Chapter II: Part 2

"Whiles-at brose time," answered the malicious damsel, unable either to suppress the repartee, or the arch smile that attended it. Cuddie took his revenge, as rustic lovers are wont, and as Jenny probably expected, caught his mistress round the neck, kissed her cheeks and lips heartily, and then turned his horse and trotted after his master. "Deil'sin the fallow," said Jenny, wiping her lips, and adjusting her head-dress, "he has twice the spunk o' Tam Halliday, after a'!-Coming, my leddy, coming. Lord have a care o' us! I trust the auld leddy didna see us!"

"Jenny," said Lady Margaret, as the damsel came up, "was not that young man who commanded the party, the same who was captain of the popinjay, and who was afterwards prisoner at Tillietudlem, on the morning Claverhouse came there?" Jenny, happy that the query had no reference to her own little matters, looked at her young mistress, to discover, if possible, whether it was her cue to speak truth or not. Being unable to catch any hint to guide her, she followed her instinct, and expressed herself fictitiously.

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE,

THIS novel, one of the series of the "Tales of my Landlord," was produced while the author was suffering from severe illness; and it was passed through the press without his revision. It was, however, well received by the public, and rapidly obtained a wide circulation. It is chiefly founded on the melancholy fate of John, Lord Kilpont, eldest son of William, Earl of Airth and Menteith, and the remarkable circumstances which attended the birth and career of Stewart of Ardvoirlich, by whose hand he fell.

In the accompanying sketch, the artist has represented the meeting of Lord Menteith and Dugald Dalgetty in the Pass of Leny, a picturesque defile in Perthshire, of which the scenery is depicted in the "Lady of the Lake."

"The Pass" is approached from the low country by a road winding round the base of Benledi. At a sudden bend of the road is disclosed Loch Lubnaig, the source of the river which flows rapidly on the left. In the background rises the massive summit of Benmore, overtopping the heights of Balquhidder. Lord Menteith, accompanied by his two servants, one leading a sumpter horse, had just wound round the projecting mountain, which skirts the lake's northern shore, when he remarked a single horseman coming down the shore as if to meet him. The stranger was mounted on a powerful horse, and his rider occupied his war-saddle with an air which showed it was his familiar seat. He wore a bright burnished head-piece with a plume of feathers, together with a cuirass, thick enough to resist a musket-ball. These defensive arms he wore over a buff-jerkin, along with a pair of gauntlets, the tops of which reached to his elbows. At the front of his saddle hung a case of pistols, nearly two feet in length, and carrying bullets of twenty to the pound. A buff belt, with a broad silver buckle, sustained on one side a long, straight, double-edged sword, with a strong guard, and calculated either to strike or push. On the right side hung a dagger of about eighteen inches in length; a shoulder-belt sustained at his back a musketoon, and was crossed by a bandalier containing his charges of ammunition. Thigh-pieces of steel called taslets, met the top of his jack-boots, and completed the equipage of Rittmaster Dugald Dalgetty of Drumthwacket.

Mr Cruikshank represents Captain Dalgetty's landing at Ardenvohr. The boatman, seizing the Captain with rough civility, horsed him on the back of a sturdy Highlander, and wading through the surf with him, landed him on the beach under the Castle Rock. In the face of the rock appeared the entrance of a low-browed cavern, toward which his attendants were hurrying him, when Dalgetty, shaking himself from their grasp, insisted upon seeing Gustavus, his horse, safely landed, before he proceeded a step further. The Highlander could not comprehend what he meant, until one who had picked up a little English, exclaimed, "Hout! it's a' about her horse, ta useless baste." Farther remonstrance on the part of Dalgetty was interrupted by the appearance of Sir Duncan Campbell himself, from the mouth of the cavern, for the purpose of inviting Captain Dalgetty to accept of the hospitality of Ardenvohr, pledging his honour, at the same time, that Gustavus should be treated as became the hero from whom he derived his name, not to mention the important person to whom he now belonged. Notwithstanding this very satisfactory guarantee, Captain Dalgetty would still have hesitated, had not two Highlanders seized him by the arms, two more pushed him on behind, while a fifth exclaimed, "Hout! awa' wi' the daft Sassenach! does she no hear the Laird bidding her up to her ain castle, wi' her especial voice; and isna' that very mickle honour for the like o' her?"

THE BLACK DWARF,

THE tale of the "Black Dwarf" appeared in 1819. One of the "Tales of My Landlord" series, it was founded on the character and peculiarities of David Ritchie, a misshapen creature, popularly known as _Bow'd Davie_, who lived on a wild moorland near Peebles, and who, from his deformed aspects and uncouth manners, was an object of superstitious dread in the locality. Mr Turner, the celebrated artist, has, in the accompanying illustration, strikingly delineated a familiar scene in the novel. As Earnscliff and Hobbie Elliott were crossing the common, the latter was interrupted in certain protestations of heroism which he was uttering, by the outline of a form seemingly human, but under the ordinary size, moving among the grey stones which formed the buttress of the granite column which they were approaching. The figure was descried by aid of the moon, which, struggling with the clouds, shed a doubtful light upon the scene. From time to time came a sort of indistinct muttering sound. The entire spectacle so much resembled his idea of an apparition, that Hobbie, making a dead pause, while his hair stood on end, whispered to his companion, "It's Auld Ailie hersel'! shall I gi'e her a shot?"

"For Heaven's sake, no," said Earnscliff, holding down the weapon, which he was about to raise to the aim; "for Heaven's sake, no; it's some poor distracted creature."

