Chapter 6
Three Years—Lilly's
Grammar—Proficiency—Ignorant of Figures—The School Bell—Order of
Succession—Persecution—What are we to do?—Northward—A Goodly Scene—Haunted
Ground—Feats of Chivalry—Rivers—Over the Brig.
Years passed on, even three years; during this
period I had increased considerably in stature and in strength, and, let us
hope, improved in mind; for I had entered on the study of the Latin language.
The very first person to whose care I was intrusted for the acquisition of
Latin was an old friend of my father's, a clergyman who kept a seminary at a
town the very next we visited after our departure from "the Cross."
Under his instruction, however, I continued only a few weeks, as we speedily
left the place. "Captain," said this divine, when my father came to
take leave of him on the eve of our departure, "I have a friendship for
you, and therefore wish to give you a piece of advice concerning this son of
yours. You are now removing him from my care; you do wrong, but we will let
that pass. Listen to me: there is but one good school book in the world—the one
I use in my seminary—Lilly's Latin Grammar, in which your son has already made
some progress. If you are anxious for the success of your son in life, for the
correctness of his conduct and the soundness of his principles, keep him to
Lilly's Grammar. If you can by any means, either fair or foul, induce him to
get by heart Lilly's Latin Grammar, you may set your heart at rest with respect
to him; I, myself, will be his warrant. I never yet knew a boy that was
induced, either by fair means or foul, to learn Lilly's Latin Grammar by heart,
who did not turn out a man, provided he lived long enough."
My father, who did not understand the classical
languages, received with respect the advice of his old friend, and from that
moment conceived the highest opinion of Lilly's Latin Grammar. During three
years I studied Lilly's Latin Grammar under the tuition of various
schoolmasters, for I travelled with the regiment, and in every town in which we
were stationed I was invariably (God bless my father!) sent to the classical
academy of the place. It chanced, by good fortune, that in the generality of
these schools the grammar of Lilly was in use; when, however, that was not the
case, it made no difference in my educational course, my father always
stipulating with the masters that I should be daily examined in Lilly. At the
end of the three years I had the whole by heart; you had only to repeat the
first two or three words of any sentence in any part of the book, and forthwith
I would open cry, commencing without blundering and hesitation, and continue
till you were glad to beg me to leave off, with many expressions of admiration
at my proficiency in the Latin language. Sometimes, however, to convince you
how well I merited these encomiums, I would follow you to the bottom of the
stair, and even into the street, repeating in a kind of sing-song measure the
sonorous lines of the golden schoolmaster. If I am here asked whether I
understood anything of what I had got by heart, I reply—"Never mind, I
understand it all now, and believe that no one ever yet got Lilly's Latin
Grammar by heart when young, who repented of the feat at a mature age."
And, when my father saw that I had accomplished my
task, he opened his mouth, and said, "Truly, this is more than I expected.
I did not think that there had been so much in you, either of application or
capacity; you have now learnt all that is necessary, if my friend Dr. B—-'s
opinion was sterling, as I have no doubt it was. You are still a child,
however, and must yet go to school, in order that you may be kept out of evil
company. Perhaps you may still contrive, now you have exhausted the barn, to
pick up a grain or two in the barnyard. You are still ignorant of figures, I
believe, not that I would mention figures in the same day with Lilly's
Grammar."
These words were uttered in a place called ——, in
the north, or in the road to the north, to which, for some time past, our corps
had been slowly advancing. I was sent to the school of the place, which chanced
to be a day school. It was a somewhat extraordinary one, and a somewhat
extraordinary event occurred to me within its walls.
