"See yon twin stars bright as thy een, Yon stars shall fall from heaven-yon stream "I've seen the stars fall, and the stream As April sun-shine's show'rie, We parted on a summer night, "Ah! Andrew Laurie," exclaim ed she of the unsonsie foot, "I kenned the bairn weel,—he burnt my crutch,-sodded up my lumshead,built up my window, and turned the burn at Belton into my door. I kenned the bairn weel,—a giddy and a carried callant, but wi' a free hand and a frank heart, he did me mair gude with the right hand than harm wi' the left.-I have a gude right as well as thee, lass, to sing a song anent the auld house of Laurie, the name's gone frae the land,-dead as the timmer at yule, as sapless as my crutch, and there's nane can lift it again but this giddy callant, and the wee bird says he'll soon be here, -I wonder gin he'll ken auld Grizel with the unsonsie foot,-her who gaurs the kye gang yell,—can milk the cows in Cumberland,-can turn the moor-fowl on Drumlanrig brae into swans and turkeys, and the silver salmon of Nith into puddocks and toads.-I wonder gif he'll ken auld Grizel with the unsonsie foot. But hearken, hinnie, till I chaunt ye a crumb of an old world sang-it may do ye good, and the thoughts on't may cheer ye on your way frae a witch's dwelling.-It has a charm in't, lassie, it has a charm in't,-no such a charm as can make Geordie Gordon honest, or keep Willie Marshall frae herrying folk o' their دو hens, nor keep Tam Macgrab frae men's pouches at Midsummer,—but sic a charm as shall send bonnie blythe Susie Kennedy away frae my door-stone wi' nae wish to come back in the lone hour of night, to steal my staff, and my hollow stane, and my hemlock pulled at midnight, and my teat of black wool, won from the black mouth of the fox, and my milking peg, and all my curious gear, with which I work pranks, and win myself a name in this perverse world.” This catalogue of witching looms and trinkets had a visible influence upon the demeanour of the young gipsey; and it was evident that the wish of the old woman was to inspire her unwelcome visitor with a salutary terror, which might ensure respect to her property during a midnight excursion, when half the houses in Nithsdale pay tribute to her tribe. The old woman commenced on her promised lyric-the spell might lie in the way in which she contrived with a voice, croaking and uncouth, to render audible this rude production in the matter it could hardly lie, and even the credulous author of Satan's Invisible World Discovered, would have been unable to question the perfect innocence of the song, unless he had heard it from the lips of the author of all evil himself. ALAS FOR THE LAURIÉ ! Alas for the Laurie, Alas for the brave, And the lord of the wave! He was ruler and lord. Oh! brave and undaunted And smooth'd at his call, Oh, clap thy hands, Bourbon, On the sad day he sail'd The fair sun would not shine, His broad pennon hung Like a pall o'er the brine; The wave pass'd his ship, And came shuddering to shore, And I thought a voice said, "Ye shall see him no more." O'er the waves he career'd, All their breadth and their length; All exulting he sail'd, And rejoiced in his strength; And a shriek went ashore, "Hale be your heart, beldame, and lang may yere voice keep in tune to charm the ravens and the hooded craws," said Susie Kennedie," losh me, it sounds like Willie Marshall's hand-hammer clinking on the rivets of a punch spoon. Sing ay that way, and nether jaud nor gipsey will daur to steer ye; od, I never heard sic an unmelodious croon since Jem Thingumthrum, the Cameronian weaver, sang the merry song of As I came through the Sanquhar town,' to the melancholy draunt of Coleshill." "A truce to thy foolery, girl," said she of the unsonsie foot; "and think nae that I am the only one that hearkens thee. There's ane whom nane but myself can see, but ye need nae start and rin, he shall not harm thee,-and there's ane, a welcome ane, whom ye shall see,the sonsie lad frae far awa,-he's in ahint the holly bush,-whom we call Andrew Laurie; come hither, lad, ye shall burn my broomstaff three times owre before I say foul fa' thee." And she laughed till the river banks rang again, and cried out, "Come Andrew Laurie, my lambkin; what have swords, and bullets, and fire, and