cinders mixed with water into a mass, and
put on the back of a fire with a few coals, burn well, so that
ashes may thus be entirely burnt up. In stoves under
boilers, this mixture is very useful, as it lasts long, with little
addition.
SMOKY CHIMNEYS.
The cause of smokiness in chimneys are various; but all
.re connected with the properties of air and heat, for the
smoke is only particles of culm ascending through the agency
of heated air. To make a chimney vent well, the column of
heated air from the fire must not be entangled with cold air
from beneath nor retarded by cold air coming down the
chimney. To effect these objects, the fire-place must not be
much larger than the grate, and the chimney must be of a
certain length and bent. The great leading cause of smokiness is cold air somehow or other mixing with the warm air
about the mouth or throat of the chinmey, and so causing a
sluggishness in the ascent, or no ascent at all. Therefore, the
nearer the air is made to pass the fire on all sides, the more
rarefied it will be; and the less vacancy there is in the chimney-place, it will ascend with the greater rapidity. A proper
contraction of the mouth of the chimney, at the same time
allowing the fire to be fed freely with air, will be found in
most instances to cure smoke. Of late, certain contrivances
called dampers, by which the chimney throat can be narrowed,
have been the means of effecting draughts, and so curing
smoke. It should be noted, that in contracting chimneythroats, the contraction should not be all at once, but at first
gradual, and then straight upward, so as not to allow a volume
of cold air to lurk in a hollow above. A chimney being wide
at bottom, and gradually narrowing towards the next storey,
allows the coldish air to hang about the lower parts, by which,
when a gust of wind comes, the smoke is driven back into the
room. This kind of smokiness is the most teasing of all the
forms of chimney diseases. Every little puff of wind sends a
smaller or larger quantity of smoke into the apartment, and
often when it is least expected. Perhaps this kind of smokiness is not in all cases caused by wrong construction, but arises
from the situation of the house; and of this we shall immediately say a few words.
If a funnel of a chimney be made too narrow to afford an
easy passage to the top, the smoke will then naturally be
forced into the room to find some other passage; this defect
%
�17
is very common, and the remedy troublesome and difficult.
The most effectual cure, if the situation will admit, is to build
a small additional flue, and open a hole into it from the back
of the chimney, near the level of the mantel-piece, slanting
upwards in an easy direction ; this supplemental flue must be
carried to the top of the building to receive the surplus of
the smoke, and will prove a certain cure. If the situation
will not allow of this expedient, the fire-place may be contracted both in breadth and height, a smaller grate used, and
the chimney heightened at the top ; which will oblige the air
to pass close over the fire, and carry up the smoke with greater
rapidity, for the quicker the current, the less room it requires.
Should the chimney still smoke, a blower, or front plate, to
put on and take off at pleasure, will be of use. But it
none of these prescriptions answer, then something must be
done to improve the current of air towards the fire. This
brings us to a consideration of the want of ventilation in the
room.
If the chimney and fire-place be faultless, and yet smoke,
it is almost certain that there is a want of ventilation. In
ordinary circumstances, as much air is admitted by chinks in
windows and doors as will feed a fire; but if the room be
rendered very close by closing as many chinks as possible,
how is the fire to receive air ? According to the plan on which
houses are generally built, ventilation is left to be a matter of
chance. To ventilate an old house is therefore no easy task.
The following plans are worth considering, for they have been
found to answer:—Contrive to bring a small tube from the
external air, or from a staircase or lobby, to a point beneath
the grate, so as to cause a free current of air to reach the fire.
If the mouth of the tube below the grate be topped with a
cowl, the ashes will be prevented from falling into it. Some
years ago, the rooms of a public office in Edinburgh were
completely cured of smoke by this simple contrivance, after
all other means had failed. Another plan consists in perforating small holes in the cornice or roof, for the air to gain admission ; but, unfortunately, unless care be taken to prevent
colds, the cure is apt to be worse than the disease.
Cases are by no means uncommon of fire-places giving out
a puff of smoke every time the door of the room is shut. The
cause of this kind of smokiness is the want of ventilation in
the room. In shutting the door, it pulls out a certain quantity of air, which cannot be afforded to be lost, or it causes
such distraction of the current towards the fire, that the equilibrium that carries up the smoke is destroyed, and a puff
downwards—in other words, a rush of air loaded with smoke
�18
from the chimney—is the consequence. It will be remarked,
that this smokiness occurs most frequently when the door is
on the same side of the room as the fire-place. W e should
therefore advise house-planners to avoid this bad arrangement. If possible, let the door be on a different side from
that in which the fire is placed. Most houses in which the
chimneys go up the middle walls instead of the gables, have
the fault we mention. A remedy for this smokiness is to contract the mouth of the chimney, and, if possible, heighten the
stalk; for if the chimney be pretty long, the heated air ascending it goes with such a force that the outer heavy air cannot get down, at least not to so great an extent as to cause a
puff when the door is shutting. In some cases, the cause of
the disease will be found to be air rushing up behind the grate,
if a register, and then coming down to supply the fire, the action of the door disturbing the current. This is therefore an
argument for always taking care to build register stoves quite
close behind, not leaving the smallest crevice for air to steal
up the chimney without first going through the fire.
In erecting chimneys, it should be a rule to carry them up
a good way in a perpendicular direction, before making a turn,
by which means the heated air gains a force in its primary vertical ascent, which carries it,over future difficulties. In walls
in which the fire-place of one storey is immediately below the
fire-place^,above, it is impossible to get a perfect straight for
any great length; therefore this must be left to the judgment
of the builder. It is also advantageous for ail chimneys to
have a bend in them before reaching the top, and a garret
chimney should have two bends. For want of attention to this
top bending, many cottage and small villa chimneys smoke.
The use of bends is obvious. Strong, sudden, and accidental
gusts of wind sometimes enter, and beat into the top of the
chimney; a turning or bend, therefore, will break the force of
the wind, and prevent it repelling the heated air downwards.
But if the chimney is straight, and the gust meet with no interruption, it will stop the passage of the smoke for a while,
and of course force what rises from the fire immediately into
the chamber. It is to be observed that the farther the wind
gets down the funnel the greater strength will be required to
repel i t ; therefore the nearer to the top the bend or winding
is, the better. Also, if there is a storm of wind, with heavy
showers of hail, snow, or rain, falling perpendicularly in great
drops, the first bend or turning will, in part, stop their progress ; but if the funnel is perpendicular all the way down, the
great drops of hail, show, and rain, will fall freely to the bottom, repelling the smoke into the room; and if the funnel is
�19
foul, great quantities of soot will be driven down. These reasons recommend a bend in some part of the funnel as absolutely necessary.
Garret chimneys are more liable to smoke than any other
in the house, owing to the shortness of the funnel : for when
the composition of rarified air and smoke has made its way
up a high funnel, it forms a strong column, and to repel it requires a proportionably great force; but in a garret chimney
this strong column cannot be obtained; therefore, what cannot be had from nature must be aimed at by art. The fault
in most garret chimneys is being carried up in a straight direction from bottom to top in a slovenly manner, and with
funnels as large as any in the house; whereby the little internal rarefied air has the whole immediate pressure of the
atmosphere to resist, which, in general, is too powerful for it.
But a garret or cottage chimney carried up and executed in a
proper manner, with due proportion in every part, according
to the size of the room, and the funnel in an easy crooked direction, will draw and be as clear from smoke as any other.
T o PURIFY WATER.
To purify water, put into a hogshead of it a large tablespoonful of powdered alum, stir it, and in a few hours the impurities will be sent to the bottom. A pailful of four gallons
may be purified by a single tea-spoonful of alum. Freshlyburnt charcoal is also an excellent sweetener of water.
T O FILTER WATER.
Put into an earthen vessel (such as sugar-bakers use to form
the loaves in, with a small hole at the bottom or pointed end)
some pieces of sponge, and on them a sufficient number of
small clean peebles to quarter-fill the vessel. Hang this filter
end downward, in a barrel with the head out, leaving a space
of about two or three inches between the end of the filter and
the bottom of the barrel* The upper part of the filter should
be kept a little above the top of the barrel, which must always
be kept full of water. The sediment of tho water Will remain
at the bottom of the barrel, and the pure water will rise
through the sponge and pebbles to the vacant part of the
filter. It may be hung in a cistern, or water-butt if more
convenient. The pebbles and sponge should be cleansed occasionally.
Another economical filter may be made by taking out the
head of a cask, setting it upright, and at a distance of about
one-third from the bottom putting in a shelf or partition
pierced with small holes ; this shelf being covered with
�20
pebbles, upon which is a layer of fresh charcoal made front
bones; and over this lay fine sand, to the depth of an inch,
covered with another layer of pebbles ; and upon this should
be placed another shelf, pierced with holes, to prevent the
pebbles, sand, and charcoal being disturbed by the water
which is poured or runs in at the top of the cask; and after
passing through the filter, is drawn t>ff by a crane placed a*
the bottom of the cask.
VERMIN.
The best plan for preventing the attacks of vermin in
houses is to keep the house scrupulously clean; for where there
is cleanliness and ordinary precautions, no vermin will generate or exist.
R A T S AND M I C E .
