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N E W AND IMPKOYED SEBXES.
I IRISH STORIES
A COLLECTION OP
THE MOST INTERESTING TALES AND
LEGENDS OF IRELAND
COMPILED FROM THE BEST AUTHORS.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
1850.
�CONTENTS.
PASS
The Hermit turned Pilgrim,
3
The Farmer and his Servant,
5
The Three Advices,
7
The Spaeman,
9
The Priest and the Robber,
11
Mac Turkhill,
™
Anne Boney, the Pemale Pirate,..
—
James Butler...........
Jack Withers,
16
...
18
The Generous Irishman,
20
Paddy and the Priest,
24
Ready Wit,..,.
24
�POPULAR IRISH STORIES,
THE HERMIT TURNED PILGRIM.
In a solitary cave near the banks of Killarney, there lived
an ancient hermit; far retired from the bustle and pleasures
of the city, he spent his days in the praise of his divine Creator. But here we may observe the power of sin in man. A
suggestion arose in his heart, that vice should triumph over
virtue. Pondering on the various accounts he received, he
began to doubt the power of Divine Providence; he therefore
resolved to travel as a pilgrim, and setting out one morning,
travelled the pathless grass until mid-day alone; he at length
fell in with a young man who saluted him, and though far
different in years, they were delighted with each other's company. The sun had sunk below the horizon when our travellers began to think of resting their weary limbs. They stopped at a large house, and were welcomed by the generous
owner, who was ever happy in making his house the traveller's
home, not from charity or any good, but from the love of
praise. After partaking of an elegant repast, they were conducted to beds of down.
In the morning, before they recommenced their journey,
each drank a golden goblet full of wine. When a good distance from the house, the youth produced the golden cup
which he had taken from the kind nobleman, and showed it
to the hermit, which greatly surprised him, and he could not
help thinking it hard that such generous actions should be so
basely rewarded. While thus they journeyed, on a sudden
the skies were covered with heavy black clouds, which presaged an approaching storm. Our travellers sought repose in
a large well-built house. The owner was a great miser,
whose door was ever shut against those in distress:—Long
did they knock in a piteous condition, battered with the wind
and rain: at length the old miser opens the door, and by a half
welcome, admits the shivering pair; he brought them a morsel
of bread of the coarsest sort, with a glass of wine, which he
�4
had ill will to grant, and as soon as he saw the tempest cease,
lie warned them to depart.
The hermit wondered greatly that one so rich should live
so miserably, denying himself even the necessaries of life.
But his surprise was greater when his young companion took
the cup he stole from his generous landlord, and gave it to
this miserable wretch. The sun's bright rays once more invite the pair to their journey. He could not understand his
companion's conduct, a vice in the one place, and madness in
the other. Night coming on, they were again in want of lodging. They again applied at a house convenient, which the kind
master readily granted, saying, to him that gives us all, we
should yield a part. In the morning the pilgrims arose; but
as they were ready to depart, the youth stole up to a cradle
wherein slept a child, the landlord's only pride, and taking
hold of it by the neck, choked it dead. But Oh! horror of
horrors! how looked our pilgrim when he saw what was done.
On leaving the house, a servant followed to show the way,
and as they reached the river, the youth, as if watching a time
to sin, approached him, and threw him in, where he was instantly drowned. Wild rage inflamed the old hermit's eyes.
At last he burst the bands of fear, and was beginning to thunder
out invective speech and imprecations on the detested wretch,
when lo! this strange partner appeared no longer man, but was
changed into all the grandeur and majesty of an angel, and
addressing himself to the hermit, told him that his praise and
prayer was heard at the throne of justice; and being so acceptable, said he, I, an angel, was sent down to calm thy
mind, and let you know the truth of divine government, that
you might have no scruples in your mind for the future,
Those events which appeared so surprising to you on your
journey, I will unriddle to you, that you may confess the Almighty just in all his ways. The great vain man who, for the
love of praise, forced his guests to morning draughts of wine,
has, by losing the cup, lost a great part of his vanity, and will
for the future give nothing away but where he sees there is
need. The miser who never gave any thing to the poor, with
him I left the cup ; he will for the future become a new man,
and never refuse relieving those whom he sees in distress.
The pious man who ended the day in prayer, was beginning
to lose his piety and virtue; that child whom ye saw me kill
was weaning his heart from God; to save him God took the
child; and already the aged parent owns his blind fondness
deserved no less punishment. The servant whom I threw
into the river was this night to kill and rob that good and
charitable man. Now I have shown you the nature and cause
�of the wonderful rule of Providence: depart in peace, resign
yourself to the will of your Creator, and sin no more. With
that the angel disappeared, and the hermit sought his ancient
place, where he spent the remainder of his life in piety and
contentment.
THE F A R M E R A N D HIS SERVANT.
A POOR man had three sons who was under the necessity of
sending the eldest from home, to provide for himself in the best
manner he could. He left his father's house early one morning, and after travelling all day, he came to a rich farmer's
house, where he inquired if he could employ him. What can
you do, said he ? Sir, said the boy, I can do any thing I am
put to, but I will not engage myself longer than to the cuckoo
sings. I will, said the farmer, give you ten guineas a year,
if you do every thing faithfully, and refuse nothing you are
commanded to do, but remember, the first that is angry, either
you or me, is to be flogged on the bare back as long as the
other pleases, and then the bargain is at an end; so if you
think proper, you are welcome to stay. I hope, Sir, said the
boy, there will be no occasion for either of us to be angry
during my time here, so I believe on these terms I will stay.
In the morning the boy was sent out to the field, and his
master told him he must plough all the land his dog would
run over before eating or drinking. The dog being taught
for the purpose, ran over the whole field before he stopped,
which would be a good day's work.
Before he had finished his task, it was near sunset, and the
poor fellow had not tasted any thing the whole day, but instead of getting his dinner as he expected, he was compelled
by his master to begin work again in the barn. He complained of this treatment, and said no one would submit to
such usage. Are you angry, said the farmer: I cannot help
being angry, said the boy. Well, your time is expired, said
he, and getting two or three persons to hold him, he most unmercifully flogged him. The next morning he got up and
went home, and sorely grieved that he had had the bad luck
to fall in with such a rogue: he told his brother all that happened him, and showing him his wounds, said, all he wanted
was revenge. Well, said his brother, I will go in the morning and see what I can make of him. Accordingly he set off
pretty early, came to the same farmer's house before sunset,
and inquired if he knew any one wanting a boy in the neighbourhood. What is your name, said he? John, Sir ; I would
�6
serve any person faithfully that will hire me till the cuckoo
sings, for I intend after that to go to England. The farmer
said he would engage him, at the same time telling him his
terms, adding, I will give you a couple of shirts and a pair of
shoes, because you are a good looking fellow, and I have a
liking for you. John having agreed to the bargain, was desired to rise early. Accordingly in the morning he was first
up, and got a stout stick for a paddle to the plough -. having
proceeded to the field, his master told him he must plough
whatever his dog would go over. The dog was at this time
two or three rigs beyond him, and taking the paddle in his
hand, he struck him on the head and killed him. What made
you kill my dog ? I am only to plough what he has gone
over, and that is not much. I hope you are not angry with
me. O no, said he, I am not ; so John began to his work,
and in a short time he had ploughed all the dog ran over, and
then came home. Well John, said the farmer, you haye soon
done your work this day, go and take your dinner, I have
nothing more for you to do, you may play yourself to bedtime.
All that night the farmer and his wife were plotting how to
be revenged of John, for they saw it would not be easy to
make him say he was angry, and they would willingly part
with him if the bargain could be broke. The next morning
when the farmer called John to him, and told him he had six
cows beyond the river; there is a good ford, said he, but you
must bring them over without wetting their feet. That is a
hard task, master, but I will do what I can: so he went to
the next house, and borrowing a hatchet, crossed the river
and cut the feet off the cows, putting them into a sack which
he carried home to his master. What is this you have got
in the sack, said he ? Faith, said John, I was plotting all
morning how to get the cows over the river dry shod, and I
could not think of a better way than cutting the feet off them.
You scoundrel, said the farmer, is that the way you have used
my cattle? Indeed, said John, you may blame yourself, for
how was it possible I could get them over a large river without wetting their feet, but by the method I have taken, and I
hope you are not angry. No, I am not, said he, but you must
look to yourself better than you are doing, or you will ruin
me. The farmer and his wife were more spited than ever. I
do not know what will be done with this fellow, if we do not
find some way to break the bargain, he will ruin us. I will
tell you what we will do, said she,—I see we must try some
plan to get him away. You must put him on the house to-morrow to fasten the slates, and I will go up into the ivy bush and
cry cuckoo three times, and then his time will be expired. I
�believe, said he, it will be the best way, and accordingly he
put him on the house the next morning, and his wife went
into the bush. As John was busy working, his mistress called cuckoo three times; and he, having a good guess what it
was, ran down with his arms full of slates, and throwing them
into the bush almost killed her before the farmer knew any
thing about it. At length hearing what was going on, he ran
to the bush, where he found his wife much hurt. After administering some wine and other cordials to her, she recovered,
and John coming in his master flew at him in a great rage:
you rogue, said he, what is this you have done ? Why, are
you angry, master, said John ? To be sure I am angry, I will
not suffer you about my house any longer. Well, said John
to some of the neighbours, you must hold my master until I
flog him, for that is our bargain. Do not, said the mistress,
and I will fill your hat with crown pieces. Well, says John,
on that condition I will spare him. John then bade farwell,
and went home with his hat full of crown pieces, and told his
brother all that had happened, at the same time showing him
what money he took off them.
T H E THREE ADVICES.
THERE, was a time when a great many people had to leave
Ireland for want of employment, and the high price of provisions. John Carson, the subject of the following story, was
under the necessity of going to England, and leaving his family
behind him; he was engaged by a gentleman at twelve guineas
a year, and was greatly esteemed by his master. The term
of his engagement being expired, he determined to return
home. The gentleman pressed him to remain, but John
was eager to visit his wife and children. In place of giving
him his wages, the gentleman insisted on him taking the following advice:—Never take a bye-road, when you have a high
way;—never lodge in the house where an old man is married
to a young woman;—never take what belongs to another. It
was with reluctance that John was persuaded to accept of the
advices instead of his wages, but the gentleman told him they
might be the means of saving his life. Before setting out on
his journey, his master presented him with three loaves of
bread, one for his wife, and one for each of his children, enjoined him not to break them until he got home, at the same
time giving him a guinea to defray his expenses. He had not
proceeded far, until he met with two pedlars who were travelling the same way. He kept company with them until they
�came to a wood, through which there was a road two miles
nearer the town they were going to. The pedlars advised
John to accompany them that way, but he refused to go off
the high way, telling them, however, he would meet them at
a certain house in town. John arrived in safety, and took up
his lodging at the appointed place.
While he was taking his supper, an old man came hobbling
into the kitchen; and on asking the servant who it was, she
told him it was the landlord. John thought on his master's
advice, and was coming out, when he met the pedlars, all cut
and bleeding, having been robbed and almost murdered in the
wood; he advised them not to lodge in that house, for that
all was not well, but they disregarded his advice.
John, rather than remain in the house, retired to the stable
and laid himself down upon some straw, where he slept soundly
for some time. About the middle of the night, he heard two
persons coming into the stable, and on listening to their conversation, he discovered that it was the landlady and a man
laying a plan to murder the husband. In the morning, John
renewed his journey, but he had not proceeded far when he
was informed that his former landlord had been murdered,
and the two pedlars had been taken up for the crime. John
did not mention what -he heard to any person, but determined
to save the poor men if it was in his°power.
On arriving at home he found his wife and family in good
health, and anxiously expecting his arrival. Having related
all his adventures from the time of his departure, together
with his master's advices, he produced the loaves of bread;
but what was their astonishment when they found the whole
wages enclosed in one of the loaves, which his generous master had put there unknown to him. After remaining at home
some time, he determined to return to England, in order to
attend the trial of the pedlars.
On going into the court, he saw the two men at the bar, and
the woman, and the man he had heard in the stable, as prosecutors. Having been permitted to give his evidence, he told
the affair so correctly that the man and the woman confessed
their guilt, and the poor pedlars were instantly acquitted;
they offered to give him any thing he pleased, but John kindly
refused accepting any recompense but a few shillings to defray
his expenses, alleging at the same time, that he considered it
nothing more than his duty. John, before leaving England,
resolved to visit his kind old master, and return him thanks
for his generosity. As soon as the gentleman heard the object of his journey, he was so highly pleased at so praiseworthy
an action, that he offered him a small farm of land, and promised
�9
him every encouragement if he would remain; John gladly
embraced the offer, and having sent for his family, took possession of his new property, and lived respectably all his days.
