The Ayrshire Legatees

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Tell Mrs. Glibbans that I have not heard of no sound preacher as yet
in London--the want of which is no doubt the great cause of the
crying sins of the place. What would she think to hear of
newspapers selling by tout of horn on the Lord's day? and on the
Sabbath night, the change-houses are more throng than on the
Saturday! I am told, but as yet I cannot say that I have seen the
evil myself with my own eyes, that in the summer time there are tea-
gardens, where the tradesmen go to smoke their pipes of tobacco, and
to entertain their wives and children, which can be nothing less
than a bringing of them to an untimely end. But you will be
surprised to hear, that no such thing as whusky is to be had in the
public-houses, where they drink only a dead sort of beer; and that a
bottle of true jennyinn London porter is rarely to be seen in the
whole town--all kinds of piple getting their porter in pewter cans,
and a laddie calls for in the morning to take away what has been
yoused over night. But what I most miss is the want of creem. The
milk here is just skimm, and I doot not, likewise well watered--as
for the water, a drink of clear wholesome good water is not within
the bounds of London; and truly, now may I say, that I have learnt
what the blessing of a cup of cold water is.

Tell Miss Nanny Eydent, that the day of the burial is now settled,
when we are going to Windsor Castle to see the precesson--and that,
by the end of the wick, she may expect the fashions from me, with
all the particulars. Till then, I am, my dear Miss Mally, your
friend and well-wisher,

JANET PRINGLE.

NOTO BENY.--Give my kind compliments to Mrs. Glibbans, and let her
know, that I will, after Sunday, give her an account of the state of
the Gospel in London.

Miss Mally paused when she had read the letter, and it was
unanimously agreed, that Mrs. Pringle gave a more full account of
London than either father, son, or daughter.

By this time the night was far advanced, and Mrs. Glibbans was
rising to go away, apprehensive, as she observed, that they were
going to bring "the carts" into the room. Upon Miss Mally, however,
assuring her that no such transgression was meditated, but that she
intended to treat them with a bit nice Highland mutton ham, and
eggs, of her own laying, that worthy pillar of the Relief Kirk
consented to remain.

It was past eleven o'clock when the party broke up; Mr. Snodgrass
and Mr. Micklewham walked home together, and as they were crossing
the Red Burn Bridge, at the entrance of Eglintoun Wood,--a place
well noted from ancient times for preternatural appearances, Mr.
Micklewham declared that he thought he heard something purring among
the bushes; upon which Mr. Snodgrass made a jocose observation,
stating, that it could be nothing but the effect of Lord North's
strong ale in his head; and we should add, by way of explanation,
that the Lord North here spoken of was Willy Grieve, celebrated in
Irvine for the strength and flavour of his brewing, and that, in
addition to a plentiful supply of his best, Miss Mally had
entertained them with tamarind punch, constituting a natural cause
adequate to produce all the preternatural purring that terrified the
dominie.

CHAPTER V--THE ROYAL FUNERAL

Tam Glen having, in consequence of the exhortations of Mr.
Micklewham, and the earnest entreaties of Mr. Daff, backed by the
pious animadversions of the rigidly righteous Mr. Craig, confessed a
fault, and acknowledged an irregular marriage with Meg Milliken,
their child was admitted to church privileges. But before the day
of baptism, Mr. Daff, who thought Tam had given but sullen symptoms
of penitence, said, to put him in better humour with his fate,--
"Noo, Tam, since ye hae beguiled us of the infare, we maun mak up
for't at the christening; so I'll speak to Mr. Snodgrass to bid the
Doctor's friens and acquaintance to the ploy, that we may get as
meikle amang us as will pay for the bairn's baptismal frock."