These might in some instances be completely prevented
from encroaching in dwellings by giving a solid foundation to
the house, cutting off the approach by grating the drains, but
especially by filling up all open spaces beneath pavements
and in walls and partitions. Mice might be effectually kept
out by only filling up the spaces behind skirting boards in
rooms. These vacant spaces are invariably the habitations of
mice, and the first thing any person should do in entering into
possession of a domicile, is to cause all the spaces behind the
skirting-boards and wainscoats to be filled with plaster. Where
mice and rats have gained a footing in a house, they should
be taken off by a cat or trap, and when one kind of trap fails,
another may be tried. All schemes for poisoning them with
arsenic or other ingredients are dangerous, and cannot be recommended.
BUGS.
These pests exist only in dirty houses. A carefui housewife or servant will soon completely destroy them. The surest
method of destruction is to catch them individually when they
attack the person in bed. When their bite is felt, instantly
rise and light a candle and capture them. This may be
troublesome, but if there be not a great number, a few nights
will finish them. When there is a large number, and they
have gained a lodgment in the timbers, take the bed in pieces,
and fill in all the apertures and joints with a mixture of soft
soap and Scotch snuff. A piece of wicker-work, called a bug-
�21
placed
bed, forms a receptacle for
i . ' , and then they may be daily caught till no more are
left. Fumigations are very dangerous, and rarely effectual,
therefore attempt no such project. Oil-painting a wall is a
means of excluding and destroying them.
t
clie
FLEAS.
There is no way of ridding a bed or house of these vermin
but excessive cleanliness. Keep the floors well swept and
washed, and if you have a dog, comb and wash it frequently.
Fleas are bred on the ground, or among dust.
LICE.
Lice are now almost unknown in England. Wherever they
are found, there certainly also is found dirtiness. Ignorant
people imagine that these nauseous vermin breed spontaneously; this is a gross error. By cleanliness they are completely prevented;.. and the more warm the climate, so is the
necessity for cleanliness greater.
B E E T L E S , COCKROACHES, AND C R I C K E T S .
These may be caught in traps. A simple trap for them is
a glazed basin or pie-dish half-filled with sweetened beer or
milk, and to the edge of which a piece of wood is laid from
the floor as a gangway. Do not attempt poisoning or fumigation.
FLIES.
It is difficult to rid a house of flies by any other plan than
by poisoning, and that is too dangerous to be recommended.
A composition of milk, sugar, and pepper, will attract and kill
them, and so will a decoction ofquasia; but both cause them
to make offensive marks on the walls and furniture before they
die. Gilt frames and chandeliers should be shrouded in thin
yellow gauze or paper, in situations where the flies are likely
to spoil them. Trees about a house form a harbour for flies,
as well as dirt of all kinds. Cleanliness and airiness are the
best preventives.
MOTHS.
The best way to preserve furs or worsteds from mothg is to
sew them closely up in a bag of new unwashed linen; if this
is not done, the next best is to take the articles frequently out
and brush and air them. The odour of camphor, shavings of
Russia leather, lavender, &c., are much less efficacious than
they are supposed to be. Kill every flying moth which you
see.
�;
. '.SLUGS. .
.
Take .1 quantity of cabbage leaves, and either put them into
a warm oven, or hold them before a fire till they are quite
soft; then rub them with unsalted butter, or any kind of fresh
dripping, and lay them in the places infested with slugs. In
a few hours the leaves will ,be found covered with snails and
slugs, which may then be destroyed in any way you think fit.
DOMESTIC MANUFACTURES.
The attempt to make all sorts of articles for domestic use
is now far from economical, as the time and expense bestowed
upon them are often of greater amount than what would buy
the things ready from shops. W e therefore confine our directions to articles which may require to be manufactured in
families at a great distance from towns, or for the families of
emigrants in remote settlements.
B L A C K I N G FOR SHOES.
There arc many ways of making this article, the chief ingredients ; employed being ivory black, vinegar or sour beer,
sugar, a little sweet oil, and oil of vitriol. A good blacking
may be made as follows:—Mix three ounces of ivory-black,
two ounces of treacle, a table-spoonful of sweet oil, one ounce
of vitriol, one ounce of gum-arabic dissolved in water, and a
pint of vinegar.
BLACKING-BALLS.
For blacking-balls mix one pound of ivory-black, one pound
of lamp-back, a quarter of a pound of gum-arabic dissolved in
water, six Ounces of brown sugar, half an ounce., of melted
glue, and a quart of water; and make into balls. A fine
blacking for dress-shoes may be made by well beating two
eggs, and adding a table-spoonful of spirits of wine, a lump of
sugar, and ivory-black to thicken. This blacking may also be
used for restoring the black leather seats and backs of chairs,
etc. In should be laid on and polished as other blacking, and
then left a day to harden.
B L A C K I N G FOR H A R N E S S .
Melt two ounces of ; mutton suet with six ounces of befes'wax ; add six ounces of sugar-candy, and two ounces of soft
soap dissolved in water, and one ounce of indigo finely pow-
�23
dered; and when melted and well mixed, add a gill of turpentine. Lay it on the harness with a sponge, and polish oft
with a brush.
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"' i
vv
CEMENT.
Various preparations are used for mending broken china,
earthenware, and glass. The most successful are as follows:—
Beat the white of an egg with quicklime, in impalpable powder,
into a paste; to which is sometimes added a little whey, made
by mixing vinegar and milk. A little isinglass, dissolved in
mastic varnish, is another cement. Nature supplies some
cements ready to our hands—as the juice of garlic, and the
white slime of large snails; and it lias been stated in a respectable scientific journal, that a broken flint has been joined
so effectually with this snail cement, that when dashed npon
a stone pavement, the flint broke elsewhere than at the
cemented parts. In their anxiety to unite broken articles,
persons generally defeat themselves by spreading the cement
too thickly upon the edges of the article, whereas the least
possible quantity should be Used, so as to bring the edges almost close together; and this may be aided by heating the
fragments to be joined..
•
'
"
•
•
~
' PASTE.
7
Paste is useful m a house for preparing walls, cupboards,
boxes, labelling, &c. Dr. M'Culloch, of Edinburgh, employs
" paste made of flour in the usual way, but rather thick, with
a proportion of brown sugar, and a small quantity of corrosive
sublimate. The use of the sugar is to keep it flexible, so as
to prevent it scaling off from smooth surfaces; and that of the
corrosive sublimate—independent of preserving it from insects
—is an effectual check against its fermentation. This salt
does not, however, prevent the formation of mouldiness ; but
a drop or two of oil of lavender, peppermint, or anise-seed, is a
complete security againgst this.
W A T E R P R O O F STWTI: TOR SHOES.
In winter, or during wet weather, shoes may be rendered
durable by applying to the soles and seams a composition made
of the following materials:—Half a pint of boiled linseed Oil,
two table-spoonfuls of turpentine, one ounce of bees'-wax, and
a quarter of an ounce of Burgundy pitch. Melt the whole
together, and apply with a Brush-before the fire. • Repeat the
application till the soles will absorb no more. Neats'-foot oil,
alone, will be found an excellent preservation of shoes in wet
weather.
�24
INK.
An excellent ink suitable for writing with steel pens, which
it does not corrode, may be made of the following articles:—
Sixty grains of caustic soda, a pint of water, and as much Indian ink as you think fit for making a proper blackness.
BOTTLE W A X .
A good kind of bottle wax or cement may be cheaply made
as f o l l o w s P u t into an iron ladle half a pound of rosin, two
ounces of bees'-wax, and when melted over the fire, stir in
Venetian red, lamp-black, or other colouring; and apply
while hot. If kept for after use, melt with a candle as usual
when applied.
POTATO-STARCH.
Wash and peel a gallon of good potatoes, grate them into
a pail of water, stir frequently, and then let them settle. On
the following day the starch will be found at the bottom of the
pail; when pour off the water, add fresh, stir as before, and
let it subside a second time; when pour off the water, and
dry the sediment in the sun or a slow oven. An excellent
starch may also be made by setting in a cool place the water
in which rice has been boiled (though not in a cloth,) which
will in twenty-four hours become a strong starch.
POTASHES.
Settlers in the backwoods of America, or other woody
regions, have an opportunity of manufacturing potash, an
article of great use and considerable value. A vast quantity
of this substance is annually made in Canada, and exported
to Great Britain. Potashes are made from the ashes of burnt
trees. In burning timber to clear the land, the ashes are carefully preserved, and put in barrels, or other vessels with holes
in the bottom; and water being poured over them, a liquid or
alkali is run off; this ley being boiled in large boilers, the
watery particles evaporate, and leave what is called black
salts, a sort of residuum, which, when heated to a high degree,
becomes fused, and finally, when cool, assumes the character
of potash.
By these potashes the Canadians make their own soap; the
ley of a barrel of ashes, boiled along with ten pounds of tallow, till it is of a proper consistence, produces about forty
)ounds of very good soft soap. It is related, that when the
and has been covered with heavy timber of a hard nature,
there is such a quantity of ashes produced that their value will
pay for clearing the land.
f
�
Document
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Title
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The Family Receipt Book; A selection of receipts, advices, and directions, relative to Housekeeping, Cleaning, &c, from the most approved sources.
Date
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1850
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935661153505154">s0587b46</a>
Extent
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24 pages
16 cm
Description
An account of the resource
New and Improved Series No. 9.
Price One Penny.
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
<a title="niversity of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Type
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domestic manual
Subject
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Food
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: domestic manual
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a25c49f0a4bdd987493999de659a95f2.pdf
1fa707fa35be8233266db9b4ea486b17
PDF Text
Text
STORY OF
THE
BITTER WEDDING.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
��THE
BITTER WEDDING.
