Chapter 11

When stubbles yield to tilth, and woodlands brown and sear, The falling leaf and crispy pool proclaim the waning year; And sounds of sylvan pastime ring through our valley wide, Vicissitude itself is sweet by bonnie Nithside!

And when winter comes at last, capping every hill with snow, And freezing into icy plains the struggling streams below, You still may share the curler's joys, and find at even-tide, Maids sweet and fair, in spence and ha', at bonnie Nithside!

EVENING.

Hush, ye songsters! day is done, See how sweet the setting sun Gilds the welkin's boundless breast, Smiling as he sinks to rest; Now the swallow down the dell, Issuing from her noontide cell, Mocks the deftest marksman's aim Jumbling in fantastic game: Sweet inhabitant of air, Sure thy bosom holds no care; Not the fowler full of wrath, Skilful in the deeds of death-- Not the darting hawk on high (Ruthless tyrant of the sky!) Owns one art of cruelty Fit to fell or fetter thee, Gayest, freest of the free!

Ruling, whistling shrill on high, Where yon turrets kiss the sky, Teasing with thy idle din Drowsy daws at rest within; Long thou lov'st to sport and spring On thy never-wearying wing. Lower now 'midst foliage cool Swift thou skimm'st the peaceful pool, Where the speckled trout at play, Rising, shares thy dancing prey, While the treach'rous circles swell Wide and wider where it fell, Guiding sure the angler's arm Where to find the puny swarm; And with artificial fly, Best to lure the victim's eye, Till, emerging from the brook, Brisk it bites the barbed hook; Struggling in the unequal strife, With its death, disguised as life, Till it breathless beats the shore Ne'er to cleave the current more!

Peace! creation's gloomy queen, Darkest Night, invests the scene! Silence, Evening's handmaid mild, Leaves her home amid the wild, Tripping soft with dewy feet, Summer's flowery carpet sweet, Morpheus--drowsy power--to meet. Ruler of the midnight hour, In thy plenitude of power, From this burthen'd bosom throw Half its leaden load of woe. Since thy envied art supplies What reality denies, Let thy cheerless suppliant see Dreams of bliss inspired by thee-- Let before his wond'ring eyes Fancy's brightest visions rise-- Long lost happiness restore, None can need thy bounty more.

PETER BUCHAN.

The indefatigable collector of the elder national minstrelsy, Peter Buchan, was born in Peterhead in the year 1790. Of a somewhat distinguished descent, he was on the father's side remotely connected with the noble house of Buchan, and his mother was a lineal descendant of the Irvines of Drum, an old powerful family in Aberdeenshire. Though he was disposed to follow a seafaring life, and had obtained a commission in the Navy, he abandoned his early intentions at the urgent solicitation of his parents, and thereafter employed himself as a copperplate engraver, and was the inventor of an ingenious revolving press for copperplate printing. At Edinburgh and Stirling, he afterwards qualified himself for the business of a letterpress printer, and in 1816 opened a printing-office in his native town. In 1819, he compiled the "Annals of Peterhead," a duodecimo volume, which he printed at a press of his own contrivance. His next publication appeared shortly after, under the title, "An Historical Account of the Ancient and Noble Family of Keith, Earls-Marischal of Scotland."

After a period of residence in London, where he held for some time a remunerative situation, Buchan returned to his native town. In the metropolis, he had been painfully impressed by the harsh treatment frequently inflicted on the inferior animals, and as a corrective for the evil, he published at Peterhead, in 1824, a treatise, dedicated to his son, in which he endeavoured to prove that brutes are possessed of souls, and are immortal. His succeeding publication, which appeared in 1828, proved the most successful effort of his life; it was entitled, "Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, hitherto Unpublished, with Explanatory Notes," Edinburgh, two vols. 8vo. This work occupied upwards of ten years in preparation. Among his other publications may be enumerated, a volume of "Poems and Songs," printed in 1814; "The Peterhead Smugglers, an original Melodrama," published in 1834; "The Eglinton Tournament, &c.;" "Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads;" and the "Wanderings of Prince Charles Stuart and Miss Flora Macdonald," the latter being published from an old MS.

