Part 3

"Ay, Mr Pringle," remarked Sandy; "and frae that I draw my main consolation for havin spent sae mony o' my best years in gatherin skins for a wheen London merchants."

"How?" inquired the manager.

"Why, I just find that I am to bring hame wi' me recollections and impressions aneugh to ser' me a' my life after; recollections o' mony a desert prairie, and mony a fearfu storm--o' encounters wi' wild beasts and wild men--o' a' that we deem hardship now, but which we will find it pleasure to dwell on afterwards."

"Thank you for the remark, Sandy!" said Innes; "I find I am to bring home with me something of that kind, too."

Towards the close of the day, the course of the travellers had lain along the banks of the river; the waters were bound, from side to side, with a broad belt of ice, but, at the rapids, they could hear them growling beneath, like a wild beast in its den; and, just as the evening was beginning to darken, they descended into a deep hollow, surrounded by immense precipices and overhung by trees, into the upper part of which the stream precipitated itself in one unbroken sheet of foam, which had resisted the extremest influence of the frost. Innes thought he had never before seen a scene of wilder or more savage grandeur. There was a lofty amphitheatre of rock all around; the centre was occupied by a dark mossy basin, in which the waters boiled and bubbled as in a huge caldron; a broad, level strip, edged with trees and bushes, lay immediately under the precipices; and, directly beneath the cataract, there was a fantastic assemblage of tall riven peaks, laden with icicles, that seemed in the gloom a conclave of giants. A deep, gloomy cavern, whose echoes answered incessantly to the roar of the torrent, opened behind and under it; while, immediately in front, there rose a large circular mound, roughened with a multitude of lesser hillocks, and now wrapped up, like all the rest of the landscape, in a deep covering of snow.

"'Tis an Indian burying-place," said the manager, pointing to the mound; "wild and savage, you see, as the people who have chosen it for their final resting-place. These hillocks are sepulchral cairns. My sister spends most of her summer evenings here--for we are now little more than a mile from the settlement; and she has taught me to be well-nigh as fond of it as herself. Should she die in this country, I am pledged to lay her among the poor Indians. There are strange stories among them of yonder cave and cataract--the one is a place of purification, they say, the other, a way to the land of spirits. I am certain you will feel much interest, Mr Cameron, in discussing with Catherine what she terms the beginnings of mythology, as illustrated by this place. She has naturally an original and highly vigorous mind, and her father (by the way, she is but a half-sister of mine) spared no pains in cultivating it. But now that we have gained the ridge, yonder is the settlement; see--that higher light comes from Catherine's window. Trust me, you may calculate on her warmest gratitude for what her brother owes you."

Hawk River Settlement is situated in the middle of a valley, surrounded by low, swelling hills, with a river in front, and a deep pine-wood behind. It forms a small straggling village, composed mostly of log-houses, with a range of stone and lime buildings--the store places of the company--rising in the centre. On reaching the manager's house--a handsome erection of two storeys--Innes and his companion were shown into a small, but very neat parlour. There were books, musical instruments, and drawings. The very arrangement of the furniture showed the delicate and nicely-regulated taste of an accomplished female. The shutters were fast barred, there were candles burning on a neat mahogany table, and the cheerful wood-fire glowed through the bars of a grate, and threw up a broad powerful flame, that, in the intense frost, roared in the chimney.

"Ah," said Innes to the manager, "your neat, Scotch-looking parlour brings Scotland to my mind, and my old evening parties; it reminds me, too, that a dress of skins is not quite the fittest for meeting a young lady in. Can you not indulge me with a change of dress?"

"Ah, how stupid I am," replied the manager, "not to have thought of that! Attribute it all to my eagerness to introduce you to Catherine. There is a whole chestful of clothes from London waiting you below. Come this way. We shall join you, Sandy, in less than twenty minutes, when Mr Cameron has made his toilet; and Catherine, meanwhile, will find what amusement for you she can."