It occupied part of the farther end of a small
plain, or square, at the outskirts of the town, close to some extensive
bleaching fields. It was a long low building of one room, with no upper story;
on the top was a kind of wooden box, or sconce, which I at first mistook for a
pigeon-house, but which in reality contained a bell, to which was attached a
rope, which, passing through the ceiling, hung dangling in the middle of the
school-room. I am the more particular in mentioning this appurtenance, as I had
soon occasion to scrape acquaintance with it in a manner not very agreeable to
my feelings. The master was very proud of his bell, if I might judge from the
fact of his eyes being frequently turned to that part of the ceiling from which
the rope depended. Twice every day, namely, after the morning and evening tasks
had been gone through, were the boys rung out of school by the monotonous
jingle of this bell. This ringing out was rather a lengthy affair, for, as the
master was a man of order and method, the boys were only permitted to go out of
the room one by one; and as they were rather numerous, amounting, at least, to
one hundred, and were taught to move at a pace of suitable decorum, at least a
quarter of an hour elapsed from the commencement of the march before the last
boy could make his exit. The office of bell-ringer was performed by every boy
successively; and it so happened that, the very first day of my attendance at
the school, the turn to ring the bell had, by order of succession, arrived at
the place which had been allotted to me; for the master, as I have already
observed, was a man of method and order, and every boy had a particular seat,
to which he became a fixture as long as he continued at the school.
So, upon this day, when the tasks were done and
completed, and the boys sat with their hats and caps in their hands, anxiously
expecting the moment of dismissal, it was suddenly notified to me, by the
urchins who sat nearest to me, that I must get up and ring the bell. Now, as
this was the first time that I had been at the school, I was totally
unacquainted with the process, which I had never seen, and, indeed, had never
heard of till that moment. I therefore sat still, not imagining it possible
that any such duty could be required of me. But now, with not a little
confusion, I perceived that the eyes of all the boys in the school were fixed
upon me. Presently there were nods and winks in the direction of the bell-rope;
and, as these produced no effect, uncouth visages were made, like those of
monkeys when enraged; teeth were gnashed, tongues thrust out, and even fists
were bent at me. The master, who stood at the end of the room, with a huge
ferule under his arm, bent full upon me a look of stern appeal; and the ushers,
of whom there were four, glared upon me, each from his own particular corner,
as I vainly turned, in one direction and another, in search of one reassuring
look.
But now, probably in obedience to a sign from the
master, the boys in my immediate neighbourhood began to maltreat me. Some
pinched me with their fingers, some buffeted me, whilst others pricked me with
pins, or the points of compasses. These arguments were not without effect. I
sprang from my seat, and endeavoured to escape along a double line of benches,
thronged with boys of all ages, from the urchin of six or seven, to the
nondescript of sixteen or seventeen. It was like running the gauntlet; every
one, great or small, pinching, kicking, or otherwise maltreating me as I passed
by.
Goaded on in this manner, I at length reached the
middle of the room, where dangled the bell-rope, the cause of all my
sufferings. I should have passed it—for my confusion was so great, that I was
quite at a loss to comprehend what all this could mean, and almost believed
myself under the influence of an ugly dream—but now the boys, who were seated
in advance in the row, arose with one accord, and barred my farther progress;
and one, doubtless more sensible than the rest, seizing the rope, thrust it
into my hand. I now began to perceive that the dismissal of the school, and my
own release from torment, depended upon this self same rope. I therefore, in a
fit of desperation, pulled it once or twice, and then left off, naturally
supposing that I had done quite enough. The boys who sat next the door, no
sooner heard the bell, than rising from their seats, they moved out at the
door. The bell, however, had no sooner ceased to jingle, than they stopped
short, and, turning round, stared at the master, as much as to say, "What
are we to do now?" This was too much for the patience of the man of
method, which my previous stupidity had already nearly exhausted. Dashing
forward into the middle of the room, he struck me violently on the shoulders
with his ferule, and snatching the rope out of my hand, exclaimed, with a
stentorian voice, and genuine Yorkshire accent. "Prodigy of ignorance!
dost not even know how to ring a bell? Must I myself instruct thee?" He
then commenced pulling at the bell with such violence, that long before half
the school was dismissed the rope broke, and the rest of the boys had to depart
without their accustomed music.
But I must not linger here, though I could say
much about the school and the pedagogue highly amusing and diverting, which,
however, I suppress, in order to make way for matters of yet greater interest.