At different periods Buchan resided in Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Glasgow. For a short period he owned the small property of Buchanstone, near Dennyloanhead, Stirlingshire, which being sold, he proceeded to Ireland in 1852, where he resided for some time at Strandhill, county of Leitrim. In the early part of 1854, he went to London, with the view of effecting arrangements for the publication of another volume of "Ancient Scottish Ballads;" he was there seized with illness, of which he died on the 19th September of the same year. His remains were interred in the beautiful cemetery of Norwood, near London.

Mr Buchan was justly esteemed as a zealous and industrious collector of the elder Scottish minstrelsy. His labours received the special commendation of Sir Walter Scott, and he was a frequent guest at Abbotsford. He was also honoured with diplomas of membership from some of the leading literary societies of Scotland and England. Two unpublished volumes of his "Ballad Collections" are now in the possession of Dr Charles Mackay of London, and may at a future period be submitted to the public. His son, the Rev. Dr Charles Forbes Buchan, minister of Fordoun, is the author of several theological publications.

THOU GLOOMY FEBERWAR.[41]

Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, Oh! gin thou wert awa'! I 'm wae to hear thy soughin' winds, I 'm wae to see thy snaw; For my bonnie, braw, young Hielandman, The lad I lo'e sae dear, Has vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

A silken ban' he gae me, To bin' my gowden hair; A siller brooch and tartan plaid, A' for his sake to wear; And oh! my heart was like to break, (For partin' sorrow 's sair) As he vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

Aft, aft as gloamin' dims the sky, I wander out alane, Whare bud the bonnie yellow whins, Around the trystin' stane; 'Twas there he press'd me to his heart, And kiss'd awa' the tear, As he vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

Ye gentle breezes, saftly blaw, And cleed anew the wuds; Ye laverocks lilt your cheerie sangs, Amang the fleecy cluds; Till Feberwar and a' his train, Affrighted disappear, I 'll hail wi' you the blithesome change, The spring-time o' the year.

[41] The first stanza of this song is the composition of Robert Tannahill.

WILLIAM FINLAY.

William Finlay was the son of an operative shawl manufacturer in Paisley, where he was born in 1792. He received a classical education at the Grammar-school, and was afterwards apprenticed to his father's trade. For a period of twenty years he prosecuted the labours of the loom; but finding the occupation injurious to his health, he accepted employment in the cotton mills of Duntocher. He afterwards obtained a situation in a printing-office in Paisley, where he remained during eight years. Ultimately, he was employed at Nethercraigs' bleachfield, at the base of Gleniffer braes, about two miles to the south of Paisley. He died of fever on the 5th November 1847, leaving a family of five children.

Finlay was in the practice of contributing verses to the local prints. In 1846, he published a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Poems, Humorous and Sentimental." His poetical characteristics are simplicity and pathos, combined with considerable power of satirical drollery. Delighting in music, and fond of society, he was occasionally led to indulge in excesses, of which, at other times, he was heartily ashamed, and which he has feelingly lamented in some of his poems. Few Scottish poets have more touchingly depicted the evils of intemperance.

THE BREAKING HEART.

I mark'd her look of agony, I heard her broken sigh, I saw the colour leave her cheek, The lustre leave her eye; I saw the radiant ray of hope Her sadden'd soul forsaking; And, by these tokens, well I knew The maiden's heart was breaking.

It is not from the hand of Heaven Her bitter grief proceeds; 'Tis not for sins that she hath done, Her bosom inly bleeds; 'Tis not death's terrors wrap her soul In shades of dark despair, But man--deceitful man--whose hand A thorn hath planted there.

THE AULD EMIGRANT'S FAREWEEL TO SCOTLAND.

Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom Now shades thee from my view-- Land of my birth! my hearth, my home, A long, a last adieu! Thy sparkling streams, thy plantin's green, That ring with melodie, Thy flowery vales, thy hills and dales, Again I 'll never see.