Mr. Craig, who was present, and who never lost an opportunity of
testifying, as he said, his "discountenance of the crying iniquity,"
remonstrated with Mr. Daff on the unchristian nature of the
proposal, stigmatising it with good emphasis "as a sinful nourishing
of carnality in his day and generation." Mr. Micklewham, however,
interfered, and said, "It was a matter of weight and concernment,
and therefore it behoves you to consult Mr. Snodgrass on the fitness
of the thing. For if the thing itself is not fit and proper, it
cannot expect his countenance; and, on that account, before we
reckon on his compliance with what Mr. Daff has propounded, we
should first learn whether he approves of it at all." Whereupon the
two elders and the session-clerk adjourned to the manse, in which
Mr. Snodgrass, during the absence of the incumbent, had taken up his
abode.

The heads of the previous conversation were recapitulated by Mr.
Micklewham, with as much brevity as was consistent with perspicuity;
and the matter being duly digested by Mr. Snodgrass, that orthodox
young man--as Mrs. Glibbans denominated him, on hearing him for the
first time--declared that the notion of a pay-christening was a
benevolent and kind thought: "For, is not the order to increase and
multiply one of the first commands in the Scriptures of truth?" said
Mr. Snodgrass, addressing himself to Mr. Craig. "Surely, then, when
children are brought into the world, a great law of our nature has
been fulfilled, and there is cause for rejoicing and gladness! And
is it not an obligation imposed upon all Christians, to welcome the
stranger, and to feed the hungry, and to clothe the naked; and what
greater stranger can there be than a helpless babe? Who more in
need of sustenance than the infant, that knows not the way even to
its mother's bosom? And whom shall we clothe, if we do not the
wailing innocent, that the hand of Providence places in poverty and
nakedness before us, to try, as it were, the depth of our Christian
principles, and to awaken the sympathy of our humane feelings?"

Mr. Craig replied, "It's a' very true and sound what Mr. Snodgrass
has observed; but Tam Glen's wean is neither a stranger, nor hungry,
nor naked, but a sturdy brat, that has been rinning its lane for
mair than sax weeks." "Ah!" said Mr. Snodgrass familiarly, "I fear,
Mr. Craig, ye're a Malthusian in your heart." The sanctimonious
elder was thunderstruck at the word. Of many a various shade and
modification of sectarianism he had heard, but the Malthusian heresy
was new to his ears, and awful to his conscience, and he begged Mr.
Snodgrass to tell him in what it chiefly consisted, protesting his
innocence of that, and of every erroneous doctrine.

Mr. Snodgrass happened to regard the opinions of Malthus on
Population as equally contrary to religion and nature, and not at
all founded in truth. "It is evident, that the reproductive
principle in the earth and vegetables, and all things and animals
which constitute the means of subsistence, is much more vigorous
than in man. It may be therefore affirmed, that the multiplication
of the means of subsistence is an effect of the multiplication of
population, for the one is augmented in quantity, by the skill and
care of the other," said Mr. Snodgrass, seizing with avidity this
opportunity of stating what he thought on the subject, although his
auditors were but the session-clerk, and two elders of a country
parish. We cannot pursue the train of his argument, but we should
do injustice to the philosophy of Malthus, if we suppressed the
observation which Mr. Daff made at the conclusion. "Gude safe's!"
said the good-natured elder, "if it's true that we breed faster than
the Lord provides for us, we maun drown the poor folks' weans like
kittlings." "Na, na!" exclaimed Mr. Craig, "ye're a' out,
neighbour; I see now the utility of church-censures." "True!" said
Mr. Micklewham; "and the ordination of the stool of repentance, the
horrors of which, in the opinion of the fifteen Lords at Edinburgh,
palliated child-murder, is doubtless a Malthusian institution." But
Mr. Snodgrass put an end to the controversy, by fixing a day for the
christening, and telling he would do his best to procure a good
collection, according to the benevolent suggestion of Mr. Daff. To
this cause we are indebted for the next series of the Pringle
correspondence; for, on the day appointed, Miss Mally Glencairn,
Miss Isabella Tod, Mrs. Glibbans and her daughter Becky, with Miss
Nanny Eydent, together with other friends of the minister's family,
dined at the manse, and the conversation being chiefly about the
concerns of the family, the letters were produced and read.