In his etching Mr George Cruikshank has effectively represented the strange interview between Hobbie Elliott and the Dwarf. It is described by the novelist. "The Dwarf turned his rage on the young farmer, and by a sudden effort, far more powerful than Hobbie expected from such a person, freed his wrist from his grasp, and offered the dagger at his heart All this was done in the twinkling of an eye, and the incensed recluse might have completed his vengeance by plunging the weapon in Elliott's bosom, had he not been checked by an internal impulse, which made him hurl the knife at a distance. 'No! he exclaimed, as he voluntarily deprived himself of the means of gratifying his rage; 'not again-not again!' Hobbie retreated a step or two in great surprise, discomposure, and disdain, at having been placed in such danger by an object apparently so contemptible, exclaiming, 'The deil's in the body, for strength and bitterness!'"

THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN.

THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN, one of the most popular of the Waverley novels, appeared in June 1818. It is founded on the well-known incident of Helen Walker, a woman in humble life, who refused to save her sister's life when it rested upon her oath, but who, after her sister's condemnation, undertook a foot journey to London, where, from the Duke of Argyll, she procured a pardon and returned with it, again on foot, in time to stay the execution.

The accompanying illustration represents the death of Captain Porteous, a leading event in the novel. The scene depicted is the Grassmarket of Edinburgh. The opening to the right is the Cowgate, near which Porteous was hanged. Beyond is Edinburgh Castle, occupying the summit of the lofty rock which rises precipitously above the houses of the Old Town. The mob having ascertained that the sentence of death passed upon Captain Porteous would not be carried out, resolved to become his executioners themselves; and bursting the prison doors, seized on the unfortunate officer, whom they hurried to the place of execution. While a gibbet was being prepared, Butler, the clergyman who had been pressed into the service of the mob, endeavoured to dissuade them from their desperate design. Porteous protested that what he had done fell out in self-defence, in the lawful exercise of his duty; but the enraged multitude were determined on his destruction. Separated from the unhappy victim by the press, Butler hastened from the spot, and casting back a terrified glance, discovered a figure struggling as it hung suspended above the heads of the multitude, and could observe men striking at it with their axes.

*****

Our other illustration is of a humorous character. Mr Cruikshank represents the visit of the Laird of Dumbiedykes to Jeanie Deans. When a change of residence, from Woodend to St Leonard's Crags, was resolved upon, Jeanie concluded that she would be released from the visits of Dumbiedykes, but in this expectation she was disappointed; for, on the sixth day after her arrival, the laird appeared at St Leonard's, laced hat, tobacco pipe, and all, and, with the self-same greeting of "How is a' wi' you, Jeanie?" assuming nearly the same position as at Woodend. With an unusual exertion of the powers of conversation, he added, "Jeanie-I say-Jeanie, woman!" at the same time extending his hand towards her shoulder, with all the fingers spread out as if to clutch it, but in so awkward a manner, that when she whisked beyond its reach, the paw remained suspended in the air with the palm open, like the claw of a heraldic griffin. "Jeanie," continued the swain, in this moment of inspiration, "I say, Jeanie, it's a braw day out-by, and the roads are no that ill for boot-hose."

"The deil's in that driv'ling body," muttered Jeanie, "wha wad hae thought o' his daunerin' out this length?" for the landed proprietor looked so unco gleg and canty, that she didna ken what he might be coming out wi' next.

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR.

BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR, one of the products of 1819, is founded on a remarkable narrative, connected with the marriage of Miss Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the first Lord Stair, who, without the parental knowledge, engaged herself to the Lord Rutherford, but who subsequently consented to abandon her noble lover, and accept the hand of David Dunbar, younger of Baldoon, whose suit was supported by her parents. On the 24th August 1669, shortly after the nuptial ceremony, the bridegroom was found in the bridal chamber lying across the threshold, frightfully wounded and streaming with blood. On a search, the bride was discovered in the chimney-corner, dabbled in gore, and moping as an idiot; she survived only two weeks. The bridegroom, who recovered from his wounds, refused to answer any questions in relation to the tragedy; he was killed by a fall from his horse in March 1682.*

* The marriage contract of the Bride of Lammermoor has
lately been discovered at St Mary's Isle, the seat of the
Earl of Selkirk. His lordship is the representative of the
family of Dunbar of Baldoon, and has the family papers in
his possession. In arranging these he came upon the
contract. The four signatures are, David Dunbar the
bridegroom, Janet Dalrymple the bride, James Dalrymple, and
Baldoon, father of the bridegroom. James Dalrymple may have
been the bride's brother, who rode behind her to the church,
and whose dagger was used in the assault There is a little
tremor in the bride's signature.

The accompanying illustration represents Fast Castle, the original of Wolf's Crag, of which the proprietors, the Logans and Humes, were conspicuous in Scottish history. Margaret of England, on her way to join her husband, James IV, at Edinburgh, lodged a night in the castle. "Yonder is Wolf's Crag," said Ravenswood, "and whatever it still contains is at your service, Bucklaw." The roar of the sea had long announced their approach to the cliff, on the summit of which, like the nest of some sea-eagle, the founder of the fortalice had perched his eyrie. The pale moon, which had hitherto been contending with flitting clouds, now shone out, and gave them a view of the solitary and naked tower, situated on a projecting cliff that beetled on the German Ocean. On three sides the rock was precipitous; on the fourth, which was towards the land, it had been originally fenced by an artificial ditch and drawbridge, but the latter was broken down and ruinous, and the former had been in part filled up, so as to allow a passage for a horseman into the narrow courtyard, encircled on two sides by low offices and stables partly ruinous, and closed on the landward front by a low embattled wall, while the remaining side of the quadrangle was occupied by the tower, built of a greyish stone, glimmering in the moonlight like the sheeted spectre of some huge giant. A wilder or more disconsolate dwelling, it was perhaps difficult to conceive. The sombrous and heavy sound of the billows successively dashing against a rocky beach at a profound distance beneath, was to the ear what the landscape was to the eye, a symbol of unvaried and monotonous melancholy.