THE SPAEMAN.
A POOR man in the north of Ireland was under the necessity of selling his cow, to help to support his family. Having
sold the cow, he went into an inn, and called for some liquor.
Having drank pretty heartily, lie fell asleep, and when he
awoke, he found he had been robbed of his money. Poor
Roger was at a loss to know how to act; and, as is often the
case, when the landlord found that his money was gone, he
turned him out of doors. The night was extremely dark, and
the poor man was compelled to take up his lodgings in an old
uninhabited house at the end of the town.
Roger had not remained long here until he was surprised
by the noise of three men, whom he observed making a hole,
and depositing something therein, closed it carefully up again
and then went away. The next morning, as Roger was walking towards the town, he heard that a cloth shop had been
robbed to a great amount, and that a reward of thirty pounds
was offered to any person who could discover the thieves.
This was joyful news to Roger, who recollected what he had
been witness to the night before; he accordingly went to the
shop, and told the gentleman that for the reward, he would
recover the goods, and secure the robbers, provided he got six
stout men to attend him, all which was thankfully granted
him.
At night Roger and his men concealed themselves in the
old house, and in a short time after the robbers came to the
spot, for the purpose of removing their booty, but they were
instantly seized and carried into the town, prisoners, with the
goods. Roger received the reward and returned home, well
satisfied with his good luck. Not many days after, it was
noised over the country that this robbery was discovered by
the help of one of the best spaemen to be found, insomuch
that it reached the ears of a worthy gentleman of the county
of Derry, who made strict inquiry to find him out. Having
at length discovered his abode, he sent for Roger, and told
him he was every day losing some valuable article, and as he
was famed for discovering lost things, if he could find out the
same, he should be handsomely rewarded. Poor Roger was
put to a stand, not knowing what answer to make, as he had
not the smallest knowledge of the like. But recovering him-
�self a little, he resolved to humour the joke, and thinking he
would make a good dinner and some drink of it, told the
gentleman he would try what he could do, but that he must
have the room to himself for three hours, during which time
he must have three bottles of strong ale and his dinner, all
which the gentleman told him he should have. No sooner
was it made known that the Spseman was in the house, than
the servants were all in confusion, wishing to know what
would be said.
As soon as Roger had taken his dinner, he was shown into
an elegant room, where the gentleman sent him a quart of
ale by the butler. No sooner had he set down the ale, than
Roger said, there comes one of them, intimating thQ bargain
he had made with the gentleman for the three quarts, which
the butler took in a wrong light, and imagined it was himself. He went away in great confusion, and told his wife.
u Poor fool," said she, " the fear makes you think it is you he
means, but I will attend in your place, and hear what he will
say to me." Accordingly, she carried the second quart, but
no sooner had she opened the door than Roger cried, there
comes two of them. The woman, no less surprised than her
husband, told him the Spasman knew her too. " A n d what
will we do,'' said she, " we will be hanged.' * " I will tell
you what we must do," said she, " we must send the groom
the next time, and if he is known, we must offer him a good
sum not to discover on us." The butler went to William,
and told him the whole story, and that he must go next to
see what he would say to him, telling him, at the same time,
what to do, in case he was known also. When the hour was
expired, William was sent with the third quart of ale, which,
when Roger observed, he cried out, there is the third and
last of them, at which William changed colour, and told him
if he would not discover on them, they would show him where
they were all concealed, and give him five pounds besides,
Roger, not a little surprised at the discovery he had made,
told him if he recovered the goods, he would follow them no
further.
By this time the gentleman called Roger to know how he
had succeeded. He told him he could find the goods* but
that the thief was gone. " I will be well satisfied," said he,
"with the goods, for some of them are very valuable." Let
the butler come along with me, and the whole shall be recovered. He accordingly conducted Roger to the back of the
stable where the articles were concealed, such as silver cups,
spoons, bowls, knives, forks, and a variety of other articles of
great value.
�11
When the supposed Spasman brought back the stolen goods,
the gentleman was so highly pleased with Roger, that he insisted on his remaining with him always, as he supposed he
would be perfectly safe as long as he was about his house.
Roger gladly embraced the offer, and in a few days took possession of a piece of land, which the gentleman had given to
him in consideration of his great abilities.
Some time after this, the gentleman was relating to a large
company the discovery Roger had made, and that he could
tell any thing; one of the gentlemen said he would dress a
dish of meat, and bet for fifty pounds, that he could not tell
what was in it, and he would allow him to taste it. The bet
being taken, and the dish dressed, the gentleman sent for
Roger, and told the bet was depending on him. Poor Roger
did not know What to do; at last he consented to the trial.
The dish being produced, he tasted it, but could not tell what
it was; at last, seeing lie was fairly beat, he said, gentlemen,
it is a folly to talk, the fox may run a while, but he is caught
at last, allowing within himself that he was found out. The
gentleman that had made the bet, then confessed that it was a
fox that he had dressed in the dish, at which they all shouted
out in favour of the Spaeman, particularly his master, who
was more confident in hi#m than ever.
Roger then went home, and so famous did he become, thatno one dared take any thing but what belonged to them,
fearing that the Sp&man would discover on them.
THE PRIEST A N D THE ROBBER.
IN the province of Ulster, about fifty years ago, there lived
a priest whose life was spent in administering relief to those
in distress; so that by the amiableness of his character, he
had gained the respect and esteem of all the country round.
He was sent for to a robber to prepare him for death, and
was, shut up in a small chapel along with him. While endeavouring by the most pious persuasions to excite him to repentance, he observed him apparently absorbed in thought, and
paying no attention to his discourse. " A r e you aware," said
the priest, " that you must soon appear before your great
C r e a t o r ? " — " I know that," returned the robber; "but I
also know that you can save my life."—"How can that b e ? "
said the priest. " You have only," rejoined the poor wretch,
" t o set your chair on the altar, and by your getting on it, I
can reach the top by the help of your shoulders."—"And,"
said the priest, " do you think I shall be accessary to your
�12
escape, which may be the means of your committing new
crimes?"—"Indeed," said the robber, " y o u need not be
afraid of that, I have seen the gibbet too near me to expose
myself to such danger again." The priest, actuated by the
impulse of a feeling heart, and strengthened by the earnest
protestations of repentance in the unhappy criminal who was
about to suffer, at length consented to favour his escape, and
in a few minutes the robber was clear of the prison.
Shortly after, the executioner came to warn the unfortunate
man of his hour being come; but what was his surprise when
he opened the door, and found the priest sitting alone in the
chapel. He immediately alarmed the judges, and brought
them to the spot. " W h a t is become of the prisoner," said
they, "that was left with y o u ? " — " H e must be an angel,"
returned the priest coolly, " for, upon the faith of a christian,
he flew out of the window," pointing to the window in the
. roof of the chapel; " and I am going to recommend myself
to his protection."
The judges could not preserve their
gravity at what they heard the good man relate, but wishing
the supposed angel a pleasant journey, went away.
Some years after this, as the priest was travelling in the
county of Wicklow, he lost his way, just as the sun had sunk
beneath the horizon. He was accosted by a sort of peasant,
who, after examining him attentively, told him the road he
was travelling was a very dangerous one, and as the night
had set in, if he would accompany him, he would conduct
him to a house convenient, where he might pass the night
in safety.
The priest was at a loss how to act; the curiosity visible
in the peasant's conduct excited his suspicion, but considering
if he had a bad design in view, that it was impossible for him
to escape, he with a trembling heart followed. They had not
walked far until they reached a farm-house, which the poor
priest beheld with j o y ; but the suspicion which the peasant's
curiosity had first raised in his breast, was entirely removed
when he found he was the proprietor, and heard him tell his
wife to kill a capon, with some of her chickens, and to welcome his guest with the best cheer. Whilst the good woman
was preparing supper, the countryman came into the room
followed by a group of beautiful children. " Pour forth your
grateful thanks, my little children," said he, as the tear of
gratitude started from his eye, " for to this worthy man your
father owes his existence.'' The priest immediately recognized the features of the robber, whose escape he had favoured
some years before; he inquired how he came to be so well
provided for; on which he related to him as follows :—
�13
" I told you if you assisted me in escaping I would lead a
new life. I begged my way to this part of the country, which
is my native place, and engaged in the service of the owner
of this farm. By strict fidelity and attachment to the interest
of my master, in a short time I gained his entire confidence
and esteem, and such was his regard for me, that he gave me
his only daughter in marriage. God has blessed my endeavours ever since, and I have amassed a little money, and I
entreat you to accept of it. I shall now die content, since I
have had it in my power, by this small tribute, to testify my
gratitude towards the man who saved my life."
" I am well repaid," replied the priest, " f o r the service I
have rendered you, and prize your repentance more than all
the riches you can bestow. Continue in your present upright
course of life, and you will be rewarded hereafter."
The peasant pressed him to accept of some recompense,
but he would not; he consented, however, to remain a few
days in the house, during all which time he entertained him
with the greatest hospitality.
The time of the priest's departure at last arrived. It was
with the greatest reluctance that the countryman could persuade him to make use at least of one of his horses to finish
his journey. The priest set out, and the peasant would not
quit him until he had traversed the dangerous roads that
abound in those parts.
MAC TURKHILL.
MAC TURKHILT,, who from his earliest days was initiated
in all the vices of raparee, and the known violator of female
chastity, met in his walks with Miss O'Melaghlin, whose
father was the richest man in the country. Her charms
immediately excited his desires ; being a man of some property
himself, he had recourse to her father for the honour of
receiving from him the hand of his fair daughter.
The
answer he received was, that the happiness of a female in a
married state depended on the temper, the morals, or character of the husband—that till he was convinced that the suitor's
conduct would bear such a scrutiny, he would withhold his
consent—and therefore concluded that if his daughter's inclinations were not pre-engaged, and his character should appear
amiable, he should be no hindrance to their mutual happiness.
Mac Turkhill had no reason to thank O'Melaghlin for the
prudence of his conduct—he knew that his reputation would
not bear inquiry, but he determined to wait some days, in
�14
the interval of which he made his arrangements for carrying
Miss O'Melaghlin off by force. The banditti of white-boys,
with whom he was in esteem, on account of the congeniality
of his morals, promised to assist him, and to run all hazards
in promoting his success.
Now ripe for mischief, and provided with the means to
ensure him the possession of Miss O'Melaghlin, he applies to
her father for an answer.
The reception he met with was such as he expected.
O'Melaghlin told him that he could not sacrifice the happiof his daughter by consenting to an alliance which lie could
not approve of, and which every tie of honour and honesty
forced him to decline.
Mac Turkhill heard him with a frown, and went off muttering revenge. The father being no stranger to the extravagance of the pretended suitor, had every thing to fear from
him. He therefore determined to remove his daughter to a
place of greater security, and placing her in his carriage,
acquainted her with his motives, to which she gave a voluntary and eager consent. Mac Turkhill, who watched over
his motions, overtook him near the Gautty Mountains, in the
county of Tipperary. His faithful band shot the horses of
the carriage, whilst Mac Turkhill pistoled O'Melaghlin, and
seized on his daughter, whom he hurried to his horse, and
mounted her upon it after a long struggle with her. Her
cries, her shrieks, her swoons, had no effect upon the monster;
but mounting, he rode off with her at full gallop.
Providentially a corps of free volunteers met him in his
flight, and melted with the shrieks of beauty in distress,
determined on a rescue. Companions in guilt are seldom
faithful to each other-—his own company fled and left him
alone to engage with his enemies. Grown desperate with
danger, he shot the first that approached him, but as he was
drawing out the second pistol, he received a shot in his head,
and dropped down dead from the saddle. Miss O'Melaghlin
tumbled likewise on the ground in a swoon, but recovering,
thanked her deliverers on her knees, and was escorted to her
place of residence by the generous corps of free volunteers.
ANNE BONEY, T H E F E M A L E PIRATE.
THIS woman was a native of the city of Cork. Her father
was an attorney, and by his activity in business rose to a
considerable respectability in that place. Anne was the fruit
of an unlawful connection with his own servant-maid, with
�15
>vhom he afterwards eloped to America, leaving his wife in
this country.
He, settled in Carolina, and followed his own profession,
but soon commenced merchant, and amassed a considerable
property. There he lived with his servant in the character
of a wife, but she dying, her daughter superintended the
domestic affairs.
N
During her residence with her father, she was supposed to
have a considerable fortune, and was accordingly addressed
by young men of respectable situations in life. It happened,
however, with her, as with many others of her sex, that
her feelings and not interest determined her in the choice of
a husband;—she married a young seaman without a single
shilling.
