The Ayrshire Legatees

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Perhaps, however, you will think me scarcely less under the
influence of a similar delusion when I tell you, that I have been
somehow or other drawn also into an association, not indeed so
public or potent as that of the Saints, but equally persevering in
the objects for which it has been formed. The drift of the Saints,
as far as I can comprehend the matter, is to procure the advancement
to political power of men distinguished for the purity of their
lives, and the integrity of their conduct; and in that way, I
presume, they expect to effect the accomplishment of that blessed
epoch, the Millennium, when the Saints are to rule the whole earth.
I do not mean to say that this is their decided and determined
object; I only infer, that it is the necessary tendency of their
proceedings; and I say it with all possible respect and sincerity,
that, as a public party, the Saints are not only perhaps the most
powerful, but the party which, at present, best deserves power.

The association, however, with which I have happened to become
connected, is of a very different description. Their object is, to
pass through life with as much pleasure as they can obtain, without
doing anything unbecoming the rank of gentlemen, and the character
of men of honour. We do not assemble such numerous meetings as the
Saints, the Whigs, or the Radicals, nor are our speeches delivered
with so much vehemence. We even, I think, tacitly exclude oratory.
In a word, our meetings seldom exceed the perfect number of the
muses; and our object on these occasions is not so much to
deliberate on plans of prospective benefits to mankind, as to enjoy
the present time for ourselves, under the temperate inspiration of a
well-cooked dinner, flavoured with elegant wine, and just so much of
mind as suits the fleeting topics of the day. T-, whom I formerly
mentioned, introduced me to this delightful society. The members
consist of about fifty gentlemen, who dine occasionally at each
other's houses; the company being chiefly selected from the
brotherhood, if that term can be applied to a circle of
acquaintance, who, without any formal institution of rules, have
gradually acquired a consistency that approximates to organisation.
But the universe of this vast city contains a plurality of systems;
and the one into which I have been attracted may be described as
that of the idle intellects. In general society, the members of our
party are looked up to as men of taste and refinement, and are
received with a degree of deference that bears some resemblance to
the respect paid to the hereditary endowment of rank. They consist
either of young men who have acquired distinction at college, or
gentlemen of fortune who have a relish for intellectual pleasures,
free from the acerbities of politics, or the dull formalities which
so many of the pious think essential to their religious pretensions.
The wealthy furnish the entertainments, which are always in a
superior style, and the ingredient of birth is not requisite in the
qualifications of a member, although some jealousy is entertained of
professional men, and not a little of merchants. T-, to whom I am
also indebted for this view of that circle of which he is the
brightest ornament, gives a felicitous explanation of the reason.
He says, professional men, who are worth anything at all, are always
ambitious, and endeavour to make their acquaintance subservient to
their own advancement; while merchants are liable to such
casualties, that their friends are constantly exposed to the risk of
being obliged to sink them below their wonted equality, by granting
them favours in times of difficulty, or, what is worse, by refusing
to grant them.

I am much indebted to you for the introduction to your friend G-.
He is one of us; or rather, he moves in an eccentric sphere of his
own, which crosses, I believe, almost all the orbits of all the
classed and classifiable systems of London. I found him exactly
what you described; and we were on the frankest footing of old
friends in the course of the first quarter of an hour. He did me
the honour to fancy that I belonged, as a matter of course, to some
one of the literary fraternities of Edinburgh, and that I would be
curious to see the associations of the learned here. What he said
respecting them was highly characteristic of the man. "They are,"
said he, "the dullest things possible. On my return from abroad, I
visited them all, expecting to find something of that easy
disengaged mind which constitutes the charm of those of France and
Italy. But in London, among those who have a character to keep up,
there is such a vigilant circumspection, that I should as soon
expect to find nature in the ballets of the Opera-house, as genius
at the established haunts of authors, artists, and men of science.
Bankes gives, I suppose officially, a public breakfast weekly, and
opens his house for conversations on the Sundays. I found at his
breakfasts, tea and coffee, with hot rolls, and men of celebrity
afraid to speak. At the conversations, there was something even
worse. A few plausible talking fellows created a buzz in the room,
and the merits of some paltry nick-nack of mechanism or science was
discussed. The party consisted undoubtedly of the most eminent men
of their respective lines in the world; but they were each and all
so apprehensive of having their ideas purloined, that they took the
most guarded care never to speak of anything that they deemed of the
slightest consequence, or to hazard an opinion that might be called
in question. The man who either wishes to augment his knowledge, or
to pass his time agreeably, will never expose himself to a
repetition of the fastidious exhibitions of engineers and artists
who have their talents at market. But such things are among the
curiosities of London; and if you have any inclination to undergo
the initiating mortification of being treated as a young man who may
be likely to interfere with their professional interests, I can
easily get you introduced."