famine, and storms, and luxuries mair deadly than them all, been doing, when they loot thy fair face hame?" I stept from my place of conceal ment, and went towards her:-the gipsey maiden, who believed, perhaps, that I was a production of witchcraft, conjured forth on the moment for no good to her, or wishing to be gone, uttered a shriek, and, starting off with the swiftness of a doe, was lost in the neighbouring wood. The old woman arose, and looked for a minute's space upon me, and said, "Ah! lad, but ye have left the merry eye, and the blooming cheek abroad;-ye are one of those who take away corn from cannie auld Scotland, and bring her home chaff. But come,-Scotland's an altered Scotland since ye sailed away, and that ye'll presently find. Death has herried the house of the Lauries, and made their hearthstones cauld. I said when ye departed, and wha ever heard me tell an untruth?-that ye would never see kith, nor kin, nor Dalgarnock kirk mair. Aye, ye may look, but see if it be not true. And there was your ain love, Nancie Greerson, kirked the ae Sunday, and kirk-yarded the next;-they never prosper who break true love vows, and ye were vowed to ane anither, that my ain ears heard. It's all true, Andrew Laurie, was I no at her dredgie, think ye, an unbidden guest, and gat my brow crossed, and blood drawn, by the drunken laird of Cahoolie? In ae short week he was found drowned in as little water as would have christened him, and I was mair than avenged. But away, -away,-question not me of kith or of kin,-I like ill to speak of the dead, and some maun speak of me soon. Can I raise people from the dowie grave,-charm the last of a race out of a winding sheet, and bring youth back, and merry aughteen, and laughing twenty again? Welcome hame, Andrew Laurie,--a cauld hearth and a deserted hall, a fremit face and a gaping grave,-can wit and wealth mend that, think ye?" And, laughing more in anguish than in joy, she closed the door in my face; and the last words I could distinguish were," Sorrow, and dool, and cauld blood, and dread of the grave, come to others as well as to Grizel with the unsonsie foot." To speak with this woman, and learn tidings of my family, was much my wish, but old age had made her more wayward than ever; and when I knocked at her door, and told her who I was, she cried out, "Awa, honestlike man, awa,-I am a poor body in a lone house, with three bawbees and a pickle barley meal, and I'm in bed, and my door's barred, Awa, honestlike man, awa." After another fruitless attempt to draw her to a conference, I hastened on my way, and in a little while came within sight of a small promontory, three parts encircled by the river, surrounded by a rude wall, and crested with innumerable grave stones-the kirkyard of Dalgarnock. Before I came in sight, the ancient kirk, with its sharp peaked gabels and narrow windows, floated in a shadowy vision before me on the summit of the knoll;-row succeeding row of bared and venerable heads, seemed to fill the extent of the walls from end to end, and I almost thought I heard the voice of the pastor, and the ascending of the psalm. But when I emerged from the little woody glen, I found that a few corner stones, and a heap of dust, was all that remained of the kirk of Dalgarnock. It had been cast to the ground many years, and the roads which came from four different airts to its door, were ploughed and sown, except one rugged and abrupt way which led from a ford in the river, and on this I could observe that sometimes the feet of man had lately travelled. The gate was unfastened, and with a slow and faltering step I went among the memorials of the dead, and winded my way reverently among their graves,-the foot of the living should respect the dwelling of the departed. the departed. I heard something like the murmuring of a human voice, and looking around saw a new dug grave, deep and long, a spade and a hoe stuck in the loose black earth; I saw nothing else,yet still the sound increased; and, at last, I saw, not without surprise, the figure of a man laid at full length on the grass, like one measuring ground with his person for a grave. At a small distance a clean white cloth was spread over a flat gravestone, and wine and other refreshments stood in a basket upon