Mr Cruikshank has successfully depicted the humorous spectacle of Caleb Balderstone snatching provisions for his master's table. Dame Lightbody expected a number of guests to the christening of her "bit wean," when Caleb entered. There bubbled on the bickering fire a huge caldron, while before it revolved two spits, one loaded with a quarter of mutton, the other with a fat goose and a brace of wild ducks. Caleb turned to reconnoitre as the mother and grandmother hastened to attend the hero of the evening in a remote corner. Sending one of the youthful turnspits for "snishing," Caleb, not apprehending danger from the other, lifted up the spit bearing the wild-fowl, put on his hat, and marched off with the plunder. The boy at the spit was so bewildered that he became motionless, and suffered the mutton to burn as black as a coal.

IVANHOE.

IVANHOE (published in December 1819) was Scott's first attempt to depict the manners and incidents of old English life, and the effort was hailed with universal delight An impression of 12,000 copies was immediately disposed of.

Our first illustration represents Prince John and Rebecca at the Passage of Arms at Ashby. Prince John instantly recognised the Jew, but was much more agreeably attracted by the beautiful daughter of Zion, who, terrified by the tumult, clung to the arm of her aged father. "The figure of Rebecca might have been compared with the proudest beauties of England. Her form was exquisitely symmetrical, and showed to advantage by an Eastern dress, which she wore according to the fashion of the females of her nation. The turban of yellow silk suited well with the darkness of her complexion. The brilliancy of her eyes, the superb circle of her eyebrows, her aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearl, and the profusion of her sable tresses, which fell down upon as much of a lovely neck as a simar of rich Persian silk permitted to be visible. All these constituted a combination of loveliness. A diamond necklace, with pendants of inestimable value, was conspicuous on her bosom. The feather of an ostrich, fastened in her turban by an agraffe, was another distinction of the beautiful Jewess, another attraction to the quick eye of Prince John." The Prince presented an open set of features, well formed by nature, and accurately moulded by art to the rules of courtesy. His dress was one of the richest splendour, a costly mantle lined with the finest sables fell down from his shoulder or floated in the breeze; maroquin boots with golden spurs adorned his well-formed legs and feet, and the grace with which he managed his palfrey gained him the unlimited applause of the glittering assemblage. Turning towards the gallery to which the Jew and his lovely charge in vain attempted to obtain admission, he gave instructions that both should have a place.

"What is she, Isaac, thy wife or thy daughter?"

"My daughter Rebecca, so please thy grace."

"Daughter or wife," replied the Prince, "she shall be preferred according to her beauty and thy merits."

The interview of the Black Knight and the Friar of Copmanhurst is from the pencil of Mr Cruikshank. King Richard, otherwise the Black Sluggard, having extorted the confidence of the jolly hermit, obeyed his command as master of the feast: "Sit down, fill thy cup; let us drink, sing, and be merry; fill a flagon; nought pitches the voice and sharpens the ear like a cup of wine; and I love to feel the grape at my fingers' ends, before they make the harp-strings tickle." The king essayed a ballad, which he had learned in the Holy Land, during which the friar demeaned himself like a first-rate critic at a new opera. When the ballad was ended, the friar took up his harp, and entertained the king with a characteristic song, the concluding stanza of which is deserving of remembrance by brothers of the trade:

"Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the rope,
The dread of the devil, and trust of the Pope;
For to gather life's roses unscathed by the briar,
Is granted alone to the bare-footed friar."

THE MONASTERY.

AFTER the publication of "Ivanhoe," Scott returned for a time to the illustration of Scottish life. "The Monastery" was published in March 1820, in three duodecimo volumes. Owing to the supernatural element introduced by the White Lady of Avenel, the novel was less successful than its predecessors. It was, however, redeemed from absolute failure through the beautiful descriptions of natural scenery and the striking Scottish manners which it presented.

In the accompanying engraving is represented the Abbey of Melrose amidst the beautiful scenery by which it is surrounded. It is the finest specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. The spire of the central tower has disappeared, but the tower itself, eighty-four feet in height, imparts dignity to the structure. The grand east window is of unparallelled beauty and elegance. Gothic pinnacles terminate the principal buttresses,'which, with the various windows, are decorated with admirably carved figures and niches richly sculptured. In Melrose Abbey was deposited the heart of King Robert the Bruce, after the unsuccessful attempt to carry it to Palestine.

The absence of Father Eustace, superior of the abbey, who was detained much beyond his accustomed hour of returning home, created alarm among his brethren, and the dependants had all been summoned to assist, with torches, in searching for the venerable man. The shout of joy that was raised as he approached, soon convinced him of the object of the assemblage; and the invitations distributed to the people, to call at the convent kitchen for a "quarter of a yard of roast beef each," demonstrated the esteem in which he was held in the institution.

*****

In our second illustration Herbert Glendinning is presenting the silver bodkin which he received from the White Lady. The production of this token has caused the most extraordinary change in the aspect of Sir Piercie Shafton, whose serenity has suddenly become transformed into fury. He has started up, quivering with rage, and in his inflamed and agitated features he resembles a demoniac rather than a mortal under the government of reason. He thrusts both his clenched fists towards Glendinning's face, but the next moment withdraws them, and striking his open palm against his forehead, rushes from the apartment.