I do not know whether to ascribe these strictures of your friend to
humour or misanthropy; but they were said without bitterness; indeed
so much as matters of course, that, at the moment, I could not but
feel persuaded they were just. I spoke of them to T-, who says,
that undoubtedly G-'s account of the exhibitions is true in
substance, but that it is his own sharp-sightedness which causes him
to see them so offensively; for that ninety-nine out of the hundred
in the world would deem an evening spent at the conversations of Sir
Joseph Bankes a very high intellectual treat.

G- has invited me to dinner, and I expect some amusement; for T-,
who is acquainted with him, says, that it is his fault to employ his
mind too much on all occasions; and that, in all probability, there
will be something, either in the fare or the company, that I shall
remember as long as I live. However, you shall hear all about it in
my next.--Yours,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

On the same Sunday on which Mr. Micklewham consulted Mr. Snodgrass
as to the propriety of reading the Doctor's letter to the elders,
the following epistle reached the post-office of Irvine, and was
delivered by Saunders Dickie himself, at the door of Mrs. Glibbans
to her servan lassie, who, as her mistress had gone to the Relief
Church, told him, that he would have to come for the postage the
morn's morning. "Oh," said Saunders, "there's naething to pay but
my ain trouble, for it's frankit; but aiblins the mistress will gie
me a bit drappie, and so I'll come betimes i' the morning."

LETTER XVIII

Mrs. Pringle to Mrs. Glibbans--LONDON.

My Dear Mrs. Glibbans--The breking up of the old Parlament has been
the cause why I did not right you before, it having taken it out of
my poor to get a frank for my letter till yesterday; and I do ashure
you, that I was most extraordinar uneasy at the great delay, wishing
much to let you know the decayt state of the Gospel in thir perts,
which is the pleasure of your life to study by day, and meditate on
in the watches of the night.

There is no want of going to church, and, if that was a sign of
grease and peese in the kingdom of Christ, the toun of London might
hold a high head in the tabernacles of the faithful and true
witnesses. But saving Dr. Nichol of Swallo-Street, and Dr. Manuel
of London-Wall, there is nothing sound in the way of preaching here;
and when I tell you that Mr. John Gant, your friend, and some other
flea-lugged fallows, have set up a Heelon congregation, and got a
young man to preach Erse to the English, ye maun think in what a
state sinful souls are left in London. But what I have been the
most consarned about is the state of the dead. I am no meaning
those who are dead in trespasses and sins, but the true dead. Ye
will hardly think, that they are buried in a popish-like manner,
with prayers, and white gowns, and ministers, and spadefuls of yerd
cast upon them, and laid in vauts, like kists of orangers in a
grocery seller--and I am told that, after a time, they are taken out
when the vaut is shurfeeted, and their bones brunt, if they are no
made into lamp-black by a secret wark--which is a clean proof to me
that a right doctrine cannot be established in this land--there
being so little respec shone to the dead.