On we went, northward, northward! and, as we advanced, I saw that the country
was becoming widely different from those parts of merry England in which we had
previously travelled. It was wilder, and less cultivated, and more broken with
hills and hillocks. The people, too, of those regions appeared to partake of
something of the character of their country. They were coarsely dressed; tall
and sturdy of frame; their voices were deep and guttural; and the half of the
dialect which they spoke was unintelligible to my ears.
I often wondered where we could be going, for I
was at this time about as ignorant of geography as I was of most other things.
However, I held my peace, asked no questions, and patiently awaited the issue.
Northward, northward, still! And it came to pass
that, one morning, I found myself extended on the bank of a river. It was a
beautiful morning of early spring; small white clouds were floating in the
heaven, occasionally veiling the countenance of the sun, whose light, as they
retired, would again burst forth, coursing like a racehorse over the scene—and
a goodly scene it was! Before me, across the water, on an eminence, stood a
white old city, surrounded with lofty walls, above which rose the tops of tall
houses, with here and there a church or steeple. To my right hand was a long
and massive bridge, with many arches and of antique architecture, which
traversed the river. The river was a noble one; the broadest that I had
hitherto seen. Its waters, of a greenish tinge, poured with impetuosity beneath
the narrow arches to meet the sea, close at hand, as the boom of the billows
breaking distinctly upon a beach declared. There were songs upon the river from
the fisher-barks; and occasionally a chorus, plaintive and wild, such as I had
never heard before, the words of which I did not understand, but which at the
present time, down the long avenue of years, seem in memory's ear to sound like
"Horam, coram, dago." Several robust fellows were near me, some
knee-deep in water, employed in hauling the seine upon the strand. Huge fish
were struggling amidst the meshes—princely salmon—their brilliant mail of blue
and silver flashing in the morning beam; so goodly and gay a scene, in truth,
had never greeted my boyish eye.
And, as I gazed upon the prospect, my bosom began
to heave, and my tears to trickle. Was it the beauty of the scene which gave
rise to these emotions? Possibly; for though a poor ignorant child—a half-wild
creature—I was not insensible to the loveliness of nature, and took pleasure in
the happiness and handiworks of my fellow-creatures. Yet, perhaps, in something
more deep and mysterious the feelings which then pervaded me might originate.
Who can lie down on Elvir Hill without experiencing something of the sorcery of
the place? Flee from Elvir Hill, young swain, or the maids of Elle will have
power over you, and you will go elf-wild!—so say the Danes. I had unconsciously
laid myself down on haunted ground; and I am willing to imagine that what I
then experienced was rather connected with the world of spirits and dreams than
with what I actually saw and heard around me. Surely the elves and genii of the
place were conversing, by some inscrutable means, with the principle of
intelligence lurking within the poor uncultivated clod! Perhaps to that
ethereal principle the wonders of the past, as connected with that stream, the
glories of the present, and even the history of the future, were at that moment
being revealed! Of how many feats of chivalry had those old walls been witness,
when hostile kings contended for their possession?—how many an army from the
south and from the north had trod that old bridge?—what red and noble blood had
crimsoned those rushing waters?—what strains had been sung, ay, were yet being
sung on its banks?—some soft as Doric reed; some fierce and sharp as those of
Norwegian Skaldaglam; some as replete with wild and wizard force as Finland's
runes, singing of Kalevale's moors, and the deeds of Woinomoinen! Honour to
thee, thou island stream! Onward may thou ever roll, fresh and green, rejoicing
in thy bright past, thy glorious present, and in vivid hope of a triumphant
future! Flow on, beautiful one!—which of the world's streams canst thou envy, with
thy beauty and renown? Stately is the Danube, rolling in its might through
lands romantic with the wild exploits of Turk, Polak, and Magyar! Lovely is the
Rhine! on its shelvy banks grows the racy grape; and strange old keeps of
robber-knights of yore are reflected in its waters, from picturesque crags and
airy headlands!—yet neither the stately Danube, nor the beauteous Rhine, with
all their fame, though abundant, needst thou envy, thou pure island stream!—and
far less yon turbid river of old, not modern renown, gurgling beneath the walls
of what was once proud Rome, towering Rome, Jupiter's town, but now vile Rome,
crumbling Rome, Batuscha's town, far less needst thou envy the turbid Tiber of
bygone fame, creeping sadly to the sea, surcharged with the abominations of
modern Rome—how unlike to thee, thou pure island stream!