The avaricious father was so enraged, that, deaf to the
feelings of a parent, he turned his own child out of his house.
Upon this cruel usage of her father, and the disappointment
of her fortune, Anne and her husband sailed for the Island of
Providence, in hopes of gaining employment.
She, however, acted a very different part from the character of a virtuous woman. She left her husband, and fixed
her affections on Captain Rackham, with whom she eloped.
She had disguised herself in man's clothes, to prevent discovery ; but proving with child, the captain put her on shore,
and intrusted her to the care of some friends until she
recovered, when she again accompanied him, disguised as
formerly, in all his piratical expeditions.
Upon the king's proclamation, offering a pardon to all
pirates who would surrender themselves, he amongst others
surrendered himself, and went into the privateering business.
He soon, however, embraced an opportunity of returning to
his favourite employment.
In all his favourite exploits Anne accompanied him, and
displayed the greatest courage and intrepidity.-' When their
ship was taken, Anne, another woman, and a seaman, were
the last three that remained on board, Captain Rackham
having previously found means to escape on shore, but he
was apprehended and sent to prison.
Anne was known to many of the planters in the Island of
Jamaica, to which place she was conveyed, who remembered
to have seen her in her father's house, and they were disposed to intercede in her behalf. Her unprincipled conduct
in leaving her own husband, and forming an illicit connection
with Captain Rackham, tended to render them less active in
her favour.
By a special favour, Rackham was permitted to visit her
�16
the day before he was executed, but Instead of condoling him
on account of his hard fate, as might have been expected,
she only observed that she was sorry to see him there, but if
he had fought like a man, he need not have been hanged like
a dog.
Being with child, she remained in prison until her recovery,
was reprieved, and set at liberty. She was by the interest ot
some friends reconciled to her father, and lived a good life
ever after.
JAMES BUTLER.
JAMES BUTLER was bred and born in Kilkenny, and in his
pupilage was kept pretty much at school, but his learning did
him little service, though he spoke Latin very fluently. When
he arrived at man's estate, he enlisted himself a soldier in
Lord Galway's regiment, and went with the army to Spain,
where he had not been long before he departed to the
Spaniards as his favourite party; but meeting with some
usage among them he did not relish, he soon grew tired of a
military life, and gave the Spaniards the go-by also. Thinking himself in danger in Spain, and not finding a convenient
opportunity of returning home, his fancy led him to Andalusia, where he set up as a mountebank, and had wonderful success in raising his reputation and performing cures.
At length he undertook the method of easing men of troublesome wives, who were taken to him by wholesale, and this
brought more grist to his mill than any other part of his
practice. So great was his fame at last, that he outvied the
famous Dr. Thornhill, who offered to be his Merry-Andrew,
upon condition that he would teach him his Irish assurance;
but whether Thornhill did it to get rid of his competitor, or
not, I can't tell, however it happened that he was discovered,
and to prevent danger, made the best of his way to Venice,
where he set up for conjuror, and not managing this business
so well as the former, success failed him, and he joined with
a company of banditti.
While he was in this company, they had the good fortune
to meet with a lusty fat mendicant friar, whom they robbed,
taking from him the amount of £20,000, which he was going
to carry to Modena, for the late widow of King James II.
Queen Dowager of England. The captain of the gang divided
the booty, ordering Butler but a very small part, not half his
portion, which stomached him so much that he left them and
went to Florence; and by this time he had learned to speak
both Spanish and Italian.
�17
While he was at Florence, his curiosity led him to go to
see a man executed, where he singled out a young gentleman
with whom he had some confabulation, and among the rest
of his discourse, he said, " T h e man was a fool for suffering
himself to be taken." At these words, the gentleman taking
him for a man of resolution, took him to a tavern, and having
sounded him pretty well, offered him five hundred pieces of
gold to murder an uncle of his that he might enjoy his estate.
Butler consented to the proposal, and went immediately to
one of the banditti, with whom he agreed concerning the
manner of the murder, and taking him along with him about
eleven o'clock at night, to the old man's house, they made a
quick dispatch of his life. This being done, and the reward
paid them, as soon as Butler got a convenient opportunity
he likewise put an end to the young man's life, to prevent
him from discovering; and, for the same reason, in a little
time afterwards he murdered his comrade.
But, having thus committed three murders, the rumour
whereof spread far and near, he grew a little afraid of his
mother's calf's skin, and fled directly to Paris, where he soon
found means to introduce himself into Cartouch's gang, with
whom he often went in quest of prey; but not always distributing the booty equally, as he thought, he ventured to go out
one fine morning alone, and taking notice of a young gentleman of Campaigne, who came to Paris on purpose to study,
he met him and accosted him, pretending to be a scholar
also, and then taking him to the college of Navarre, he led
him through the walks, on pretence of entertaining him with
new discourses, till they came to a remote corner, and then
robbed him.
But beginning to get too notorious in France, and not overwell liked by his comrades, he packed up his awls and went to
Holland, and on his travels overtaking a genteel young
woman, near Rotterdam, he began to make love, and grew
very sweet upon her. She seemed coy at first, but after some
discourse had passed, and upon further application, she agreed
to pass for his wife. Not being able to reach the Hague,
they stopped short at an inn on the road, and after supper
they retired to rest.
As soon as his supposed wife saw daylight, and perceiving
how soundly he slept, she rose, and, calling for her husband's
portmanteau, under pretence of getting out some linen, took
out of it two hundred and ninety pieces of gold, and ordered
the hostler to saddle her husband's horse for her to go and
pay a friend a visit, but took care to ride off, and let none of
them hear any more of her afterwards.
�18
When Butler awoke he threw his arms about, expecting to
grasp his dear*mistress, but finding himself disappointed, in
order to make inquiry about her, and to know the time of the
day, he called for his landlord, who told him his lady was a
very early woman, having risen three or four hours before.
Surprised at this news, he started up and ran to his portmanteau, which, when he searched, he immediately found how
nicely he was tricked, yet he could not find in his heart to
asperse her, or much to blame her for herself, because he
lived by tricking. However, thus outwitted as he was, he
sold his lady's horse, and having paid the reckoning with the
remainder of the money, he made the best of his way to
England, where dame fortune forsaking him, the lady poverty
came to pay him a visit, and would not be persuaded to
abandon him till she had brought him to a very low ebb.
Being reduced to this condition, he happened one day to pick
up a fresh acquaintance with Mrs. Impudence, who accompanied him and two others to King's Gate, in Grey's Inn
Lane, where they attacked and stopped a coach, but finding
a vigorous resistance, were obliged to return in a hurry, and
ride off as fast as they could. However, Butler was pursued,
taken, and committed to Newgate, but being only found
guilty of an assault, he was fined £100 and confined twelve
months.
At length procuring his liberty, he fell to his old courses
on the highway, in conjunction with one Nodes, an upholsterer's son, at Fleetditch, where they continued their depredations for a length of time, and amassed a great deal of
money. Being warned in a dream, after a night of dreadful
debauch and sensuality, of what his present wicked course
would bring him. to, and happening to hear a most impressive
sermon on the suffering of the damned in hell, he at length
determined to quit his sinful courses of life. He therefore
relinquished his iniquitous gain, dispensing it in charity, and
returned to his friends in Ireland, where he passed the
remainder of his life in penance and mortification.
J A C K WITHERS.
JACK'S father was a poor labourer in Athlone. Poverty
and want of employment obliged his father to set off for
Dublin, and Jack accompanied him. In that seminary of
vice he became acquainted with some young pickpockets, and,
imitating their conduct, he was detected and sent to Flanders
as a soldier.
�19
One day he went into the church at Ghent, during the
time of high mass, and observing them casting money into a
box that stood under the image of the Virgin Mary, he
watched the favourable opportunity, picked the lock, filled
his pockets with the money and got off unobserved.
But, afraid to repeat his depredations in the same quarter,
and unable to supply his extravagancies, he deserted his
colours and returned to Ireland. Commencing robber on the
highway, he encountered a neighbour of his father's whom he
knew to be a great miser, and accosted him with, " Stand and
deliver, or by the holy Saint Denis you are a dead man."
The miser began to plead poverty, which was evident from
his appearance and clothes, his breeches, in which he retained
his money, being as large as the hooped petticoat of a full
dressed lady. Jack, however, knew him well, and was not
to be imposed upon with sham pretences. The old miser was
then compounding, and offered one half to save the other.
Jack enraged at this delay, threatened him with instant
death; on which the miser pulled out his purse and spectacles,
and putting them on, began to stare at Withers. " W h y ,
d
n your eyes, you old fool," said Jack, " is your sight so
bad that you cannot see to deliver your purse ?" " I may at
least see to whom I give it." " A y e , aye, old boy; and when you
look at me again, you must supply me with such another sum."
Jack, and two of his companions, one morning returning
from their depredations, espied a gentleman walking alone,
and exhibiting all the gestures of passion, distraction, and
fury; meanwhile casting his eyes towards heaven, stretching
forth his arms and folding them again. They imagined he
was about to plunge into the water from disappointed love or
ruined fortune.
Jack went up to him and said, "Pray, sir, consider what you
are going to d o ! What a sad thing will it be for you to
drown yourself here ? Be advised, and have better thoughts
with you." " W h a t is all this for?" said the gentleman, " I have
no intention of drowning myself. I am only a player getting
my part." " If I had known that, you might have hanged or
drowned yourself for me ; but to make amends for the trouble,
you can do no less than give us your money." They robbed
him of all he had.
Some time after this, Jack and his companion, Patrick
Murphy, attacked the postman carrying the south mail, whom
they not only robbed, but, to prevent discovery, cut his throat,
ripped him. up, filled his belly with stones, and threw him into
a pond. The body, however, was found next day, in a
shocking state.
�I
20
Jack and his associates now once more returned to the
city, but it may be well imagined that their guilty conscience
would not let them rest.
Having committed a robbery in the country, he and his
companions were both apprehended, tried and condemned.*
Jack was only twenty-four years of age when he suffered the
punishment due to his crimes. He confessed the horrid
murder he had committed some weeks before.
THE GENEROUS IRISHMAN.
LIEUTENANT FLEMING was the youngest son o f a respectable
gentleman in the county of Louth, and was sent at an early
age on board a British man-of-war in the situation of midshipman. He had a fine open manly countenance, an easy
air, and a heart that diffused the irresistible charm of good
humour over a tolerable set of features, setting at defiance
both ill-temper and ill-breeding.
After an absence of twelve years, spent with honour to
himself and advantage to his country, having by his bravery
and good conduct been promoted to the rank of lieutenant,
he obtained permission to visit his native place. He had not
been long seated on the top of the coach, before he perceived
that his next neighbour was either very ill, or in great trouble,
by several deep sighs which seemed reluctantly to force their
way from an overcharged bosom.
His heart beat responsive to the sound ; it was too dark to
distinguish faces, nor did he recollect to have observed, on
his getting up, whether it was a male or a female next to
him, nor was that a consideration: he chewed his quid sometime in silence, till a sudden violent jolt of the coach drew
forth a faint shriek from a female voice, and threw her in contact with the lieutenant's shoulder.
"Avast," cried he, "take care how you steer, or we may
all roll over, d'ye see; besides here seems to be one longside
not able to stem the upsetting. Take courage, my good lass,
lean against me and welcome; we shall soon come into some
port."
" You are very kind, good sir," answered a feeble voice;
" I am, indeed but little able to bear the motion of the carriage,
much less the sudden shakes, but I will be better by and by."
" I hope so, I hope so," rejoined the lieutenat, " w e shall
get into smooth water immediately, when we are off the
stones."
�21
No answer was returned, and a dead silence ensued until
they came to the first stage of changing horses.
Fleming, on the appearance of the light, turned to look at
his neighbour, and beheld the pale skeleton of a young woman, who seemed fast sinking into the grave, and scarcely
able to sit upright. " Odds, my life, poor soul," said he,
" y o u seem to want ballast, it will never do to steer this
course—why did you not steer into the cabin? "
"Because, because," replied she tremulously, "it was not
convenient — - I have more air here."
" Yes, yes ; but a few such squalls as we had some time ago,
may turn you overboard: you are not steady enough, my good
lass, to keep your course here."
He then called for some grog and biscuits, and jumped off
to look in at the windows of the coach.
" A y , ay, here's plenty of room; here, you steersman, open
the coach door, and let us help that poor young woman into
this berth."
" W h y , I have no objection, master," answered the coachman, " but you know outside and inside passengers are different things—who's to pay the difference of the fare?"
" Why, I will," cried Fleming.
" No, no," exclaimed the invalid, " I entreat you, Sir, I am
very well here: indeed I am—I will not get inside—pray
leave me as I am."