THE ABBOT.

THE ABBOT was published in September 1820, as a sequel to "The Monastery," which appeared in the preceding March. According to Mr Lockhart, it arose in Scott's mind during a visit to Blair-Adam. The beautiful localities of that estate are distinctly alluded to, while the virtues of the amiable owner, Mr Chief Commissioner Adam, are admirably portrayed.

In the accompanying illustration, the artist represents an apartment in Holyrood Palace, in which the Regent Murray has just held a meeting of the Privy Council. In the room is a long open table, surrounded by stools of the same wood. In front of a large elbow chair covered with crimson velvet, the Regent is standing. The usher has marshalled Roland Græme into the apartment, and the Regent, who had been laughing with the Lords, now assumed a deep and even melancholy gravity. He was dressed in black velvet after the Flemish fashion, and wore in his high crowned hat a jewelled clasp which looped it up on one side, and formed the only ornament of his apparel. He had his poignard by his side, and his sword lay on die table. Roland presented himself with a feeling of awe, and with an abashed manner placed in his hand the letter of Sir Halbert Avenel. The Earl paused before he broke the silk with which the letter was secured, to ask the page his name, so much was he struck with his handsome features and form.

*****

Mr George Cruikshank depicts the entrance of the Abbot of Unreason to the church of St Mary's. The door was thrown open with a shout which brought up the Abbot and his brethren, when the Abbot of Unreason entered. Then was a scene of ridiculous confusion. Boys shrieked and howled; men laughed and hallooed; women giggled and screamed; and the beasts roared; and the dragon walloped and hissed; and the hobby-horse neighed, pranced, and capered; and the rest frisked and frolicked, clashing their hob-nailed shoes against the pavement till it sparkled with the marks of their energetic caprioles. The Abbot seemed at a stand. He made a gesture of his hand as if commanding silence, which was at first only replied to by redoubled shouts and peals of laughter.

KENILWORTH.

MR CONSTABLE requested that Sir Walter would introduce Queen Elizabeth in his next romance as a companion to Mary Stuart of the Abbot. The great novelist consented, and having selected that period when the sudden death of the first Countess of Leicester opened to her husband's ambition the way to sharing a crown, gave to his romance the name of "Kenilworth." It was published in January 1821, in three volumes, and at once excited the deepest interest. "Kenilworth," writes Mr Lockhart, "continues, and I doubt not, will ever continue, to be placed in the very highest rank of prose fiction. The rich variety of character and scenery and incident in this novel has never indeed been surpassed, nor, with the one exception of the 'Bride of Lammermoor,' has Scott bequeathed us a deeper and more affecting tragedy than that of Amy Robsart." Refer-ing to his materials for the novel, Sir Walter writes in 1831: "The reader will find I have borrowed several incidents, as well as names, from 'Ashmole's Antiquities,' and the more early authorities; but my first acquaintance with the history was through the more pleasing medium of verse. There is a period in youth when the mere power of numbers has a more strong effect on ear and imagination, than in more advanced life. At this season of immature taste the author was greatly delighted with the poems of Mickle and Langliome, poets who, though by no means deficient in the higher branches of their art, were eminent for their powers of verbal melody above most who have practised this department of poetry. One of those pieces of Mickle, which the author was particularly pleased with, is a ballad, or rather a species of elegy, on the subject of Cumnor Hall, which, with others by the same author, were to be found in Evans's 'Ancient Ballads' (vol. iv., p. 130), to which work Mickle made liberal contributions."

Among the sports at Kenilworth got up to entertain Queen Elizabeth, was a mock battle between the English and the Danes, somewhat resembling the ancient hocktide play. On a preconcerted signal the combatants engaged, but the concussion was less violent than had been anticipated. This was not owing to any apprehension of each other, but to the fear of being pushed into the lake. When the battle raged furiously the former precaution was neglected, and the pressure causing the railings to yield, many were precipitated into the water. This scene is depicted in the accompanying illustration.

In his etching Mr Cruikshank represents a stirring incident in the novel. Wayland Smith and Tresilian, being now partners in a serious adventure, the former consented to abandon for a season his mysterious forge; but scarcely had he done so, when Flibbertigibbet entered the dark tenement, and employed the combustibles he found there to blow up the cave. He had hinted at his mischievous intentions as Tresilian and Wayland were mounting their horses, but when the former attempted to catch, and compel him to speak less mystically, the urchin fled with a velocity almost preternatural, and baffled the best efforts of his pursuers.

THE PIRATE.

BY his four novels, published between December 1819, and January 1821, Sir Walter had realised at least £10,000, while £5000 additional were paid him by Constable and Co. for the remainder of these copyrights. The "Pirate" appeared in December 1821, and in the words of Mr Lockhart, "the wild freshness of its atmosphere, the beautiful contrast of Minna and Brenda, and the exquisitely-drawn character of Captain Cleveland, found a reception which they deserved."

In the accompanying illustration, Noma has arrived at the spot where the shipwrecked seaman had been cast, just in time to restore suspended animation, and to protect him from plunder. Assisted by Mordaunt she raised the pirate's head to enable him to disgorge the sea water; but while her kind services were in progress, Bryce Snailsfoot, the pedlar, exhibited symptoms of dishonesty, by commencing to remove the pirate's finger-rings, while he cast an avaricious glance towards the chest. Of the latter the contents were plain and lace ruffled shirts, a silver compass, a silver hilted sword, and other valuable articles which the pedlar knew would stir in the trade. From his villainy Bryce was deterred by the menaces of Noma, which were scarcely uttered before the voices of approaching _wreckers_ fell upon her ear. But her vigorous determination, and the superstitious influence which she exercised over the islanders, enabled her to save both the life and the property of Cleveland.