O ne fine summer morning—it was many
hundred years ago—young Berthold set out
with a very heavy heart from his Alpine hut,
with a view of reaching in the evening the
beautiful valley o f Siebenthal, where stood
his native village, and where he designed to
be an unknown and silent guest at the dancig
n
and festivity o f certain merry maker’s.
' Ah, heavens,’ sighed he, ' it will be a
bitter wedding! Had I died last spring it
had been better with me now.’
' Fiddle faddle!’ exclaimed a snarling
voice from the road side. ' Fiddle faddle !
Where master Almerich touches his strings,
there goes it merrily— there is the hurly
burly, dirling the bottoms out of the tubs and
pitchers ! Good morning, my child ! Come,
cheer up my hearty, and let us trudge on
together in good neighbourship.’
The young herdsman had stopped when
he heard such a frog-croak of a voice, and
now he could not speak for laughing. A n
odd-looking dwarfish figure mounted upon
�4
one leg and a half, and propped upon a
crutch, with a nose as long as one’s thumb,
came hobbling up quite out of breath, and
making half-a-dozen wry faces, from a foot
path on the left side of the road. Behind
him he trailed an enormous fiddle, on which
lay a large wallet— appurtenances which
s eemed to be attached - to such a little odd
figure by way of ballast, lest the rush of the
wind down the valley should sweep it away.
‘ Good, morning !’
Berthold at last
roared out,
you are a merry fellow, Maste
'
fiddler, and will prove heart’s ease to me
d
o
t ay. In spite o f my misfortunes I could not
help laughing a t the sight of you and your
hugeous fiddle. Pray take it not am iss; a
laugh has been a rare thing with me for
many a day.’
' H as it indeed,’ rejoined the dwarf ; ' and
yet so y ou n g! Perhaps you are heart-sick,
my son ?’
' Y es, i f you choose to call it so,’ replied
the herdsman, ‘ H ere in our mountains and
valleys, you will find a great many clouts of
fellows, who will be fanc ying themselves in
love, while they are all the time eating,
drinking, and sleeping, as sound as any
marmot, and in one year s time can as easily
pass from M argaret to Rosomund, as I from
this town to the other. That is all a mocke;
r
y
I would much rather die than forget
�5
Siegeland,—though for me all rest and joy
are for ever vanished.’
‘ Aye, aye,’ replied Master Almerich, ‘ I
thought you were going to the dance, my
hearty,— I heard you crying out a bitter
wedding, and I thought to myself, ‘ Aha,
he does not get the right one,’
‘ And that’s true enough,’ replied
t
r
ehold; ‘ he does not get the right one,— that
B
Hildebrand! I will tell you the whole matter,
Master Almerich, as you seem to be going
the same way, if I guess right,’
‘ Ah, yes, good heavens!’ sighed the
dwarf: ‘ surely, surely, I would be going to
the wedding, if I had only got a pair of stout
legs, but look you here, my dear child, what
a miserable stump is this for crawling down
the mountain !— I am asthmatic too, and my
goitre has been enlarging these last fifty
years,—and that wallet has galled my back
sore all yesterday in climbing over the rough
hills— Heaven knows when I shall get to
.
the wedding! There was such a talking
about it on the other side of the mountain,
that, thought I to myself, I will away to
the wedding also and make some money ;
so I took my fiddle and began to crawl up
the ascent,:—yesterday I became quite
h
x
e austed—and now I must lay me down here
by the side of the road and submit to fate.
Tell me all about the wedding when you
�6
eurn, child—if the wolves have not swallowed
t
r
or hunger killed me before that time.’
With these words the dwarf, apparently
exhausted, sunk down with a deep and
a
l
encholy sigh on the nearest stone, threw his
m
bundle on the grass, and stretched out his
bony hand as if to take a last farewell o f
young Berthold, who stood leaning upon his
staff, and gazin g upon the fiddler, quite
nble to comprehend what ailed him.
a
u
' M aster,’ began the herdsman, ' how
drooping! You have left all your g ay
spirits at home! Although it is a weary
journey for me as well as you, I will yet
endeavour to carry your wallet and fiddle,
so I may enjoy your company on the road.
You must really hear what presses upon my
soul,—perhaps I may obtain some relief in
speaking it out, and you will have some pithy
word of comfort for me.
The dwarf accepted the kind offer and
quickly transferred his wallet and fiddle to
the stout shoulders of the herdsman; then
taking his crutch, he whistled a merry tune,
and trudged gaily on by the side of Berthold.
I
‘ t is a long story, this wedding,’ begun
the herdsman;
b
‘ ut I will be as b
possible, for it still grieves me to the heart
when I think about it, and whoever can
understand it at all, understands it soon; as
for me my sufferings will never be at an
�7
end, though I should talk the whole day
about it.
' In the village there, below us, old
Bernhard has a pretty sweet girl of a
daughter, Siegelind ; he has lived for many
years, and his wife Gertrude with him, in a
nice little Cottage by the stream, where the
road strikes off into the wood. Their trade
is to make wooden spoons for the herdsmen,
by which, and the help of a goat and a couple
of sheep, they gain their livelihood.’
' L ast winter, having got some ashen
spoons and cups nicely cut, I thought with
myself, now, as my father is getting old,
and sends me with the cattle to the mountains
in spring, if I only behave there as becomes
a herdsman, what is there to prevent me
coming down in autumn and marrying
Siegelind ?
' Ah, Master Almerich, my words do poor
justice to my heart; my feelings always get
the start of them , and reason comes limping
after!
' I beheld Siegelind, you see, moving
actively about,— wearing a merry face late
and early,—
-all goodness and discretion froth
top to toe, and pretty too,—
overflowing with
g a y spirits and merry songs without number:
all this my eye, my ear, and my heart drun
in smoothly,—
-she was satisfied, and the
people too,— in summer I was to g o to
so
�8
mountains, and at harvest-home to the
d
e
wing, and in the meantime she gave me
this waistcoat to wear on the hills in
b
m
e
r rance of her. ,
‘ Old Bernhard went to the forest in spring
to choose the finest stems, and to provide us
with nice furniture against the wedding.
' So one morning as he was ascending the
mountains through those ravines where there
are some marvellously fine trees, a little man,
in an odd sort of dress, hastened to meet him,
screaming violently and beckoning and callig
n
him so earnestly that he could not but
go with him. They soon reached a barn,
where he found the stranger’s wife lying sick
and in extremity. Her he relieved and
cured; but for me—bride, peace, and happin
e
s
,
were lost from that hour.’
A
' h, good heavens!’ exclaimed Almerich;
' you are talking bravely, whilst I am
almost starving—hop, hop, hop— we are
trudging on, and my stomach is as empty
as a bag-pipe ! Yesterday evening—
t
ohing ; this morning-—
n
nothing ! Oh that
brave wedding-dance; the fiddle runs off,
and Master Almerich is starving here!’
' Now, now, the deuce, then,’ bawled the
herdsman, ' what have you got in this cursed
wallet ? Here am I toiling on with this
plagued bag , rubbing the very skin off my
shoulders, —if there is not at least a little ham
�9
and cheese and fresh bread in it,w h y should
I be smothered under such a bundle of rags.'
' Softly, softly, my son, ’ replied t h e
fiddler, ' there are treasures in that wallet,
an old barret cap of Siegefried, and an old
sword belt of Dieterich, and a couple of old
leathern soles o f Ylsan, child!— These are
no every-day concerns, my hearty ! They
are all estimable jewels to him who
s
r
e
d
n
utands the thing ; they are worth a whole
mountain of sweet wine; and seven acres of
thick golden wheat, to him who knows their
value.’
' It may he so,’ said the herdsman, ' I only
wish we had a few cups of milk in the place
of your treasures; but if it is so with your
stomach, my good master, look you, here is
a mouthful of g oatmilk cheese, I meant to
serve me for the night, but never mind, I am
little disposed to eat.’
Berthold now produced his provisions, and
Almerich devoured them as greedily as if he
meant to swallow the herdsman after them
by way of dessert. He then wiped his mouth,
leaped briskly up, was again in good spirits,
and stamped away before th e herdsman as
freshly as if nothing had ailed him. All
this, however, seemed very odd to Berthold,
and when he again felt the annoyance of the
wallet, he drew a sigh so deep that it echoed
back from the neighbouring rocks.
�10
‘ L ack a d a y !’ cried Almerich again,
' the poor lad has lost his bride and his peace
o f heart; I have been so concerned about
him that I could not eat a bit ?'
' T hat fellow could devour the Stackhorn !
thought Berthold with some indignation.
' The club foot is not in his right senses, I
believe!’
' It was really to bad,’ began he, resumig
n
his story. ' The dwarf in the barn
returned a profusion of thanks to old
h
n ard, and said, ' I am a foreign miner,
r
e
B
and have lost the road with my good wife ;
so I have nothing to reward you for your
kind services, save a little bit of cheese and a
few draughts of wine, take that, and
m
e ember the poor fellow who gave you what
r
he could, and will pray that Heaven may
reward you farther,’
' Old Bernhard accepted the little bottle
and a piece o f cheese only to get rid of the
importunity of the dwarf, who would take
no refusal.
Towards noon, he was proceeding to his
village; the road was long, and feeling
fatigued, he laydown in the shade o f a tree,
took out the gift of the dwarf, and began to
eat and drink. Meanwhile, who should my
evil stars bring in his way but young
Hildebrand, the most miserly fellow in the
v illage! ' God bless you, father Bernhard!’