The worst point, howsomever, of all is, what is done with the
prayers--and I have heard you say, that although there was nothing
more to objec to the wonderful Doctor Chammers of Glasgou, that his
reading of his sermons was testimony against him in the great
controversy of sound doctrine; but what will you say to reading of
prayers, and no only reading of prayers, but printed prayers, as if
the contreet heart of the sinner had no more to say to the Lord in
the hour of fasting and humiliation, than what a bishop can indite,
and a book-seller make profit o'. "Verily," as I may say, in a word
of scripter, I doobt if the glad tidings of salvation have yet been
preeched in this land of London; but the ministers have good
stipends, and where the ground is well manured, it may in time bring
forth fruit meet for repentance.

There is another thing that behoves me to mention, and that is, that
an elder is not to be seen in the churches of London, which is a
sore signal that the piple are left to themselves; and in what state
the morality can be, you may guess with an eye of pity. But on the
Sabbath nights, there is such a going and coming, that it's more
like a cried fair than the Lord's night--all sorts of poor people,
instead of meditating on their bygane toil and misery of the week,
making the Sunday their own day, as if they had not a greater Master
to serve on that day, than the earthly man whom they served in the
week-days. It is, howsomever, past the poor of nature to tell you
of the sinfulness of London; and you may we think what is to be the
end of all things, when I ashure you, that there is a newspaper sold
every Sabbath morning, and read by those that never look at their
Bibles. Our landlady asked us if we would take one; but I thought
the Doctor would have fired the house, and you know it is not a
small thing that kindles his passion. In short, London is not a
place to come to hear the tidings of salvation preeched,--no that I
mean to deny that there is not herine more than five righteous
persons in it, and I trust the cornal's hagent is one; for if he is
not, we are undone, having been obligated to take on already more
than a hundred pounds of debt, to the account of our living, and the
legacy yet in the dead thraws. But as I mean this for a spiritual
letter, I will say no more about the root of all evil, as it is
called in the words of truth and holiness; so referring you to what
I have told Miss Mally Glencairn about the legacy and other things
nearest my heart, I remain, my dear Mrs. Glibbans, your fellou
Christian and sinner, JANET PRINGLE.

Mrs. Glibbans received this letter between the preachings, and it
was observed by all her acquaintance during the afternoon service,
that she was a laden woman. Instead of standing up at the prayers,
as her wont was, she kept her seat, sitting with downcast eyes, and
ever and anon her left hand, which was laid over her book on the
reading-board of the pew, was raised and allowed to drop with a
particular moral emphasis, bespeaking the mournful cogitations of
her spirit. On leaving the church, somebody whispered to the
minister, that surely Mrs. Glibbans had heard some sore news; upon
which that meek, mild, and modest good soul hastened towards her,
and inquired, with more than his usual kindness, How she was? Her
answer was brief and mysterious; and she shook her head in such a
manner that showed him all was not right. "Have you heard lately of
your friends the Pringles?" said he, in his sedate manner--"when do
they think of leaving London?'

"I wish they may ever get out o't," was the agitated reply of the
afflicted lady.

"I am very sorry to hear you say so," responded the minister. "I
thought all was in a fair way to an issue of the settlement. I'm
very sorry to hear this."

"Oh, sir," said the mourner, "don't think that I am grieved for them
and their legacy--filthy lucre--no, sir; but I have had a letter
that has made my hair stand on end. Be none surprised if you hear
of the earth opening, and London swallowed up, and a voice crying in
the wilderness, 'Woe, woe.'"

The gentle priest was much surprised by this information; it was
evident that Mrs. Glibbans had received a terrible account of the
wickedness of London; and that the weight upon her pious spirit was
owing to that cause. He, therefore, accompanied her home, and
administered all the consolation he was able to give; assuring her,
that it was in the power of Omnipotence to convert the stony heart
into one of flesh and tenderness, and to raise the British
metropolis out of the miry clay, and place it on a hill, as a city
that could not be hid; which Mrs. Glibbans was so thankful to hear,
that, as soon as he had left her, she took her tea in a satisfactory
frame of mind, and went the same night to Miss Mally Glencairn to
hear what Mrs. Pringle had said to her. No visit ever happened more
opportunely; for just as Mrs. Glibbans knocked at the door, Miss
Isabella Tod made her appearance. She had also received a letter
from Rachel, in which it will be seen that reference was made
likewise to Mrs. Pringle's epistle to Miss Mally.