it. I stood gazing on the grave, and on the living person who lay stretched beside it. He wore a coat of coarse, homespun gray cloth,-with gun-mouthed trowsers reaching midleg down; his feet were bare, and a grizzled lock or two escaping uncombed from beneath a broad and tattered bonnet, spoke something to me of age and weakness of brain. He lay holding a fresh dug-up skull between his hands, to which he was speaking with the familiarity of old acquaintance. "Aha, Johnnie Wumble," said he, "ye are a quiet chield now, and a' since ye got on a timber coat, and witch Girzie laid ye in yere last linen. My certe, but ye lay quietly among the mools, wi' the red dewy gowans wagging bonnilie aboon ye. Ye had nae business to cut the tree where the wood-dove biggit, in the foot of my mother's yard, and ye had nae right to ding down the auld kirk of Dalgarnock, and let in the wind and rain among the sparrows and bats, poor sackless things. Had ye behaved yeresel, the bedral wad nae hae daddit the mools out atween yere teeth with his airn spade, and bade ye lie still for a fool, and no rise till the Lord lifted ye. But ye raise for a' that. Ye think I did nae see ye sitting on the kirkyard dyke in the howe of hallowmas eve, wi' the deil's Rab of Rorie, and Jock Thuneram of Thrapplem, and a full score of uncoffined companions at your elbow. Ye had een like burning coals, teeth like harrows, and ye were singing a highland sang. Ah! loon to think to fright daft Symie Crosstree, that unlovesome gate. I'll throw thy skull into the Nith, and let the eels and the water adders have a new place of abode." And the water flashed as the skull descended into a neighbouring pool. Daft Symie Crosstree-a kind hearted and quiet fool, who used to wander from house to house in the parish, and seek his food and clothes among those who were willing to befriend one of the most helpless and harmless of mankind, daft Symie having disposed of the skull of ill Jock Wumble, proceeded to stretch himself beside a low grassy grave, marked with no stone of remembrance, and laying his arms over it, began to fondle and caress it as a mother caresses a baby. "Bonnie Lillie Lesley," he said, "seventeen simmers have ye lain in a maiden grave, and seventeen simmers since have I wandered the earth, and this is the first time I have had the grace to lie down aside ye. Ye were a blythe and a bonnie lass when I first began to roam, a poor demented lad, about the parish,—but I'm wise now, lass, and can mind,-when ane hunted the dogs on me,-another drave me frae the door, and anither laid me in wet straw and damp sacks, saying aught was gude enough for a gowk,-what did my bonnie Lillie Lesley do? She gied me a warm supper and a cozie bed,--gentle words, and pitying looks, and took the garters frae her ain white ladylike legs, and tied up Ringwood and Whitefoot, and kept in all the dogs. of Dalgarnock gate end frae her ain poor Symie. It has been a waeful world for me since bonnie Lillie Lesley died." And wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, he bubbled out and wept. On turning his head, and observing a new gravestone fresh painted and filled with letters, he broke away into another mood. "Od, but Lillie lass, I would have ye to lie farther frae auld Lancie Luckpennie, he'll pick the siller nails out of your braw black kist, lass, and a' for love of the metal. Mickle need has he to gather gain aneath the earth, his nephew is scattering it fu' gloriously aboon. I'll tell ye what, auld Luckpennie, take a fool bodie's counsel, and ease up the edge of your painted stone awee, and get ae glance at the way in which the gowd is getting the air, which ye sinned your soul in saving. A snow flight at yule is nought compared wi' the flight of thy hoarded gear; ye may hear the clink on't in every change house; horse-racing, and dicing, and drabbing, and playgoing, give wings to the wealth of, auld Lancie Luckpennie." And leap-. ing to his feet he shouted, “ Auld Lancie Luckpennie, Auld Lancie Luckpennie, Ilka Jockie has his Jennie, And the deil has Lancie Luckpennic." Roused, no doubt, by a noise which would have roused all that was less than dead, an old man, slowly, and with many a groan, raised himself up from the side of a fresh ridged grave, and