Part 22 (1/2)

The race had now endured a considerable time, and seemed to be no nearer to a conclusion, when, on a sudden, the pony turned short, upon an attempt of his master to stop him, and rushed precipitately into a large bog or quagmire, which was full before him; here he made him a momentary halt, and Tommy wisely embraced the opportunity of letting himself slide off upon a soft and yielding bed of mire. The servant now came up to Tommy and rescued him from his disagreeable situation, where, however, he had received no other damage than that of daubing himself all over.

William had been at first very much frightened at the danger of his master; but when he saw that he had so luckily escaped all hurt, he could not help asking him, with a smile, whether this too was a stroke of Arabian horsemans.h.i.+p? Tommy was a little provoked at this reflection upon his horsemans.h.i.+p; but, as he had now lost something of his irritability by repeated mortification, he wisely repressed his pa.s.sion, and desired William to catch his horse, while he returned homewards on foot to warm himself. The servant, therefore, endeavoured to approach the pony, who, as if contented with the triumph he had obtained over his rider, was quietly feeding at a little distance; but the instant William approached, he set off again at a violent rate, and seemed disposed to lead him a second chase not inferior to the first.

In the meantime Tommy walked pensively along the common, reflecting on the various accidents which had befallen him, and the repeated disappointments he had found in all his attempts to distinguish himself.

While he was thus engaged, he overtook a poor and ragged figure, the singularity of whose appearance engaged his attention. It was a man of middle age, in a dress he had never seen before, with two poor children that seemed with difficulty to keep up with him, while he carried a third in his arms, whose pale emaciated looks sufficiently declared disease and pain. The man had upon his head a coa.r.s.e blue bonnet instead of a hat; he was wrapped round by a tattered kind of garment, striped with various colours, and at his side hung down a long and formidable sword.

Tommy surveyed him with such an earnest observation, that at length the man took notice of it, and, bowing to him with the greatest civility, ventured to ask him if he had met with any accident, that he appeared in a disorder which suited so little with his quality. Tommy was not a little pleased with the discernment of the man, who could distinguish his importance in spite of the dirtiness of his clothes, and therefore mildly answered, ”No, friend, there is not much the matter. I have a little obstinate horse that ran away with me, and after trying in vain to throw me down, he plunged into the middle of that great bog there, and so I jumped off for fear of being swallowed up, otherwise I should soon have made him submit, for I am used to such things, and don't mind them in the least.”

Here the child that the man was carrying began to cry bitterly, and the father endeavoured to pacify him, but in vain. ”Poor thing,” said Tommy, ”he seems to be unwell; I am heartily sorry for him!” ”Alas! master,”

answered the man, ”he is not well, indeed; he has now a violent ague fit upon him, and I have not had a morsel of bread to give him or any of the rest since yesterday noon.”

Tommy was naturally generous, and now his mind was unusually softened by the remembrance of his own recent distresses; he therefore pulled a s.h.i.+lling out of his pocket and gave it to the man, saying, ”Here, my honest friend, here is something to buy your child some food, and I sincerely wish he may soon recover.” ”G.o.d bless your sweet face!” said the man; ”you are the best friend I have seen this many a day; but for this kind a.s.sistance we might have been all lost.” He then, with many bows and thanks, struck across the common into a different path, and Tommy went forward, feeling a greater pleasure at this little act of humanity than he had long been acquainted with among all the fine acquaintance he had lately contracted.

But he had walked a very little way with these reflections before he met with a new adventure. A flock of sheep was running, with all the precipitation which fear could inspire, from the pursuit of a large dog; and just as Tommy approached, the dog had overtaken a lamb, and seemed disposed to devour it. Tommy was naturally an enemy to all cruelty, and therefore, running towards the dog with more alacrity than prudence, he endeavoured to drive him from his prey; but the animal, who probably despised the diminutive size of his adversary, after growling a little while and showing his teeth, when he found that this was not sufficient to deter him from intermeddling, entirely quitted the sheep, and making a sudden spring, seized upon the skirt of Tommy's coat, which he shook with every expression of rage. Tommy behaved with more intrepidity than could have been expected, for he neither cried out nor attempted to run, but made his utmost efforts to disengage himself from his enemy. But, as the contest was so unequal, it is probable he would have been severely bitten, had not the honest stranger, whom he had relieved, come running up to his a.s.sistance, and seeing the danger of his benefactor, laid the dog dead at his feet by a furious stroke of his broadsword.