How aft have I thy heathy hills Climb'd in life's early day! Or pierced the dark depths of thy woods To pu' the nit or slae; Or lain beneath the spreading thorn, Hid frae the sun's bright beams, While on my raptured ear was borne The music of thy streams!

And aft, when frae the schule set free, I 've join'd a merry ban', Whase hearts were loupin' licht wi' glee, Fresh as the morning's dawn, And waunert, Cruikston, by thy tower, Or through thy leafy shaw, The livelang day, nor thocht o' hame Till nicht began to fa'.

But now the buoyancy o' youth, And a' its joys are gane-- My children scatter'd far and wide, And I am left alane; For she who was my hope and stay, And soothed me when distress'd, Within the narrow house of death Has lang been laid at rest.

And puirtith's cloud doth me enshroud; Sae, after a' my toil, I 'm gaun to lay my puir auld clay Within a foreign soil. Fareweel, fareweel, auld Scotia dear! A last fareweel to thee! Thy tinkling rills, thy heath-clad hills, Again I 'll never see!

O'ER MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY.

O'er mountain and valley Morn gladly did gleam; The streamlets danced gaily Beneath its bright beam; The daisies were springing To life at my feet; The woodlands were ringing With melody sweet.

But the sky became low'ring, And clouds big with rain, Their treasures outpouring, Soon deluged the plain. The late merry woodlands Grew silent and lone; And red from the muirlands The river rush'd down.

Thus life, too, is chequer'd With sunshine and gloom; Of change 'tis the record-- Now blight and now bloom. Oft morn rises brightly, With promise to last, But long, long ere noontide The sky is o'ercast.

Yet much of the trouble 'Neath which mortals groan, They contrive to make double By whims of their own. Oh! it makes the heart tingle With anguish to think, That our own hands oft mingle The bitters we drink.

JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.

John Gibson Lockhart, the distinguished editor of the _Quarterly Review_, and biographer of Sir Walter Scott, was born in the Manse of Cambusnethan, on the 14th of June 1794. From both his parents he inherited an honourable descent. His father, John Lockhart, D.D., was the second son of William Lockhart of Birkhill, the head of an old family in Lanarkshire, lineally descended from Sir Stephen Lockhart of Cleghorn, a member of the Privy Council, and armour-bearer to James III. His mother was Elizabeth Gibson, daughter of the Rev. John Gibson, senior minister of St Cuthbert's, Edinburgh; her maternal grandmother was the Honourable Mary Erskine, second daughter of Henry, third Lord Cardross, and sister of David, ninth Earl of Buchan. In 1796, Dr Lockhart was translated from Cambusnethan to the College church, Glasgow; and the early education of his son was consequently conducted in that city.

During the third year of his attendance at the Grammar-school, young Lockhart, though naturally possessed of a sound constitution, was seized with a severe illness, which, it was feared, might terminate in pulmonary consumption. After a period of physical prostration, he satisfactorily rallied, when it was found by his teacher that he had attained such proficiency in classical learning, during his confinement, as to be qualified for the University, without the usual attendance of a fourth session at the Grammar-school. At the University of Glasgow, his progress fully realised his excellent promise in the academy. The youngest member of his various classes, he was uniformly a successful competitor for honours. He gave indication of poetical ability in a metrical translation of a part of Lucan's "Pharsalia," which was rewarded with a prize, and received warm encomiums from the professors. On one of the Snell Exhibitions to Baliol College, Oxford, becoming vacant, during the session of 1808-9, it was unanimously conferred on him by the faculty. Entering Baliol College in 1809, his classical attainments were such, that Dr Jenkins, the master of the college, was led to predict that he would reflect honour on that institution, and on the University of Glasgow. At his graduation, on the completion of his attendance at Baliol, he realised the expectations of his admiring preceptor; the youngest of all who graduated on the occasion, being in his eighteenth year, he was numbered in the _first class_,--an honour rarely attained by the most accomplished Oxonians. In the choice of a profession he evinced considerable hesitation; but was at length induced by a relative, a member of the legal faculty, to qualify himself for practice at the Scottish Bar. Besides affording a suitable scope for his talents and acquirements, it was deemed that the Parliament House of Edinburgh had certain hereditary claims on his services. Through his paternal grandmother, he was descended from Sir James Lockhart of Lee, Lord Justice-Clerk in the reign of Charles II., and father of the celebrated Sir George Lockhart of Carnwath, Lord President of the Court of Session; and of another judge, Sir John Lockhart, Lord Castlehill.

