My gold is gone, my money is spent,
My land now take it unto thee.
Give me thy gold, good John o' the Scales,
And thine for aye my land shall be.
Then John he did him to record draw.
And John he caste him a gods-pennie;
But for every pounde that John agreed,
The land, I wis. was well worth three.
HEIR OF LINNE.
The Galwegian John o' the Scales was a more clever fellow than his
prototype. He contrived to make himself heir of Linne without the
disagreeable ceremony of 'telling down the good red gold.' Miss
Bertram no sooner heard this painful, and of late unexpected,
intelligence than she proceeded in the preparations she had
already made for leaving the mansion-house immediately. Mr. Mac-
Morlan assisted her in these arrangements, and pressed upon her so
kindly the hospitality and protection of his roof, until she
should receive an answer from her cousin, or be enabled to adopt
some settled plan of life, that she felt there would be unkindness
in refusing an invitation urged with such earnestness. Mrs. Mac-
Morlan was a ladylike person, and well qualified by birth and
manners to receive the visit, and to make her house agreeable to
Miss Bertram. A home, therefore, and an hospitable reception were
secured to her, and she went on with better heart to pay the wages
and receive the adieus of the few domestics of her father's
Where there are estimable qualities on either side, this task is
always affecting; the present circumstances rendered it doubly so.
All received their due, and even a trifle more, and with thanks
and good wishes, to which some added tears, took farewell of their
young mistress. There remained in the parlour only Mr. Mac-Morlan,
who came to attend his guest to his house, Dominie Sampson, and
Miss Bertram. 'And now,' said the poor girl, 'I must bid farewell
to one of my oldest and kindest friends. God bless you, Mr.
Sampson, and requite to you all the kindness of your instructions
to your poor pupil, and your friendship to him that is gone. I
hope I shall often hear from you.' She slid into his hand a paper
containing some pieces of gold, and rose, as if to leave the room.
Dominie Sampson also rose; but it was to stand aghast with utter
astonishment. The idea of parting from Miss Lucy, go where she
might, had never once occurred to the simplicity of his
understanding. He laid the money on the table. 'It is certainly
inadequate,' said Mac-Morlan, mistaking his meaning, 'but the
Mr. Sampson waved his hand impatiently.--'It is not the lucre, it
is not the lucre; but that I, that have ate of her father's loaf,
and drank of his cup, for twenty years and more--to think that I
am going to leave her, and to leave her in distress and dolour!
No, Miss Lucy, you need never think it! You would not consent to
put forth your father's poor dog, and would you use me waur than a
messan? No, Miss Lucy Bertram, while I live I will not separate
from you. I'll be no burden; I have thought how to prevent that.
But, as Ruth said unto Naomi, "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor
to depart from thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where
thou dwellest I will dwell; thy people shall be my people, and thy
God shall be my God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I
be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death
do part thee and me."'
During this speech, the longest ever Dominie Sampson was known to
utter, the affectionate creature's eyes streamed with tears, and
neither Lucy nor Mac-Morlan could refrain from sympathising with
this unexpected burst of feeling and attachment. 'Mr. Sampson,'
said Mac-Morlan, after having had recourse to his snuff-box and
handkerchief alternately, 'my house is large enough, and if you
will accept of a bed there while Miss Bertram honours us with her
residence, I shall think myself very happy, and my roof much
favoured, by receiving a man of your worth and fidelity.' And
then, with a delicacy which was meant to remove any objection on
Miss Bertram's part to bringing with her this unexpected
satellite, he added, 'My business requires my frequently having
occasion for a better accountant than any of my present clerks,
and I should be glad to have recourse to your assistance in that
way now and then.'
'Of a surety, of a surety,' said Sampson eagerly; 'I understand
book-keeping by double entry and the Italian method.'
Our postilion had thrust himself into the room to announce his
chaise and horses; he tarried, unobserved, during this
extraordinary scene, and assured Mrs. Mac-Candlish it was the most
moving thing he ever saw; 'the death of the grey mare, puir
hizzie, was naething till't.' This trifling circumstance
afterwards had consequences of greater moment to the Dominie.
The visitors were hospitably welcomed by Mrs. Mac-Morlan, to whom,
as well as to others, her husband intimated that he had engaged
Dominie Sampson's assistance to disentangle some perplexed
accounts, during which occupation he would, for convenience sake,
reside with the family. Mr. Mac-Morlan's knowledge of the world
induced him to put this colour upon the matter, aware that,
however honourable the fidelity of the Dominie's attachment might
be both to his own heart and to the family of Ellangowan, his
exterior ill qualified him to be a'squire of dames,' and rendered
him, upon the whole, rather a ridiculous appendage to a beautiful
young woman of seventeen.
Dominie Sampson achieved with great zeal such tasks as Mr. Mac-
Morlan chose to entrust him with; but it was speedily observed
that at a certain hour after breakfast he regularly disappeared,
and returned again about dinner-time. The evening he occupied in
the labour of the office. On Saturday he appeared before Mac-
Morlan with a look of great triumph, and laid on the table two
pieces of gold. 'What is this for, Dominie?' said Mac-Morlan.
'First to indemnify you of your charges in my behalf, worthy sir;
and the balance for the use of Miss Lucy Bertram.'
'But, Mr. Sampson, your labour in the office much more than
recompenses me; I am your debtor, my good friend.'
'Then be it all,' said the Dominie, waving his hand, 'for Miss
Lucy Bertram's behoof.'
'Well, but, Dominie, this money-'
'It is honestly come by, Mr. Mac-Morlan; it is the bountiful
reward of a young gentleman to whom I am teaching the tongues;
reading with him three hours daily.'