And as I lay on the bank and wept, there drew nigh
to me a man in the habiliments of a fisher. He was bare-legged, of a
weather-beaten countenance, and of stature approaching to the gigantic.
"What is the callant greeting for?" said he, as he stopped and
surveyed me. "Has ony body wrought ye ony harm?"
"Not that I know of," I replied, rather
guessing at than understanding his question; "I was crying because I could
not help it! I say, old one, what is the name of this river?"
"Hout! I now see what you was greeting at—at
your ain ignorance, nae doubt—'tis very great! Weel, I will na fash you with
reproaches, but even enlighten ye, since you seem a decent man's bairn, and you
speir a civil question. Yon river is called the Tweed; and yonder, over the
brig, is Scotland. Did ye never hear of the Tweed, my bonny man?"
"No," said I, as I rose from the grass,
and proceeded to cross the bridge to the town at which we had arrived the
preceding night; "I never heard of it; but now I have seen it, I shall not
soon forget it!
Chapter 7
The Castle—A Father's
Inquiries—Scotch Language—A Determination—Bui Hin Digri—Good
Scotchman—Difference of Races—Ne'er a Haggis—Pugnacious People—Wha are Ye,
Mon—The Nor Loch—Gestures Wild—The Bicker—New Town Champion—Wild-Looking
Figure—Headlong.
It was not long before we found ourselves at
Edinburgh, or rather in the Castle, into which the regiment marched with drums
beating, colours flying, and a long train of baggage-waggons behind. The Castle
was, as I suppose it is now, a garrison for soldiers. Two other regiments were
already there; the one an Irish, if I remember right, the other a small
Highland corps.
It is hardly necessary to say much about this
Castle, which everybody has seen; on which account, doubtless, nobody has ever
yet thought fit to describe it—at least that I am aware. Be this as it may, I
have no intention of describing it, and shall content myself with observing,
that we took up our abode in that immense building, or caserne, of modern
erection, which occupies the entire eastern side of the bold rock on which the
Castle stands. A gallant caserne it was—the best and roomiest that I had hitherto
seen—rather cold and windy, it is true, especially in the winter, but
commanding a noble prospect of a range of distant hills, which I was told were
"the hieland hills," and of a broad arm of the sea, which I heard
somebody say was the Firth of Forth.
My brother, who, for some years past, had been
receiving his education in a certain celebrated school in England, was now with
us; and it came to pass, that one day my father, as he sat at table, looked
steadfastly on my brother and myself, and then addressed my
mother:—"During my journey down hither I have lost no opportunity of
making inquiries about these people, the Scotch, amongst whom we now are, and
since I have been here I have observed them attentively. From what I have heard
and seen, I should say that upon the whole they are a very decent set of
people; they seem acute and intelligent, and I am told that their system of
education is so excellent, that every person is learned—more or less acquainted
with Greek and Latin. There is one thing, however, connected with them, which
is a great drawback—the horrid jargon which they speak. However learned they
may be in Greek and Latin, their English is execrable; and yet I'm told it is
not so bad as it was. I was in company the other day with an Englishman who has
resided here many years. We were talking about the country and the people. 'I
should like both very well,' said I, 'were it not for the language. I wish
sincerely our Parliament, which is passing so many foolish acts every year,
would pass one to force these Scotch to speak English.' 'I wish so, too,' said
he. 'The language is a disgrace to the British Government; but, if you had
heard it twenty years ago, captain!—if you had heard it as it was spoken when I
first came to Edinburgh!'"
"Only custom," said my mother. "I
dare say the language is now what it was then."