On their return, Catherine and the fur-gatherer were engaged in conversation.

She was a lady of about two-and-twenty; paler of cheek and sparer of form than she had been once; for there was an indescribable something in her expression that served to tell of sufferings long endured, and exertions painfully protracted; but she was still eminently beautiful; and there was an air of mingled spirit and good-nature in the light of her fine black eyes, and the smile that seemed lurking about her mouth, that might well be termed fascinating. Sandy had evidently felt its influence ere his companion entered the room.

"And what," eagerly inquired the lady, as the manager opened the door, "is the name of your companion, the man to whom, with you, my brave, warmhearted countryman, I owe the life of my brother?"

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Innes, springing forward, "can it be possible?--Catherine Roberts, the best, truest, dearest of all my friends!"

"Innes Cameron!" exclaimed Catherine; and in one moment of intense, life-invigorating joy, whole years of suffering were forgotten.

But why lengthen a story rapidly hastening to its conclusion, in the vain attempt to describe what, from its very nature, must always elude description? Never was there a happier evening passed on the shores of Hudson's Bay.

It has long since become a truism, that, when fortune ceases to persecute a man, his story ceases to interest. It was certainly so with Innes Cameron and his story. Few men could be happier than he for the two months he remained at Hawk River Settlement. When, however, the ice broke up, and vessel after vessel began to arrive from Europe, he had become happier still; and when, about the middle of summer, he sailed for Stromness, in the good ship Falcon, accompanied by Miss Roberts and his old comrade, Sandy, there was yet a further accession to his happiness. An old file of Inverness newspapers, from which I manage to extract a good deal of amusement in the long winter evenings--for no one writes more pleasingly than Carruthers--shows me that his enjoyments were not wholly full, until after his arrival in Scotland, when he was married, says the paper, "at Belville Cottage, by the Rev. Dr Rose, to the beautiful and highly accomplished Miss Catherine Roberts." I find, in a more recent number of the same newspaper, a very neat description of a masonic procession in one of our northern towns. "There is, to a native of Scotland," says the editor, "something very pleasing in the contemplation of a goodly assemblage of Scotchmen, powerful in muscle and sinew--suited either to repulse or invade--to preserve the fame of their country, or to extend it; and this feeling was of general experience among the people of Sutorcreek on Friday last. After the brethren had paraded the streets, they returned to their lodge, where dinner was prepared for them, and where, after choosing Mr Alexander Munro, late of Hudson's Bay, as their master for the ensuing year, they spent the evening in meet cordiality." And here my story ends. The lives of a country gentleman, of superior talent and worth, and a shrewd, honest mechanic--varied only by those migrations which the Vicar of Wakefield describes--migrations from the blue room to the brown, or from the workshop to the street--however redolent of happiness and comfort to themselves, furnish the writer with but little scope for either narrative or description.

THE PROFESSOR'S TALES.

THE WEDDING.