The second illustration represents "Noma Despatching the Provisions." The attendants of Magnus Troil had just laid out the cold collation which they had brought with them, and were about to take seats at the table, when Noma, seizing one article after another, flung them out of the window into the sea which foamed below; hams and pickled beef flew into the empty space, smoked geese were returned to the air, and cured fish to their native element. With some difficulty the Udaller rescued his silver drinking-cup from the destroyer's hands. What occasioned Magnus the deepest chagrin was to find his brandy flask, first in the possession of the dwarf Pacolet, and afterwards in its passage through the window, an event which was attended by a fiendish grin on the part of Norna's attendant.

FORTUNES OF NIGEL

THIS highly interesting and popular romance was published on the 30th May 1822. Next day Constable wrote from London to the author as follows: "I learn with astonishment, but not less delight, that the press is at work again. A new novel, from the author of Waverley, puts aside-in other words, puts down for the time-every other literary performance. The smack 'Ocean,' by which the new work was shipped, arrived at the wharf on Sunday; the bales were got out by _one_ on Monday morning, and before half-past _ten_ o'clock, 7000 copies had been dispersed from 90 Cheapside."* Though chiefly connected with the fortunes of George Heriot, the benevolent Scottish jeweller, who founded the Hospital at Edinburgh which bears his name, the novel fully depicts the habits of English court life during the reign of James I. The character of that weak and vacillating prince, and the corrupt manners which he introduced or countenanced, are skilfully set forth.

* Constable's London Agents, Messrs Hunt, Robertson, & Co.,
had their premises in Cheapside.

The accompanying illustration represents the meeting of King James and Nigel Olifaunt When the king had leisure to take a view of his new companion, he exclaimed, "Ye are nane of our train, man; in the name of God, what are ye?"

"If your majesty will look on me," said Nigel, "you will see one whom necessity makes bold to avail himself of an opportunity which may never occur again." The king looked-his face became pale-he dropped the _couteau de chasse_ from his hand, and exclaimed, "Glenvarlochides, as sure as I am christened James Stuart: this is a bonnie spot of work, and me alone and on foot too!" The prince meanwhile came up, and seeing Nigel, thus accosted him, "Sir, you knew yourself to be accused of a heavy offence, and instead of rendering yourself up to justice, you are found intruding yourself upon his majesty's presence, and armed with unlawful weapons."

"Hear me, hear me, noble prince!" said Nigel, eagerly, "hear me; you-even you yourself-may one day ask to be heard, and in vain."

"How am I to construe that, my lord?" said the prince, haughtily. "If not on earth, sir," replied the prisoner, "yet to heaven we must all pray for patient and favourable audience."

"Well, sir," said the prince, "we will ourselves look into your case."

Mr Cruikshank represents the encounter between the citizen and the soldier. The citizen took his ground in the midst of the bowling alley, brandishing his blade, as if he were to measure cambric with it; while the captain stood at the distance of twelve paces, having looked over his shoulder to secure a retreat. Perceiving that the man of war did not advance, the citizen rushed at him, beat down his guard, and thrust, as it seemed, his sword clean through his body, when he, with a deep groan, fell lengthwise on the ground. A score of voices exclaimed to the conqueror, as he stood utterly overcome by his own feat, "Away with you! Fly to Whitefriars', while we keep off the constables." While the hero was flying with all speed, they raised the fallen swordsman, and opening his vest to search for a wound which did not exist, he suddenly recovered his senses; and concluding "that the ordinary was no longer a place or stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the assemblage."

PEVERIL OF THE PEAK.

SCENES and events in old English life again employed the pen of the great novelist. The reign of Charles II. was the period of his present narrative. It was composed hastily, and in the opinion of many was not equal to his powers. "Peveril of the Peak," writes Mr Lockhart, "appeared in January 1823. Its reception was somewhat colder than that of its three immediate predecessors.... Fenella was an unfortunate conception. What is good in it is not original, and the rest extravagantly absurd and incredible. Yet did any dramatist ever produce, in spite of all the surrounding bewilderment, characters more powerfully conceived, or on the whole more happily portrayed, than those of Christian, Bridge-north, Buckingham, and Chiffinch?-sketches more vivid than those of young Derby, Colonel Blood, and the keeper of Newgate?"

Our artist depicts the departure of the Countess of Derby from Peveril's Castle. The sounds "boot and saddle" rang through the halls of the castle, and in a few minutes the deep dell which separated the rugged rocks of that wild district was occupied with Peveril's followers proceeding cautiously to escort the Countess to the Cheshire border. A party of troopers in advance was followed by the main body which accompanied the Countess, mounted on Peveril's palfrey, along with a groom of approved fidelity, and attended by the Knight of the Peak with three files of horsemen. Dreading pursuit, they rode "with the beard on the shoulder," looking round from time to time at the sound of any unusual noise.

*****

Mr Cruikshank represents the encounter between the dishonest Chiffinch and Peveril and Lance his pursuers. Chiffinch, in full presumption of his security, was riding along leisurely with his prize, when Peveril and Lance reached a solitary part of the road, where neither man nor woman were in sight. Lance then pushed forward with so much alacrity that he was between the courtier and his attendant, and had actually upset the Frenchman and his horse before any effort could be made to resist him. Julian* snatched the bridle of Chiffinch's horse with one hand, and presented at him a pistol with the other. "Rogue," cried Chiffinch, "take my purse, do me no harm, and spare the spices."