LETTER XIX

Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod--LONDON.

My Dear Bell--How delusive are the flatteries of fortune! The
wealth that has been showered upon us, beyond all our hopes, has
brought no pleasure to my heart, and I pour my unavailing sighs for
your absence, when I would communicate the cause of my unhappiness.
Captain Sabre has been most assiduous in his attentions, and I must
confess to your sympathising bosom, that I do begin to find that he
has an interest in mine. But my mother will not listen to his
proposals, nor allow me to give him any encouragement, till the
fatal legacy is settled. What can be her motive for this, I am
unable to divine; for the captain's fortune is far beyond what I
could ever have expected without the legacy, and equal to all I
could hope for with it. If, therefore, there is any doubt of the
legacy being paid, she should allow me to accept him; and if there
is none, what can I do better? In the meantime, we are going about
seeing the sights; but the general mourning is a great drawback on
the splendour of gaiety. It ends, however, next Sunday; and then
the ladies, like the spring flowers, will be all in full blossom. I
was with the Argents at the opera on Saturday last, and it far
surpassed my ideas of grandeur. But the singing was not good--I
never could make out the end or the beginning of a song, and it was
drowned with the violins; the scenery, however, was lovely; but I
must not say a word about the dancers, only that the females behaved
in a manner so shocking, that I could scarcely believe it was
possible for the delicacy of our sex to do. They are, however, all
foreigners, who are, you know, naturally of a licentious character,
especially the French women.

We have taken an elegant house in Baker Street, where we go on
Monday next, and our own new carriage is to be home in the course of
the week. All this, which has been done by the advice of Mrs.
Argent, gives my mother great uneasiness, in case anything should
yet happen to the legacy. My brother, however, who knows the law
better than her, only laughs at her fears, and my father has found
such a wonderful deal to do in religion here, that he is quite
delighted, and is busy from morning to night in writing letters, and
giving charitable donations. I am soon to be no less busy, but in
another manner. Mrs. Argent has advised us to get in accomplished
masters for me, so that, as soon as we are removed into our own
local habitation, I am to begin with drawing and music, and the
foreign languages. I am not, however, to learn much of the piano;
Mrs. A. thinks it would take up more time than I can now afford; but
I am to be cultivated in my singing, and she is to try if the master
that taught Miss Stephens has an hour to spare--and to use her
influence to persuade him to give it to me, although he only
receives pupils for perfectioning, except they belong to families of
distinction.

My brother had a hankering to be made a member of Parliament, and
got Mr. Charles Argent to speak to my father about it, but neither
he nor my mother would hear of such a thing, which I was very sorry
for, as it would have been so convenient to me for getting franks;
and I wonder my mother did not think of that, as she grudges nothing
so much as the price of postage. But nothing do I grudge so little,
especially when it is a letter from you. Why do you not write me
oftener, and tell me what is saying about us, particularly by that
spiteful toad, Becky Glibbans, who never could hear of any good
happening to her acquaintance, without being as angry as if it was
obtained at her own expense?

I do not like Miss Argent so well on acquaintance as I did at first;
not that she is not a very fine lassie, but she gives herself such
airs at the harp and piano--because she can play every sort of music
at the first sight, and sing, by looking at the notes, any song,
although she never heard it, which may be very well in a play-actor,
or a governess, that has to win her bread by music; but I think the
education of a modest young lady might have been better conducted.

Through the civility of the Argents, we have been introduced to a
great number of families, and been much invited; but all the parties
are so ceremonious, that I am never at my ease, which my brother
says is owing to my rustic education, which I cannot understand;
for, although the people are finer dressed, and the dinners and
rooms grander than what I have seen, either at Irvine or Kilmarnock,
the company are no wiser; and I have not met with a single literary
character among them. And what are ladies and gentlemen without
mind, but a well-dressed mob! It is to mind alone that I am at all
disposed to pay the homage of diffidence.