On a certain vacation-day of August, of which I have still a vivid recollection, I fished in Darr Water; and with so much success, that night had gathered over me ere I was aware. I was at this moment fully fifteen miles from home, in a locality unmarked by one single feature of civilisation; for here neither plough, nor sickle, nor spade had ever made an impression. For anything I knew to the contrary, there was not a human habitation nearer than ten miles. I was loaded down to the very earth with fish, and not a little fatigued by the forenoon's travel and sport. It behoved me, however, at all events and risks, to set my face homewards; and, although I might have followed the Darr till it united with the Clyde, and thus made my way with a certainty home at last, yet I preferred retracing my steps, and saving at least a dozen of miles of mountain travel. But the mist was close and crawly, lying before me in damp, danky obscurity; and the wind, which during the day had amounted to a breeze, was now wrapped up, and put to rest in a wet blanket. All was still, except the voice of the plover, mire-snipe, and peese-weep. The moss or muir, or something partaking of the nature of both, and rightly neither, was lone, uniform, and unmarked; it was like sailing without star or compass over the Pacific. Meanwhile, day, which seemed to be desirous of accelerating its departure, disappeared, and I was left alone in my wilderness. I could not even lie down to rest, for the spongy earth gave up its moisture in jets and squirts. I hurried on, however, following my breath, which smoked like a furnace amidst the mountain mist, and trailing my fish, in a large _bag_, after me. I had killed somewhere about sixteen dozen. At last I gained a small stream, and, as I have an instinctive liking for all manner of streams, I was led by the ear along its course, till I found myself in a close ravine or dell, surrounded on each hand by steep grassy ascents, scaurs and rocks. I kept by the voice of the water, which now fell more contractedly over gullet and precipice, till at last, to my infinite delight, I heard, or thought I heard, the bark of a dog; and in a few seconds one of these faithful animals occupied the steep above me, giving audible intimation of my unlooked-for presence. The shepherd's voice followed hard behind; and I never was happier in my life than on the recognition of a fellow-creature. My tale was soon told, and as readily understood and believed. To travel home on such a night was out of the question; so I was conducted to the shepherd's sheiling--to that covert in the wilderness in which there is more downright shelter, comfort, and happiness than in town palaces; for comfort and happiness are inmates of the bosom rather than of the home.

My entrance was welcomed by the shepherd's wife and an only daughter. There was likewise a young lad, of about twelve years, who was the younger of two sons, the elder being dead. Servants there were none; for where all serve themselves, there is no need of what the Americans call "helps." Nothing could exceed the kind hospitalities of this family; the very dogs, with a couple of young puppies, gathered round me. They licked the wet from my legs and clothes, and seemed sufficiently satisfied even with a _look_ of approbation. My supper was the uncelebrated, but unequalled, Dumfries-shire feast--champit potatoes. I slept soundly till morning; and, after a breakfast of porridge--"Scotland's halesome food"--and learning that the young and beautiful woman, the shepherd's daughter, was to be married on Saturday eight-days, I bent my way homewards, to hear and bear merited reproof for the anxiety which my absence (which was, however, luckily attributed to a stolen visit to an aunt) had occasioned.

Saturday eight-days dawned, and by this time I had resumed my fishing preceptor and companion, _Willie Herdman_, to accompany me to the mountains, thinking to decoy him, as it were, to the neighbourhood of the wedding, and there to treat him with a view of the happy party and blooming bride. I kept my own secret, and we were within a mile of the sheiling ere I disclosed it. It was then about two o'clock, and, so far as we could guess, precisely the marriage dinner-hour. Willie, who was an old soldier, had no objection to join in the merriment, nor to drink a glass to the future happiness of the young folks. So on we trudged, our lines rolled up, and our fishing-wallet (for baskets we had none) properly adjusted. We soon caught the descending stream; and, at a pretty sharp turning, came all at once within view of the hospitable cottage; but, to our surprise, there was neither noise nor cavalcade--all was desolation and silence around. The very dogs rather seemed to challenge than to invite our advance, and neither smoke nor bustle indicated any preparation. At first I thought that I had mistaken my way, and was upon the point of entering, to ascertain the fact, when the shepherd presented himself in the doorway. I then could hear the voice of mourning--"Rachel weeping" within, and the boy lying across a half-demolished hay-rick, crying and sobbing as if his heart would burst. The face of the shepherd was blank and awful--it was as if by a sudden concussion of the brain he had lost all recollection of the past. He stood leaning against both lintels of the door, and neither advanced nor retreated. At last, hearing the voice of lamentation wax louder and louder behind him, he turned suddenly round, and disappeared. Impressed with the belief that something terrible had happened, but not knowing the nature or extent of it, I advanced to the boy, with whom, as a fellow-fisher in the mountain streams, I had made up an acquaintance at the former meeting, and, taking him firmly by the shoulder, endeavoured to turn his face towards me; but he kept it concealed in the hay, and refused either commiseration or comfort. The very dogs seemed aware of the calamity, and one of them howled mournfully from the corner of a peat-stack adjoining. At last a woman, with whom I was totally unacquainted, emerged from the doorway, and informed us of the cause of all this lamentation. She had been sent for as a relation from a distance, and had only arrived a few hours before. The particulars were as follows:--Two days previous to the day set apart for the marriage, the young, light-hearted, and blooming bride had been employed in building a rick or stack of bog-hay, for winter fodder to the cow. She was in the act of completing the erection, and standing on the contracted apex, when her foot slipped, and she fell head foremost, and at once dislocated her neck. Had there been immediate medical assistance (as had been injudiciously communicated to the family), the fatal accident might have been remedied; but, alas! there was not, and, long ere surgical aid could be procured, the ill-fated bride had ceased to breathe!

