  OLD MORTALITY commenced a series of novels which Scott entitled "Tales of my Landlord." The title was a sobriquet given to Robert Paterson, an eccentric native of Dumfriesshire, who, during the latter portion of the eighteenth century, repaired without recompence the tombstones of the Covenanters in the southern counties; but the novel treats of Scottish manners during the period when those commemorated by Old Mortality were alive. It was published in December 1816, and within six weeks two editions, each of two thousand, disappeared. In the sketch of the "Black Linn of Linklater," the artist has caught the moment when Morton looked round him, and the girl, his companion, pulled his sleeve, and pointing to the oak and the projecting rock beyond it, indicated that there lay his farther passage. "He gazed at her with surprise, for although he well knew that the persecuted Presbyterians had sought refuge among dells and thickets, caves and cataracts, in spots the most extraordinary and secluded, yet his imagination had never exactly figured out the horrors of such a residence..... He began to consider how he should traverse the doubtful and terrific bridge, which, skirted by the cascade, and rendered wet and slippery by its constant drizzling, traversed the chasm above sixty feet from the bottom of the fall Fixing his eye on a stationary object on the other side he resolved to attempt the passage...." The inhabitant of this secluded retreat was Balfour of Burley, with whom he was desirous of renewing an acquaintance, which had been broken off since the fight of Bothwell Bridge.
The scene of "Cuddie's leave-taking" has formed an appropriate subject for the pencil of Mr Cruikshank. "Fare ye weel, Jenny," said Cuddie, with a loud exertion of his lungs, intended, perhaps, to be a sigh, but rather resembling a groan. "Ye'll think of puir Cuddie sometimes; an honest lad that lo'es ye, Jenny! Ye'll think o' him now and then?" "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.
044
|
|