Tommy, thus delivered from impending danger, expressed his grat.i.tude to the stranger in the most affectionate manner, and desired him to accompany him to his father's house, where he and his wearied children should receive whatever refreshment they wished. He then turned his eyes to the lamb, which had been the cause of the contest, and lay panting upon the ground bleeding and wounded, but not to death, and remarked, with astonishment, upon his fleece the well-known characters of H.S., accompanied with a cross. ”As I live,” said Tommy, ”I believe this is the very lamb which Harry used to be so fond of, and which would sometimes follow him to Mr Barlow's. I am the luckiest fellow in the world, to have come in time to deliver him, and now, perhaps, Harry may forgive me all the ill-usage he has met with.” Saying this, he took the lamb up and kissed it with the greatest tenderness; nay, he would have even borne it home in his arms had it not been rather too heavy for his strength; but the honest stranger, with a grateful officiousness, offered his services, and prevailed on Tommy to let him carry it, while he delivered his child to the biggest of his brothers.

When Tommy had now arrived within a little distance of his home he met his father and Mr Barlow, who had left the house to enjoy the morning air, before breakfast. They were surprised to see him in such an equipage, for the dirt, which had bespattered him from head to foot, began to dry in various places, and gave him the appearance of a farmer's clay-built wall in the act of hardening. But Tommy without giving them time to make inquiries, ran affectionately up to Mr Barlow, and taking him by the hand, said, ”Oh, sir! here is the luckiest accident in the world! poor Harry Sandford's favourite lamb would have been killed by a great mischievous dog, if I had not happened to come by and save his life!” ”And who is this honest man,” said Mr Merton, ”whom you have picked up on the common? He seems to be in distress, and his famished children are scarcely able to drag themselves along.”

”Poor man!” answered Tommy, ”I am very much obliged to him; for, when I went to save Harry's lamb, the dog attacked me, and would have hurt me very much if he had not come to my a.s.sistance and killed him with his great sword. So I have brought him with me that he might refresh himself with his poor children, one of which has a terrible ague; for I knew, papa, that though I had not behaved well of late, you would not be against my doing an act of charity.” ”I am, on the contrary, very glad,”

said Mr Merton, ”to see you have so much grat.i.tude in your temper. But what is the reason that I see you thus disfigured with dirt? Surely you must have been riding, and your horse has thrown you? And so it is, for here is William following with both the horses in a foam.”

William at that moment appeared, and, trotting up to his master, began to make excuses for his own share in the business. ”Indeed, sir,” said he, ”I did not think there was the least harm in going out with Master Tommy, and we were riding along as quietly as possible, and master was giving me a long account of the Arabs, who, he said, lived in the finest country in the world, which does not produce anything to eat or drink, or wear, and yet they never want to come upon the parish, but ride upon the most mettled horses in the world, fit to start for any plate in England. And just as he was giving me this account, Punch took it into his head to run away, and while I was endeavouring to catch him, he jumped into a quagmire, and shot Master Tommy off in the middle of it.”

”No,” said Tommy, ”there you mistake; I believe I could manage a much more spirited horse than Punch, but I thought it prudent to throw myself off for fear of his plunging deeper into the mire.” ”But how is this?”

said Mr Merton, ”the pony used to be the quietest of horses; what can have given him this sudden impulse to run away? Surely, William, you were not so imprudent as to trust your master with spurs?” ”No, sir,”

answered William, ”not I; and I can take my oath he had no spurs on when he first set out.”

Mr Merton was convinced there was some mystery in this transaction, and, looking at his son to find it out, he at length discovered the ingenious contrivance of Tommy to supply the place of spurs, and could hardly preserve his gravity at the sight. He, however, mildly set before him his imprudence, which might have been attended with the most fatal consequences--the fracture of his limbs, or even the loss of his life--and desired him for the future to be more cautious. They then returned to the house, and Mr Merton ordered his servants to supply his guests with plenty of the most nouris.h.i.+ng food.

After breakfast they sent for the unhappy stranger into the parlour, whose countenance now bespoke satisfaction and grat.i.tude; and Mr Merton, who, by his dress and accent, discovered him to be an inhabitant of Scotland, desired to know by what accident he had thus wandered so far from home with these poor helpless children, and had been reduced to so much misery.

”Alas! your honour,” answered the man, ”I should ill deserve the favours you have shown me if I attempted to conceal anything from such worthy benefactors. My tale, however, is simple and uninteresting, and I fear there can be nothing in the story of my distress the least deserving of your attention.”

”Surely,” said Mr Merton, with the most benevolent courtesy, ”there must be something in the distress of every honest man which ought to interest his fellow-creatures; and if you will acquaint us with all the circ.u.mstances of your situation, it may perhaps be within our power, as it certainly is in our inclinations, to do you further service.”

