Bab Bab 1 · I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS

. I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS

I will begin the story of my adventures with a certain morning early in

the month of June, the year of grace 1751, when I took the key for the

last time out of the door of my father’s house. The sun began to shine

upon the summit of the hills as I went down the road; and by the time

I had come as far as the manse, the blackbirds were whistling in the

garden lilacs, and the mist that hung around the valley in the time of

the dawn was beginning to arise and die away.

Mr. Campbell, the minister of Essendean, was waiting for me by the

garden gate, good man! He asked me if I had breakfasted; and hearing

that I lacked for nothing, he took my hand in both of his and clapped it

kindly under his arm.

“Well, Davie, lad,” said he, “I will go with you as far as the ford, to

set you on the way.” And we began to walk forward in silence.

“Are ye sorry to leave Essendean?” said he, after awhile.

“Why, sir,” said I, “if I knew where I was going, or what was likely

to become of me, I would tell you candidly. Essendean is a good place

indeed, and I have been very happy there; but then I have never been

anywhere else. My father and mother, since they are both dead, I shall

be no nearer to in Essendean than in the Kingdom of Hungary, and, to

speak truth, if I thought I had a chance to better myself where I was

going I would go with a good will.”

“Ay?” said Mr. Campbell. “Very well, Davie. Then it behoves me to tell

your fortune; or so far as I may. When your mother was gone, and your

father (the worthy, Christian man) began to sicken for his end, he gave

me in charge a certain letter, which he said was your inheritance. ‘So

soon,’ says he, ‘as I am gone, and the house is redd up and the gear

disposed of’ (all which, Davie, hath been done), ‘give my boy this

letter into his hand, and start him off to the house of Shaws, not far

from Cramond. That is the place I came from,’ he said, ‘and it’s where

it befits that my boy should return. He is a steady lad,’ your father

said, ‘and a canny goer; and I doubt not he will come safe, and be well

liked where he goes.’”

“The house of Shaws!” I cried. “What had my poor father to do with the

house of Shaws?”

“Nay,” said Mr. Campbell, “who can tell that for a surety? But the name

of that family, Davie, boy, is the name you bear--Balfours of Shaws:

an ancient, honest, reputable house, peradventure in these latter

days decayed. Your father, too, was a man of learning as befitted his

position; no man more plausibly conducted school; nor had he the manner

or the speech of a common dominie; but (as ye will yourself remember)

I took aye a pleasure to have him to the manse to meet the gentry; and

those of my own house, Campbell of Kilrennet, Campbell of Dunswire,

Campbell of Minch, and others, all well-kenned gentlemen, had pleasure

in his society. Lastly, to put all the elements of this affair before

you, here is the testamentary letter itself, superscrived by the own

hand of our departed brother.”

He gave me the letter, which was addressed in these words: “To the hands

of Ebenezer Balfour, Esquire, of Shaws, in his house of Shaws, these

will be delivered by my son, David Balfour.” My heart was beating hard

at this great prospect now suddenly opening before a lad of seventeen

years of age, the son of a poor country dominie in the Forest of

Ettrick.

“Mr. Campbell,” I stammered, “and if you were in my shoes, would you

go?”

“Of a surety,” said the minister, “that would I, and without pause.

A pretty lad like you should get to Cramond (which is near in by

Edinburgh) in two days of walk. If the worst came to the worst, and

your high relations (as I cannot but suppose them to be somewhat of your

blood) should put you to the door, ye can but walk the two days back

again and risp at the manse door. But I would rather hope that ye shall

be well received, as your poor father forecast for you, and for anything

that I ken come to be a great man in time. And here, Davie, laddie,” he

resumed, “it lies near upon my conscience to improve this parting, and

set you on the right guard against the dangers of the world.”

