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ANDREW LAURIE'S RETURN. I went on a tryste to Dalgarnock.-Burns.

THE ship which bore me to my native shore, after an absence of many years, seemed the fairest of all ships; the wind which filled our sail, and moved the waters, breathed delight and youth around me, and the rude sailor smoothed his locks, and spoke without cursing, as the hills of Scotland rose on our view. It is true, that the hills and glens of Nithsdale, on which I gazed as the ship glided along the shore, seemed rough and barren, compared to the hills of spice and the groves of cinnamon, among which I had lived in the east; but early remembrance sanctified and shed beauty o'er the landscape; and as my foot touched the shore, enthusiasm and imagination were busy within me, expanding the vales, and increasing the hills, and giving me back my native place, in all the romantic loveliness with which the memory of age invests the scenes of its youth. But I had not gone far, till enthusiasm began to fail, and imagination to subside ;I saw no fair and well-known faces, -I heard not the greeting of friendly lips,-new generations inherited the land, I had returned to a strange people. I walked on, and all the vale seemed changed;-the Solway rolled on with diminished waters, the Nith was dried into a petty brook, -the houses seemed small, and the ways narrow. I had seen nature on her grandest scale,-had walked on loftier hills, and passed deeper rivers, and seen more populous cities,-and the glory of my native hills, and kirks, and castles, was eclipsed.

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But other changes than those of the imagination had taken place; the farmer's plough,-the navigator's spade, and the architect's hammer, had been working wonders in the land. The hills where I had shot the heathcock waved green with grain, the houses, low, and reeky, and uncomfortable, with floors of clay, and coverings of straw, now showed roofs of slate glittering in the sun, and floors of smoothed stone or of shaven deal; while the streams which wandered at will, flooding the cottages, and sweeping away the

hopes of the farmer, now winded be tween long and sinuous lines of green embankments. I passed through Dumfries, and thought on its ancient gothic bridge of thirteen arches, with its defensive gate in the centre,-its massy walls, its church, where Bruce spilt the blood of Comyne, and its old castle, which tradition still loves to connect by a subterranean way with the beautiful old abbey of Linclouden, where the vision of Liberty descended to Burns. And though many of these things which gave it fame and note have passed away, and live but in the memory of the aged, or in the romantic description of a modern geographer, I thought their absence was far more than compensated by the enchantments which the magic wand of plenty, and the enterprize of its merchants and its tradesmen had wrought. The river which I had seen in my youth impeded by rocks, and navigation shut out by impassable sands, now moved wide and deep along, bearing many a going and coming sail,-the houses rose more lofty and regal,the streets were purer and broader, and the hum of business and industry was heard far and wide. "My native town," I said, "thy ancient name of Bonnie Dumfries,'-which I have heard pronounced by one of the fairest and noblest of Scotland's daughters, becomes thee more than ever. I hurried through the good old town, which, overflowing the ancient limits of its walls, had pushed its streets far among the green fields and gardens, and hastened northward; for my heart lay with a little nook of undistinguished earth some miles up the river.

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The sun was nigh to setting when I entered the upper vale of Nith, among the ancient strong holds of the Douglasses and Kirkpatricks. Here the hand of improvement had a heavier darke to do than even in the lower valley;-heath had been exchanged for corn,-wild hindberries and brambles, for the apple and the plumb; and the rough-footed fowls of the moss and the ling had flown away before the flocks of innumera

ble sheep and cattle which covered all the higher pasture lands. The memorial stones of the martyrs, which I left among heather, I found among wheat, their dwelling place sacred, and their legends renewed; the men who rode past me as I went, sat formerly in saddles of plaited straw, on shaggy and uncombed horses, they were now in shining leather with silver mountings, and on steeds worthy of bearing the burthen of knighthood. The women who walked to the kirk on Sunday, went formerly in gowns of homely gray, spun by their own frugal hands,they now flaunted in silks and in scarlets, and the youths fluttered in ruffles, and walked on the very limit of fashion. Here and there a broad blue bonnet, with tresses white and thin flowing from beneath it, might be seen,-here and there a dame in the antique and simple dress of the district, moved on stiff and stately, -and here and there a car without wheels dragged heavily along the ground, and here and there a farmer persisted in old modes of cultivation, and rode proudly on sonks of straw, with a halter of hair, rejoicing that in his person the simple patriarchal times were yet preserved. All else was changed! Though I could not help owning the increased wealth and beauty of the country, I looked upon it with something of sorrow:-the change seemed to me so violent and so sudden, that I shut my eyes and opened them again, to see that imagination was playing me none of her pranks. But the scene stood before me in invariable beauty, -the hills were there with their well remembered outline, and there was the hall of Drumlanrig,-once a palace in a desert, but now looking over a vast extent of orchards and inclosed fields. All this was proof that the place which I sought, and the dwelling of my kindred, was nigh.