* When, in 1821, Charles Mayne Young, the eminent tragedian,
was on a visit to Edinburgh, he waited on Sir Walter at his
residence in Castle Street. He was accompanied by his son
Julian, then a youth. After warmly shaking hands with the
tragedian, Sir Walter laid his hand gently on his son's
shoulder, and asked his Christian name. As soon as he heard
it he exclaimed, "Why, who is he called after?"

"Master Chiffinch," said Peveril, "give me back that packet which you stole from me the other night, or I will send a brace of balls through you, and search for it at leisure" The tone of Peveril's voice, and the closeness of his pistol, convinced Chiffinch that an immediate delivery was necessary; thrusting his hand into a side-pocket, he brought out the object of Peveril's pursuit. By presenting the butt-end of his whip _à la militaire_, Lance pinned his enemy to the ground, where he lay on his back imploring mercy.

"It is a fancy name in memoriam of his mother, compounded of her two names, Julia Anne," said Mr Young. "It's a capital name for a novel," responded Sir Walter. In his next novel, Peveril of the Peak, the hero's name was Julian.--Memoir of Charles Mayne Young, by Julian Charles Young; M.A. London, 1871.

QUENTIN DURWARD.

ON his next adventure, Sir Walter took a wider field. In the romance of "Quentin Durward," which appeared in June 1823, he portrayed characters and events connected with the history and times of Louis XI. and Charles the Bold. "The sensation," writes Mr Lockhart, "which this novel, on its first appearance, created in Paris, was extremely similar to that which attended the original 'Waverley' in Edinburgh, and 'Ivanhoe' afterwards in London. For the first time, Scott had ventured on foreign ground; and the French public, long wearied of the pompous tragedians and feeble romancers, who had alone striven to bring out the ancient history and manners of their country, were seized with a fever of delight.... Germany had been fully awake to his merits years before, but the public there also felt their sympathies appealed to with hitherto unmatched strength and effect. The infection of admiration ran far and wide on the Continent, and soon reacted most potently on Britain."

The accompanying illustration represents one of the most stirring scenes in the novel. Louis of Bourbon, Bishop of Liege, having accused De la Marck of sacrilege, and advised him to array himself in sackcloth and ashes, and proceed on a pilgrimage to Rome, the rage of the tyrant rose gradually with the admonitions of the priest, until he at length determined upon vengeance. Raising himself in his chair as Louis ceased, he looked to Nickel Blok, and lifted his finger, without speaking a word. The ruffian struck, as if he had been doing his office in the shambles, and the murdered Bishop sunk at the foot of the Episcopal throne.

Mr Cruikshank is in his element in describing Cardinal Balue's predicament at the boar hunt. While the Cardinal was in conversation with the king, his horse, seizing the bit with his teeth, set off at an uncontrollable gallop, leaving the king and Dunois far behind. The limbs of the quadruped, no way under the rider's control, fly at such a rate as if the hindermost meant to overtake the foremost, while the cardinal's body, instead of sitting upright, hangs crouched on the back of the animal, representing a picture sufficiently ludicrous. His short violet-coloured gown, which he used as a riding-dress, his scarlet stockings, and scarlet hat, with the long strings hanging down, together with his utter helplessness, impart infinite zest to his exhibition of horsemanship.

ST RONAN'S WELL

IN the romance which followed "Quentin Durward," Sir Walter resumed his illustration of the manners of his own country. "St Ronan's Well" appeared in December 1823, and in this novel he, for the first time, adventured on the representation of contemporaneous history. In England, its reception was cold; but Scottish readers maintained that Meg Dods and Clara Mowbray were among the best creations of the "Unknown." At Innerleithen, the scene of the novel, there was great rejoicing, the inhabitants proposing to drop its old name, and substitute that of St Ronan's.

In our first illustration, our artist represents the meeting of Tyrrel and Clara Mowbray. "She pulled up the reins, and stopped as if arrested by a thunderbolt. 'Clara!' 'Tyrrel!' These were the only words that were exchanged between them until Tyrrel, moving his feet as slowly as if they had been lead, began gradually to diminish the distance which lay betwixt them.... 'Surely you need not come,' said Clara, 'either to renew your own unhappiness or to augment mine.' 'To augment yours-God forbid!' answered Tyrrel. 'No; I came hither only because, after so many years of wandering, I longed to revisit the spot where all my hopes lay buried.' 'Ay, buried is the word,' she replied; 'crushed down and buried when they budded fairest. I often think of it, Tyrrel; and there are times when-Heaven help me!-I can think of little else. Look at me; you remember what I was; see what grief and solitude have made me.' She flung back the veil which surrounded her riding-hat, and which had hitherto hid her face. It was the same countenance which he had formerly known in all the bloom of early beauty; but though the beauty remained, the bloom was fled for ever. Not the agitation of exercise-not that which arose from the pain and confusion of this unexpected interview-had called to poor Clara's cheek even the momentary semblance of colour. Her complexion was marble-white, like that of the finest piece of statuary."

With inimitable zest, Mr George Cruikshank has represented the rencontre between Meg Dods and Captain MacTurk. Meg flourished the broom round her head, exclaiming, as the Captain approached, "I ken your errand weel eneugh, and I ken yoursel'; ye are ane of the folk that gang aboot yonder, setting folks by the lugs, as callants set their collies to fecht; but ye shall come to nae lodger o' mine, let-a-be Maister Tirl, wi' ony sic ungodly errand; for I am ane that will keep God's peace and the king's within my dwelling." The apostrophe was followed by another flourish of the broom, which obliged the Captain to retire a few paces, and stand on the defensive.

RED GAUNTLET.