" Look ye, young woman," returned the lieutenant, " you
are upon a slippery forecastle, you may be hove overship in the
dark, and founder before help can come to ye. So no more
words, my conscience wont let me see you in danger, for I
shant sit easy with you at my stern; so do, my good soul, let
me put you safe under hatches, out of the way of the squalls
and foul weather."
The poor young woman saw it was in vain to contend with
her humane neighbour, and however repulsive to her own
feelings to accept the obligation, she was as little calculated to
support the fatigues of her situation as unable to pay the additional expense. She, therefore, with tears dropping on her
cheeks, silently permitted herself to be placed in the coach,
nor did she reject the biscuit, though she declined the grog.
" Mayhap," said he, " a gill of warm wine will do you more
good; and, without waiting a reply, he dashed off, and presently returned with it, entreating her to drink of it. Not to
disappoint him, she sipped a small quantity, and pressing his
hand said, " God bless you."
The manner and the words shot through the heart of the
poor lieutenant; but a summons from the coachman to resume
�22
his place, cut short all further conversation, and he jumped up
into his berth, after tossing off his glass of grog, which he
found very necessary to recruit his spirits.
When they stopped at the inn to dine, Fleming handed out
his sick friend, with equal respect and tenderness; nor did he
neglect offering his hand to three other females in the coach,
one of which only accepted of it; the other two threw up
their heads, and coldly declined his assistance,.
Fleming was not a man of observation, he knew nothing of
the world or the human heart; he had no idea that he could
have given any offence by showing humanity to a fellow-creature, or Committed an unpardonable insult, by " stowing a
sick outside passenger in the cabin."
He gave his arm to the young woman, and conveyed her
into a room, where she was scarcely seated, before, to his
great dismay, she fainted, and he loudly vociferated for assistance.
By the endeavours of the landlady, and the smelling-bottle
of the lady who had deigned to accept Fleming's offered hand,
the poor invalid soon recovered, and he left her to their care,
whilst he " examined into the state of the locker." A fine
piece of roast beef and a giblet pie were just going smoking
hot to the table ; but though the scent was perfectly agreeable
to him, he had consideration enough to think it might be too
powerful for a sick stomach. He, therefore, asked if they had
any new laid eggs, with a tart or two for the poor young woman in the other room,
"Yes, sir," replied the landlady, " w e can give her a couple
of eggs and a nice custard in a trice; but—a—as these eggs
are not provided for the coach passengers, we shall expect
them to be paid extra for.''
" V e r y well," returned he, "carry them in, and I will pay
you for them."
He went back and told the invalid she should have an egg
brought to her, and as soon as he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of beef, he would come to her again. Tears were her
only answer, and he darted away, followed by the lady.
" I admire your humanity, sir," said she, " f o r I find you
are, an. entire stranger to the young woman.''
" I don't know what she may be," answered he, stopping
and bowing to the speaker, "but what of that? you see she
is very sick, poor soul, and it is our duty to help forward a
fellow-creature. She is bad enough, and I fear will soon be
in that port, from whence there is no return."
"I,fear so, too," rejoined the lady, "and it is from thence
I feel so much to admire in your kindness. Young men in
�23
this age rarely bestow favours on females without a view of
self-gratification of some kind or other.''
Before he could reply, they were summoned to dinner.
Fleming, much pleased with the lady's kindness to the sick
giiij and attention to himself, was particularly assiduous for
her accommodation, without intending any slight to the others,
or observing their haughty or indignant looks.
And here it is impossible to refrain from observing how
much our own comforts in life depend upon our attention to
those of others. The two ladies whose humanity was not
proof against the affront of having an outside passenger, whose
dress was as humble as her pretensions, obtruded on them so
unceremoniously by a lieutenant, whose wrapping great coat
demonstrated that he was no great things, and equally low
bred and impertinent, had sat in disdainful silence till they
arrived at the inn, when their anger burst forth into scornful
observations, and a reprimand to the coachman for admitting
such a low creature into their society, who had taken inside
places.
" A s to low or high," answered the man, " so they pay me
the full fare, it is one and the same thing to me. Besides
the poor young woman was mortal bad, and he was a goodhearted fejlow that offered to pay the fare, and all passengers
are alike to me."
" Then you ought never to have people of consequence in
your coach, fellow, if you don't know how to behave yourself."
" I know very well how to behave myself, I don't want to
affront nobody," returned coachy, "the young woman was
a clean decent body, and as good as others, for the matter of
that, seeing her fare will be paid."
"Don't be impertinent, fellow, it is plain you care not how
you insult the ladies, so you can be paid. You would not
have taken her into the coach without being sure of your
-money, though you presume to force her upon us."
" That's another sort of a thing. I pities the poor thing,
:and would serve her with all my heart, but the coach is
master's property, and musn't chouse him of his fare. But
what signifies words about it, she is an inside passenger
now, and by St. Patrick he's an honest lad that lent her a
hand."
The insulted ladies found it in vain to contend, they
encouraged each other in the idea of affronted consequence,
and displeased that their companion had followed the two low
creatures, they determined to send her to Coventry, and
preserve an indignant silence in the coach.
�24
These wise resolutions accompanied them to the dinner
table, when, to their great surprise, they beheld the lieutenant's uniform, and a figure, now disencumbered of an old
wrapping coat, that he did not blush to exhibit in the most
fashionable circles in the kingdom, though it wanted the
polish of high life.
P A D D Y A N D THE PRIEST.
A PRIEST in the neighbourhood of Cork, fancying that the
"dues" at confession were insufficient remuneration for the
pardons he granted, told his congregation that in future he
would not hear confessions, unless the "compliment" was
increased. This, of course, created a great sensation in his
parish ; some murmured, a few remonstrated, and others absented themselves from the confessional altogether. Amongst
the latter was Darby Donovan. " Hilloa, Darby," said the
priest, one morning, spying Darby sneaking along the side of a
ditch to avoid a meeting. "Hilloa, Darby! is that you."
1'Oh!
thin, is it yer reverrence? I hope yer reverrence,
and all belonging to yer reverrence is well. It's a good step
to Blarney, and my sister's child's sick in it, so as its contrary
to yer reverrence I'm going, I'll wish you a plasant day."
"Stay, Darby," called the priest—"What's the reason you
have not been to confession lately ? " " Plaze yer reverrence,"
said Darby, scratching his head, "I've never been able to
affoord it since the grace of God viz."
R E A D Y WIT.
A TRAVELLER, fond of a joke—a corpulent, jolly-looking
fellow—taking a walk in company with one of his customers,
met a "rough, rude, x'eady-witted" Hibernian driving a small
cart, drawn by a jackass, when the following dialogue ensued:
— " W e l l , Pat, what kind of an animal is this you have got!"
" Arrah, now, don't be after denying your friends when you
meet with them. Sure you have not forgot your cousin, Mr.
Jack Ass." " Oh ho ! so you deal among asses." "Well, in
troth I do, Sir." " And what is the price of a good one.just
now?" " I n troth, Sir, that greatly depends on their appearance; a little jacky like this un might be got for a pound;
but, by japers, a big fat cuddy like yourself would cost thurty
shillans!"
�
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Popular Irish Stories; A collection of the most interesting tales and legends of Ireland compiled from the best authors.
Date
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1850
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9936352143505154">s0604b35</a>
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The Hermit Turned Pilgrim
The Farmer and His Servant
The Three Advices
The Spaeman
The Priest and the Robber
Mac Turkhill
Anne Boney, The Female Pirate
James Butler
Jack Withers
The Generous Irishman
Paddy and the Priest
Ready Wit
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24 pages
15 cm
Description
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New and Improved Series. No. 23.
Price One Penny.
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<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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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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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
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fiction
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Religion and Morals
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Architecture: fence
Architecture: house
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1821-1830
Chapbook Genre: fiction
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Nature: hill(s)
Nature: sun
Nature: tree(s)
Outdoor Scene
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https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1e29b30fb0afc4e2cf880916953b69a9.pdf
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Text
ROB ROY,
THE
Celebrated Highland Freebooter;
or,
MEMOIRS
OF THE
OSBALDISTONE FAMILY
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
2.
��ROB
ROY.
Frank OSBALDISTONE, a young man of a respectable family,
had been several years at Bourdeaux, for the purpose of being
instructed in the mercantile profession, when he was suddenly
recalled by his father. During his residence abroad, Frank had
devoted more time to the pursuits of literature than the ledger,
and, therefore, when interrogated by his father with regard to
the state of commerce in France, he discovered so much ignorance,
that the old gentleman was highly displeased, and blamed
Mr. Dubourg, to whose charge he had been committed. Frank
exculpated that gentleman from all blame, and said that it was
his own fault, as he felt no inclination for business.
However,
as he intended Frank to take a management hi his own extensive
concerns, M r . Osbaldistone wished to put him under the charge
of M r . Owen, who had been long his own principal clerk, and
had now a small share in the banking business ; but Frank professed
his dislike to the profession, and refused to comply with
his father's wishes.
M r . Osbaldistone then asked his son what
his own grave projects were ; and on Frank saying he should
like, either to travel for a few years, or attend the university, or
obtain a commission in the army, he told him, in a rage, that
unless he consented to his wishes, his nephew should inherit all
his property, and gave him a month to consider of the proposal.
During this interval, M r . Owen tried to prevail with Frank, by
every argument he could adduce, to come into his father's terms ;
but it was to no purpose ; for, on the day appointed, he repeated
to his father the aversion he had to the mercantile profession,
hoping, at the same time, that by his refusal he would not forfeit
the affection of a parent. M r . Osbaldistone, on hearing Frank's
ultimatum, told him, that since he refused to remain at home, he
should immediately go to his uncle's, at Osbaldistone Hall, in
Yorkshire, until some other arrangements were made.
Accordingly, next day, Frank set off on horseback for Yorkshire,
with fifty guineas in his pocket.
During the journey, he
began to reflect that he had probably made himself an outcast
from his family, and lost the affection of his father by his stubbornness
; but, although he regretted what he had done, yet his
pride would not allow him to return, and he continued his journey
in very depressed spirits.
In the country through which he passed there were few objects
to amuse a young traveller, except the conversation of a few
strangers, such as country parsons, farmers, graziers, merchants,
travellers, and now and then a recruiting officer; from whom
Frank received information about creeds and tithes, cattle and
�4
corn, price of commodities, and a discription of battles. A leading
topic with all of them was robberies ; and such details were
given, as to raise serious apprehensions of being attacked. There
was one man in particular, with whom Frank travelled a day
and a half, who was very much afraid of highwaymen ; and this
man had a large portmanteau, which he always carried into the
inns himself, suffering no one to touch it. Frank, in order to
amuse himself, inquired the weight and contents of his portmanteau;
which alarmed the man so much, that he grew pale, his
teeth chattered, and his hair stood e r e c t ; but on approaching to
Darlington his fears subsided, and they soon arrived in safety at
the sign of the Black Bear.
Formerly, it was the custom o f travellers to rest on the Sunday,
and f o r the landlords of inns, on that day, to invite all their
guests to a family dinner.
Frank and his companion having
taken up their quarters for the Sunday at the above inn, sat
down to a public dinner with the other guests, among whom there
was a Scotchman of hardy features and athletic figure. Frank
had been early prejudiced against Scotsmen by the stories of his
nurse, and he regarded him with a settled dislike ; but the shrewd
remarks, ready answers, and confidently-delivered opinions of the
Scotsman, M r . Campbell, gave him no small importance on the
present occasion. A quarrel having taken place about politics,
the dispute was referred to and settled b y M r . Campbell over
another bottle, and then the company separated.
Next day Frank pursued his journey, and was delighted with
the fine diversified scenes that everywhere met his view till he
came in sight of Osbaldistone Hall, a huge antique castle, surrounded
by stately oaks. H e was only at a short distance from
the mansion, when the blast of a French horn was heard, and a
pack of fox-hounds crossed the road, followed b y the hunters.
Frank drew up his horse to let them pass without interruption,
and had an opportunity of examining the whole group, which
consisted of five young men and a very handsome female, all well
mounted and well dressed. In passing, the lady's horse started
out of the course, and Frank hastened to offer his services ; but
there was no occasion, for she easily brought the animal to order,
and gallopped off. Frank followed her, and soon heard the signal
of the fox's death ; but the young lady, on reaching her companions,
drew their attention towards Frank, and requested one
of her cousins to speak to him. However, as the young man
declined it, she rode up to Frank, and inquired, if, in the course
of his travels, he had met with a M r . Francis Osbaldistone, whom
they expected at the Hall.