At length, I reached the rising ground, from which Dalgarnock kirk, with its ranks of grave-stones, and its little village, are first visible to one travelling up the river bank. I stood on the very spot on which I stood in the morning of life, and gazed back on the vale with a full heart, when departing for a far country; I stood and gazed now, and my heart was scarcely less full when I

observed that kirk and village were both gone, and that the plough had passed over the hearth of many a house dear to my heart, and that corn was waving where fifteen chimnies had smoked. I missed the kirk and the village, and I looked around for the signs by which I distinguished the abode of my fathers. There stood an ancient pillar of stone, with rude figures and uncouth symbols carved on its sides, at the foot of which, in old times, people met and transacted bargains, sold cattle, and disposed of land,-there grew the three oaks, so similar in shape, in stem, and in' height, as to countenance the belief of the peasantry that not a bough or a leaf was on one but what had its companion on the others; and which, growing but a short step asunder, shoot up into a beautiful cone of green, and make them known by the name of the three brethren, wherever a Scotchman wanders. And beyond all these flowed the Nith, its clear stream scarce visible between its green banks, so much had it felt the influence of summer's heat. I singled out all these well-known memorials, but kirk and village were no longer visible. I was not prepared for this. I had heard, at times, of the visitations which death had made among the hearths of those I loved;-some had dropt away in the fulness of years,-some had sunk in their prime,-and some had found a grave in the raging sea, and others in the battle trench. One by one, therefore, had passed away of all I loved or esteemed, till one alone was left; but I had not heard that the village was desolate, and the kirk cast down, they had still been present to my imagination; and when far distant, and after hot and perilous battle, when I seated myself on the ground, and washed my hands, and removed the stains of battle from my dress, my thoughts flew home, and Dalgarnock village and kirk rose before me, full of venerable and friendly faces.

With a slow step and an agitated heart I made my way towards the old burial ground, for there I knew, whatever became of the kirk, the old sages of the parish would be buried; we are ever unwilling to mingle with other dust than that of our kindred. On the very brink of the river,-the

walls of which the stream moistens will that they had treated my auld when in flood, stood an old cottage, mistress of Scaur Water sae, who with a spot of garden in which a learned me all that I ken of the few coleworts grew,—the residence, craft, she wad have wagged her when I went abroad, of a person só thumb, and some fool fowk would old that she was suspected of witch- have moaned the death of their brats. craft, and withal so shrewd and Aye, she was the wife for the warld, adroit, that she contrived to levy a she could find siller where other tax equal to her subsistence on the fowk could see nought thicker than superstitious terrors and credulity of moonshine ; and wi' dog's-pluck, and her fellow parishioners. I remem- herring bone, and hollow hemlock, bered her wandering from house to could make a salve that would rehouse collecting meal, barley, and deem ane frae the grips of death. I cheese, clad in a white mutch, a gray have seen her do't. But the spell gown, and a black mantle, carrying o't's lost. I made some of the salve à long staff in her hand. Age, I myself, and feigh! it was fit to reckoned, had long ago consigned poison a pool of toads; it took all the her to a quiet grave; and if I had honey-comb of a wild bees' byke to actually seen her rising in her wind- souk the taste o't out of my mouth;”. ing sheet, I could not have been and she distorted her face, puckered more startled than I was now on be- her mouth in abhorrence, and coughholding her in the same dress, and ed vehemently, and thus she cone' with the self-same looks, seated upon tinued her curious complaint:a stone by the river side, enjoying “ Aye, aye, unsonsie looks ? nobothe warmth of the descending sun. dy cares for unsonsie looks now. I She had strewn her door-step with have seen on a day when they brought brackens and rushes, and there she baked bread, and new cheese, and sat spreading out her withered hands lapfuls of daintiths. I mind the time in the summer heat, and looking to- when the glance of an uncannie ee wards the west, and muttering was reckoned ruinous to any undersnatches of old superstitious prayers, taking. The cow on whilk ane half rhyme and half prose, which looked askance, shuddered, and rewere imagined in the darker days fused to yield milk,-the horse ane to contain spells against unhappy frowned on threw its rider, -- the chances and the approach of evil spi- bride who forgot to bid ane to her rits.