LETTER XII

Andrew Pringle, Esq., to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass--WINDSOR,
CASTLE-INN.

My Dear Friend--I have all my life been strangely susceptible of
pleasing impressions from public spectacles where great crowds are
assembled. This, perhaps, you will say, is but another way of
confessing, that, like the common vulgar, I am fond of sights and
shows. It may be so, but it is not from the pageants that I derive
my enjoyment. A multitude, in fact, is to me as it were a strain of
music, which, with an irresistible and magical influence, calls up
from the unknown abyss of the feelings new combinations of fancy,
which, though vague and obscure, as those nebulae of light that
astronomers have supposed to be the rudiments of unformed stars,
afterwards become distinct and brilliant acquisitions. In a crowd,
I am like the somnambulist in the highest degree of the luminous
crisis, when it is said a new world is unfolded to his
contemplation, wherein all things have an intimate affinity with the
state of man, and yet bear no resemblance to the objects that
address themselves to his corporeal faculties. This delightful
experience, as it may be called, I have enjoyed this evening, to an
exquisite degree, at the funeral of the king; but, although the
whole succession of incidents is indelibly imprinted on my
recollection, I am still so much affected by the emotion excited, as
to be incapable of conveying to you any intelligible description of
what I saw. It was indeed a scene witnessed through the medium of
the feelings, and the effect partakes of the nature of a dream.

I was within the walls of an ancient castle,

"So old as if they had for ever stood,
So strong as if they would for ever stand,"

and it was almost midnight. The towers, like the vast spectres of
departed ages, raised their embattled heads to the skies, monumental
witnesses of the strength and antiquity of a great monarchy. A
prodigious multitude filled the courts of that venerable edifice,
surrounding on all sides a dark embossed structure, the sarcophagus,
as it seemed to me at the moment, of the heroism of chivalry.

"A change came o'er the spirit of my dream," and I beheld the scene
suddenly illuminated, and the blaze of torches, the glimmering of
arms, and warriors and horses, while a mosaic of human faces covered
like a pavement the courts. A deep low under sound pealed from a
distance; in the same moment, a trumpet answered with a single
mournful note from the stateliest and darkest portion of the fabric,
and it was whispered in every ear, "It is coming." Then an awful
cadence of solemn music, that affected the heart like silence, was
heard at intervals, and a numerous retinue of grave and venerable
men,

"The fathers of their time,
Those mighty master spirits, that withstood
The fall of monarchies, and high upheld
Their country's standard, glorious in the storm,"

passed slowly before me, bearing the emblems and trophies of a king.
They were as a series of great historical events, and I beheld
behind them, following and followed, an awful and indistinct image,
like the vision of Job. It moved on, and I could not discern the
form thereof, but there were honours and heraldries, and sorrow, and
silence, and I heard the stir of a profound homage performing within
the breasts of all the witnesses. But I must not indulge myself
farther on this subject. I cannot hope to excite in you the
emotions with which I was so profoundly affected. In the visible
objects of the funeral of George the Third there was but little
magnificence; all its sublimity was derived from the trains of
thought and currents of feeling, which the sight of so many
illustrious characters, surrounded by circumstances associated with
the greatness and antiquity of the kingdom, was necessarily
calculated to call forth. In this respect, however, it was perhaps
the sublimest spectacle ever witnessed in this island; and I am
sure, that I cannot live so long as ever again to behold another,
that will equally interest me to the same depth and extent.-- Yours,
ANDREW PRINGLE.

We should ill perform the part of faithful historians, did we omit
to record the sentiments expressed by the company on this occasion.
Mrs. Glibbans, whose knowledge of the points of orthodoxy had not
their equal in the three adjacent parishes, roundly declared, that
Mr. Andrew Pringle's letter was nothing but a peesemeal of
clishmaclavers; that there was no sense in it; and that it was just
like the writer, a canary idiot, a touch here and a touch there,
without anything in the shape of cordiality or satisfaction.