A few more questions extracted from the Dominie that this liberal
pupil was young Hazlewood, and that he met his preceptor daily at
the house of Mrs. Mac-Candlish, whose proclamation of Sampson's
disinterested attachment to the young lady had procured him this
indefatigable and bounteous scholar.
Mac-Morlan was much struck with what he heard. Dominie Sampson was
doubtless a very good scholar, and an excellent man, and the
classics were unquestionably very well worth reading; yet that a
young man of twenty should ride seven miles and back again each
day in the week, to hold this sort of TETE-A-TETE of three hours,
was a zeal for literature to which he was not prepared to give
entire credit. Little art was necessary to sift the Dominie, for
the honest man's head never admitted any but the most direct and
simple ideas. 'Does Miss Bertram know how your time is engaged, my
'Surely not as yet. Mr. Charles recommended it should be concealed
from her, lest she should scruple to accept of the small
assistance arising from it; but,' he added, 'it would not be
possible to conceal it long, since Mr. Charles proposed taking his
lessons occasionally in this house.'
'O, he does!' said Mac-Morlan.' Yes, yes, I can understand that
better. And pray, Mr. Sampson, are these three hours entirely
spent inconstruing and translating?'
'Doubtless, no; we have also colloquial intercourse to sweeten
study: neque semper arcum tendit apollo.'
The querist proceeded to elicit from this Galloway Phoebus what
their discourse chiefly turned upon.
'Upon our past meetings at Ellangowan; and, truly, I think very
often we discourse concerning Miss Lucy, for Mr. Charles Hazlewood
in that particular resembleth me, Mr. Mac-Morlan. When I begin to
speak of her I never know when to stop; and, as I say (jocularly),
she cheats us out of half our lessons.'
'O ho!' thought Mac-Morlan, 'sits the wind in that quarter? I've
heard something like this before.'
He then began to consider what conduct was safest for his
protegee, and even for himself; for the senior Mr. Hazlewood was
powerful, wealthy, ambitious, and vindictive, and looked for both
fortune and title in any connexion which his son might form. At
length, having the highest opinion of his guest's good sense and
penetration, he determined to take an opportunity, when they
should happen to be alone, to communicate the matter to her as a
simple piece of intelligence. He did so in as natural a manner as
he could. 'I wish you joy of your friend Mr. Sampson's good
fortune, Miss Bertram; he has got a pupil who pays him two guineas
for twelve lessons of Greek and Latin.'
'Indeed! I am equally happy and surprised. Who can be so liberal?
is Colonel Mannering returned?'
'No, no, not Colonel Mannering; but what do you think of your
acquaintance, Mr. Charles Hazlewood? He talks of taking his
lessons here; I wish we may have accommodation for him.'
Lucy blushed deeply. 'For Heaven's sake, no, Mr. Mac-Morlan, do
not let that be; Charles Hazlewood has had enough of mischief
about that already.'
'About the classics, my dear young lady?' wilfully seeming to
misunderstand her; 'most young gentlemen have so at one period or
another, sure enough; but his present studies are voluntary.'
Miss Bertram let the conversation drop, and her host made no
effort to renew it, as she seemed to pause upon the intelligence
in order to form some internal resolution.
The next day Miss Bertram took an opportunity of conversing with
Mr. Sampson. Expressing in the kindest manner her grateful thanks
for his disinterested attachment, and her joy that he had got such
a provision, she hinted to him that his present mode of
superintending Charles Hazlewood's studies must be so inconvenient
to his pupil that, while that engagement lasted, he had better
consent to a temporary separation, and reside either with his
scholar or as near him as might be. Sampson refused, as indeed she
had expected, to listen a moment to this proposition; he would not
quit her to be made preceptor to the Prince of Wales. 'But I see,'
he added, 'you are too proud to share my pittance; and
peradventure I grow wearisome unto you.'
'No indeed; you were my father's ancient, almost his only, friend.
I am not proud; God knows, I have no reason to be so. You shall do
what you judge best in other matters; but oblige me by telling Mr.
Charles Hazlewood that you had some conversation with me
concerning his studies, and that I was of opinion that his
carrying them on in this house was altogether impracticable, and
not to be thought of.'
Dominie Sampson left her presence altogether crest-fallen, and, as
he shut the door, could not help muttering the 'varium et
mutabile' of Virgil. Next day he appeared with a very rueful
visage, and tendered Miss Bertram a letter. 'Mr. Hazlewood,' he
said, 'was to discontinue his lessons, though he had generously
made up the pecuniary loss. But how will he make up the loss to
himself of the knowledge he might have acquired under my
instruction? Even in that one article of writing,--he was an hour
before he could write that brief note, and destroyed many scrolls,
four quills, and some good white paper. I would have taught him in
three weeks a firm, current, clear, and legible hand; he should
have been a calligrapher,--but God's will be done.'
The letter contained but a few lines, deeply regretting and
murmuring against Miss Bertram's cruelty, who not only refused to
see him, but to permit him in the most indirect manner to hear of
her health and contribute to her service. But it concluded with
assurances that her severity was vain, and that nothing could
shake the attachment of Charles Hazlewood.
Under the active patronage of Mrs. Mac-Candlish, Sampson picked up
some other scholars--very different indeed from Charles Hazlewood
in rank, and whose lessons were proportionally unproductive.
Still, however, he gained something, and it was the glory of his
heart to carry it to Mr. Mac-Morlan weekly, a slight peculium only
subtracted to supply his snuff-box and tobacco-pouch.
And here we must leave Kippletringan to look after our hero, lest
our readers should fear they are to lose sight of him for another
quarter of a century.