bridal, made her husband lord of a I stood and listened. When she barren bed,- the lass who forgot to concluded her prayers, she began to cast ane a plack as she went to the question their influence in her favour. tryste of her lover, never came mai« Hout, tout, why should I hang up den hame, and the proudest hopes of these sapless shoots from the rotten men, and the wisest wishes of wotree of popery aboon my door head? men, misgave and miscarried. But -they cannot hinder old age and po- now, the fiend have Girzie Gunson, verty to come ben, and these are the if the weakest head of the parish fiends which vex and scaur me. heeds whether she smile or frown. What imp or saint, it matters not I think the spiritual kingdom is over which, can put strength into my on earth,—the reign of spell and canlimbs, and marrow into my bones, traips gone. The only thing whilk and light into my een, that I might has happened to my wish of late, move about as I was wont, and get was when Habbie Hetherton's cow the plack, and the penny, and the bursted o’er a crib of dewy clover,curnie meal, and the ewe milk cheese, I ken whase four quarters he may and an ell or two of the new web, as thank for that,-he might have given in reason I should. But auld age' me a pound of yellow butter as his has worried up my skill, and the last douce mother did afore him,-let time I tottered out there came after him take that for making mouths at me many of the wicked youngsters, me. Od, I'm no sae auld and feckchips of the tree of perdition, - who less as some folk trow ;-there was shouted out 'witch,' and · beldame,' proud Pennie Purdie, that used to and though I wished them ill enough, cry after me, Witch, witch, score the fiend o' ane o' them was a plack thy brow and burn thee.' I trow I the worse. But had it been Sathan's gave her a dainty downcome with

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the wild lad of Moffat water. What wad ye think?-a gliff after gloaming fa, who should drop down by our gate end but Pensie Pennie. I ken o' your coming cummer, said I, ye are come for a cannie cast of my skill. Sae I gied her something that gaurd her skirl, and skriegh-the lucken browed limmer,-I ken'd weel how to do't;-I had done the samen wi' mysel ere seventeen simmers were o'er my head, she deserved it, she deserved it; what had she to do wi' my wee auld warld ways!" And she arose and drew her mantle proudly about her, tossed her head till all the remainder hairs danced for joy, and seemed to dilate herself with the thought that much of her old might remained unimpaired.

I had seen much of the world, and often smiled at the singular superstitions and wild beliefs which influence mankind in distant parts of the earth. It was now my turn to be under such influence. I had returned to the latitude of superstitions, which had a seat in my own bosom, and I could not help feeling something of a mingled curiosity and alarm, as I gazed on the beldame before me. I had often molested her when a boy, and mimicked the lowering of her brows, and the hanging and trembling of her under lip. I had chaced her gray cat into the cauldrons of Creahopelinn, and placed snares for her black cat, which half the dames of the district believed was inhabited by an evil spirit. I had stolen her crutch of broomstick, and watched it while it flamed in the fire for the flight of the spirit which she was supposed to have conjured into it. I had dug pitfalls in her path, turned the course of a flooded rivulet into her door,-and, to sum up all my delinquencies in one deed, I had, according to ancient prescription, boiled pins and nails among milk at midnight to cure a cow which was suffering from her witchcraft.

In spite of all these deeds, I was something of a favourite with old Grizel. I had done her many little acts of kindness, carried her many little presents during the stormy seasons, and protected her and her whole establishment from the boys of the vil lage, who like myself sought amusement in such mischief. Even when she sometimes detected me in working