Having completed a curriculum of classical and philosophical study at Oxford, and made a tour on the Continent, Lockhart proceeded to Edinburgh, to prosecute the study of Scottish law. In 1816 he passed advocate. Well-skilled in the details of legal knowledge, and in the preparation of written pleadings, he lacked a fluency of utterance, so entirely essential to success as a pleader at the Bar. He felt his deficiency, but did not strive to surmount it. Joining himself to a literary circle, of which John Wilson and the Ettrick Shepherd were the more conspicuous members, he resolved to follow the career of a man of letters. In 1817, he became one of the original contributors to _Blackwood's Magazine_; and by his learned and ingenious articles essentially promoted the early reputation of that subsequently popular periodical. In 1819 appeared his first separate publication, entitled, "Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk,"--a work of three octavo volumes, in which an imaginary Doctor Morris humorously and pungently delineates the manners and characteristics of the more distinguished literary Scotsmen of the period; and which, by exciting some angry criticism, attracted general attention to the real author.[42] In May of the previous year, at the residence in Edinburgh of Mr Home Drummond of Blair-Drummond, he was introduced to the personal acquaintance of Sir Walter Scott. Their acquaintance ripened into a speedy intimacy; and on the 29th April 1820, Lockhart became the son-in-law of his illustrious friend, by espousing his eldest daughter, Sophia. Continuing to furnish sparkling contributions to _Blackwood's Magazine_, Lockhart now began to exhibit powers of prolific authorship. In the course of a few years he produced "Valerius," a tale descriptive of ancient Rome; "Reginald Dalton," a novel founded on his personal experiences at Oxford; the interesting romance of "Matthew Wald," and "Adam Blair," a Scottish story. The last of these works, it may be interesting to notice, took origin in the following manner. During a visit to his parents at Glasgow, his father had incidentally mentioned, after dinner, that Mr Adam, a former minister of Cathcart, had been deprived for certain immoralities, and afterwards reponed, at the entreaty of his parishioners, on the death of the individual who had succeeded him after his deposition. On hearing the narrative, Lockhart retired to his apartment and drew up the plan of his tale, which was ready for the press within the short space of three weeks. In 1823, he became known as an elegant versifier, by the publication of his translations from the "Spanish Ballads." He subsequently published a "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," in "Murray's Family Library;" and produced a "Life of Robert Burns," for "Constable's Miscellany." At this period he chiefly resided in Edinburgh, spending some of the summer months at Chiefswood, a cottage about two miles from Abbotsford. But Lockhart's growing reputation ere long secured him a more advantageous and lucrative position. In 1825, he was appointed to the editorship of the _Quarterly Review_; and thus, at the age of thirty-one, became the successor of Gifford, in conducting one of the most powerful literary organs of the age. He now removed to London. On the 15th of June 1834, the degree of Doctor of Civil Law was conferred on him by the University of Oxford.

During the last illness of Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart was eminently dutiful in his attendance on the illustrious sufferer. As the literary executor of the deceased, he was zealous even to indiscretion; his "Life of Scott," notwithstanding its ill-judged personalities, is one of the most interesting biographical works in the language. His own latter history affords few materials for observation; he frequented the higher literary circles of the metropolis, and well sustained the reputation of the _Quarterly Review_. He retired from his editorial duties in 1853, having suffered previously from impaired health. The progress of his malady was accelerated by a succession of family trials and bereavements, which preyed heavily on his mind. His eldest son, John Hugh Lockhart (the Hugh Littlejohn of Scott's "Tales of a Grandfather,") died in 1831; his amiable wife in 1837; and of his two remaining children, a son and a daughter, the former, Walter Scott Lockhart Scott, Lieutenant, 16th Lancers, who had succeeded to the estate of Abbotsford on the death of his uncle, the second Sir Walter Scott, died in 1853. In 1847, his daughter and only surviving child was married to James Robert Hope, Esquire, Q.C., son of General the Honourable Sir Alexander Hope, and nephew of the late Earl of Hopetoun, of peninsular fame; and shortly before her father's death, this lady, along with her husband, abjured the Protestant faith.