rubbing his eyes, and yawning like a death's head on a sepulchre, the simile was at hand as all similes should be,-exclaimed, scandalized beyond endurance at the irreverent song of Symie" Deil dibble yere daft bouk in an ebb grave, that a clocken hen may scratch it out, wherefore make ye that unsanctified din? Away wi' your carcase, I say, I'll never earn a groat out of thee:-I bury all the wise fowk at aughteen pence the head, and the daft fowk into the bargain, and providence has been sae bountiful of intellect to the district, that I'll no make aboon saxpence a piece; hand owre head, I counted them a' by the register book yestreen,-it's a sad bargain, and gin there was mickle wisdom in the parish I would have it broken." To the grave digger of the old kirkyard of Dalgarnock, Symie advanced with a look of vacant stupidity. All the arch and somewhat mischievous alertness of his glance was gone, and his face seemed changed into a mere lump of unquickened clay. "Gude day, gude day, Ichabod Shool," said Symie, "ye hae dug a braw hole,-ye make the house, and leave death to find a tenant ;-this sair cough that's gaun raging amang us wise fowk of Dal garnock will send monie a siller aughteen-pennie, and dredgie drink thy road." "Siller pennies, said ye, gowk," quoth Ichabod Shool, "siller seldom comes my road; none but daft fowk die, and wise fowk live for ever. Save when a Laurie or a Menteath, grace be wi' them, take it into their head to oblige ane wi' a wise person's funeral, I never can clap a creditable body wi' my spade, and bid the gowans wag o'er a sark-full of sensible clay. This wearyfou marriage of the gude maiden parish of Dalgarnock wi' the captious carle Closeburn, vexes ane sair,-sorrow be wi' them that laid the twa thegither. Then there's the dinging down of the bonnie auld kirk, where monie a fair face sat, and monie a lang psalm was sung; and casting out the ancient name of Dalgarnock frae 'mang the parishes of Nithsdale, just as if it had nae as sweet a sound as Closeburn, or Kirkmahoe, or warse than a Wam phray, a name fit to make a dead dog bark. But let the name gang, a name's but a sough and a sound, and let the kirk tumble, it was but timmer and—stanes, but wha can endure, think ye, to see the auld world worthies of the land haurled awa feet foremost, and a to grace the new burial ground of Closeburn, an'a plague till't, can it no be content wi devouring the name of the green and gladsome nook of Dalgarnock, but it maun wile away the bouks of douce and sponsible fowk; as if our ain auld sunny knowe were nae like a slip of the garden o' paradise compared with the new calf-ward of Closeburn,-a barren top and a sour bottom, a barren top and a sour bottom." - "And then," said Symie, "what is the parish gardener of Closeburn compared to our Ichabod Shool ?can he make a deep and a narrow dwelling according to the word? Can he make sic a bonnie piece of subterranean architecture as thou? Ye should never make a grave for a piece of cauld common clay-ye should keep yere spade for the use of gentles and dukes, and the like of Tam o' Campel an' me." "Truly," said Ichabod, "a wise word frae a witless pow. Ye are. right, Symie; my last hames are just sey pieces of human skill, sae straight, sae deep, and sae tempting. There was the young portioner of Cairn cross slipped a bit of gowd in my loof, when he saw what a bonnie subterranean edifice I had cut for his father, and tauld me it was a plea sure to look upon. The lad's an-honest lad, though a thought given to drink and the lasses, and can judge of the merit of my wark as it made him laird of three gude mailens, But all go to Closeburn kirkyard now,-the young and auld, the rot ten and ripe,vanity lays them down, and may the fiend gie them a lifting." "Hout, Ichabod Shool,” said Sy mie, "your slip of paradise is no deserted yet. Ye have Douglasses, Kirkpatricks, and Hallidays, mony a ane, -a kind Menteath or twa, and ' in the fulness of time ye'll have mae be praised for't, and a lang line of Lauries.” "A lang line of Lauries," said the grave-digger of Dalgarnock ?" but the langest day will draw to-night, and the lang line of Lauries maun have an end. And the mair's the pity, the mair's the pity; but wilfu fowk, wilfu' fowl, ane gade east, and... |