her annoyance, she confined her resentment to the lowering of her brows, and the shaking of her staff, and an exclamation of "Ah, Andrew Laurie, thou art an evil one." But she never forgave me for the experi ment I made in expelling witchcraft from the cow; it was observed that her eyes darkened and her brows contracted whenever this feat was mentioned; and it was rumoured about the parish that on the night when I sought, much to my own terror, to dissolve the spell, Grizel was seen with dishevelled hair, eyes on fire, and feet which seemed touched with unnatural swiftness, running round the house where the charm was working with many a sob and shriek. It is true that I saw no such sight, and heard neither sob nor shriek; but the people around me were certain I had both heard and seen something, and the fame of my exploit flew far and wide, with many a strange addition, and many a marvellous comment. All this, Grizel, with the unsonsie foot, as she was called in the parish, heard from many lips, and every one expected to see me withered down by a sudden spell, -or pining slowly away,-or carried bodily off by evil spirits,-or drowned in the deepest pool in the river, and though none of all these things came to pass, people shook their heads, and muttered old saws and broken adages, all of which went to show that sudden death, or slow, would overtake me sometime. I had not seen her for some months, though I heard she was moving about more dreaded than ever, and I had begun to think, as I stood on a rising ground, and looked back on my native place as I left it for a far land, that I should never see her more. At that moment she stood before me,

looked me full in the face, and, laughing till the river bank rang again, cried, "bonnie Andrew Laurie, he'll never see kith, nor kin, nor Dalgarnock kirk mair."

All this, and much more than this, was present to my mind, now as I stood and hearkened her curious complaint. I thought she was alone, but on stealing nearer a step or two, under screen of a large bush of holly, I observed she had a companion,—a slim girl some sixteen years old or so, who was squatted aurong the

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grass at her feet. She had restless and hastily over her residence, like one piercing black eyes, and short curly taking note of an enemy's country. hair. A sort of bodice enclosed her On the other hand, ancient waist, a kirtle reached under her knee, Grizel brought down her lowering leaving her small active limbs en- brows, and lowered her nether lip tirely bare, and her whole person into close scrutiny of the gipsey's was tanned with the influence of the person, and her whole face seemed sun, as brown as a berry. A string to say—“ Nay, to spy out the land of brass and silver trinkets was round are ye come.” her neck,--a pair of massy gold rings Such suspicious glances appeared depended from her ears, and some- to strike awe into the bosom of the thing of a tawdry and stained em- bold young gipsey,—she selected a broidery ran round the neck of her ballad from her basket, and holding bodice. Of all these articles of gip- it up to her of the unsonsie foot, sey finery, as well as of a very hand- said, “ Shall I sing ye a song about some form, the young girl seemed the auld house of Laurie ?-they're sufficiently conscious; and as she a' dead and gane now; but it is weel looked from time to time on her my part to sing a song i' their praise: image, reflected so truly in the quiet -many a time have they sheltered water, it was not without a secret the houseless head of a Kennedy frae swelling of pride at her conquests the winter blast : five women and over Geordie Gordon, and Willie fifteen bairns-my ain mother, who Marshall, and Wattie Kennedy, and was drowned in Dryfe, was ane of all other young heroes of the clouted them-have sat at their hearth when cauldron and the mended spoon, from Drumlanrig gardens were a desart, Cosincon to Caerlaverock. A small and the bonnie corn lands of Closebasket, filled with the rude minstrel- burn were a' in the Lord's ain hand." sy of the district, stood beside her; and -And with a voice of great natural while she arranged her ballads, and sweetness, she sang, much to my concealed some pieces of coin, which surprise, a song about myself, which her knowledge in palmistry had con- she said was as true as that crooked jured from the reluctant hands of the horns made handsome spoons, and thrifty maidens of Closeburn, her that the cunning hand clouted the eyes were continually peering in the kettle. face of the old dame, and wandering

BONNIE ANDREW LAURIE.

Adown the barley's golden beard

The silver dew was dreeping,
As with the lad I loved, I met,

When a' the town was sleeping
- The heaven aboon my Nannie's bright,

The earth aneath her flow'rie,
Her sweet een aid the moon's pure light”-

Quo' bonnie Andrew Laurie.
I tried to scorn him, but my looks

Grew kinder ay and kinder,
With such a lovesome laddie near,

How could I be but tender ?
“ O had I all yon moon shines on,

I'd give thee't for a dowrie,
To wed me when I come frae sea"-

Quo' bonnie Andrew Laurie.
And maun I sit on yon green hill,

When midnight stars are burning,
And look my youthful bloom away,

In hopes of thy returning ;
While îlka dame who passes by,

Shall say right sharp and sourlie,
• Ye're waiting till the blue snow comes,
And bonnie Andrew Laurie.'

o

AUG. 1823.

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