Here he cast about for a comfortable seat, lighted on a big boulder

under a birch by the trackside, sate down upon it with a very long,

serious upper lip, and the sun now shining in upon us between two peaks,

put his pocket-handkerchief over his cocked hat to shelter him. There,

then, with uplifted forefinger, he first put me on my guard against a

considerable number of heresies, to which I had no temptation, and urged

upon me to be instant in my prayers and reading of the Bible. That done,

he drew a picture of the great house that I was bound to, and how I

should conduct myself with its inhabitants.

“Be soople, Davie, in things immaterial,” said he. “Bear ye this in

mind, that, though gentle born, ye have had a country rearing. Dinnae

shame us, Davie, dinnae shame us! In yon great, muckle house, with all

these domestics, upper and under, show yourself as nice, as circumspect,

as quick at the conception, and as slow of speech as any. As for the

laird--remember he’s the laird; I say no more: honour to whom honour.

It’s a pleasure to obey a laird; or should be, to the young.”

“Well, sir,” said I, “it may be; and I’ll promise you I’ll try to make

it so.”

“Why, very well said,” replied Mr. Campbell, heartily. “And now to come

to the material, or (to make a quibble) to the immaterial. I have here

a little packet which contains four things.” He tugged it, as he spoke,

and with some great difficulty, from the skirt pocket of his coat. “Of

these four things, the first is your legal due: the little pickle money

for your father’s books and plenishing, which I have bought (as I have

explained from the first) in the design of re-selling at a profit to

the incoming dominie. The other three are gifties that Mrs. Campbell and

myself would be blithe of your acceptance. The first, which is round,

will likely please ye best at the first off-go; but, O Davie, laddie,

it’s but a drop of water in the sea; it’ll help you but a step, and

vanish like the morning. The second, which is flat and square and

written upon, will stand by you through life, like a good staff for the

road, and a good pillow to your head in sickness. And as for the last,

which is cubical, that’ll see you, it’s my prayerful wish, into a better

land.”

With that he got upon his feet, took off his hat, and prayed a little

while aloud, and in affecting terms, for a young man setting out into

the world; then suddenly took me in his arms and embraced me very hard;

then held me at arm’s length, looking at me with his face all working

with sorrow; and then whipped about, and crying good-bye to me, set off

backward by the way that we had come at a sort of jogging run. It might

have been laughable to another; but I was in no mind to laugh. I watched

him as long as he was in sight; and he never stopped hurrying, nor once

looked back. Then it came in upon my mind that this was all his sorrow

at my departure; and my conscience smote me hard and fast, because I,

for my part, was overjoyed to get away out of that quiet country-side,

and go to a great, busy house, among rich and respected gentlefolk of my

own name and blood.

“Davie, Davie,” I thought, “was ever seen such black ingratitude? Can

you forget old favours and old friends at the mere whistle of a name?

Fie, fie; think shame.”

And I sat down on the boulder the good man had just left, and opened the

parcel to see the nature of my gifts. That which he had called cubical,

I had never had much doubt of; sure enough it was a little Bible, to

carry in a plaid-neuk. That which he had called round, I found to be a

shilling piece; and the third, which was to help me so wonderfully both

in health and sickness all the days of my life, was a little piece of

coarse yellow paper, written upon thus in red ink:

“TO MAKE LILLY OF THE VALLEY WATER.--Take the flowers of lilly of the

valley and distil them in sack, and drink a spooneful or two as there is

occasion. It restores speech to those that have the dumb palsey. It is

good against the Gout; it comforts the heart and strengthens the memory;

and the flowers, put into a Glasse, close stopt, and set into ane hill

of ants for a month, then take it out, and you will find a liquor which

comes from the flowers, which keep in a vial; it is good, ill or well,

and whether man or woman.”

And then, in the minister’s own hand, was added:

“Likewise for sprains, rub it in; and for the cholic, a great spooneful

in the hour.”

To be sure, I laughed over this; but it was rather tremulous laughter;

and I was glad to get my bundle on my staff’s end and set out over the

ford and up the hill upon the farther side; till, just as I came on the

green drove-road running wide through the heather, I took my last look

of Kirk Essendean, the trees about the manse, and the big rowans in the

kirkyard where my father and my mother lay.