The first thought of the household had been directed towards the bridegroom, who had, ever since the fatal tidings, lost his reason, and become apparently fatuous, ever and anon insisting that the wedding should take place "for a' that!"

We did not deem it proper, nor would it have been so, to inflict our presence upon such a household. And for months after, I never slept without dreaming of this incident, and of the distressed family--of whose future fortunes I know nothing further.

MIKE MAXWELL AND THE GRETNA GREEN LOVERS.

There are many individuals who think they are safe if they act within the strict letter of the law of the land, although they transgress the precepts of Holy Writ, as well as the dictates of their conscience. There is a wide field of right and wrong, good and evil, within the lines of demarcation drawn by legislators or moralists; and as the acts therein performed are equally removed from punishment and reward, the merit of the actors is the greater, the less they are influenced by the hope of praise or the fear of censure. It would, indeed, be as absurd for an individual to say that he cannot be blamed if he acts within the law, as for another to allege that he can do no good unless his actions are blazoned in the columns of a newspaper, after the fashion of the five-pound donations of dukes and duchesses; but, clear as the proposition is, there are many who pretend to say that it is far from being self-evident. To such mole-eyed moralists, the best lesson is one derived from a practical example drawn from life; and we shall, as public moral teachers, in our humble sphere, proceed to lay one, not, we hope, altogether divested of amusement, before our readers.

The remembrance of the strange individual, Michael Maxwell, who lived, in the end of the last century, in the village of Gretna, so famed for irregular marriages, is not, it is supposed, yet extinct. He was the son of a small farmer, called David Maxwell, who claimed relationship to the Maxwells of Tinwald; and having died when Michael was still young, left him to the care of his mother, without, however, any means of support. His friends gave him a little education, and endeavoured to prevail upon him to learn some trade; but early habits of roving, and living on the chance occurrences of the day--perhaps strengthened by the continued assistance of his mother's friends, who got her a small house, with an acre or two of ground, for a trifling rent, and thus furnished some occasion for his services (when these could be procured) at home--rendered all kinds of business disagreeable to him.

He became remarkable, as he grew up, for great strength, strong love of enterprise, and amazing bodily agility, so that no man in that part of Dumfries-shire could cope with him at the games of the neighbourhood, or in personal contest. Of these gifts he was prouder than those who are possessed of undisputed superiority, in any respect, generally are; but he claimed also the possession of other qualities, which are not often found associated with those we have mentioned: an adroit cunning, or Scottish sagacity, and certain powers of humour, on which he plumed himself more than on his bodily strength and agility. In his trials of strength with the English, whom he loved to vanquish, he sometimes contrived to bring all those qualities into operation at once--a feat in which he delighted. Giving his English vaunting opponent in a wrestling match every advantage, he allowed him gradually to get more confident and proud of his anticipated victory, wiled him on to greater exertions and more impertinent boastings, and, when he saw him rising on his tiptoe for the last triumphant throw, laid him on his back like a child, amidst the mirth and applause of the assembled crowds.