Miss Isabella Tod answered this objection with that sweetness of
manner and virgin diffidence, which so well becomes a youthful
member of the establishment, controverting the dogmas of a stoop of
the Relief persuasion, by saying, that she thought Mr. Andrew had
shown a fine sensibility. "What is sensibility without judgment,"
cried her adversary, "but a thrashing in the water, and a raising of
bells? Couldna the fallow, without a' his parleyvoos, have said,
that such and such was the case, and that the Lord giveth and the
Lord taketh away?--but his clouds, and his spectres, and his visions
of Job!--Oh, an he could but think like Job!--Oh, an he would but
think like the patient man!--and was obliged to claut his flesh with
a bit of a broken crock, we might have some hope of repentance unto
life. But Andrew Pringle, he's a gone dick; I never had comfort or
expectation of the free-thinker, since I heard that he was infected
with the blue and yellow calamity of the Edinburgh Review; in which,
I am credibly told, it is set forth, that women have nae souls, but
only a gut, and a gaw, and a gizzard, like a pigeon-dove, or a
raven-crow, or any other outcast and abominated quadruped."

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed her effectual mediation, and
said, "It is very true that Andrew deals in the diplomatics of
obscurity; but it's well known that he has a nerve for genius, and
that, in his own way, he kens the loan from the crown of the
causeway, as well as the duck does the midden from the adle dib."
To this proverb, which we never heard before, a learned friend, whom
we consulted on the subject, has enabled us to state, that middens
were formerly of great magnitude, and often of no less antiquity in
the west of Scotland; in so much, that the Trongate of Glasgow owes
all its spacious grandeur to them. It being within the recollection
of persons yet living, that the said magnificent street was at one
time an open road, or highway, leading to the Trone, or market-
cross, with thatched houses on each side, such as may still be seen
in the pure and immaculate royal borough of Rutherglen; and that
before each house stood a luxuriant midden, by the removal of which,
in the progress of modern degeneracy, the stately architecture of
Argyle Street was formed. But not to insist at too great a length
on such topics of antiquarian lore, we shall now insert Dr.
Pringle's account of the funeral, and which, patly enough, follows
our digression concerning the middens and magnificence of Glasgow,
as it contains an authentic anecdote of a manufacturer from that
city, drinking champaign at the king's dirgie.

LETTER XIII

The Rev. Z. Pringle, D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster and
Session-Clerk of Garnock--LONDON.

Dear Sir--I have received your letter, and it is a great pleasure to
me to hear that my people were all so much concerned at our distress
in the Leith smack; but what gave me the most contentment was the
repentance of Tam Glen. I hope, poor fellow, he will prove a good
husband; but I have my doubts; for the wife has really but a small
share of common sense, and no married man can do well unless his
wife will let him. I am, however, not overly pleased with Mr. Craig
on the occasion, for he should have considered frail human nature,
and accepted of poor Tam's confession of a fault, and allowed the
bairn to be baptized without any more ado. I think honest Mr. Daff
has acted like himself, and I trust and hope there will be a great
gathering at the christening, and, that my mite may not be wanting,
you will slip in a guinea note when the dish goes round, but in such
a manner, that it may not be jealoused from whose hand it comes.

Since my last letter, we have been very thrang in the way of seeing
the curiosities of London; but I must go on regular, and tell you
all, which, I think, it is my duty to do, that you may let my people
know. First, then, we have been at Windsor Castle, to see the king
lying in state, and, afterwards, his interment; and sorry am I to
say, it was not a sight that could satisfy any godly mind on such an
occasion. We went in a coach of our own, by ourselves, and found
the town of Windsor like a cried fair. We were then directed to the
Castle gate, where a terrible crowd was gathered together; and we
had not been long in that crowd, till a pocket-picker, as I thought,
cutted off the tail of my coat, with my pocket-book in my pocket,
which I never missed at the time. But it seems the coat tail was
found, and a policeman got it, and held it up on the end of his
stick, and cried, whose pocket is this? showing the book that was
therein in his hand. I was confounded to see my pocket-book there,
and could scarcely believe my own eyes; but Mrs. Pringle knew it at
the first glance, and said, "It's my gudeman's"; at the which, there
was a great shout of derision among the multitude, and we would
baith have then been glad to disown the pocket-book, but it was
returned to us, I may almost say, against our will; but the
scorners, when they saw our confusion, behaved with great civility
towards us, so that we got into the Castle-yard with no other damage
than the loss of the flap of my coat tail.