�11
— '
Thank you ray son.’ Thus the
v
n
o
c ersation proceeded, The niggard sees the
old man comfortably enjoying his repast;
so he sets himself down beside him and takes
a share. There they eat and eat for about
an hour,— but the wine never gets less, and
the cheese is never done, and both behold
the miracle till their hair stands on end.
‘ All was now over, Master fiddler, and
poor Berthold was undone!
H
' ildebrand chose words which went
down with Bernhard as smoothly as honey,
and the long and the short of the matter
was, my dear sweet Siegelind was promised
to the rich miser, with the marvellous cheese
for her dowry. The old man was now quite
beside himself,—the young man talked finely
--they were to outdo the whole village, and
keep their secret to themselves; I was called
a miserable wretch, and the spirit of mischief
just brought me into their way in time to
hear the whole sad story.’
‘ Ah, good heavens,’ exclaimed Almerich
again, ' I am undone with cold; it is turnig
n
a chill rainy day, and my bones are so
naked!— Hew, hew, how the storm blows
into my very soul! This day will be the
death of me.— I thought so before. Take
your way, my son, I give you my fiddle in
a present,—leave me the wallet here, I will
stretch myself out to die upon it.’
�12
' The mischief is in i t !’ grumbled B erthold.
' I f matters are to go on in this way, we shall
be a year and a day hence still travelling
this cursed road? H ark ye, old boy, you
are an odd fellow! what tempted you to think
of wandering through our rough country,
without meat or drink or even a coat, but
with a fiddle as large as a ton, and an empty
wallet as heavy as seven three stone cheeses !
’Tis a perfect tempting of Providence!
W hy the deuce do you drag after you that
ass’s burden of old rubbish, without so much
as the convenience of a cloak in your bundle!’
' It is all very true,’ sighed Almerich.
' I am not yet accustomed to be the lame,
feeble man you now see me. Thirty years
ago I could skip like a leveret over hills and
dales; but now, farewell to friend Almerich,
I shall never leave this place! However it
is all one,—perish here, or die there, a dying
bed is ever a hard one, even though it should
be o f down and silk ?’
' Now really,’ replied Berthold, ' you are
too whimsical, fiddler ! The cold blast never
hurts a tough fellow who is accustomed to
run about the mountains,— there, slip into
my coat, and walk smartly on, for a shower
is approaching, and that rascally wallet is
weighing me down to the ground.’
‘ Patience, child, patience!’ said Almerich
--- ' This coat is quite warm from your
�13
shoulders,— I feel very comfortable in it,—
slowly, gently, your story of the marvellous
cheese and wine has restored me to warmth
—how did the matter go on ?’
‘ You rogue and rascal! ’ thought Berthold
to himself, and thus continued his lamentable
tale.
' How did it go on !— Gertrude sang to the
same tune as her husband; Siegelind grew
sad, and lost her bloom and strength; the
old boy urged the matter, and Hildebrand
too,— Bernhard was anxious to get the rich
and proud son-in-law, and was in great fear
lest the enchanted wine should soon dry up,
—the young fellow had money in his eye,
and wished to turn the bewitched cheese to
usury,— thus the wedding was determined
on, and I was left in sadness upon my mountn
a
i.
I tried to forget it; I thought
Siegelind could not have borne me in her
heart, otherwise she would not, even to escape
death and martyrdom, have married the red
haired Hildebrand. L ast night, however,
I could find neither rest nor sleep upon my
straw, I must go and see her with my own
eyes take that miser for her husband. Near
the village I will wrap up my head and dye
my hands and cheeks with berries, so that
nobody will know me,—nor in the bustle of
the wedding, when every thing is turning
topsy turvy, will a living soul ,care for poor
�14
Berthold. When all is over, I shall, so it
please Heaven, become wise a g a in ; or if
not, my poor brain will be turned altogether,
and that will be a blessing too.’
‘ M y good child,’ said the dwarf, ‘ you will
get over all this. I perceive very well that
it is a hard journey, and a bitter wedding
too for y ou : but it is your good luck, my
child, that you have me for a companion—
I will fiddle till your heart leaps again ,—
your sorrow grieves me as much as if it were
my own.’
Whilst talking thus, a few drops of rain
fell, which proved the prelude to a heavy
shower; and although the travellers had
r
l
aeady gone a considerable way, they were
still far from the end of their journey, and
gush after gush, the rain poured upon their
heads till the water run down from their hats
as from a spout.
Berthold trudged silently on, sighing
frequently and heavily under his burden,—he
could have sworn that it increased a pound’s
weight every step, nevertheless it was
m
i ossible for his good nature to think o f
p
i
gng it back to the poor cripple in such a
v
pest. The rain soon began to trickle through
m
e
t
his waistcoat, and run in a cold stream down
his back, he wished himself, the dwarf, and
the wedding all far enough, but stalked
sullenly on through the mud as if he had
�15
been wading through the highest Alpine
grass.
The fiddler limped close behind him,
croaking occasionally through his raven
throat, an old spring song, which told of
sunshine, and singing birds, and pleasure,
and love. A t times he drew himself snugly
together, and expatiated on the excellencies
of the herdsman’s coat, which he declared
was quite waterproof,— and then he would
exhort Berthold to step leisurely, to pay
particular attention to the wallet and fiddle,
and above all not to overheat himself.
The herdsman would have lost all patience
and courage a thousand times over in
draggin g his hundred weight of a load and
playing the fool to the crazy fiddler, if he
had not been ashamed to throw away the
burden which he had volunteered to carry,
and forsake the person whose company he
had himself invited. But in his heart he
vowed deeply and solemnly never again to
lend his coat to a fiddler, nor give away his
cheese, nor to carry a fiddle and wallet, and
after all be mocked and laughed at by such
an odd quiz of a fellow. ‘ I f ,’ thought he
at last, ‘ the upshot of all this is a fever in
the evening which carries me quickly off-—
be it so,-— remains a bitter wedding!’
it
After a few hours rain, the two pedestrians
reached the valley, where a swollen and
�16
rapid torrent, which had swept away every
vestige of the little bridge that led to the
village, with the exception of a single small
plank, rushed across the path; the herdsm
a
n
heeded not the narro footing, and was
w
stepping boldly across, when his companion
began to roar out lustily about the dangers
of the path : ' Fo r my life and soul I will
not move from the spot! N either cat nor
rah could pass over there,— I would be a dead
man if I ventured on that cursed plank !
Let them fiddle yonder who can swim,— I
wish I was in a feather bed with my fiddle
for a pillow!’
' Don’t make such a noise about i t !’ cried
Berthold. ' I f we have got thus far, we will
surely go on a little, farther,-— I have
if
brought the fiddler this length to the bitter
dance, I will also bring him to the wedding
house,—though I am a fool, I am neverthels
e
a good-natured one.’
With these words the herdsman took off
the fiddle and wallet from his back , and
supplied the place with the dwarf, whom he
carried over as easily as a bundle of straw.
He then returned for the fiddle, wallet, and
crutch, which lay as heavy as so many stones
upon his shoulders.
' Well, the best of it now is,’ said he, that
we shall soon reach the village,— but either
my head is turned, or that wallet is filled
�17
with f esh and blood, ,and master Almerich’s
l
body is stuffed with chaff! ’
' Nonsense!
'
replied the fiddler with a
broad grin, ' You have behaved well, child;
it would be a great pity i f :the bride yonder
would not g e t you ; you have the genuine
patience of the lamb in you, yet I perceive
you have also strength enough, with your
heart in the right place, and as much wisdom
as there is any need of in the country. Come,
let us paint your cheeks, and put on the old
cap you will find in my wallet, and the green
waistcoat and get that belt about you;
d
o
t ay you will be the fiddler’s boy, and not a
liv in g creature know you.’
The fiddler opened his wallet and threw
out its contents to Berthold, whose face he
painted with cranberries, and beard and
b
y
e rows with a bit of coal, and then they
walked gaily on towards the village.
Evening was just coming on, and the sun
broke out all at once from under the clouds,
— the birds -began to sing cheerfully,—the
flowers, opened their leaves as if to listen,
and Berthold felt his clothes sooner dried
than if he had been sitting close to a large
fire.
In a few minutes our wanderers mingled
with the merry wedding-guests; noises and
merriment were echoing all around, and no
one looked sad but Siegelind, who kept her
�18
tearful eyes fixed upon the ground. The
old fiddler was welcomed with shouts of
applause ; for the rain had prevented the
arrival of the band o f fiddlers and pipers who
had been invited on the occasion, and every
body thought it a piece o f marvellous good
luck for the wedding that master Almerich
should have got through.
' Now, children,’ exclaimed the old boy,
‘ fetch us something to drink, and some
cheese and bread, and do not forget that
youth who has dragged myself as well as my
fiddle here to-day.’
The guests hastened to execute the old
fiddler’s commands, and even Gertrude and
Bernhard bustled about to serve him. Poor
Berthold’s heart was bleeding, but he kept
eating and drinking, that he might not be
obliged to speak. Mean while the old fiddler
put dry strings on his instrument, and began
to tune it so stoutly that it thrilled through
marrow and bone, and quickly drew the
attention of all upon the musician.’