It was a problem which few of the people about Gretna even attempted to solve, how Mike Maxwell, as he was called, lived; and how he contrived to keep a swift black mare always well fed and redd, besides supporting his old mother, apparently from the proceeds of a small mailing of ground, formed an addition to the difficulty, and set the wits of the wiseacres at defiance. Some supposed that he had a secret intercourse with the smugglers of the Solway, and that he kept the horse for the purpose of aiding him in directing the contraband dealers on what part of the coast to land their commodities; others again surmised that he was secretly employed by the village secular-marriage priest, to act as _avant courier_ to runaway couples, whom, by leading through circuitous roads, he might enable to escape from their pursuers.

Of all those who speculated on the subject, none felt a greater interest in the mystery than a young Englishwoman of the name of Alice Parker, the daughter of a widow who lived on the English side of the Borders, and with whom Maxwell had been long on habits of great intimacy, notwithstanding of an indomitable prejudice he entertained against her country and countrymen. The great leveller of all distinctions of rank shows little respect for national prejudices; the two were devoted to each other, and would have been united, if he would have complied with her repeated request, to satisfy her as to the means whereby he maintained himself, and would maintain her. The condition of the young woman was reasonable; and one night, as she was accompanying him a short way on his road homewards, she pressed the point with so much force, that Maxwell could scarcely resist an explanation.

"It is not I alone," said she, "who feel a curiosity on this subject, which perhaps you may think only concerns yourself. The inhabitants of the surrounding country all know you, in consequence of the fame of your strength; and my countrymen of Cumberland, by token of their broken limbs and dislocated joints, know you in particular to their cost. It is to this fame, which you yourself have produced, that you owe the curiosity that is entertained about your means of living; for your maimed enemies would fain make out that you betake yourself to the highway--a very convenient and satisfactory way of accounting for the mystery, as it includes an explanation of your object in keeping Black Bess there; who, as I mention her name, looks about to chide me for the imputation."

"Weel may she," answered Maxwell, "for it is a foul charge; and if I knew wha originated it, I wad mak the place o' him it sprang frae (his head) sae dizzy that he wad be at some loss again to find it. But is it no yersel, Alice, wha maks the charge, and faithers it on the hail o' Cumberland, to force me to gie ye an explanation, which, after a', ye dinna need? The mailin I rent frae Laird Dempster keeps Bess, the kailyard my mither, and" (smiling, and taking his companion round the neck) "a man in love, Alice, needs little meat."

"No one has any chance with you, Mike," replied she. "Your arm lays your foes on the ground, and your Scottish tongue, made supple by cunning, baffles all attempts to reach your judgment; yet you have not succeeded in this instance, for you tell me in plain terms that, if I marry you, I must live on love. That sounds not well in the land of roast beef, of which I am as fond as my neighbours; so you shall be no husband of mine."

"You forget, Alice," said Maxwell, still smiling, "the three weeks ye lay in bed sick wi' love, when I left ye for Bridget o' the Glen. How muckle o' yer national dish did ye eat durin that time?"

"Again at your Scottish humour!" replied Alice; "but I am in earnest. You treat me ill, Mike. What is your love to me, if I am denied your confidence? Yet may I not be asking poison? I could not hear that you were a lawless man, and live a week after I was intrusted with the secret. Unhappy fate, to love, and be forced, by the mysterious conduct of my lover, to suspect his honesty!"

"You are on dangerous ground, Alice," said Maxwell. "We o' the north side o' the Borders say that love has nae suspicions, and that whar there are suspicions, there is nae love. Do ye mean that I should suspect yer love, as ye do my honesty."

"Would to heaven," cried Alice, "there were as little ground in the one case as in the other! Here comes a carriage at full speed; take Bess to the side of the road."

"Na," cried Mike, with a sudden start, and looking in the direction of the carriage; "Bess and I will tak the middle o' the road. She'll no stay behind a carriage; she has owre muckle gentle bluid in her veins."

The carriage came up with great speed; the blinds were up, and the route was to Gretna.

"Guid-nicht, Alice," cried Mike, as he flung himself suddenly on the back of Bess, and bounded off immediately behind the flying carriage.