RED GAUNTLET was published in June 1824. The introduction of Prince Charles Edward, amidst the dulness of hopeless fortune and of advancing age, contrasting painfully with his romantic portraiture in "Waverley," considerably affected the popularity of the novel on its first appearance. The characters of Peter Peebles, Nanty Ewart, and Wandering Willie, all so skilfully portrayed, redeemed the work from absolute failure.

The accompanying engraving represents salmon hunting in the Solway. "The banks of that great estuary are here bare and exposed, the waters having receded from a large space of sand through which a stream feeble and fordable found its way to the ocean. The whole was illuminated by the beams of the setting sun, who showed his ruddy front over a huge battlemented wall of crimson and black clouds, resembling some immense Gothic fortress into which the lord of day was descending. At this moment the salmon hunters hastened to the shore, and commenced the ancient sport. They chased the fish at full gallop, and struck them with barbed spears--as hunters spearing boars, in the old tapestry. The feats of one horseman, in particular, called forth the clamorous applause of his companions so repeatedly, that the very banks rang again with their shouts. He was a tall man, well mounted on a strong black horse, which he caused to turn and wind like a bird in the air, carried a longer spear than the others, and wore a sort of fur cap or bonnet, with a short feather in it, which gave him rather a superior appearance to the other fishermen. He seemed to hold some sort of authority among them, and occasionally directed their motions, both by voice and hand; at which times his gestures were striking, and his voice sounded uncommonly sonorous and commanding."

In our second illustration Mr Cruikshank presents the frightful adventure of Hutcheon and Dougal MacCallum in presence of the dead body of Redgauntlet. "When midnight came, and the house was quiet as the grave, the silver whistle sounded as sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was blowing it, and up got the two old serving-men, and tottered into the room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw enough at the first glance; for there were torches in the room, which showed him the foul fiend in his ain shape, sitting on the laird's coffin! Ower he couped, as if he had been dead. He could not tell how long he lay in a trance at the door; but when he gathered himself, he cried on his neighbour, and getting nae answer, raised the house, when Dougal was found lying dead within twa steps of the bed where his master's coffin was placed. As for the whistle, it was lost ance and aye, but mony a time it was heard at the top of the house on the bartizan and among the auld chimneys and turrets, where the howlets have their nests."

THE BETROTHED.

THE BETROTHED appeared in June 1825 as one of the "Tales of the Crusaders." On account of certain scruples of James Ballantyne and Mr Constable, Sir Walter had nearly consented to cancel the sheets, after the tale, excepting the two last chapters, had been printed off. Subsequently, he consented to prepare the tale of the "Talisman" which might accompany its entrance into the world. Both tales appeared together, and their success left nothing to be desired.

The accompanying illustration represents a striking scene in the novel. While the monk and the Fleming slept soundly under the shade of the battlement, Eveline Berenger could forbear no longer in breaking silence. "Men, my beloved Rose," she said, "are happy; their anxious thoughts were either diverted by toil, or drowned in the insensibility which follows it; they may encounter wounds or death, but women feel a keener anguish than the body knows; and in the gnawing sense of present ill, and fear of future misery, suffer a living death more cruel than that which ends our woes at once." In vain Rose endeavoured to assuage her grief; she answered, "You have a father to fight and watch for you; mine-my kind, noble, and honoured parent, lies dead on yonder field." So saying, she sunk down on the banquette, murmuring to herself, "He is gone for ever!" One hand grasped unconsciously the weapon which she held, and served at the same time to prop her forehead, while tears, by which she was now relieved, flowed in torrents from her eyes, and her sobs seemed so convulsive, that Rose almost feared her heart was bursting.

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW.

THE tale of the "Highland Widow" was included in the first series of the "Chronicles of the Canongate." It appeared in November 1827, subsequent to the breaking up of Constable's publishing house.

In the accompanying illustration is presented the striking scene where Hamish Bean Mac Tavish was urged by his mother to fire upon the military party who sought to apprehend him. It was evening; the gigantic shadows of the mountains streamed in darkness towards the east, while their western peaks were still glowing with crimson and gold. From the road which wound round Ben Cruachan, five Highland soldiers were fully visible at the door of the bothy. One walked a little before the others; this was Serjeant Cameron, who called out, "Hamish Bean Mac Tavish, lay down your arms and surrender!" At the door of the bothy Hamish stood like a statue holding his firelock, while his mother standing behind him, and almost driven to frenzy by the violence of her passions, reproached him for want of resolution and faintness of heart. Her words increased the bitter gall which was arising in his spirit, as he saw his late comrades making towards him like hounds towards the stag at bay. "The scourge, the scourge, my son, beware the scourge," whispered the mother. It was enough. Hamish fired his piece, and Serjeant Cameron dropped dead.

THE TALISMAN.

THE TALISMAN was pronounced by James Ballantyne to be so decided a masterpiece that "The Betrothed" might venture abroad under its wing. It relates to that period of the Crusades in which Richard Cour de Lion evinces his heroism and his cruelty in opposition to the noble qualities of the brave and generous Saladin.

The accompanying illustration represents the scene in which the Knight of the Leopard reluctantly introduces the Baron of Gilsland into his hut. There lay extended his squire under the influence of an Asiatic fever. Having apologised for the homely appearance of the Scottish quarter, he proceeded to inquire after the state of the patient. The person seated beside the sick bed is a Moorish physician whom Saladin had sent to minister to the malady of King Richard, but whom the English distrusted, and first made trial of his sincerity and skill by committing to his care the Squire of Sir Kenneth. As the visitors entered, the invalid had fallen into a refreshing sleep, from which El-Hakim assured them he would awake invigorated.