"I don't know," said my father;
"though I dare say you are right; it could never have been worse than it
is at present. But now to the point. Were it not for the language, which, if
the boys were to pick it up, might ruin their prospects in life,—were it not
for that, I should very much like to send them to a school there is in this
place, which everybody talks about—the High School, I think they call it. 'Tis
said to be the best school in the whole island; but the idea of one's children
speaking Scotch—broad Scotch! I must think the matter over."
And he did think the matter over; and the result
of his deliberation was a determination to send us to the school. Let me call
thee up before my mind's eye, High School, to which, every morning, the two
English brothers took their way from the proud old Castle through the lofty
streets of the Old Town. High School!—called so, I scarcely know why; neither
lofty in thyself nor by position, being situated in a flat bottom; oblong
structure of tawny stone, with many windows fenced with iron netting—with thy
long hall below, and thy five chambers above, for the reception of the five
classes, into which the eight hundred urchins, who styled thee instructress,
were divided. Thy learned rector and his four subordinate dominies; thy strange
old porter of the tall form and grizzled hair, hight Boee, and doubtless of
Norse ancestry, as his name declares; perhaps of the blood of Bui hin Digri,
the hero of northern song—the Jomsborg Viking who clove Thorsteinn Midlaagr
asunder in the dread sea battle of Horunga Vog, and who, when the fight was
lost and his own two hands smitten off, seized two chests of gold with his
bloody stumps, and, springing with them into the sea, cried to the scanty
relics of his crew, "Overboard now, all Bui's lads!" Yes, I remember
all about thee, and how at eight of every morn we were all gathered together
with one accord in the long hall, from which, after the litanies had been read
(for so I will call them, being an Episcopalian), the five classes from the
five sets of benches trotted off in long files, one boy after the other, up the
five spiral staircases of stone, each class to its destination; and well do I
remember how we of the third sat hushed and still, watched by the eye of the
dux, until the door opened, and in walked that model of a good Scotchman, the
shrewd, intelligent, but warm-hearted and kind dominie, the respectable Carson.
And in this school I began to construe the Latin
language, which I had never done before, notwithstanding my long and diligent
study of Lilly, which illustrious grammar was not used at Edinburgh, nor indeed
known. Greek was only taught in the fifth or highest class, in which my brother
was; as for myself, I never got beyond the third during the two years that I
remained at this seminary. I certainly acquired here a considerable insight in
the Latin tongue; and, to the scandal of my father and horror of my mother, a
thorough proficiency in the Scotch, which, in less than two months, usurped the
place of the English, and so obstinately maintained its ground, that I still
can occasionally detect its lingering remains. I did not spend my time
unpleasantly at this school, though, first of all, I had to pass through an
ordeal.
"Scotland is a better country than
England," said an ugly, blear-eyed lad, about a head and shoulders taller
than myself, the leader of a gang of varlets who surrounded me in the
play-ground, on the first day, as soon as the morning lesson was over.
"Scotland is a far better country than England, in every respect."
"Is it?" said I. "Then you ought to
be very thankful for not having been born in England."
"That's just what I am, ye loon; and every
morning when I say my prayers, I thank God for not being an Englishman. The
Scotch are a much better and braver people than the English."
"It may be so," said I, "for what I
know—indeed, till I came here, I never heard a word either about the Scotch or
their country."
"Are ye making fun of us, ye English
puppy?" said the blear-eyed lad; "take that!" and I was
presently beaten black and blue. And thus did I first become aware of the
difference of races and their antipathy to each other.
"Bow to the storm, and it shall pass over
you." I held my peace, and silently submitted to the superiority of the
Scotch—in numbers. This was enough; from an object of persecution I soon became
one of patronage, especially amongst the champions of the class. "The
English," said the blear-eyed lad, "though a wee bit behind the
Scotch in strength and fortitude, are nae to be sneezed at, being far ahead of
the Irish, to say nothing of the French, a pack of cowardly scoundrels. And
with regard to the English country, it is na Scotland, it is true, but it has
its gude properties; and, though there is ne'er a haggis in a' the land,
there's an unco deal o' gowd and siller. I respect England, for I have an
auntie married there."