On Frank acknowledging himself to be the person, the lady
informed him that her name was Diana Vernon, a relation
of his uncle's, and then introduced him to Squire Thorncliffe
�5
Osbaldistone, his cousin. As Miss Vernon accompanied Frank
to the castle, she interrogated him by the way without any ceremony,
and on their reaching the gate, put the bridle of her horse
into his hand.
After waiting a considerable time, he was at last relieved by
one of the huntsmen, who took the horses, and a servant conducted
him into a hall, where he met with his uncle Sir Hildebrand,
and was introduced to the rest of the family. After dinner,
the bottle was circulated so freely, that the company soon
exhibited a scene of boisterous mirth and intoxication; but Frank,
being temperate in his habits, made his escape into the garden.
W h e n Frank returned to the castle, and had retired to his
apartment for the night he began to reflect seriously on his situation.
The society of his cousins would furnish him with little or
no entertainment, as they delighted only in horses, hounds, and
drinking; but he anticipated much pleasure from the company of
the lively Miss Vernon, who had made a deep impression on his
heart. Next morning Frank accompanied his cousins and Miss
Vernon on a hunting expedition, and when the party were engaged
in pursuing the fox, Miss Vernon told Frank she had
something particular to communicate, and taking him to the summit
of an adjoining hill, she pointed out Scotland, which she said
he might reach in two hours. Frank asked, why she wished him
to go there? " To provide for your safety," answered Miss
Vernon ; " you are accused of having robbed one Morris, whom
you travelled with to Darlington." Frank was startled at so unfounded
a charge, and begged to know before whom this extraordinary
accusation was laid, that he might instantly refute it.
Miss Vernon told him, that the information had been lodged
with 'Squire Inglewood, whose house was only a few miles distant,
whither she would accompany him. Frank remonstrated
with her on the impropriety of the proposal; but the young lady
would have her own way, and accordingly they proceeded towards
the residence of the justice.
On arriving at Inglewood Place, they found Sir Hildebrand
Osbaldistone and Rashleigh in the court-yard. Miss Vernon
accosted the latter, and asked whether he had been talking to
the Justice about Frank's affair ? Rashleigh replied that he had
been exerting all his influence to serve his cousin ; and then
turning to Frank, said that it would be more advisable for him
to retreat into Scotland till the business could be "smoothed
over," than appear before the Justice when presumptions were
so strong against him. Frank, indignant at Rashleigh for recommending
such a subterfuge, and entertaining suspicions of his
criminality, replied, that he would have the matter investigated,
and his character cleared from such a vile calumny. Rashleigh
insisted that Miss Vernon at least should not interfere in the
�6
business; but when he found her determined to remain till it was
fully settled, he left them ; and the young lady conducted Frank
into the house. Frank had followed Miss Vernon up stairs to
the door of the dinning-room, where she left him to find a servant
to introduce h e r ; but, being tired with waiting, Frank
opened the door, and told the justice that his name was Osbaldistone,
and that he had come to inquire into a charge, which some
scoundrel had laid against him for alledged robbery. It so happened
that Morris was present at dinner, and the Justice inquired
of him, whether this was the gentleman he implicated ? Morris,
alarmed at Frank's resolute appearance, replied, that " he
charged nothing against the gentleman," at the same time whispered,
that he withdrew his accusation against Frank, as he did
not know " how many rogues might be in the house to back him."
Miss Vernon now entered the room, where she was kindly received
by the old Justice, and telling him her errand, requested to hear
the charge against Frank. It stated, that the declarant, Mr.
Morris, had been attacked by two highwaymen in masks, who
took his portmanteau from him, and that he heard one of them
call the other Osbaldistone, whom he suspected to be the same
person who accompanied him to Darlington. Frank protested
against the evidence, as incompetent to prove that he was the
robber, and was offering to produce arguments to shew his innocence
of the charge, when a servant entered and told the Justice
that a strange gentleman wished to see him.
This stranger was Mr. Campbell, the cattle-dealer, whom
Morris and Frank had met at Darlington, who, having heard
that Frank was unjustly accused, had come to relieve him from
the prosecution. He stated, that Morris accompanied him several
miles on the road towards Scotland, where he was attacked by
two highwaymen, who carried of his portmanteau ; but that one
of them, whom his companion addressed by the name of Osbadistone,
was a much shorter and thicker man, and had a different
complexion and visage from the young gentleman present.
After delivering this deposition, he asked Morris if he would not
forego his prosecution of Mr. Osbaldistone ; to which Morris
consented, and Campbell offering to conduct him safely home,
they departed together. Matters being thus settled, Miss Vernon
and Frank also took leave of 'Squire Inglewood, who was
happy in having got rid of this troublesome business.
Next day, at breakfast, Sir Hildebrand congratulated Frank
on his escape, and advised him to be more cautious of his future
conduct. Frank could not help expressing indignation at the
suspicions which his uncle entertained, and Rashleigh was apparently
displeased at his father also; but the old gentleman
looking stedfastly at Rashleigh, told him " he was a sly loon,"
but that " two faces under one head was not true heraldry," and
�Instantly left the room. Frank, being left alone with Rashleigh,
signified to him the unpleasant nature of his situation, in living
with an uncle who believed him guilty of so disgraceful a crime,
and said that he was determined to leave Osbaldistone Hall immediately.
Rashleigh approved of his resolution, and said, that
from Frank's attainments in literature, he might soon make a
figure in the world ; but his own case was still more deplorable,
for his father had resolved that he should follow the mercantile
profession. After some conversation on these subjects, Frank
requested Rashleigh to give him some information; but it was
with evident reluctance that he complied. H e told Frank, that
he had been formerly more intimate With Miss Vernon ; but had
thought it prudent to withdraw as much as possible from the company
of a susceptible girl, whose heart must be either given to
the cloister, or to a betrothed husband ; that, by a family contract,
she was destined to marry one of Sir Hildebrand's sons,
and that Thorncliffe had been pitched upon by his father as her
partner ; but that, if he, Rashleigh, acquired wealth in the mercantile
profession, he would marry her himself.
Frank, being strongly attached to Miss Vernon, was much
mortified to find that she was the destined wife of another, and,
after reproaching himself for becoming the dupe of her artifices,
and blaming her for not informing him of the situation in which
she stood with the Osbaldistone family, came down to dinner in
a very bad humour. A t table, Miss Vernon, as usual, began to
play of her raillery upon Frank ; but he returned it with such
acrimony, that she was offended, and, accusing him of impoliteness
to a female who wished to be on good terms with him, she
soon after left the room. Frank began to regret the shameful
manner in which he had behaved to Miss Vernon, and, in order
to stifle his reflections, drank till he became so intoxicated, that
he quarrelled with his cousins, and struck Rashleigh, who, however,
did not think it worth while to resent the outrage. Thorncliffe
challenged Frank to decide their quarrel with the sword ;
but, after exchanging one or two thrusts, the combatants were
separated, and Frank was carried off and locked in his apartment,
from which he in vain attempted to break out. In the
morning his passion had abated, and, sensible of the impropriety
of his conduct, he made an apology to Rashleigh, which was
accepted in a very gracious manner. This disagreeable business
being settled amicably, Frank next thought of procuring an explanation
with Miss Vernon, who anticipated his wish, by requesting
his attendance in the library to expound an obscure passage
in Dante which she had met with. On reaching the library,
Miss Vernon began to rally Frank most unmercifully upon the
exhibition he had made at table the night before, and, in a strain
of irony,
complimented
him
proofs, of courage he had dis-
�8
displayed in his attack on Rashleigh, and in his combat with Thorncliffe,
at the same time expressing her extreme sorrow that such
an unpleasant affair had happened. Frank apologized for his
behaviour, by alleging, that the provocation he received had
urged him to resent it in an unguarded moment, when his passions
were roused by the influence of liquor. Miss Vernon then
spoke of the indiscretion with which he had treated her during
dinner, and inquired if he had heard anything to lessen her in
his estimation. Frank, confounded at this question, at first declined
giving any reply ; but she persisted in demanding an explanation,
and particularly, whether Rashleigh had said any
thing prejudicial to her character. However, he evaded her request,
on the pretext that it was improper to disclose the subject
of a private conversation, which was delivered in confidence ;
but she grew so importunate, that Frank at last related all that
he had heard from Rashleigh. Miss Vernon, shuddering with
indignation, said, that she would rather die than marry such a
villain as Rashleigh ; and disclosed the methods which he had
employed to corrupt her moral principles in the course of her
juvenile education, and the artifices he afterwards employed to
seduce her. On discovering Rashleigh's intentions, she withdrew
from his society, and had ever after regarded him with
detestation. Frank, astonished at this disclosure, drew his sword,
and was preparing to leave the room in order to take vengeance
on Rashleigh, but was prevented by Miss Vernon.
In a few days after this, Rashleigh set out for London, and
Frank then enjoyed the company of Diana Vernon without reserve;
and being intrusted to superintend the finishing of her
education, he found her one of the most intelligent and accomplished
of her sex.
Frank now endeavoured to render himself as agreeable as possible
to the family at Osbaldistone Hall, and succeeded in gaining
the good graces of his uncle, by assisting in settling his accounts
; and he became a still greater favourite with his cousins,
by joining in their amusements. As Frank was often strolling
about, he occasionally took a walk into the garden, where he was
much diverted with the remarks of Andrew Fairservice. One
day Andrew informed him, that he had met with one Pate Macready,
a pedlar, who told him that the affair of Morris and his
portmanteau had been brought before the Parliament at Lunnan
and also, that 'Squire Inglewood, Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone,
and some other folks besides, had been mentioned ; and that,
after much altercation, the business had been dismissed as a false
and calumnious libel. Frank expressed a wish to see Macready;
which Andrew immediately gratified, by bringing him to the
garden. Macready related to Frank the particulars of the trial,
from which it appeared, that the depositions of Morris were so
�9
contradictary, that they could not be received as competent evidence.
Frank was both vexed and perplexed that this affair
should, have become so notorious ; and after ordering the pedlar
so send him some articles, and giving a small present to Andrew
Fairservice for his trouble, he returned home, deliberating how
he should vindicate his character.
As Frank's mind could not be at ease while the robbery of
Morris was laid to his charge, he determined on setting out for
London to explain the whole affair to his father, and take his
advice respecting the most effectual means o f disproving the
calumny. Before departing, however, he wrote to his father the
object of his visit; and, while delivering his letter at the postoffice, he received one from Owen, endorsing a draft for £100,
to supply his present necessities. On returning to Osbaldistone
Hall, Frank found that the family had gone to Trinlay-knowe,
and he sauntered into the garden to hear if Fairservice had
picked up any fresh news. While engaged in conversation, they
observed the door of a small room in the corner of the garden
half open, and were at a loss to conjecture who could be there,
as it was never freqented by any of the family but Rashleigh.
Andrew supposed that it was then occupied by Father Vaughan,
a grave old Catholic priest, a particular acquaintance of
Rashleigh's,
and a confidant of Miss Vernon, with whom he had
frequent
interviews. Frank could not comprehend this mysterious
intercourse, and suspected that the priest was either giving her
religious instruction, or preparing her for the cloister ; and these
conjectures made him very unhappy, from the attachment he
entertained
for that lady. Frank now began to watch every motion
of Miss Vernon with minute attention, which gave her great
offence
; yet they never came to an explanation. One day, as
they
were sitting in the library, she inquired if he had lately heard
from his father. On Frank replying in the negative, she
observed
that it was very strange, for his father had gone to
Holland
on some urgent business, leaving Rashleigh with the sole
management of his affairs till he returned, and she urged him to
set of immediately for London, lest his cousin should involve his
father's business in irretrievable ruin. Frank expressed his
concern
at this intelligence, and great reluctance to leave her, whom
he loved above all the world ; but Miss Vernon told him, that
his affections were misplaced, as she had resolved to spend the
remainder of her days in a convent. After quitting the
apartment,
Frank retired to his own, where the thoughts of his father's
affairs, and the resolution of Miss Vernon, prevented him from
enjoying any rest the ensuing night; but he determined, before
leaving Osbaldistone Hall, to find out the reason, if possible, or
her mysterious conduct, and ascertain her real character.
Accordingly, one Sunday evening, he took his station in the
�10
garden.
After waiting impatiently for some time, he saw the
glimmering of a candle, and he entered the library, where he
found Diana alone and much flnrried. On her inquiring the
cause o f his visit at so unseasonable an hour, he pretended to
have come for Orlando Furioso, and turning over some books, he
descried a man's glove lying on the table.
Diana, blushing
deeply, said it was her grandfather's, which she kept as a relic ;
but as this explanation did not satisfy Frank, she told him that
it belonged to a friend whom she honoured, esteemed, and loved.