‘ Bless me,’ whispered Bernhard to
t
r
erude,’ ‘ upon my faith it is the very dwarf
G
who g a ve me the bewitched wine and cheese!
Be gentle to him wife, and say not a single
word.’
A ll at once the fiddle struck up so briskly
that the very house shook with blow upon
blow,—he commenced such a furious strain
�19
that the whole company leaped up from their
benches and began dancing as if they were
mad. ‘ Heigh, heigh!’ shouted the people.
‘ There is a fiddle!’ and every one capered
and whirled through the wedding chamber
as if they danced for a wager. The young
people led out the dance, and the old ones
hobbled as fast after them as they could;
and nobody stood idle but Siegelind:—who
wished herself ten thousand miles away from
the merriment—and Berthold, who gazed
stedfastly and sorrowfully upon his beloved.
In the midst of his fiddling, Master
Almerich beckoned to the beautiful bride to
step near him ; ‘ There stands a little bottle
yonder where your bridegroom has been
seated, and some old cheese with it,— I dare
say it will not be the worst in the house,— I
would taste a little of it,—this playing
makes me a little nice in the palate.’
The good natured bride brought the bottle
and cheese, and placed them on a chair beside
him, knowing no reasonable objection to the
old man’s taking as much as he could eat.
The dwarf quickly laid his fiddle aside,
raised the bewitched bottle in his right hand,
and the cheese in his left, and exclaimed
with a loud voice,
W
' ell, my good peo
well, here’s the health of that beautiful bride
there and her sweetheart; may she live long
and joyfully!’
�20
'
L o n g and joyfully!’ resounded through
the room, while fifty bonnets and hats were
tossed up into the air.
But horror struck and deadly pale did
Hildebrand and Bernhard a n d Gertrude
become when they saw the wondrous wine
and enchanted cheese in Almerich’s uplifted
fist. ' Dares he—can he—will h e !’ darted
through their hearts. But, woe and alas !
in one turn of his hand, the glutton with his
large ox-mouth, had swallowed the bewitche
d
draught and marvellous cheese without
leaving a morsel!
A roar of passion from the red haired
Hildebrand, and a gush of tears from
Gertrude, now terrified the people: while
old Bernhard stood like one petrified. But
a cheerful smile lightened upon the counte
nance of Siegelind, and Berthold rose boldly
from his bench, and stood ready to use his
fists upon Hildebrand if he should dare to
touch the fiddler.
Y
‘ ou rogu e! you b e g g a r!’ at last
c
x
elaimed Hildebrand.
Who told you to
give that old fool of a fiddler that gift of
heaven ? You may now toss your house
and your bride too to the moon ; I no
longer care a straw for you or all that
l
eongs to you !’
b
With words o f venom and execration,
Hildebrand rushed out of the room, whilst
�21
the enraged Bernhard and his crowd of
guests looked terrified after him. ' I am an
undone man ! at last exclaimed Bernhard.
‘ M y child and we are all ruined! The
wedding feast and the adornments are all
unpaid! Oh cursed, horrid miser ! bring
me a knife—a knife !’
A
' fig for a knife!’ exclaimed the fiddler.
S
‘ ee here is the bridegroom just come, who
has brought with him a whole wallet full of
gold,—and the bride loves him with all her
heart, and the guests are all together—and
my fiddle is in glorious tune!’
With these words Almerich crippled
w
r
o
f ard to the half bewildered and yet joyful
Berthold, and drew him into the circle: he
then wiped the paint off his face with the
skirts of his coat, and showed to the delighted
bride and the astonished guests their well
known neighbour, who was dear and
c
l
eome to all. He then ordered the wallet to
w
be dragged forward, and having opened the
lock, behold a prodigious quantity of pure
red gold tumbled out from it, dazzling the
eyes of all with its splendour! Old Bernhard
and Gertrude embraced Berthold with tears
of repentance, and Berthold by turns
b
m
e raced the lovely Siegelind and the ugly
dwarf. Almerich took his fiddle and struck
up a tune which bewitched them all, and they
danced till midnight in joy and glory. The
�22
musician then escaped, and le ft a whole house
fu ll o f m erry-m akers around the two happy!
lovers, who, till their last d a y, a thousand
times blessed the bitter w edding in which
they had been so w onderfully united by the
benevolent lam e dwarf.
�23
H IP P S L E Y ’ S D R U N K E N M A N .
H ere Betty you jade ! bring me a pint of
half-and-half— sure you mix them— and
-be
put them in separate ju gs. B e tty ! hang
that girl—she goes up stairs twenty times
a-day, and never comes down again.
f
n
oound the back of this chair, it is always
C
behind. Well, I have given my wife the
slip at la s t : A h ! she is quite a domestic
christian— she knocks off the heels of her
shoes on a saturday-night to prevent her
i
o
gng to church on the Sunday.— She’s quite a
pious woman—
whenever I conceal my money,
I always put it in the bible, I am sure my
wife will never go there to look for it. I
have the finest set o f children a man would
wish to stick a knife into. There’s my son
Jam es—he will be a counsel or a bishop, I
am certain, he is so wise :— His mother sent
him on an errand; turning the corner of a
street, he met a lawyer full plump, which
knocked him down—the poor boy has never
spoke a word of truth ever since. There’s
my daughter P e g —she certainly will be a
queen one day or other-—she’s so cute:— The
other day her mother was ironing the clothes;
the iron was red hot; she, like a wise child
took hold of it to help her mother—and what
do you think ? she let it drop in a moment.
�24
There’s my daughter Sukey, she beyo
doubt will be an empress some day I ’m sure,
she’s so wonderfully wise :— The Parson or
the parish sent a pair of black stocking's to
be darned; and to show the child’s wisdom
—she darned them with white worsted, and
sent the Parson hopping- to church like a
magpie. [Takes
upa
_— Constantinople— One thousand seven
hundred— and fast asleep. This evening
the Pope was brought to-bed of a pair of
twins: what was wonderful, they were booted
and spurred, with whips in their hands.
This evening, an empty chaise passed this
town with a lawyer fast asleep in it. Thursd
a
y
morning at three o’clock in the afternoon,
a fire broke out in an empty house and quite
consumed the furniture. A poor man fell
from a garret window into the street—
-very
fortunately he had a flannel nightcap on,
which saved his brains from being, knocked
out. Here B etty! tell my wife to go to a
joiner and purchase a wooden grate— I know
she is a sensible -woman and very careful—
for I think, when the fire is in it, it will be
all in a blaze. Here Betty, Betty !
�
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Story of the Bitter Wedding.
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Hippsley's drunken man.
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[1840-1850?] per National Library of Scotland
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24 pages
16 cm
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Woodcut image of three people outside with a table on the title-page, and a woodcut image of two people at the base of a tree and a man hanging by his arms from a branch on page 22.
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
# of Woodcuts: 2
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Furniture: table(s)
Gender: man/men
Gender: woman/women
Nature: tree(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/dd6f25f83d8951063cd599299a859b15.pdf
c2f9a96adbeae9a7871ce2bc594dbe98
PDF Text
Text
N E W
A N D
I M P E O Y E D
SERIES.
A SELECTION OF THE MOST INTERESTING
STORIES,
INCIDENTS,
A N D
N A R R A T I V E S ,
FROM THE
OLD AND NEW TESTAMENT,
G L A S G O W :
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
1851.
��HISTORY OF THE BIBLE,
THE
CREATION.'
IN the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And
the earth was without form, and void ; and darkness was upon
the face of the deep; and the -Spirit of God moved upon the
face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light, and there
Was light.
THE
DIVISION
OF T H E
WATERS.
And God said, Let there be a firmament in tlie midst of the
waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God
made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under
the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament ; and it was so.
THE
CREATURES
NAMED—MAN
AND
WOMAN
FORMED.
And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life ; and man became a living soul. And the Lord God planted a garden, and
�4
there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the
ground the Lord formed every beast of the field, and every
fowl of the air, and brought them unto Adam, to see what he
would call them : and whatsoever Adam called every living
creature, that was the name thereof.
And Adam gave
names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every
beast of the field. And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to
fall upon Adam; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up tht
flesh instead thereof. And the rib which the Lord God had
taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the
man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and
flesh of ray flesh ; she shall be called woman, because she was
taken out of man. And they were both naked, the man and
his wife, and were not ashamed.
THE
SERPENT'S T E M P T A T I O N — F A L L
OF OUR FIRST
PARENTS.
Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field
which the Lord God had made. And he said unto the woman,
Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden ? And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of
the fruit of the trees of the garden : but of the fruit of the
tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye
shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And
the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die. And
when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that
it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make
one wise, she took of the fruit thereof and did eat; and gave
also unto her husband with her, and he did eat.
ADAM AND EVE
DRIVEN OUT
OF P A R A D I S E .
And the Lord God said unto the woman, What is this that
thou hast done ? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me,
and I did eat. And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Upon
thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of
thy life. Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy
sorrow and thy conception; and in sorrow thou shalt bring
forth children. To Adam he said, Cursed is the ground for
thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.
So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the
garden of Eden cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned
every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.
CAIN A N D
ABEL.
Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the
ground. And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain
Brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord.
�5
And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of
the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to
his offering. But unto Cain and to his offering he had not
respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell.
And Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.
CAIN'S
PUNISHMENT.
The Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother ? And
he said, I know not: am I my brother's keeper? And he
said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood
crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed
from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy
brother's blood from thy hand; when thou tillest the ground,
it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength ; a fugitive
and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. And Cain said
unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear.
Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the
earth ; and from thy face shall I be hid ; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass,
that every one that findeth me shall slay me.
THE
ARK
AND
FLOOD.
God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth.
And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created.
But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord. And God said,
Make thee an ark of gopher-wood.—Of every living thing of all
flesh; two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep
them alive with thee; they shall be male and female. The
�waters of
that moved upon the earth.
flesh
died
THE
ARK
AND
FLOOD
dEASES-^-NOAH GOES OtJT OF THE
SACRIFICES J GOD'S PROMISE TO HIM.
The waters returned from off the earth.—And the ark rested
upon the mountains of Ararat. And Noah went forth, and his
sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives with him. Every beast,
every creeping thing, and every fowl, and whatsoever creepeth
upon the earth, after their kinds, went forth out of the ark.
And Noah builded an altar unto the Lord ; and took of every
clean beast, and of every clean fowl, and offered burnt-offerings
r
on the altar.
GOD RENEWS HIS COVENANT WITH N O A H — F O R B I D S
THE RAINBOW.
MURDER.
Arid God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be
fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth. And the fear
of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the
earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth
upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your
hand are they delivered. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man
shall his blood be shed : for in the image of God made he man.
And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make
between me and you and every living creature that is with you,
for perpetual generations : I do set my bow in the cloud, and
it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.
�7
TOWER
OF B A B E L — C O N F U S I O N
OF
LANGUAGES.
The whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.
And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose
top may reach unto heaven ; and let us make us a name, lest
we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. And
the Lord came down to see the city and the .tower, which the
children of men builded. And the Lord said, Go to, let us go
down and there confound their language, that they may not
understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them
abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth : and they
left off to build the city.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM—LOT IS PRESERVED.
The men said unto Lot, Hast thou here any besides? son-inlaw, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast
in the city, bring them out of this place: for we will destroy
this place,* because the cry of them is waxen great before the
face of the Lord, and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it. And
when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying,
Arise, take thy wife and thy two daughters, lest thou be consumed. Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire out of heaven. And he overthrew those
cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities,
and that which grew upon the ground. But his wife looked
back from behind him • and she became a pillar of salt.
ABRAHAM COMMANDED TO OFFER ISAAC—AN ANGEL STAYS HIS HAND.
And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife
�8
to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto Abra*
ham out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham. And he
said, here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the
lad, neither do thou any thing unto him ; for now I know that
thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son, from me.
THE FINDING OF MOSES.
When his mother could no longer hide him, she took for him
an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch,
and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the
river's brink. And his sister stood afar off, to wit what would
be done to him. And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to
wash herself at the river ; and her maidens walked along by the
river's side; and when she saw the ark among the flags, she
sent her maid to fetch it. And when she had opened it, she
saw the child ; and, behold, the babe wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, This is one of the Hebrew's children.
T H E ISRAELITES PASS THE RED SEA ON DRY G R O U N D — A R E PURSUED EY THE E G Y P T I A N S , WHO ARE DROWNED.
And the Lord said unto Moses, Speak to the Israelites, that
they go forward; and lift thou thy rod, and stretch thy hand
over the red sea, to divide it, and the children of Israel shall go
over on dry land. And the Lord made the sea to go back by a
strong east wind, and the waters were divided, so that the children of Israel went over on dry ground,—the waters being a
wall to them on the right hand and on the left. And the
Egyptians pursued them into the midst of the sea. In the
mommg-wa.ch, the Lord troubled the host of the Egyptians,
�9
and took off their chariot-wheels; and they said, Let us flee
from the face of Israel, for the Lord fighteth for them. Then
the Lord said to Moses, Stretch now thy hand over the sea, that
the waters may come again; and as the morning appeared,
the sea returned, and covered the chariots and all the host of
Pharaoh: there remained not one of them. Thus the Lord
saved Israel; and they saw the Egyptians dead on the sea-shore ;
and they feared the Lord and his servant Moses.
MOSES SMITETII THE ROCK.
And the Lord said unto Moses, Go on before the people, and
take with thee of the elders of Israel; and thy rod, wherewith
thou smotest the river, take in thy hand, and go. Behold, I
will stand before thee there upon the rock in Horeb ; and thou
shalt smite the rock, and there shall come water out of it, that
the people may drink. And Moses did so in the sight of the
elders of Israel.
MOSES RECEIVETH THE TABLES.
And the Lord said unto Moses, Hew thee two tables of stone
like unto the first; and I will write upon these tables the words
that were in the first tables, which thou brakest. And he
hewed two tables of stone like unto the first: and Moses rose up
early in the morning, and went up into Mount Sinai, as the Lord
had commanded him, and took in his hand the two tables of
stone.
THE WALLS OF JERICHO F A L L — T H E CITY TAKEN.
The people shouted when the priests blew with the trumpets :
and it came to pass, when the people heard the sound of the
�trumpet, and the people shouted with a great shout, that the
wall fell down flat, so that the people went up into the city,
every man straight before him, and they took the city, and
they utterly destroyed all that was in the city, both man. and
woman, young and old, and ox, and sheep, and ass, with the
edge of the sword.
SAMSON'S DEATH.
And Samson took hold of the two middle pillars upon which
the house stood, and on which it was borne up, of the one with
his right hand, and of the other with his left. And Samson
said, Let me die with the Philistines. And he bowed himself
with all his might; and the house fell upon the lords, and upon
all the people that were within.
DAVID KILLS GOLIATH—THE PHILISTINES ROUTED.
David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a
stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him ; but there was no
sword in the hand of David. Therefore David ran, and stood
upon the Philistine, and took his sword, and drew it out of the
sheath thereof, and slew Goliath, and cut off liis head therewith.
And when $xe Philistines saw their champion was dead, they
fled.
ABSALOM CAUGHT UP IN THE OAK.
And Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went under tne
thick branches of a great oak, and his head caught hold of the
oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth;
and the mule that was under him went away.
�11
TIIE TEMPLE BUILT.
And it came to pass in the four hundred and eightieth year
after the children of Israel were come out of the land of Egypt,
in the fourth year of Solomon's reign, that he began to build
the house of the Lord. And the word of the Lord came to
Solomon, saying, Concerning this house which thou art building; If thou wilt walk in my statutes, and execute my judgments, and keep all my commandments, then will I perform
the promise made to David thy father—that I will dwell with
thee, and not forsake thee, So Solomon built the house,
and finished it according to the plan which God himself had
given to Dayid.
ELIJAH DIVIDES JORDAN.
And Elijah said unto Elisha, Tarry, I pray thee, here, for
the Lord hath sent me to Jordan. And he said, As the Lord
liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee. And they
two went . on. And fifty men of the sons of the prophets went,
and stood to view afar 01T; and they two stood by Jordan. And
Elijah took his mantle, and wrapped it together, and smote the
waters, and they were divided hither and thither, so that they
two went over on dry ground.
E L I J A H IS C A R R I E D TO H E A Y E N IN A CHARIOT O F F I R E .
And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that,
behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and
parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind
into heaven,
�12
SATAN A F F L I C T S J O B — H I S WIFE R E V I L E S HIM.
Satan smote Job with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto
his crown. And he took him a potsherd to scrape himself withal;
and he sat down among the ashes. Then said his wife unto
him, Dost thou still retain thine integrity? curse God, and die.
But he said unto her, Thou speakest as one of the foolish
women speaketh. What? shall we receive good at the hand of
God, and shall we not receive evil ?
B E L S H A Z Z A R ' S FEAST.
The king and his princes, his wives and his concubines, drank
wine, and praised the gods of gold, and of silver, of brass, of iron,
of wood, and of stone. In the same hour came forth fingers of a
man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the
plaster of the wall of the king's palace; and the king saw the
part of the hand that wrote. Then the king's countenance was
changed, and his thoughts troubled him, and he said, Whosoever shall read this writing, and show me the interpretation
thereof, shall be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold
about his neck, and shall be the third ruler of the kingdom.
Then was Daniel brought in, and said, This is the interpretation. God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it. Thou
art weighed in the balances and art found wanting; thy kingdom
is divided and given to the Medes and Persians. In that night
was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain.
D A N I E L CAST INTO THE DEN OF LIONS.
Then said Daniel unto the king, O king, live for ever. My
God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that
they have not hurt me : forasmuch as before him innocence was
found in me; and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt.
Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that
they should take Daniel up out of the den.
JONAH COMMANDED TO GO TO N I N E V E H — H E F L E E S FROM THE
PRESENCE OF THE L O R D — I S SWALLOWED B Y A W H A L E .
The word of the Lord came unto Jonah the son of Amittai,
saying, Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against
i t ; for their wickedness is come up before me. But Jonah rose
up to flee unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord, and went
down to Joppa; and he found a ship going to Tarshish : so he
paid the fare thereof, and went down into it, to go with them
unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. Now the Lord
had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah
�13
was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. And
the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon
the dry land. And the word of the Lord came unto Jonah the
second time, saying, Arise, go unto Nineveh, that great city,
and preach unto it the preaching that I bid thee. So Jonah
arose, and went unto Nineveh, according to the word of the
Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days'
journey. And Jonah began to enter into the city a day's journey, and he cried, and said, Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall
be overthrown. So the people of Nineveh believed God, and
proclaimed a fast, and put*on sackcloth, from the greatest of
them even to the least of them. And God saw their works,
that they turned from their evil way; and God repented of the
evil that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did
it not.