The Scotch are certainly a most pugnacious people;
their whole history proves it. Witness their incessant wars with the English in
the olden time, and their internal feuds, highland with lowland, clan with
clan, family with family, Saxon with Gael. In my time, the schoolboys, for
want, perhaps, of English urchins to contend with, were continually fighting
with each other; every noon there was at least one pugilistic encounter, and
sometimes three. In one month I witnessed more of these encounters than I had
ever previously seen under similar circumstances in England. After all, there
was not much harm done. Harm! what harm could result from short chopping blows,
a hug, and a tumble? I was witness to many a sounding whack, some blood shed,
"a blue e'e" now and then, but nothing more. In England, on the
contrary, where the lads were comparatively mild, gentle, and pacific, I had
been present at more than one death caused by blows in boyish combats, in which
the oldest of the victors had scarcely reached thirteen years; but these blows
were in the jugular, given with the full force of the arm shot out horizontally
from the shoulder.
But, the Scotch—though by no means proficients in
boxing (and how should they box, seeing that they have never had a
teacher?)—are, I repeat, a most pugnacious people; at least they were in my
time. Anything served them, that is, the urchins, as a pretence for a fray, or,
Dorically speaking, a bicker; every street and close was at feud with its
neighbour; the lads of the school were at feud with the young men of the
college, whom they pelted in winter with snow, and in summer with stones; and
then the feud between the Old and New Town!
One day I was standing on the ramparts of the
castle on the southwestern side which overhangs the green brae, where it slopes
down into what was in those days the green swamp or morass, called by the
natives of Auld Reekie the Nor' Loch; it was a dark gloomy day, and a thin veil
of mist was beginning to settle down upon the brae and the morass. I could
perceive, however, that there was a skirmish taking place in the latter spot. I
had an indistinct view of two parties—apparently of urchins—and I heard whoops
and shrill cries: eager to know the cause of this disturbance, I left the
castle, and descending the brae reached the borders of the morass, where was a
runnel of water and the remains of an old wall, on the other side of which a
narrow path led across the swamp: upon this path at a little distance before me
there was "a bicker." I pushed forward, but had scarcely crossed the
ruined wall and runnel, when the party nearest to me gave way, and in great
confusion came running in my direction. As they drew nigh, one of them shouted
to me, "Wha are ye, mon? are ye o' the Auld Toon?" I made no answer.
"Ha! ye are of the New Toon; De'il tak ye, we'll murder ye;" and the
next moment a huge stone sung past my head. "Let me be, ye fule bodies,"
said I, "I'm no of either of ye, I live yonder aboon in the castle."
"Ah! ye live in the castle; then ye're an auld tooner; come gie us your
help, man, and dinna stand there staring like a dunnot, we want help sair
eneugh. Here are stanes."
For my own part I wished for nothing better, and,
rushing forward, I placed myself at the head of my new associates, and
commenced flinging stones fast and desperately. The other party now gave way in
their turn, closely followed by ourselves; I was in the van, and about to
stretch out my hand to seize the hindermost boy of the enemy, when, not being
acquainted with the miry and difficult paths of the Nor Loch, and in my
eagerness taking no heed of my footing, I plunged into a quagmire, into which I
sank as far as my shoulders. Our adversaries no sooner perceived this disaster,
than, setting up a shout, they wheeled round and attacked us most vehemently.
Had my comrades now deserted me, my life had not been worth a straw's purchase,
I should either have been smothered in the quag, or, what is more probable, had
my brains beaten out with stones; but they behaved like true Scots, and fought
stoutly around their comrade, until I was extricated, whereupon both parties
retired, the night being near at hand.
"Ye are na a bad hand at flinging stanes,"
said the lad who first addressed me, as we now returned up the brae; "your
aim is right dangerous, mon, I saw how ye skelpit them, ye maun help us agin
thae New Toon blackguards at our next bicker."