Frank made some sarcastic observations, and Miss Vernon told
him that she would discover no more than she had already done ;
but that, as they were soon to part for ever, she begged that they
might still be friends, and gave him a letter she had received
from London, containing the intelligence of Rashleigh having
carried off bills to a very large amount belonging to his father,
with which he had departed for Scotland, and that Frank's relatives
wished him to repair to Glasgow in search of the fugitive.
Next morning Frank prepared to leave, Osbaldistone H a l l ;
but his feelings were much agitated, both by the state of his
father's affairs, and on account of his separation from Miss Vernon.
A t Glasgow, he was to meet with Owen, who had already
gone their in pursuit of Rashleigh ; but, being unacquainted with
the road to Scotland, he repaired to Andrew Fairservice for instruction
respecting the route he should pursue, and found him
reading a volume of Dr. Lightfoot aloud, to frighten away the
ghaists, as he said, by godly exercise. Andrew offered to accomany
him, as he had been long thinking of flitting from Osbaldistone
Hall ; and, accordingly, it was agreed that they should
set off together next morning by five o'clock. Frank was up by
two o'clock, and, after leaving a letter on the table for his uncle,
he saddled his horse, and arrived at the cottage ofAndrewFairservice,
who was already mounted on a naig and waiting to attend
him. Frank ordered him to ride as quickly. as possible, and
Andrew pushed on his naig at the rate o f eight or ten miles an
hour, by unfrequented paths, through moors and bogs, and over
hill and dale, without diminishing his speed, Frank, unable to
keep up with him, hallooed in vain to him to stop ; but on threatening
to blow out his brains, A n d r e w drew up his naig, and
apologized for riding so fast, by saying, that " he had taken a
stirrup-cup of brandy at parting with his old cronies, which made
him a little flighty that morning." Having arrived at Glasgow
on a Sunday, when the people were all in church, they alighted
at an inn, and Frank inquired at the landlady for Messrs Macvittie,
Macfin, and Company, from whom he expected to hear of
M r . Owen ; but he was told that these good people would be attending
public worship at the Barony Laigh Kirk.
Frank proceeded
thither, accompanied by Andrew Fairservice, and was
�11
struck with admiration at the magnificent appearance of that
ancient edifice, which Andrew informed him had been saved from
destruction at the Reformation, by the townsmen agreeing to deliver
up the idolatrous statues of the sants.
Frank looked round the congregation, to see if he could discover
Owen among them, but in vain ; and was just about to
leave the church to go in quest of him, when he heard a voice
from behind a pillar whisper distinctly in his ear, " You are in
danger in this city." He startled at this mysterious caution,
especially as he could not perceive from whence it proceeded, and
resolved to remain, to afford the unknown monitor an opportunity
of renewing his warning. In a few minutes the voice repeated,
" You are in danger in this place—so am I ; — m e e t me on the
brig at twelve precisely ;—keep at home till the gloaming, and
avoid observation." Frank saw and attempted to follow the
stranger down stairs ; but as he could not overtake him, he
waited till the congregation was dismissed.
When Frank reached the inn, he reflected seriously on the
admonition given him, and whether he ought to keep the appointment
with the stranger ; but, after some consideration, he determined
to meet his mysterious counsellor. Having walked about
till twelve o'clock, Frank entered upon the bridge, and saw a
person wrapped up in a cloak, who told him that he was the person
whom he came to meet; and desired him to follow, that he
might see with his own eyes what was of importance for him to
know. Frank was rather unwilling to accompany the stranger ;
but, lest he should be thought a coward, he followed his conductor.
As they passed along the streets, the stranger gave such a
suspicious account of himself, that Frank would hardly consent
to go farther, till he urged the necessity of his proceeding in order
to learn from a person in prison the danger of his own situation.
On arriving at the prison gate the stranger knocked ; and, after
saying something to the turnkey, which Frank did not understand,
they both entered the jail, where a friendly conversation took
place betwixt his guide and the turnkey, who seemed to be old
acquaintances. The turnkey then gave a sign to Frank to follow
him, and led him up several stairs, till they came to a small
apartment, where he observed a person asleep. This was, poor
Mr. Owen, who, on recognising Frank, conjectured
was also
brought to jail, and he began to lament the misfortunes which
had befallen his father ; but Frank interrupted him, by inquiring
the cause of his imprisonment. Owen told him, that immediately
on his arrival at Glasgow, he had called on Messrs Macvittie,
Macfin, and Company, with whom Mr. Osbaldistone, his
father, did most of his business, to consult them about the state
of his affairs ; but, on finding that the house of Osbaldistone and
Tresham was considerably indebted to them, they behaved very
�12
ill and had thrown him into jail, on account of his being a partner
of the London firm: that, in these deplorable circumstances,
he had sent an account of his situation to Bailie Nicol Jarvie, a
Glasgow merchant, with whom Mr. Osbaldistone sometimes did
business; but that he had no sanguine expectations from that
quarter.
However, in this Owen was agreeably disappointed ; for all
though the Bailie was going to bed when the letter came, he
immediately dressed himself, and set out for the prison, where
he arrived shortly after Frank's introduction to Owen.
The
noise which the Bailie made at the door alarmed Frank's guide,
who attempted to make his escape ; but the worthy magistrate
prevented him, by giving orders to the captain of the jail, when
hecame in, to lock the door and allow no one to pass upon his
peril. The stranger entered their apartment before the Bailie ;
and the latter, after some conversation with Owen on the affairs
of Mr. Osbaldistone, and blaming him for extending his speculations
so far, produced his own ledger, from which it appeared
that the London house owed him also a large balance. Nevertheless,
the Bailie told Owen, that, as it was impossible for him
to redd up the business in prison, he should find caution for his
appearance, and then he would be set at liberty ; but, as Owen
said he knew of no one to whom he could apply, the Bailie
generously offered to become bail himself.
W h i l e conversing with Owen, the Bailie had taken no notice
of Frank and his conductor ; but, when about to leave the apartment,
he examined, the stranger, and then exclaimed, " Y e robber,
ye cateran, ye born deevil, that ye are, can this be you ? "
" E ' e n as you say," replied he. The Bailie continued his abuse,
and even added threats of punishment; but the stranger told him,
calmly, that he would never put them in execution, for the sake
of auld langsyne, for their relationship, and for fear of the consequences.
The honest Bailie was reproaching him for his acts
of theft-boot, black-mail, spreaghs, and gill-ravaging, when the
stranger requested he would not speak more on these subjects,
and his " counting-room should not be cleaned out when the
Gillan-a-naillie came to redd up the Glasgow buiths" The
Bailie consented not to inform against him, and then pointing to
Frank, inquired if that was not some gill-ravager he had listed
into his service ? Owen said it was Mr. Francis Osbaldistone,
the only son of his worthy master. The Bailie observed, that he
had heard of the hopeful youth before; and then reproached
Frank for renouncing the mercantile profession to become a poet
and a gentleman, and asked if his poetry would " procure him
five thousand pounds to answer his father's bills, which would be
due in ten days ? " Frank was displeased at the Bailie's taunt;
but, while musing on what he heard, he hastily drew out a letter
�13
given him by Diana Vernon, which was not to be opened till
within ten days of any emergency. Another letter was enclosed,
which fell at the feet of the Bailie, who took it up, and, seeing
it was addressed to Robert Campbell (the unknown stranger), he
delivered it into his hands. Frank was confounded to recognise
in his guide his old acquaintance the drover, and wondered what
could be the purport of Miss Vernon's letter to him ; but conjecturing
that it might be sent to entreat Campbell to discover
the retreat of Rashleigh, he was led to enquire where his kinsman
was. Campbell gave an indirect answer, but requested
Frank and the Bailie to meet him at the clachan of Aberfoyle,
where he would disclose something that might be of service to
them both, and he would pay Bailie Jarvie a thousand pounds
Scots which he then owed him. After giving their consent to
pay Rob a visit, they all left the prison, and Frank accompanied
the Bailie to his house, where, being warned by him not to keep
company wi' Hielandmen and thae wild cattle, he received an
invitation to breakfast next morning, and then took his leave.
Next morning, Owen and Frank breakfasted with the Bailie,
and in the course of conversation, Frank made some inquiries
about Mr. Campbell. The Bailie said, that Rob, as he called
him, had once been a Highland drover, but was now a gentleman,
and commanded " thirty waur cattle ; " and he declined
entering farther into his history, saying, it was more necessary to
examine his father's accounts. After putting on his spectacles,
he looked into the ledger, and found that the sum which Osbaldistone and Company owed him was considerable; but, with
great generosity, he said, that if he should lose by them, he had
also gained, and therefore he would just " l a y the head of the
sow to the tail of the grice."
Meditating on his present prospects, and projecting schemes
for his future conduct, Frank strolled first into the College, and
then into a solitary adjoining walk, at the end of which he observed
three men in earnest conversation. To his surprise, he
found them to be Rashleigh, Macvittie, and Morris, the two last
of whom went away, and afforded him an opportunity of accosting
Rashleigh, who was much confused at the rencounter. Frank
demanded an account of the property with which he had absconded,
or to go before a magistrate ; but as Rashleigh declined
doing either, he insisted on satisfaction, and they retired to a
more remote place to settle the quarrel with their swords. They
fought with equal skill and courage for some time, until Frank's
foot slipped, and then Rashleigh made a home-thrust at him,
which grazed his ribs. The pain it occasioned made Frank
furious, and grappling with his adversary, he was attempting to
run him through the body, when they were stopt by the powerful
arm of Campbell, who swore he would "cleave to the brisket
�14
the first that minted another stroke." After trying in vain to
bring about a reconciliation between them, Campbell forcibly disengaged
Frank's hand from his antagonist's collar, and desired
Rashleigh to leave them. At departing, Rashleigh said, that
as the quarrel had not been settled, they would meet again at
some future opportunity ; and Frank was for following him but
Campbell mentioned that Rashleigh had engaged Morris to renew
his accusation against him for the robbery, therefore Frank
thought it prudent to delist.
Campbell warned him to keep
out of the sight of Rashleigh, Morris, and Macvittie, and then,
after renewing his invitation to visit him at the clachan of
Aberfoyle, he went away.
Frank called at an apothecary's to get his wound dressed, and
then went to dine with the Bailie. Frank related his meeting
with Rashleigh, and mentioned what he had learned from
Campbell ; to which the Bailie and Owen listened with amazement.
He then asked the worthy magistrate's advice regarding
the propriety and safety of visiting Campbell. The Bailie,
highly pleased at being consulted, thought that it would be advisable,
that Frank should leave Glasgow for a while ; and
described the Highlanders as an uncivilized and lawless set:
That Robert Campbell alias Rob Roy Macgregor, was once a
great drover, or grazer and dealer in cattle, a business followed
by gentlemen of property in the Highlands, and had by his
bold speculations suffered some severe losses, which so reduced
him that he became a levier of the black-mail, a customary tributary
tax, imposed by those lawless depredators, of four pounds
Scots on one hundred pounds of vauled rent, to secure property
from Skaith, or to recover any cattle that were stolen: That any
one refusing to pay this tribute was certain of being plundered
by Rob, who could raise five hundred men, all devoted to his
service ; and that, although Morris suspected him of the robbery,
he was afraid to accuse him. The Bailie added, That as Frank's
father, had granted bills for a great quantity of wood bought in
the Highlands, which he had no means of retiring, unless the
assets and money carried off by Rashleigh to some of the Highland
haulds could be recovered, and that it was in Rob Roy's
power to de this if he liked ; but as this could not be done in
time to save his father's credit, that he had got three individuals
in Glasgow to advance a sum sufficient for the purpose. The
Bailie undertook to accompany Frank to Aberfoyle, where, by
representing the matter to Rob, who had a good heart, he hoped,
through his means, to gain possession of it.
Accordingly, next morning, at five o'clock, he was equipped
in his trot-cosey, jack-boots, and other riding-gear, ready to
mount, when Frank arrived at his door. After some delay,
occasioned by the knavery of Andrew Fairservice, and by the
�15
Bailie's housekeeper. Mattie, tying a silk handkerchief round
her master's neck, they out for the Highlands, and the party
in due time arrived at the clachan of Aberfoyle.
Having drawn up their horses at the inn, the sound of several
voices made them hesitate to alight; at last they rapped, but
the landlady refused to admit them, saying, " h e r house was
ta'en up wi' them that wadna like to be intruded on wi' strangers."