The man then bowed to the company with an air of dignity which surprised them all, and thus began: ”I was born in that part of our island which is called the North of Scotland. The country there, partly from the barrenness of the soil, and the inclemency of the season, and partly from other causes which I will not now enumerate, is unfavourable to the existence of its inhabitants. More than half of the year our mountains are covered with continual snows, which prohibit the use of agriculture, or blast the expectations of a harvest; yet the race of men which inhabit these dreary wilds are perhaps not more undeserving the smiles of fortune than many of their happier neighbours. Accustomed to a life of toil and hards.h.i.+p, their bodies are braced by the incessant difficulties they have to encounter, and their minds remain untainted by the example of their more luxurious neighbours; they are bred up from infancy with a deference and respect for their parents, and with a mutual spirit of endearment towards their equals, which I have not remarked in happier climates. These circ.u.mstances expand and elevate the mind, and attach the Highlanders to their native mountains with a warmth of affection which is scarcely known in the midst of polished cities and cultivated countries. Every man there is more or less acquainted with the history of his clan, and the martial exploits which they have performed. In the winter season we sit around the blazing light of our fires, and commemorate the glorious actions of our ancestors; the children catch the sound, and consider themselves as interested in supporting the honour of a nation which is yet unsullied in the annals of the world, and resolve to transmit it equally pure to their posterity.

”With these impressions, which were the earliest I can remember, you cannot wonder, gentlemen, that I should have early imbibed a spirit of enterprise and a love of arms. My father was indeed poor, but he had been himself a soldier, and therefore did not so strenuously oppose my growing inclination; he, indeed, set before me the little chance I should have of promotion, and the innumerable difficulties of my intended profession. But what were difficulties to a youth brought up to subsist upon a handful of oatmeal, to drink the waters of the stream, and to sleep shrouded in my plaid, beneath the arch of an impending rock! I see, gentlemen,” continued the Highlander, ”that you appear surprised to hear a man, who has so little to recommend him, express himself in rather loftier language than you are accustomed to among your peasantry here. But you should remember that a certain degree of education is more general in Scotland than where you live, and that, wanting almost all the gifts of fortune, we cannot afford to suffer those of nature to remain uncultivated. When, therefore, my father saw that the determined bent of my temper was towards a military life, he thought it vain to oppose my inclinations. He even, perhaps, involuntarily cherished them, by explaining to me, during the long leisure of our dreary winter, some books which treated of military sciences and ancient history. From these I imbibed an early love of truth and honour, which I hope has not abandoned me since, and by teaching me what brave and virtuous men have suffered in every age and country, they have, perhaps, prevented me from entirely sinking under my misfortunes.

”One night, in the autumn of the year, as we were seated round the embers of our fire, we heard a knocking at the door. My father rose, and a man of a majestic presence came in, and requested permission to pa.s.s the night in our cottage. He told us he was an English officer, who had long been stationed in the Highlands, but now, upon the breaking out of war, he had been sent for in haste to London, whence he was to embark for America as soon as he could be joined by his regiment. 'This,' said he, 'has been the reason of my travelling later than prudence permits, in a mountainous country, with which I am imperfectly acquainted. I have unfortunately lost my way, and but for your kindness,' added he, smiling, 'I must here begin my campaign, and pa.s.s the night upon a bed of heath amid the mountains.' My father rose, and received the officer with all the courtesy he was able (for in Scotland every man thinks himself honoured by being permitted to exercise his hospitality); he told him his accommodations were mean and poor, but what he had was heartily at his service. He then sent me to look after his visitor's horse, and set before him some milk and oaten bread, which were all the dainties we possessed; our guest, however, seemed to feed upon it with an appet.i.te as keen as if he had been educated in the Highlands; and what I could not help remarking with astonishment, although his air and manners proved that he could be no stranger to a more delicate way of living, not a single word fell from him that intimated he had ever been used to better fare.