Being in the Castle-yard, we followed the crowd into another gate,
and up a stair, and saw the king lying in state, which was a very
dismal sight--and I thought of Solomon in all his glory, when I saw
the coffin, and the mutes, and the mourners; and reflecting on the
long infirmity of mind of the good old king, I said to myself, in
the words of the book of Job, "Doth not their excellency which is in
them go away? they die even without wisdom!'

When we had seen the sight, we came out of the Castle, and went to
an inn to get a chack of dinner; but there was such a crowd, that no
resting-place could for a time be found for us. Gentle and semple
were there, all mingled, and no respect of persons; only there was,
at a table nigh unto ours, a fat Glasgow manufacturer, who ordered a
bottle of champaign wine, and did all he could in the drinking of it
by himself, to show that he was a man in well-doing circumstances.
While he was talking over his wine, a great peer of the realm, with
a star on his breast, came into the room, and ordered a glass of
brandy and water; and I could see, when he saw the Glasgow
manufacturer drinking champaign wine on that occasion, that he
greatly marvelled thereat.

When we had taken our dinner, we went out to walk and see the town
of Windsor; but there was such a mob of coaches going and coming,
and men and horses, that we left the streets, and went to inspect
the king's policy, which is of great compass, but in a careless
order, though it costs a world of money to keep it up. Afterwards,
we went back to the inns, to get tea for Mrs. Pringle and her
daughter, while Andrew Pringle, my son, was seeing if he could get
tickets to buy, to let us into the inside of the Castle, to see the
burial--but he came back without luck, and I went out myself, being
more experienced in the world, and I saw a gentleman's servant with
a ticket in his hand, and I asked him to sell it to me, which the
man did with thankfulness, for five shillings, although the price
was said to be golden guineas. But as this ticket admitted only one
person, it was hard to say what should be done with it when I got
back to my family. However, as by this time we were all very much
fatigued, I gave it to Andrew Pringle, my son, and Mrs. Pringle, and
her daughter Rachel, agreed to bide with me in the inns.

Andrew Pringle, my son, having got the ticket, left us sitting, when
shortly after in came a nobleman, high in the cabinet, as I think he
must have been, and he having politely asked leave to take his tea
at our table, because of the great throng in the house, we fell into
a conversation together, and he, understanding thereby that I was a
minister of the Church of Scotland, said he thought he could help us
into a place to see the funeral; so, after he had drank his tea, he
took us with him, and got us into the Castle-yard, where we had an
excellent place, near to the Glasgow manufacturer that drank the
champaign. The drink by this time, however, had got into that poor
man's head, and he talked so loud, and so little to the purpose,
that the soldiers who were guarding were obliged to make him hold
his peace, at which he was not a little nettled, and told the
soldiers that he had himself been a soldier, and served the king
without pay, having been a volunteer officer. But this had no more
effect than to make the soldiers laugh at him, which was not a
decent thing at the interment of their master, our most gracious
Sovereign that was.

However, in this situation we saw all; and I can assure you it was a
very edifying sight; and the people demeaned themselves with so much
propriety, that there was no need for any guards at all; indeed, for
that matter, of the two, the guards, who had eaten the king's bread,
were the only ones there, saving and excepting the Glasgow
manufacturer, that manifested an irreverent spirit towards the royal
obsequies. But they are men familiar with the king of terrors on
the field of battle, and it was not to be expected that their hearts
would be daunted like those of others by a doing of a civil
character.