So to the next bicker I went, and to many more,
which speedily followed as the summer advanced; the party to which I had given
my help on the first occasion consisted merely of outlyers, posted about half
way up the hill, for the purpose of overlooking the movements of the enemy.
Did the latter draw nigh in any considerable
force, messengers were forthwith despatched to the "auld toon,"
especially to the filthy alleys and closes of the High Street, which forthwith
would disgorge swarms of bare-headed and bare-footed "callants," who,
with gestures wild and "eldrich screech and hollo," might frequently
be seen pouring down the sides of the hill. I have seen upwards of a thousand
engaged on either side in these frays, which I have no doubt were full as
desperate as the fights described in the Iliad, and which were certainly much
more bloody than the combats of modern Greece in the war of independence: the
callants not only employed their hands in hurling stones, but not unfrequently
slings; at the use of which they were very expert, and which occasionally dislodged
teeth, shattered jaws, or knocked out an eye. Our opponents certainly laboured
under considerable disadvantage, being compelled not only to wade across a
deceitful bog, but likewise to clamber up part of a steep hill before they
could attack us; nevertheless, their determination was such, and such their
impetuosity, that we had sometimes difficulty enough to maintain our own. I
shall never forget one bicker, the last indeed which occurred at that time, as
the authorities of the town, alarmed by the desperation of its character,
stationed forthwith a body of police on the hill side, to prevent, in future,
any such breaches of the peace.
It was a beautiful Sunday evening, the rays of the
descending sun were reflected redly from the grey walls of the castle, and from
the black rocks on which it was founded. The bicker had long since commenced,
stones from sling and hand were flying; but the callants of the New Town were
now carrying everything before them.
A full-grown baker's apprentice was at their head;
he was foaming with rage, and had taken the field, as I was told, in order to
avenge his brother, whose eye had been knocked out in one of the late bickers.
He was no slinger, or flinger, but brandished in his right hand the spoke of a
cart-wheel, like my countryman Tom Hickathrift of old in his encounter with the
giant of the Lincolnshire fen. Protected by a piece of wicker-work attached to
his left arm, he rushed on to the fray, disregarding the stones which were
showered against him, and was ably seconded by his followers. Our own party was
chased half way up the hill, where I was struck to the ground by the baker,
after having been foiled in an attempt which I had made to fling a handful of
earth into his eyes. All now appeared lost, the Auld Toon was in full retreat.
I myself lay at the baker's feet, who had just raised his spoke, probably to
give me the coup de grace,—it was an awful moment. Just then I heard a shout
and a rushing sound; a wild-looking figure is descending the hill with terrible
bounds; it is a lad of some fifteen years; he is bare-headed, and his red
uncombed hair stands on end like hedgehogs' bristles; his frame is lithy, like
that of an antelope, but he has prodigious breadth of chest; he wears a
military undress, that of the regiment, even of a drummer, for it is wild Davy,
whom a month before I had seen enlisted on Leith Links to serve King George
with drum and drumstick as long as his services might be required, and who, ere
a week had elapsed, had smitten with his fist Drum-Major Elzigood, who,
incensed at his inaptitude, had threatened him with his cane; he has been in
confinement for weeks, this is the first day of his liberation, and he is now
descending the hill with horrid bounds and shoutings; he is now about five
yards distant, and the baker, who apprehends that something dangerous is at
hand, prepares himself for the encounter; but what avails the strength of a
baker, even full grown?—what avails the defence of a wicker shield? what avails
the wheel-spoke, should there be an opportunity of using it, against the
impetus of an avalanche or a cannon ball?—for to either of these might that
wild figure be compared, which, at the distance of five yards, sprang at once
with head, hands, feet and body, all together, upon the champion of the New
Town, tumbling him to the earth amain. And now it was the turn of the Old Town
to triumph. Our late discomfited host, returning on its steps, overwhelmed the
fallen champion with blows of every kind, and then, led on by his vanquisher
who had assumed his arms, namely, the wheelspoke and wicker shield, fairly
cleared the brae of their adversaries, whom they drove down headlong into the
morass.