THE SALUTATION.
And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary; for thou hast
found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in
thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.
He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest;
and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father
David.
THE GENEALOGY OF CHRIST FROM ABRAHAM TO JOSEPH.
The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David,
the son of Abraham. Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat
Jacob, and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren. And Jacob
begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus
who is called CHRIST. SO all the generations from Abraham
to David, are fourteen generations; and frem David until the
carrying away into Babylon are fourteen generations; and from
the carrying away into Babylon unto Christ are fourteen generations.
THE BIRTH OF CHRIST
JOSEPH SATISFIED BY AN ANGEL, WHO
INTERPRETS THE NAME OF CHRIST.
Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise; when, as
his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came
together she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Then
Joseph her husband being a just man, and not willing to make
her a public example, was minded to put her away privily; but
while he thought 011 these things, behold the angel of the Lord
appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of
David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife; for that
�u
which is conceived in her, is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall
bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name J E S U S : for he
shall save his people from their sins.
WISE MEN INQUIRE AFTER CIIRIST.
Behold there came wise mien from the east to Jerusalem,
saying, Where is he that is born king of the Jews? for we have
seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When
they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And
when they were come into the house, they saw the young
child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped
him; and when they had opened their treasures, they presented
unto him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And being
warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod,
they departed into their own country another way. Then
Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men,
was exceeding wroth; and sent forth, and slew all the children
that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two
years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men. Then was fulfilled that which
was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying, In Rama there was
a voice heard, lamentation and weeping, and great mourning ;
Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted,
because they are not.
THE BAPTISM OF JESUS.
Now, when all the people were baptized, it came to pass, that
Jesus also being baptized, and praying, the heaven was opened.
And the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape, like a dove
upon him ; and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou
art my beloved Son ; in thee I am well pleased.
JESUS TEMPTED EY THE DEVIL.
Then was Jesus led up of the spirit, into the wilderness, to
be tempted of the devil. And when he had fasted forty days
and forty nights, he was afterwards an hungered. And when
the tempter came to him, he said, If thou be the S N of GOD,
O
command that these stones be made bread. But he answered
and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but
by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of GOD.
S I M O N P E T E R , A N D R E W , J A M E S , A N D J O H N , C A L L E D TO B E
DISCIPLES.
And Jesus walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brethren;
Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into
�15
the sea: for they were fishers. And he said unto them, Follow
me, and I will make you fishers of men. -And they straightway left their nets, and followed him. And going on from
thence he saw other two brethren. And they immediately left
the ship and their father, and followed him.
CHRIST'S SERMON ON THE MOUNT.
Blessed are the poor in spirit: for -theirs is the kingdom of
heaven. Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for
they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for
they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they
shall be called the children of God.
BLESSING- ON SUCH AS SUFFER IN THE CAUSE OF RELIGION.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake:
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men
shall revile you, and persecute you; and shall say all manner of
evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad : for great is your reward in heaven : for so persecuted
they the prophets which were before you.
BROTHERLY LOYE AND FORGIVENESS ENJOINED AND
DIRECTED.
If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest
that thy brother hath aught against thee ; leave there thy gift
before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy
brother, and then come and offer thy gift.
THE STRAIT AND NARROW, WITH TIIE BROAD A N D W I D E
WAY.
Enter ye in at the strait gate; for wide is the gate, and
broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, ar.d many there
be that go in thereat: because strait is the gate, and narrow is
the way, which leadeth unto life ; and few there be that
find it.
CHRIST CLEANSETH THE LEPER.
There came a leper and worshipped him, saying, LORD, if
thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth his
hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And
immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus saith unto
�16
him, See thou tell no man, but go thy way, show thyself to the
priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded for a testimony
unto them.
THE CENTURION'S S E R V A N T H E A L E D O F T H E P A L S Y .
And when Jesus was entered into Capernaum, there came
unto him a centurion, beseeching him, and saying, Lord, my
servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, grievously tormented.
And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and heal him. The
centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that thou
shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my
servant shall be healed. And Jesus said unto the centurion,
Go thy way; and as thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee.
And his servant was healed in the selfsame hour.
THE WIDOW'S SON RAISED FROM THE DEAD.
When he came nigh to the gate of the city of Nain, behold
there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother;
and she was a widow; and much people of the city were with
her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her,
and said unto her, Weep not. And he came and touched the
bier; and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young
man, I say unto thee, arise. And he that was dead sat up,
and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.
JAJRUS'S DAUGHTER R A I S E D T O L I F E .
And there came a certain ruler, and worshipped him, saying, My daughter is even now dead; but come and lay thy
hand upon her, and she shall live. And Jesus arose and followed him, ancl so did his disciples. And when Jesus came
into the ruler's house, and saw the minstrels and the people
making a noise, he said unto them, Give place; for the maid
is not dead, but sleepeth. And they laughed him to scorn.
But when the people were put forth, he went in, and took her
by the hand, and the maid arose.
T H E W O M A N W I T H THE I S S U E OF B L O O D H E A L E D .
And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, who had
spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of
any, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment;
for, she said within herself, if I may but touch his garment, I
shall be whole. And Jesus turned about, and when he saw her,
he said, Daughter, be of good comfort, thy faith hath made
thee whole, go in peace. And the woman was made whole from
�IT
SIGHT R E S T O R E D TO TWO B L I N D MEN.
And two blind men followed him crying, Thou Son of David,
have mercy 011 us. And when he was come into the house, the
blind men came to him; and Jesus saith unto them, Believe
ye that I am able to do this ? They said unto him, Yea, Lord.
Then touched he their eyes, saying, According to your faith
be it unto you. And their eyes were opened.
F I V E THOUSAND F E D .
And when it was evening, his disciples came to him, saying,
This is a desert place, and the time is now past; send the multitude away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves victuals. But Jesus said unto them, They need not
depart, give ye them to eat. And they said unto him, we
have here but five loaves and two fishes. He said, Bring them
hither to me. And he commanded the multitude to sit down
on the grass, and took the five loaves and the two fishes, and,
looking up to heaven, he blessed and brake, and gave the loaves
to the disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they
did all eat and were filled, and they took up of the fragments
that remained twelve baskets full.
F O U R THOUSAND F E D .
Then Jesus called his disciples unto him, and said, I have
compassion on the multitude, because they continue with me now
three days, and have nothing to eat; and I will not send them
away fasting, lest they faint on the way. And his disciples
say unto him, Whence should we have so much bread in the
wilderness, as to fill so great a multitude? And Jesus saith
unto them, How many loaves have ye ? And they said, Seven,
and a few little fishes. And he commanded the multitude to
sit down on the ground, and he took the seven loaves and the
fishes, and gave thanks, and brake them, and gave to his disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they did all
eat, and were filled; and they took up of the broken meat that
was left seven baskets full. And they that did eat were four
thousand men, besides women and children.
A N U N C L E A N SPIRIT CAST OUT.
And there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean
spirit; and he cried out, saying, Let us alone ; what have we
to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth? art thou come to
destroy us ? I know thee who thou art, the Holy One of God.
And Jesus rebuked him, saying, Hold thy peace, and come out
�18
of him. And when the unclean spirit had torn him, and cried
with a loud voice, he came out of him.
v
A WOMAN OF EIGHTEEN Y E A R S ' INFIRMITY CURED.
And, behold, there was a woman who had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years, and was bowed together, and could in no
wise lift up herself. And when Jesus saw her, he called her,
to him, and said unto her, Woman, thou art loosed from thine
infirmity. And he laid his hands on her; and immediately
she was made straight, and glorified God.
TEN L E P E R S CLEANSED.
And as lie entered into a certain yillage, there met him ten
men that were lepers, who stood afar off. And they lifted up
their voices, and said, Jesus, Master, haye mercy on us. And
when he saw them, he said unto them, Go show yourselves unto
the priests. And it came to pass that as they went, they were
cleansed.
CHRIST R E B U K E S THE TEMPEST.
And, behold, there arose a great tempest in the sea, insomuch
that the ship was covered with the waves : but he was asleep.
And his disciples came to him, and awoke him, saying, Lord,
save us: we perish. And he saith unto them, Why are ye
fearful, O ye of little faith ? Then he arose, and rebuked the
winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.
ST. MATTHEW C A L L E D TO THE APOSTLESHIP.
And as Jesus passed forth from thence, he saw a man, named
Matthew, sitting at the receipt of custom : and he saith unto
him, Follow me. And he arose, and followed him.
THE MISSION OF THE T W E L V E APOSTLES J TO TEACH AND TO
DO MIRACLES.
These twelve Jesus sent forth, and commanded them, saying,
Go not into the way of the Gentiles, and into any city of the
Samaritans enter ye not: but go rather to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel. And as ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom
of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raiso
the dead, cast out devils; freely ye have received, freely give.
CHRIST, W A L K I N G ON THE S E A , SAVES ST. PETER. .
And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked
on the water, to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind
�19
boisterous, lie was afraid : and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his
hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith,
wherefore didst thou doubt t
LAZARUS RAISED FROM THE GRAVE TO LIFE.
Jesus said unto them, Take away the stone. Then they
took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid.
And Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee
that thou hast heard me. And I know that thou hearest me
always : but because of the people who stand by I said it, that
they may believe that thou hast sent me. And when he had
thus spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.