In the autumn of 1853, in accordance with the advice of his medical advisers, Lockhart proceeded to Italy; but on his return the following summer, he appeared rather to have lost than gained strength. Arranging his affairs in London, he took up his abode with his elder brother, Mr Lockhart, M.P., at Milton-Lockhart, on the banks of the Clyde, and in the parish adjoining that of his birth. Here he suffered an attack of cholera, which much debilitated his already wasted strength. In October he was visited by Dr Ferguson of London, who conveyed him to Abbotsford to be tended by his daughter; there he breathed his last on the 25th November 1854, in his 61st year. His remains were interred in Dryburgh Abbey, beside those of his illustrious father-in-law, with whom his name will continue to be associated. The estate of Abbotsford is now in the possession of his daughter and her husband, who, in terms of the Abbotsford entail, have assumed the name of Scott. Their infant daughter, Mary Monica, along with her mother, are the only surviving lineal representatives of the Author of "Waverley."

Possessed of a vigorous intellect, varied talents, and accurate scholarship, Lockhart was impatient of contradiction, and was prone to censure keenly those who had offended him. To strangers his manners were somewhat uninviting, and in society he was liable to periods of taciturnity. He loved the ironical and facetious; and did not scruple to indulge in ridicule even at the expense of his intimate associates. With many peculiarities of manner, and a temper somewhat fretful and impulsive, we have good authority for recording, that many unfortunate men of genius derived support from his bounty. Ardent in temperament, he was severe in resenting a real or fancied wrong; but among those to whom he gave his confidence, he was found to be possessed of affectionate and generous dispositions. He has complained, in a testamentary document, that his course of procedure was often misunderstood, and the complaint is probably well-founded. He was personally of a handsome and agreeable presence, and his countenance wore the aspect of intelligence.

[42] In his Life of Scott, Lockhart states that "Peter's Letters" "were not wholly the work of one hand."

BROADSWORDS OF SCOTLAND.[43]

TUNE--_"Oh, the roast beef of Old England."_

Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea, Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee. Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland! And oh! the old Scottish broadswords.

Old Sir Ralph Abercromby, the good and the brave-- Let him flee from our board, let him sleep with the slave, Whose libation comes slow while we honour his grave. Oh, the broadswords, &c.

Though he died not like him amid victory's roar, Though disaster and gloom wove his shroud on the shore; Not the less we remember the spirit of Moore. Oh, the broadswords, &c.

Yea a place with the fallen, the living shall claim, We 'll entwine in one wreath every glorious name, The Gordon, the Ramsay, the Hope, and the Graham. All the broadswords, &c.

Count the rocks of the Spey, count the groves of the Forth-- Count the stars in the clear cloudless heaven of the north; Then go blazon their numbers, their names and their worth. All the broadswords, &c.

The highest in splendour, the humblest in place, Stand united in glory, as kindred in race; For the private is brother in blood to his Grace. Oh, the broadswords, &c.

Then sacred to each and to all let it be, Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee. Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland! And oh! the old Scottish broadswords.

[43] This song, with several others of ephemeral interest, was composed by Lockhart, to be sung at the mess of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry, of which he was a member. Of the songs produced for these festive occasions, a collection for private circulation was printed in 1825, at the Ballantyne press, with the title, "Songs of the Edinburgh Troop," pp. 28. In this collection, the "Broadswords" song bears date July 1821; it was published with music in 1822, in the third volume of Thomson's Collection.

CAPTAIN PATON'S LAMENT.[44]