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The chapel scene of Sir Kenneth and the dwarf is admirably hit by Mr Cruikshank. As the knight stood alone in the chapel a shrill whistle rung sharply. It was a sound ill suited to the place, and reminded Sir Kenneth that he should be upon his guard. A creaking sound as of a screw or pulley succeeded, and a light streaming upwards showed that a trap-door had been raised or depressed. In less than a minute a long skinny arm, partly naked, partly clothed in a sleeve of red samite, arose out of the aperture, holding a lamp as high as it could stretch upwards, and the figure to which the arm belonged ascended step by step to the level of the floor. The form and face of the being who thus presented himself were those of a frightful dwarf with a large head, a cap fantastically adorned with three peacock's feathers, a dress of red samite, the richness of which rendered his ugliness more conspicuous, distinguished by gold bracelets and armlets, and a white silk sash, in which he wore a gold-hilted dagger. The figure held a broom in his left hand, and with his right moved the lamp over his face and person, illuminating his wild features and misshapen limbs. The dwarf whistled, and a second figure ascended in the same manner as the first. It was a female. Her dress, also of red samite, was fantastically cut and flounced. She also passed the lamp over her face and person, which seemed to rival the male in ugliness. Approaching the knight, they turned the gleam of their lamps upon him, and raised a yelling laugh. Upon his demanding who they were, he was answered--"I am the dwarf Nectabanus;" "and I Guenevra, his lady and his love."

"Hush, fools, and begone!" said a voice from the side on which the knight had entered. The dwarfs heard the command, blew out their lights, and left the knight in darkness.

WOODSTOCK.

THE novel of "Woodstock, or, The Cavalier: a Tale of the Year Sixteen Hundred and Forty-one," was issued in June 1826, and was the last of the compositions which were published under the _nominis umbra_ of the Author of "Waverley." It was composed within the space of three months, and immediately realised to the estate of the ingenious author, no less than £8228, less cost of paper and printing the first edition.

The first illustration represents the aged Sir Henry Lee expressing his blessing over the head of King Charles II. It was evident policy in the monarch to recognise those who had been faithful to his family when fortune frowned. The presence of Sir Henry Lee, attended by Bevis, awoke most grateful feelings in the royal breast. Springing from his horse, and hastening to the aged gentleman, whom he prevented from rising to do him homage, amidst the enthusiastic applause of the spectators, he threw himself at his feet, and said-"Bless, father, bless your son, who has returned in safety, as you blessed him when he departed in danger."

The King returned, joined the cavalcade, and the gorgeous array again put in motion, was followed by the watchful eyes of Alice, and the attendants of Sir Henry, who, on their return, were startled to perceive "that his cheek had assumed an unearthly paleness; that his eyes were closed; that his features expressed a rigidity that was not that of sleep. They had come too late-the light that burned so low in the socket had leaped up, and expired in one exhilarating flash."

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Mr Cruikshank admirably portrays Mr Holdenough's triumph over the military intruder. Holdenough was in the act of ascending the steps of the pulpit when one of the soldiers seized him by the cloak saying, "Is it your purpose to hold forth to these good people?"

"Ay, marry is it," said the clergyman, "let me not in my labour." But the man of war being himself minded to address the congregation, Mr Holdenough called out:-"Give place, thou man of Satan; respect mine order-my cloth." The soldier protested that he perceived no more to respect in the cut of Mr Holdenough's cloak than he did in the bishop's rochets-_they_ were black and white; _his_, blue and brown. Mr Holdenough, finding the enemy incorrigible, called out-"Master Mayor of Woodstock, wilt thou be amongst those wicked magistrates, who bear the sword in vain? Citizens, will you not help your pastor? Worthy Alderman, will you see me strangled on the pulpit-stairs by this man of buff and Belial? But, lo! I will overcome him, and cast his cords from us." As he thus spoke, he dexterously slipped the string which fastened his cloak round his neck, so that the garment suddenly gave way, and the soldier, who had a tenacious grasp of it, fell backwards, down the steps of the pulpit; while the divine skipped actively up, and immediately gave forth a psalm of triumph.

THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH.

THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH was published in April 1828, and became popular at once; it commenced a second series of the "Chronicles of the Canongate." The narrative is founded upon an interesting event in Scottish history. Two clans who were at variance deputed thirty champions to fight out a quarrel of old standing in the presence of King Robert III., his brother the Duke of Albany, and the whole Scottish Court, at Perth, in the year 1396. Two characters in the novel, the glee-maiden and Conachar are regarded as among Scott's very best conceptions.

The accompanying illustration represents an interesting scene. The Fair Maid and the Carthusian monk are seated at the foot of Kinnoul hill, which commands the beautiful vale of the Tay. The monk, who wore his white gown and scapular, sat for some time with his eyes fixed on the glorious prospect, of which even the early and chilly season could not conceal the beauties. At length he addressed his proselyte: "When I behold this rich and varied land, with its castles, churches, convents, stately palaces, and fertile fields, these extensive woods, and that noble river, I know not, my daughter, whether most to admire the bounty of God or the ingratitude of man. He hath given us the beauty and fertility of the earth, and we have made the scene of His bounty a charnel-house and a battle-field. He hath given us power over the elements, and skill to erect houses for comfort and defence, and we have converted them into dens for robbers."

"Yet surely, my father, there is room for comfort," replied Catherine. "Yonder four goodly convents, and their inhabitants, who have separated themselves from the world for the service of Heaven, bear witness that if Scotland be a sinful land, she is yet sensible to the claims of religion."

"Verily, daughter," answered the priest, "what you say seems truth, but it is to be feared that the love of many has waxed cold."

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