When all was over, we returned to the inns, to get our chaise, to go
back to London that night, for beds were not to be had for love or
money at Windsor, and we reached our temporary home in Norfolk
Street about four o'clock in the morning, well satisfied with what
we had seen,--but all the meantime I had forgotten the loss of the
flap of my coat, which caused no little sport when I came to
recollect what a pookit like body I must have been, walking about in
the king's policy like a peacock without my tail. But I must
conclude, for Mrs. Pringle has a letter to put in the frank for Miss
Nanny Eydent, which you will send to her by one of your scholars, as
it contains information that may be serviceable to Miss Nanny in her
business, both as a mantua-maker and a superintendent of the
genteeler sort of burials at Irvine and our vicinity. So that this
is all from your friend and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.

"I think," said Miss Isabella Tod, as Mr. Micklewham finished the
reading of the Doctor's epistle, "that my friend Rachel might have
given me some account of the ceremony; but Captain Sabre seems to
have been a much more interesting object to her than the pride and
pomp to her brother, or even the Glasgow manufacturer to her
father." In saying these words, the young lady took the following
letter from her pocket, and was on the point of beginning to read
it, when Miss Becky Glibbans exclaimed, "I had aye my fears that
Rachel was but light-headed, and I'll no be surprised to hear more
about her and the dragoon or a's done." Mr. Snodgrass looked at
Becky, as if he had been afflicted at the moment with unpleasant
ideas; and perhaps he would have rebuked the spitefulness of her
insinuations, had not her mother sharply snubbed the uncongenial
maiden, in terms at least as pungent as any which the reverend
gentleman would have employed. "I'm sure," replied Miss Becky,
pertly, "I meant no ill; but if Rachel Pringle can write about
nothing but this Captain Sabre, she might as well let it alone, and
her letter canna be worth the hearing." "Upon that," said the
clergyman, "we can form a judgment when we have heard it, and I beg
that Miss Isabella may proceed,"--which she did accordingly.

LETTER XIV

Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod--LONDON.

My Dear Bell--I take up my pen with a feeling of disappointment such
as I never felt before. Yesterday was the day appointed for the
funeral of the good old king, and it was agreed that we should go to
Windsor, to pour the tribute of our tears upon the royal hearse.
Captain Sabre promised to go with us, as he is well acquainted with
the town, and the interesting objects around the Castle, so dear to
chivalry, and embalmed by the genius of Shakespeare and many a minor
bard, and I promised myself a day of unclouded felicity--but the
captain was ordered to be on duty,--and the crowd was so rude and
riotous, that I had no enjoyment whatever; but, pining with chagrin
at the little respect paid by the rabble to the virtues of the
departed monarch, I would fainly have retired into some solemn and
sequestered grove, and breathed my sorrows to the listening waste.
Nor was the loss of the captain, to explain and illuminate the
different baronial circumstances around the Castle, the only thing I
had to regret in this ever-memorable excursion--my tender and
affectionate mother was so desirous to see everything in the most
particular manner, in order that she might give an account of the
funeral to Nanny Eydent, that she had no mercy either upon me or my
father, but obliged us to go with her to the most difficult and
inaccessible places. How vain was all this meritorious assiduity!
for of what avail can the ceremonies of a royal funeral be to Miss
Nanny, at Irvine, where kings never die, and where, if they did, it
is not at all probable that Miss Nanny would be employed to direct
their solemn obsequies? As for my brother, he was so entranced with
his own enthusiasm, that he paid but little attention to us, which
made me the more sensible of the want we suffered from the absence
of Captain Sabre. In a word, my dear Bell, never did I pass a more
unsatisfactory day, and I wish it blotted for ever from my
remembrance. Let it therefore be consigned to the abysses of
oblivion, while I recall the more pleasing incidents that have
happened since I wrote you last.

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