”During the evening our guest entertained us with various accounts of the dangers he had already escaped, and the service he had seen. He particularly described the manners of the savage tribes he was going to encounter in America, and the nature of their warfare. All this, accompanied with the tone and look of a man who was familiar with great events, and had borne a considerable share in all he related, so inflamed my military ardour, that I was no longer capable of repressing it. The stranger perceived it, and looking at me with an air of tenderness and compa.s.sion, asked if that young man was intended for the service. My colour rose, and my heart immediately swelled at the question; the look and manner of our guest had strangely interested me in his favour, and the natural grace and simplicity with which he related his own exploits, put me in mind of the great men in other times. Could I but march under the banner of such a leader I thought nothing would be too arduous to be achieved. I saw before me a long perspective of combats, difficulties, and dangers; something, however, whispered to my mind that I should be successful in the end, and support the reputation of our name and clan. Full of these ideas I sprang forwards at the question, and told the officer that the darling pa.s.sion of my life would be to bear arms under a chief like him; and that, if he would suffer me to enlist under his command, I should be ready to justify his kindness by patiently supporting every hards.h.i.+p, and facing every danger. 'Young man,' replied he, with a look of kind concern, 'there is not an officer in the army that would not be proud of such a recruit; but I should ill betray the hospitality I have received from your parents, if I suffered you to be deceived in your opinion of the military profession.' He then set before me, in the strongest language, all the hards.h.i.+ps which would be my lot; the dangers of the field, the pestilence of camps, the slow consuming languor of hospitals, the insolence of command, the mortification and subordination, and the uncertainty that the exertions of even a long life would ever lead to the least promotion. 'All this,' replied I, trembling with fear that my father should take advantage of these too just representations to refuse his consent, 'I knew before; but I feel an irresistible impulse within me which compels me to the field. The die is cast for life or death, and I will abide by the chance that now occurs. If you, sir, refuse me, I will, however, enlist with the first officer that will accept me; for I will no longer wear out life amid the solitude of these surrounding mountains, without either a chance of meriting applause or distinguis.h.i.+ng my name.'

”The officer then desisted from his opposition, and, turning to my parents, asked them if it were with their consent that I was going to enlist. My mother burst into tears, and my sisters hung about me weeping; my father replied with a deep sigh, 'I have long experienced that it is in vain to oppose the decrees of Providence. Could my persuasions have availed, he would have remained contented in these mountains; but that is now impossible, at least till he has purchased wisdom at the price of his blood. If, therefore, sir, you do not despise his youth and mien, take him with you, and let him have the advantage of your example. I have been a soldier myself; and I can a.s.sure you, with truth, that I have never seen an officer under whom I would more gladly march than yourself.' Our guest made a polite reply to my father, and instantly agreed to receive me. He then pulled out a purse, and offering it to my father, said, 'The common price of a recruit is now five guineas; but so well am I satisfied with the appearance of your son, and the confidence you repose in me, that I must insist upon your accepting what is contained in this purse; you will dispose of it as you please for your mutual advantage. Before I depart to-morrow I will give such directions as may enable him to join the regiment, which is now preparing to march.' He then requested that he might retire to rest, and my father would have resigned the only bed he had in the house to his guest, but he absolutely refused, and said, 'Would you shame me in the eyes of my new recruit? What is a soldier good for that cannot sleep without a bed? The time will soon arrive when I shall think a comfortable roof and a little straw an enviable luxury.' I therefore raised him as convenient a couch as I was able to make with heath and straw, and wrapping himself up in his riding-coat, he threw himself down upon it and slept till morning. With the first dawn of day he rose and departed, having first given me the directions which were necessary to enable me to join the regiment. But before he went, my father, who was equally charmed with his generosity and manners, pressed him to take back part of the money he had given us; this, however, he absolutely refused, and left us, full of esteem and admiration.

”I will not, gentlemen, repeat the affecting scene I had to undergo in taking leave of my family and friends. It pierced me to the very heart; and then, for the first time, I almost repented of being so near the accomplishment of my wishes. I was, however, engaged, and determined to fulfil my engagement; I therefore tore myself from my family, having with difficulty prevailed upon my father to accept of part of the money I had received for my enrolment. I will not trespa.s.s upon your time to describe the various emotions which I felt from the crowd of new sensations that entered my mind during our march. I arrived without any accident in London, the splendid capital of this kingdom; but I could not there restrain my astonishment to see an immense people talking of wounds, of death, of battles, sieges, and conquests, in the midst of feasts, and b.a.l.l.s, and puppet-shows, and calmly devoting thousands of their fellow-creatures to perish by famine or the sword, while they considered the loss of a dinner, or the endurance of a shower, as an exertion too great for human fort.i.tude.

”I soon embarked, and arrived, without any other accident than a horrible sickness, at the place of our destination in America. Here I joined my gallant officer, Colonel Simmons, who had performed the voyage in another s.h.i.+p.”--(Miss Simmons, who was present at this narration, seemed to be much interested at this mention of her own name; she, however, did not express her feelings, and the stranger proceeded with his story.)--”The gentleman was, with justice, the most beloved, and the most deserving to be so, of any officer I have ever known. Inflexible in everything that concerned the honour of the service, he never pardoned wilful misbehaviour, because he knew that it was incompatible with military discipline; yet, when obliged to punish, he did it with such reluctance that he seemed to suffer almost as much as the criminal himself. But, if his reason imposed this just and necessary severity, his heart had taught him another lesson in respect to private distresses of his men; he visited them in their sickness, relieved their miseries, and was a n.i.g.g.ard of nothing but human blood. But I ought to correct myself in that expression, for he was rashly lavish of his own, and to that we owe his untimely loss.