pitiful thing o’ you, lucky, to take compassion on the orphan; hae, my laddie, there’s a saxpence.’
‘Saxpence, gudeman!’ exclaimed the Provost’s lady, ‘ye’ll ne’er even your han’ wi’ a saxpence to the like of Kittlestonheugh, for sae we’re bound in nature to call him, landless though his lairdship now be; poor bairn, I’m wae for’t. Ye ken his mother was sib to mine by the father’s side, and blood’s thicker than water ony day.’
Generosity is in some degree one of the necessary qualifications of a Glasgow magistrate, and Provost Gorbals being as well endowed with it as any of his successors have been since, was not displeased with the benevolent warmth of his wife, especially when he understood that Claud was of their own kin. On the contrary, he said affectionately,—
‘Really it was vera thoughtless o’ me, Liezy, my dear; but ye ken I have na an instinct to make me acquaint wi’ the particulars of folk, before hearing about them. I’m sure no living soul can have a greater compassion than mysel’ for gentle blood come to needcessity.’
Mrs. Gorbals, however, instead of replying to this remark—indeed, what could she say, for experience had taught her that it was perfectly just—addressed herself again to Maudge.
‘And whar dost t’ou live? and what hast t’ou to live upon?’
‘I hae but the mercy of Providence,’ was the humble answer of honest Maudge, ‘and a garret-room in John Sinclair’s lan’. I ettle as weel as I can for a morsel, by working stockings; but Claud’s a rumbling laddie, and needs mair than I hae to gi’e him: a young appetite’s a growing evil in the poor’s aught.’
The Provost and his wife looked kindly at each other, and the latter added,—
‘Gudeman, ye maun do something for them. It’ll no fare the waur wi’ our basket and our store.’
And Maudge was in consequence requested to bring Claud with her that evening to the Provost’s House in the Bridgegate. ‘I think,’ added Mrs. Gorbals, ‘that our Hughoc’s auld claes will just do for him; and Maudge, keep a good heart, we’ll no let thee want. I won’er t’ou did na think of making an application to us afore.’
‘No,’ replied the old woman, ‘I could ne’er do that—I would hae been in an unco strait before I would hae begget on my own account; and how could I think o’ disgracing the family? Any help that the Lord may dispose your hearts to gi’e, I’ll accept wi’ great thankfulness, but an almous is what I hope He’ll ne’er put it upon me to seek; and though Claud be for the present a weight and burden, yet, an he’s sparet, he’ll be able belyve to do something for himsel’.’
Both the Provost and Mrs. Gorbals commended her spirit; and, from this interview, the situation of Maudge was considerably improved by their constant kindness. Doubtless, had Mr. Gorbals lived, he would have assisted Claud into business, but, dying suddenly, his circumstances were discovered to be less flourishing than the world had imagined, and his widow found herself constrained to abridge her wonted liberality.
Maudge, however, wrestled with poverty as well as she could, till Claud had attained his eleventh year, when she thought he was of a sufficient capacity to do something for himself. Accordingly, she intimated to Mrs. Gorbals that she hoped it would be in her power to help her with the loan of a guinea to set him out in the world with a pack. This the lady readily promised, but advised her to make application first to his relation, Miss Christiana Heritage.
‘She’s in a bien circumstance,’ said Mrs. Gorbals, ‘for her father, auld Windywa’s, left her weel on to five hundred pounds, and her cousin, Lord Killycrankie, ane of the fifteen that ay staid in our house when he rode the Circuit, being heir of entail to her father, alloos her the use of the house, so that she’s in a way to do muckle for the laddie, if her heart were so inclined.’
Maudge, agreeably to this suggestion, went next day to Windywalls; but we must reserve our account of the mansion and its mistress to enrich our next chapter, for Miss Christiana was, even in our day and generation, a personage of no small consequence in her own eyes: indeed, for that matter, she was no less in ours, if we may judge by the niche which she occupies in the gallery of our recollection, after the lapse of more than fifty years.
CHAPTER III
In the course of the same summer in which we commenced those grammar-school acquirements, that, in after-life, have been so deservedly celebrated, our revered relative, the late old Lady Havers, carried us in her infirm dowagerian chariot to pay her annual visit to Miss Christiana Heritage. In the admiration with which we contemplated the venerable mansion and its ancient mistress, an indistinct vision rises in our fancy of a large irregular whitewashed house, with a tall turnpike staircase; over the low and dwarfish arched door of which a huge cable was carved in stone, and dropped in a knotted festoon at each side. The traditions of the neighbourhood ascribed this carving to the Pictish sculptors, who executed the principal ornaments of the High Kirk of Glasgow.
On entering under this feudal arch we ascended a spiral stair, and were shown into a large and lofty room, on three sides of which, each far in a deep recess, was a narrow window glazed with lozens of yellow glass, that seemed scarcely more transparent than horn. The walls were hung with tapestry, from which tremendous forms, in warlike attitudes and with grim aspects, frowned in apparitional obscurity.
But of all the circumstances of a visit, which we must ever consider as a glimpse into the presence-chamber of the olden time, none made so deep and so vivid an impression upon our young remembrance as the appearance and deportment of Miss Christiana herself. She had been apprised of Lady Havers’ coming, and was seated in state to receive her, on a large settee adorned with ancestral needlework. She rose as our venerable relation entered the room. Alas! we have lived to know that we shall never again behold the ceremonial of a reception half so solemnly performed.
Miss Christiana was dressed in a courtly suit of purple Genoese velvet; her petticoat, spread by her hoop, extended almost to arms-length at each side. The ruffle cuffs which hung at her elbows loaded with lead, were coëval with the Union, having been worn by her mother when she attended her husband to that assembly of the States of Scotland, which put an end to the independence and poverty of the kingdom. But who, at this distance of time, shall presume to estimate the altitude of the Babylonian tower of toupees and lappets which adorned Miss Christiana’s brow?
It is probable that the reception which she gave to poor Maudge and Claud was not quite so ceremonious as ours; for the substantial benison of the visit was but half-a-crown. Mrs. Gorbals, on hearing this, exclaimed with a just indignation against the near-be-gawn Miss Christiana, and setting herself actively to work, soon collected, among her acquaintance, a small sum sufficient to enable Maudge to buy and furnish a pack for Claud. James Bridle the saddlemaker, who had worked for his father, gave him a present of a strap to sling it over his shoulder; and thus, with a judicious selection of godly and humorous tracts, curtain rings, sleeve buttons, together with a compendious assortment of needles and pins, thimbles, stay-laces and garters, with a bunch of ballads and excellent new songs, Claud Walkinshaw espoused his fortune.
His excursions at first were confined to the neighbouring villages, and as he was sly and gabby, he soon contrived to get in about the good-will of the farmers’ wives, and in process of time, few pedlars in all the west country were better liked, though every one complained that he was the dearest and the gairest.
His success equalled the most sanguine expectations of Maudge, but