And he that was dead came forth.
T H E T R A N S F I G U R A T I O N OF OUR
SAVIOUR.
Jesus taketh Peter, James, and John his brother, and bring*
eth them up into an high mountain apart, and was transfigured before them : and his face did shine as the sun, and his
raiment was white as the light. And, behold, there appeared
unto them Moses and Elias, talking with him.
THE PASSOVER EATEN,
AND THE BETRAYER
FORETOLD.
When the even was come, he sat down with the twelve. And
as they did eat, he said, . Verily I say unto you, That ono of
you shall betray me. And they were exceeding sorrowful, and
began every one of them to say unto him, Lord, is it I ? And
he answered and said, He that dippeth his hand with me in the
dish, the same shall betray me.
J U D A S B E T R A Y S CHRIST TO T H E
PRIESTS.
Judas that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, master; and kissed
him. And Jesus said unto him, Friend, wherefore art thou
come? Then came they, and laid hands on Jesus, and took him.
And, behold, one of them which were with Jesus, stretched out
his hand, and drew his sword, and struck a servant of the high
priest, and smote off his ear.
JESUS IS ACCUSED BEFORE
PILATE.
And the whole multitude of them arose, and led him unto
Pilate. And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this
�20
fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to
Caesar, saying that he himself is Christ a King. And Pilate
asked him, saying, Art tliou the King of the Jews ? And he
answered him and said, Thou sayest it. Then said Pilate to
the chief priests, and to the people, I find no fault in this man.
No, nor yet Herod : for I sent you to him; and, lo, nothing
worthy of death is done by him. But they cried, saying,
Crucify him, crucify him. And Pilate gave sentence, that it
should be as they required.
CHRIST
LED A W A Y T O
BE CRUCIFIED ON MOUNT
CALVARY.
As they led him away, they laid hold upon one Simon, a
Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the
cross, that he might bear it after Jesus. And there followed
him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them;
said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for
yourselves, and for your children.
THE
CRUCIFIXION.
When they were come to the place, which is called Calvary,
there they crucified him, and the malefactors ; one on the right
hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. And the sun was
darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst.
And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father,
into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus,
he gave up the ghost.
CHRIST T A K E N
DOWN FROM T H E
CROSS
AND
BURIED.
Joseph, a counsellor; and he was a good man, and a just:
(the same had not consented to the counsel and deed of them;)
he was of Arimathea, a city of the Jews; who also himself
waited for the kingdom of God. This man went unto Pilate,
and begged the body of Jesus. And he took it down, and
wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a sepulchre that was hewn
in stone, wherein never man before was laid.
T H E RESURRECTION
DECLARED TO THE
WOMEN.
Two men stood by them in shining garments. And as they
were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said
unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead ? He i3
not here, but is risen.
�21
JESUS W A L K E T H A N D DISCOURSETH WITH TWO DISCIPLES.
Two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus,
which was from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs, And they
talked together of all these things which had happened. And
it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But
their eyes were holden that they should not know him.
HE A P P E A R S A G A I N TO T H E E L E V E N , A N D CONVINCES T H E M .
Jesus saith, Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself : handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones,
as ye see me have. And when he had thus spoken, he showed
them his hands and his feet. And while they yet believed not
for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any
meat ? And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an
honeycomb. And he took it, and did eat before them.
HE BLESSES HIS DISCIPLES AND ASCENDS INTO
HEAVEN.
He led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up his
hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while he blesssed
them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.
And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with
great joy : And were continually in the temple, praising and
blessing God.
THE FEAST OF PENTECOST AND DESCENT OF THE HOLY GHOST.
And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were
all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a
sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled
all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared
unto them cloven tongues, like as of fire, and it sat upon each
of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and
began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them
utterance.
THE CONVERSION OF SAUL.
As he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly
there shined round about him a light from heaven : and he fell
to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul,
why persecutest thou me? And he said, Who art thou, Lord?
�22
And the* Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is
hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And he, trembling
and astonished, said, Lord, \yhat wilt thou have me to do ? And
the Lord said unto him, Arise and go into the city, and it shall
be told thee what thou must do.
VISION OF . A N A N I A S — I I E RESTORES SAUL TO SIGHT AND
BAPTIZES HIM.
And Were was a certain disciple at Damascus, named Ananias ; and to him said the Lord in a vision, Ananias. And^ he
said, Behold, I am here, Lord. And the Lord said unto him,
Arise and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire
in the house of Judas for ones called Saul of Tarsus ; for, behold, he prayeth. And Ananias went his way, and entered
into the house; and putting his hands on him, said, Brother
Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, that appeared unto thee in the
way as thou earnest, hath sent me, that thou miglitest receive
thy sight, and be filled with the Holy Ghost. And immediately
there fell from his eyes as it had been scales; and he received
sight forthwith, and aroseand was baptized.
SAUL PREACHES CHRIST IN THE SYNAGOGUES OF D A M A S C U S —
HE E S C A P E S A PLOT B Y BEING L E T DOWN OVER THE
CITY W A L L IN A B A S K E T .
And straightway he preached Christ in the synagogues, that
he is the Son of God. But all that heard him were amazed,
and said, Is not this he that destroyed them which called on
this name in Jerusalem, and came hither for that intent, that
he might bring them bound unto the Chief priests? But Saul
increased the more in strength, and confounded the Jews which
dwelt at Damascus, proving that this is very Christ. And
after that many days were fulfilled, the Jews took counsel to
kill him; but their lying in wait was known of Saul: and they
watched the gates day and night to kill him. Then the disciples took him by niglit, and let him down by the wall in a
basket.
SAUL (ALSO C A L L E D
P A U L , ) CURES A CRIPPLE AT
LYSTRA.
And there sat a certain man at Lystra, impotent in his feet,
being a cripple from his mother's womb, who never had walked.
The same heard Paul speak; who stedfastly beholding him,
and perceiving that he had faith to be healed, said with a loud
voice, Stand upright on thy feet. And he leaped and walked.
�23
P A U L A N D SILAS SCOURGED A N D
IMPRISONED—.CONVERSION
OF THE J A I L E R A N D HIS HOUSE.
And when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast
them into prison, charging the jailer to keep them safely: who
hating received such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks. And at midnight,
Paul and Silas prayed and sung praises unto God; and the
prisoners heard them. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and
immediately all the doors were opened, and every one's hands
were loosed. Then the jailer came trembling, and fell down
before Paul and Silas, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be
saved? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt be saved, and thy house. And he was baptized, he
and all his straightway, and rejoiced, believing in God with all
his house.
EUTYCHUS P A L L I N G DOWN D E A D ,
IS R A I S E D TO
LIFE.
And there sat in a window of the upper chamber where they
were gathered together, a young man named Eutychus, who
had fallen into a deep sleep: and as Paul was long preaching, he
sank down with sleep, and fell down from the third loft and
was taken up dead. And Paul went down and fell on him, and
embracing him, said. Trouble not yourselves; for his life is in
him. And they brought the young man alive, and were not a
little comforted.
PAUL BEFORE
FELIX.
And after certain days, when Felix came with his wife
Brasilia, which was a Jewess, he sent for Paul, and heard him
concerning the faith in Christ. And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance and judgment to come, Felix trembled,
and answered, Go thy way for this time ; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.
P U B L I U S ' S F A T H E R A N D OTHERS
CURED.
And it came to pass, that the father of Publius lay sick of a
fever, and of a bloody flux: to whom Paul entered in, and
prayed, and laid his hands on him; and healed him. So when
this was done, others also, which had disease^ in the island
came, and were healed.
CHRIST'S SECOND
COMING.
For the Lord himself shall descend from heayen with a shout,
�24
with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God :
and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive
and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the
clouds, to meet the Lord in the air : and so shall we ever be
with the Lord. But the day of the Lord will come as a thief
in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a
great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the
earth also, and the works that are therein, shall be burnt up.
G E N E R A L RESURRECTION A N D
JUDGMENT.
And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God : and
the books were opened; and another book was opened, which is
the book of life ; and the dead were judged out of those things
which were written in the books according to their words. And
whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast
into the lake of fire.
A NEW HEAVEN AND A NEW
EARTH.
And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away, and there was no
more sin. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming
down from God out of heaven. And I heard a great voice,
saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will
dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself
shall be with them, and be their God.
THOSE ADMITTED INTO THE CELESTIAL CITY.
Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may
have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the
gates into the city.
A W F U L PUNISHMENT OF THOSE WHO A D D TO, OR DIMINISH
THE R E V E L A T I O N O F G O D .
For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the
prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things,
God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this
book: and if any man shall take away from the words of the
book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the
book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which
are written in this book.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/427c8d40febedf61ed0463d97d1b1b8e.jpg
ff4b67f7c12ce47cf303c20597190466
Omeka Image File
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8
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3
Height
3190
Width
1944
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Dublin Core
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Title
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The History of the Bible, A Selection of the most interesting stories, incidents, and narratives, from the Old and New Testament.
Date
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1851
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935682183505154">s0598b21</a>
Extent
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24 pages
16 cm
Description
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Woodcut images found on the title-page, page 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11
<p>New and Improved Series, No. 89.</p>
Price One Penny.
Subject
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Christianity
Is Referenced By
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 9
Architecture: hill(s)
Architecture: tower(s)
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1851-1860
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Gender: man/men
Nature: cloud(s)
Outdoor Scene