The Bailie was unwilling to enter; but Frank insisted, that he
must have some refreshment, and therefore ordered the horses to
be put into the stable. On entering the principal room of this
paltry inn, they saw a blazing fire of turf, near which sat three
men, drinking and engaged in conversation ; two of them dressed
in the Highland costume, and the other in the Lowland, all boldlooking, stout,men, equipped with swords and pistols, and their
naked dirks were stuck upright on the table, while another
Highlander lay slumbering on the floor. Frank and his two
comrades having seated themselves near the fire, desired the
landlady to give them something for supper. The three men
turned round, and after staring at them for a few minutes, one
of them asked how they could have the assurance to break in
upon "gentlemens that had taken up the public-house on their
ain business." Frank and the Bailie apologized, by saying that
they meant no offence, and had come to the inn to get some refreshment,
but this explanation not satisfying them, the Highlander,
unsheathing his broad-sword, desired them to draw ; and as they
were three to three, he advanced to Frank, who put himself in
a posture of defence. The other Highlander, with his sword
drawn, confronted the Bailie, who in vain tried to pull out his
sword, which was so rusted in the sheath from long disuse, that
he was forced to look about for some other weapon of defence.
However, as a substitue, he drew a red-hot poker from the fire,
and brought it against his antagonist with such effect, that he
set his plaid in a blaze. Andrew immediately took to his heels,
and his antagonist, the Lowlander, crying out, " f a i r play,"
would take, no part in the fray, but remained neuter. Frank
and the Bailie were still maintaining the contest, when the peeping
Highlander, who was no other than Dougal, the, turnkey,
started up to their assistance, and said he would " fight for
Bailie Jarvie," at the same time he attacked his countryman.
This auxiliary, with the assistance of the Lowlander, soon succeeded
in separating the combatants, and in effecting a reconciliation
between the parties, the Bailie promising to send the
Highlander a new plaid to replace the one he had burnt. When
supper was nearly ready, Frank missed Andrew Fairservice,
who had not been seen since the beginning of the fray, and he
was going out to seek him in the stable, when the landlady took
him aside, and put into his hand a written communication from
�16
Rob Roy to this effect : That he durst not meet the Bailie and
him at the clachan of Aberfoyle, as the night-hawks were abroad ;
but that the bearer of the letter was trusty, and would guide
them to a place where he could meet them with safety. —In the
stable he found Andrew, who was in great dismay, as he had
seen one of Rob's gillies give the letter to the landlady for his
master. During supper, Frank overheard them concerting the
best means of catching Rob Roy, and expressing their impatienc,
for the arrival of some red-coats, who were to assist them. Their
discourse was interrupted by the entrance of an officer, who inquired
if they were the gentlemen he was appointed to meet with
there; and, on their answering in the affirmative, he shewed
them a warrant which he had received, " to search for and
arrest two persons accused of treasonable practices." On looking
at the Bailie and Frank, he observed, that they answered the
description exactly; and, notwithstanding their protestations to
the contrary, he caused them to be searched. The only paper
found on Frank was Rob Roy's letter, which made the officer
suspect that they were his confederates, and therefore he ordered
them into custody till further inquiry.
Frank and his companion having retired to rest, they were
roused from their slumber in the middle of the night, by the
noise of soldiers dragging in a culprit. This prisoner was poor
Dougal, the ex-turnkey, whom they found, on examination, to
be one of Rob Roy's accomplices, and by his own confession to
have parted with him about an hour before. The officer threatened
to hang Dougal on the next tree unless he discovered Rob
Roy's retreat, and a piece of cord being actually prepared before
his eyes, the poor creature was obliged to consent to conduct
them. Having drawn up his men, the officer forced Frank and
the Bailie to join them, and then the whole set out under the
guidance of Dougal. The road was at first open, but it afterwards
took a winding direction among the hills, and led to a
narrow pass, scarcely sufficient to admit the troops. Here they
made a halt, as they found a commanding position of the path
before them occupied by Highlanders, and heard the sound of
bagpipes in their rear ; but Captain Thornton, the officer, having
resolved to force the pass, seized his pike from one of the soldiers,
and putting himself at their head, gave the word to march forward.
The party had advanced within twenty yards of the spot
which was occupied by the enemy, when they observed the
Highlanders, with their bonnets and long guns, crouching among
the brushwood on the eminence, and were stopped by the sudden
appearance of a female on the summit of a rock, who ordered
them to stand, and demanded what they sought in the country of
the Macgregor. Captain Thornton replied, that he came in
search of Rob Roy Macgregor Campbell, and if any resistance
�17
was made to prevent him, he was determined to force his way.
The strange female, who was no other than Rob's wife, told
him, that, not content with depriving her and her family of every
comfort, they were now come to seek their lives; but notwithstanding
her remonstrances, the Captain ordered his men to march
forward, and the soldiers were attempting to gain the ascent, when
a volley of musketry from the heights killed three of the soldiers.
The king's troops returned the fire of their concealed enemies,
but with little effect; yet, being overpowered by numbers, they
at last laid down their arms, and submitted at discretion. During
the conflict, Dougal and Frank had escaped from danger, by
creeping into a thicket which overhung the road, and then
ascended the rocks ; but the Bailie, in clambering up after them,
had fallen down, and would have perished, had not the branch
of a tree caught hold of his coat, and supported him in a hanging
posture. Here the worthy magistrate dangled like the pendulum
of a clock, till he was observed by Dougal, who, by cutting the
tails from his coat, extricated him from this perilous situation.
When the battle was over, Frank sallied out to see what was
become of his companions, and, having descried the Bailie sitting
under the covert of a rock on the bank, ascended up the height
till he reached his friend. On looking around, they saw Andrew
Fairservice surrounded by some Highlanders, who stripped him of
all his wearing apparel, and gave him some old clothes in return.
Frank and the Bailie were dragged from their retreat, and would
likely have shared the fate of Andrew, had not Dougal prevented
it. They were carried before Helen Campbell, whom the Bailie
accosted as his cousin, and endeavoured to prove himself her
kinsman, by mentioning a long list of ancestors ; at the same
time expressing his regret, that any of his relations should have
disgraced themselves by becoming freebooters. Helen disdained
to acknowledge him as her kinsman, and, being piqued at the
reproaches he had uttered, gave orders to throw Frank and the
Bailie into the adjoining loch ; but at this crisis Dougal interposed
to save their lives. He had scarcely finished his supplications
intheirfavour, when the sound of a pibroch was heard at
a distance, and instantly a troop of thirty Highlanders came towards
them. They brought the melancholy news, that her husband
was taken prisoner by Galbraith's militia ; but that his men
had carried off a captive, whom they intended to keep as an
hostage for Macgregor's safety. This hostage was Frank's
accuser, Morris, whom Helen commanded to be dragged before
her; and he, anticipating the fate which awaited him, pleaded
hard for his life, and protested that he was only the agent of
Rashleigh. However, the vindictive Helen would not listen to
his entreaties ; but commanded him to be rolled in a plaid, with
a stone round his neck and thrown into the adjoining lake. Her
�18
orders were instantly executed, and the poor wretch sunk to rise
no more.
Helen Macgregor now ordered Frank before her, and interrogated
him. On his giving satisfactory answers to her inquiries,
Helen said, that being a neutral person, he was not liable to be
detained a prisoner, and therefore she would send him with a
message to the commander of the party who had taken her husband.
The purport of this communication was, that if her enemies
put to death, or even maltreated, Rob Roy Macgregor
Campbell, she would not only take vengeance on the whole
country, but slay all the prisoners in her possession. After some
explanation on the subject, Frank, attended by Andrew Fairservice, having Rob's youngest son for a guide, travelled a considerable
distance, before he arrived at the station of the king's
troops, where he found the Duke of Montrose, and delivered the
message. He immediately ordered the prisoner to be brought
before him, and Rob made his appearance, with his arms buckled
tight down to his body with a horse-girth, and on each side a
non-commissioned officer had a hold of him, besides a file of men
before and another behind, with their bayonets fixed, to prevent
the possibility of his escape.
On entering, he bowed to the Duke, who observed, that it
was long since they had met, and accused him of being the oppressor
and terror of the country by his depredations ; but that
he was now drawing near the end of his career. Rob, in turn,
accused the Duke of being the author of his misfortunes, by
driving him to that kind of life which he now led, and said, that
if he suffered death, many would lose their lives in return.
In order to secure the prisoner, the Duke had caused him to
be placed on horseback behind one of the strongest men in the
troop, whose name was Ewan of Brigglands, and both were
buckled on so tightly, that it was impossible for Rob to escape.
The cavalcade pursued their journey, till they came to a ravine,
down which one horseman only could descend after another in
succession ; and while apart from the rest, Rob whispered to his
companion, that it was barbarous " t o carry an auld friend to
death like a calf to the shambles
begging him to cut the thong
which bound him. After much solicitation, Ewan cut the leather
while they were crossing the Forth, and his prisoner slipped from
the horse and plunged into the river. The Duke had reached
the opposite side, and, by the waning light, was engaged in putting
his troops in order as they landed, and directing the prisoners
to be brought over when he heard the plunge. He immediately
suspected the cause, and finding on Ewan's landing, that
hit suspicions were verified, he cried out, " Rascal, where's the
prisoner ? " and then fired a pistol at him, vociferating, " Gentlemen,
disperse and follow him; a hundred guineas to him that
�19
secures Rob Roy," All was confusion; some of the troopers
fearlessly rushed into the water, while others rode up and down
the banks to discover where he would land, and firing at every
object which attracted their notice ; but, as a great part of them
wished to favour his escape, the search was not made with sufficient
eagerness. A t one time, being closely pursued, he disengaged
himself from his plaid, which he allowed to float down the
stream and deceived his pursuers. However, the evening began
to grow darker, and the banks so precipitous, that it was found
impossible to continue the pursuit. The commanding officer
therefore, ordered a retreat to be sounded. Frank now heard
some one inquiring where the English stranger was, and then exclaiming
that he had given R o b Roy the knife to cut the belt.
This exclamation was followed by threatenings of vengeance On
him, and finding there was some risk of his being shot on the
spot, he leapt off his horse, and hid himself in some bushes.
When the noise of the troopers had subsided, and all was quiet,
Frank left his hiding-place, with the determination of making
the best of his way to Aberfoyle. On his way thither he was
overtaken by two strangers on horseback, one of whom accosted
him, and inquired, in the English tongue, where he was bound
for, and if the passes were open. Frank, who had been whistling,
told where he was going, but could not say whether the passes
were open or not, and advised them to turn back, as there had
been some disturbance in that quarter. After somefurtherconversation,
the other rider said, in a voice, which vibrated through
all his nerves, " W h e n M r Francis Osbaldistone does not wish
to be discovered, he ought to refrain from whistling his favourite
airs." Frank discovered the last speaker to be Dianna Vernon,
who was disguised in a horseman's cloak. Some conversation
ensued, in which Frank discovered his jealousy of her companion.
Miss Vernon took out a small case, which she gave to Frank,
telling him it was the property that Rashleigh had carried off
from his father, and which he had been forced to give up. She
then, after many expressions of endearment and sorrow, with tears
in her eyes, bade him farewell for ever, and rode off with her
companion, leaving poor Frank in a state of stupefaction.
On recovering from his stupor, Frank, feeling a strong desire
to see her again, quickened his pace to reach Aberfoyle, where
he supposed they must stop for the night. While hurrying forward,
he was accosted, in a deep voice, by a Highlander, with,
" There's
a braw night, Maister Osbaldistone;" and in the
speaker he immediately recognised Rob Roy, who had got clear
off from his pursuers. Frank congratulated him on escaping from
his enemies. Rob inquired the particulars of all that had happened
to him since he left Glasgow, and Frank recounted the affray
at the clachan of Aberfoyle the arrest of the Bailie and himself by
�20
Captain Thornton, the skirmish at the pass, and, lastly, the
recovery of his father's property from Rashleigh.
Rob was highly diverted on hearing the Bailie's exploits with
the red-hot poker at Aberfoyle, and observed, that his cousin,
Nicol Jarvie, had got some good blood in his veins, although
bred to a mechanical business. He told Frank, that his enemies
were laying snares to catch him (Rob Roy) on his return from
Glasgow, of which he had been apprized ; therefore he found it
impossible to meet the Bailie and him at the clachan of Aberfoyle.
They had nearly reached the village, when three armed Highlanders
sprung upon them ; but Rob uttering the word Gregarach
they recognised him, and burst into joyful acclamations. After
an extravagant but kindly embrace, two of them ran off to communicate
the pleasing intelligence ; and so speedily did the information
spread, that, before Frank and he could reach the inn
at Aberfoyle, they were surrounded by a multitude. When Rob
had satisfied the curiosity of his friends, by relating the story
above a dozen times, they were suffered to enter the house, where
they found the Bailie seated at the fireside. The welcomes,
apologies, and congratulations, being over, the Bailie, after filling
up a stoup of brandy, which held above three ordinary glasses,
drank it off to the health of Rob and his family, and then began
to descant on the impropriety of Rob's bringing up his sons in the
same wicked ways with himself; and he proposed to take them,
without any apprentice-fee, and to discharge the debt of 1000
pounds Scots which he owed him. Rob, in high indignation, rejected
the proposal; and ordering one of his retainers to bring in
his sporran, he took out 1000 pounds Scots, which he gave to the
Bailie. With great formality the Bailie produced the bond for
the debt, regularly discharged, which he wished to get attested
by witnesses; but Rob laid hold of the paper, and threw it into the
fire, saying, it was the way he settled accounts in the Highlands.
Next morning, the Bailie was observing, that they should immediately
set out for Glasgow, when Rob entered, and persuaded
them to visit his abode. Frank learned from Rob, that Rashleigh,
finding he could not get Diana, and then being obliged
to give up Mr Osbaldistone's papers, was so irritated, that he
posted to Stirling, and betrayed all the plans of KingJames'adherents
to the commander, who was induced to send the detachment
by whom Rob was taken prisoner. Rob concluded his information
with the most deadly threats of vengeance on Rashleigh,
and at the time, frowning darkly, he grasped the handle of his
dirk. They had now proceeded along the sides of the Lake
about six miles, when they came to a number of Highland huts,
and found a numerous party of the Macgregors assembled to receive
them, with Rob's wife and two sons at their head. Helen
gave them a kindly but dignified welcome, and apologizing for
�21
the rough manner in which they had been formerly treated, invited
them to partake of a plentiful repast on the Green. On
rising to take their leave, Helen bade the Bailie farewell, and
then turning to Frank, put into his hand a ring, which, she said,
had been given to her by Miss Vernon, accompanied with these
words, " Let him forget me for ever." At a late hour they
arrived in Glasgow; and Frank, after consigning the Bailie to
the care of Mattie, proceeded to his former residence, where he
found there was still a light in the window. On knocking, the
door was opened by Andrew Fairservice, who, giving a loud cry
of joy, ran up stairs, and Frank followed him into a parlour,
where, to his great surprise, he found his father and Owen, both
of whom embraced him tenderly. Mr Osbaldistone, who had
arrived in London shortly after Owen left it, only waited there
till he collected sufficient funds to pay every demand on the house,
which, from his extensive resources, he easily accomplished, and
then had posted to Scotland for the purpose of bringing Rashleigh
to justice, and putting his affairs in order in that quarter. His
arrival with sufficient funds to fulfil all his engagements was a
dreadful blow to Macvittie and Company, who tried, by the
most servile apologies, to gain his favour; but he paid the balance
owing them, and closed their account.
Andrew Fairservice, who, after undergoing an examination,
had been sent back to Glasgow by the Duke, only reached the
inn a few hours before Frank, gave such an account of the dangerous
situation of his master to Mr Osbaldistone, that he resolved
to set out for the Highlands in the morning, and endeavour to
get his son liberated.
Next day Mr Osbaldistone waited on Bailie Jarvie to thank
him for his kindness, and for the trouble he had taken to recover
the papers, and then offered him that part of his business which
Macvittie and Company formerly transacted. The Bailie accepted
the offer with gratitude; and, after conversing a while
with Mr Osbaldistone, took Frank aside to request of him not to
speak a word about the queer adventures they met with in the
Highlands; for if Bailie Graham heard of him fighting with
Highlandmen, and singeing their plaids, and the suspension by
the coat-tails, " it wad be a sair hair in his neck as lang as he
lived."
As the object of their journey was accomplished, Frank and
his father, after spending a comfortable day with Bailie Jarvie,
took their leave, and began to prepare for leaving Glasgow. The
Bailie continued to thrive in business, adding to his wealth and
credit, and, in due time, attained the office of chief magistrate,
but, growing tired of the life of a bachelor, hemarriedhishousekeeper,
Mattie, whom he considered to be a proper wifeforhim,
because " s h e was akin to the Laird of Limmerfield."
�22
One morning, before M r Osbaldistone and Frank had left
Glasgow, they were alarmed by Andrew Fairservice bursting into
the parlour, to communicate the intelligence of a rebellion having
broken out in the West Highlands to restore King James ; that
the clans had all risen to a man, and that Rob Roy and all his
petticoat bands would be there in twenty-four hours. Andrew's
news was not without foundation, for it proved to be the beginning
of the great Rebellion of 1715, which was headed by the Earl
of Mar, and involved in ruin so many noblemen and gentlemen,
both in Scotland and England. The rebellion having extended
to England, Frank's uncle, Sir Hildebrand, joined the insurgents;
but, lest his estates should be confiscated, he left it to all his sons
in succession, except Rashleigh, whom he cut off with a shilling;
and, in the event of their death, it was to descend to Frank. It
is somewhat strange, that all Sir Hildebrand's sons died, or were
killed, a short time afterwards. B y his uncle's will Frank
succeeded
to Osbaldistone Hall, and he set off, attended by Andrew
Fairservice ; but, as his right to the property was disputed by
Rashleigh, before going there, he called on his old friend Justice
Inglewood, the holder of his uncle's original will, from whom he
met with a kind reception. The will being produced after dinner,
rank found that every thing was correct; and when they had
nk a few glasses, the Justice insisted on a bumper to Miss
Vernon's health, which led to some conversation about that lady.
From him Frank learned, that it was Diana's father, Sir
Frederick
Vernon, who accompanied her to the Highlands, and who
had assumed the disguise of Father Vaughan at Osbaldistone
H a l l : that he was a rigid Roman Catholic, and had formerly
been tried and condemned for high treason ; but he made his
escape to France, and a report of his death was circulated, which
every one believed, until he returned to Britain as the agent of
King James: that Rashleigh, being privy to Sir Frederick's
concealment,
kept poor Diana in awe lest he should betray him to government:
that her father had solemnly engaged to Sir Hildebrand
that she should either marry one of his sons or take the veil, and
she had positively refused to marry any one of her cousins. The
loss of Diana, together with the wresting of the property of
Osbaldistone and Company from him, had so irritated Rashleigh,
that he deserted the cause of the rebels, and turned informer.
Frank having heard that Rashleigh was at M r Jobson's house,
in the neighbourhood, he, next morning, accompanied by Andrew
Fairservice, directed his course to Osbaldistone Hall; and on
drawing near it, the recollection that all its late inhabitants were
buried in the grave, excited in his mind those melancholy feelings
which local associations leave of those who are no more. When
they reached the Hall, Andrew knocked loudly at the door, at
which the aged butler, appeared, and inquired their business.
�23
Frank having explained to him the purport of Sir Hildebrand's
will, and his own right to inherit the property and mansion-house
of Osbaldistone Hall, the old man admitted them, though with
apparent reluctance. The butler asked where his honour would
please to have a fire lighted and Frank requested it might be put
on in the library; but he made many excuses, that the room
smoked, and that the daws had built up the chimney, in order to
deter him from going. However, Frank insisted on being instantly
shewn there, and the butler was forced to comply with his
orders. On entering the library, Frank was not a little astonished
at finding a good fire, and every thing having the appearance of
being lately occupied ; but, anxious to enjoy his own reflections,
he desired the land-steward to be called, and the butler, with
evident reluctance, withdrew to execute his orders.
As Frank knew of Rashleigh being in the neighbourhood, and
that he was capable of any desperate action, he made Andrew
Fairservice bring two stout fellows to guard the premises. After
convincing the steward, who had come immediately on receiving
the summons, of the validity of his titles to the property, Frank,
being left alone, sat down by the fire, and, in a reverie, uttered
these words: " Is this, then, the progress and issue of human
wishes ? " H e had scarcely finished these words, when a
issued from the other side of the room, and Diana Vernon presented
herself, leaning on her father's arm. Frank was almost
petrified with terror, as he believed them to be phantoms of his
own imagination, till Sir Frederick Vernon accosted him, and
begged he might protect them from the imminent danger that
threatened them. Frank replied, with great emotion, that he
could never forget their kindness in recovering his father's property,
and that no exertions would be wanting on his part to provide
for their safety. Sir Frederick now explained the causes
of his present situation ; that he had joined the Earl of Mar in
Scotland to support King James ; that he had afterwards followed
Lord Derwentwater into England; that, after the defeat at
Preston, he had retired northward, and taken refuge at Osbaldistone
Hall, till a trusty friend should find a vessel to convey
them to France. Sir Frederick then expatiated on his daughter's
virtues ; and having declared his intention to devote her to the
service of her Maker, he withdrew along with her behind the
tapestry.
After their departure, Frank fell into a long train of painful
reflections; at one time accusing Sir Frederick for his bigotry,
at another time Diana for yielding to his wishes; and, last of all,
himself for loving one who seemed determined not to become his
wife. In such a state of mind he could not sleep; and in the
middle of the night was alarmed by a loud knocking at the door.
This was occasioned by Justice Standish, who came with a warrant
�24
to apprehend Sir Frederick Vernon, Diana, and Frank
himself, for high treason. Frank having learned this intelligence,
informed Sir Frederick and his daughter, for whom he procured
the key of the garden, where they might hide themselves. "But
Rashleigh had observed their movements, and soon brought them
back into the house, where he also found Frank, who, he said,
must instantly quit Osbaldistone Hall, as he had come to take
possession of it. Rashleigh also told them, that he would convey
them away in his carriage to a place of safety; and, in the meantime,
dismissed Andrew Fairservice, to get rid of his blustering
noise. Andrew strolled up the avenue in search of a night's
quarters from an old acquaintance, when he fell in with a number
of Highlanders, who obliged him to tell them the late transactions
at Osbaldistone Hall. W h e n they heard that a carriage
was to carry away Diana, Sir Frederick, and Frank, they cut
down trees, and laid across the road, to intercept its passage.
W h e n the carriage, escorted by Rashleigh, had arrived at the
place were the Highlanders were, some of his attendants dismounted
to remove the trees, when a scuffle ensued betwixt the
two parties. Rashleigh attacked the leader of the band, who
wounded him severely; and, taking hold of him, asked if he
would beg forgiveness. " N o , n e v e r ; " said Rashleigh; upon
which his antagonist (who was Rob Roy) plunged his sword into
his bowels. Rob then handed out Miss Vernon fromthecarriage,
and conducted her and Sir Frederick into the forest, accompanied
by his troop of Highlanders. Frank then directed
his whole attention to Rashleigh, who was instantly conveyed
by the carriage to Osbaldistone Hall, and placed in an easy
chair till a surgeon should be sent for to dress his wounds. Rashleigh
begged that they would save themselves the trouble, as he
was a dying man; and, addressing Frank, declared, that he
hated him, for having thwarted him in all his projects of love,
ambition, and interest; and now that the estate would become
his, " Take it," he said, " and may the curse of a dying man
cleave to i t . " Shortly after, Rashleigh breathed his last. After
the funeral obsequies were performed, Frank repaired to London,
where he received a letter from Miss Vernon, informing him of
their escape under the guidance of Macgregor, towards the west
of Scotland, and their safe conveyance by a vessel to France,
where she was placed in a convent. Frank now determined, if
possible, to marry Miss Vernon; and having procured his father's
consent to the match, he succeeded in gaining her affections, and
making her his wife. They long lived happily together, a blessing
to all the country round.
FINIS.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/45159b4fda8d2fac0038e4ef5bd78aca.jpg
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1997
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Title
A name given to the resource
Illustration on title-page of a soldier in Highland dress in
an outdoor scene.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Woodcut 076:Title-page illustration of a soldier in Highland dress holding a sword.
Document
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Rob Roy, the Celebrated Highland Freebooter; or, Memoirs of the Osbaldistone Family.
Subject
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Crime
Highlands
Jacobites
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Description
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Variant exists without '2' printed at foot of title page and type set slightly differently per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks
'2' is printed at the bottom of the title page
Date
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1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks
Language
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English
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923405603505154">s0181b20</a>
Alternative Title
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Memoirs of the Osbaldistone Family.
Extent
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24 pages
16 cm
Abstract
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This is a condensed version of Sir Walter Scott's historical novel (part of the Waverly novel series) <em>Rob Roy, </em>which was originally published in 1817. It appears to have been set in 1715, the year of the first Jacobite Rising.
Is Referenced By
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University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a>
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
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.
Rights
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In public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Creator
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Scott, Walter, 1771-1832
Type
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fiction
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: fiction
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet
Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire
Fashion (Clothing): kilt
Fashion (Clothing): military
Fashion (Clothing): sporran
Gender: man/men
Occupation: soldier
Outdoor Scene
Weapons: sword