The acquaintance of the Argents are all of the first circle, and we
have got an invitation to a route from the Countess of J-y, in
consequence of meeting her with them. She is a charming woman, and
I anticipate great pleasure. Miss Argent says, however, she is
ignorant and presuming; but how is it possible that she can be so,
as she was an earl's daughter, and bred up for distinction? Miss
Argent may be presuming, but a countess is necessarily above that,
at least it would only become a duchess or marchioness to say so.
This, however, is not the only occasion in which I have seen the
detractive disposition of that young lady, who, with all her
simplicity of manners and great accomplishments, is, you will
perceive, just like ourselves, rustic as she doubtless thinks our
breeding has been.

I have observed that nobody in London inquires about who another is;
and that in company everyone is treated on an equality, unless when
there is some remarkable personal peculiarity, so that one really
knows nothing of those whom one meets. But my paper is full, and I
must not take another sheet, as my mother has a letter to send in
the same frank to Miss Mally Glencairn. Believe me, ever
affectionately yours, RACHEL PRINGLE.

The three ladies knew not very well what to make of this letter.
They thought there was a change in Rachel's ideas, and that it was
not for the better; and Miss Isabella expressed, with a sentiment of
sincere sorrow, that the acquisition of fortune seemed to have
brought out some unamiable traits in her character, which, perhaps,
had she not been exposed to the companions and temptations of the
great world, would have slumbered, unfelt by herself, and unknown to
her friends.

Mrs. Glibbans declared, that it was a waking of original sin, which
the iniquity of London was bringing forth, as the heat of summer
causes the rosin and sap to issue from the bark of the tree. In the
meantime, Miss Mally had opened her letter, of which we subjoin a
copy.

LETTER XX

Mrs Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn--LONDON.

Dear Miss Mally--I greatly stand in need of your advise and counsel
at this time. The Doctor's affair comes on at a fearful slow rate,
and the money goes like snow off a dyke. It is not to be told what
has been paid for legacy-duty, and no legacy yet in hand; and we
have been obligated to lift a whole hundred pounds out of the
residue, and what that is to be the Lord only knows. But Miss Jenny
Macbride, she has got her thousand pound, all in one bank bill, sent
to her; Thomas Bowie, the doctor in Ayr, he has got his five hundred
pounds; and auld Nanse Sorrel, that was nurse to the cornal, she has
got the first year of her twenty pounds a year; but we have gotten
nothing, and I jealouse, that if things go on at this rate, there
will be nothing to get; and what will become of us then, after all
the trubble and outlay that we have been pot too by this coming to
London?

Howsomever, this is the black side of the story; for Mr. Charles
Argent, in a jocose way, proposed to get Andrew made a Parliament
member for three thousand pounds, which he said was cheap; and
surely he would not have thought of such a thing, had he not known
that Andrew would have the money to pay for't; and, over and above
this, Mrs. Argent has been recommending Captain Sabre to me for
Rachel, and she says he is a stated gentleman, with two thousand
pounds rental, and her nephew; and surely she would not think Rachel
a match for him, unless she had an inkling from her gudeman of what
Rachel's to get. But I have told her that we would think of nothing
of the sort till the counts war settled, which she may tell to her
gudeman, and if he approves the match, it will make him hasten on
the settlement, for really I am growing tired of this London, whar I
am just like a fish out of the water. The Englishers are sae
obstinate in their own way, that I can get them to do nothing like
Christians; and, what is most provoking of all, their ways are very
good when you know them; but they have no instink to teach a body
how to learn them. Just this very morning, I told the lass to get a
jiggot of mutton for the morn's dinner, and she said there was not
such a thing to be had in London, and threeppit it till I couldna
stand her; and, had it not been that Mr. Argent's French servan' man
happened to come with a cart, inviting us to a ball, and who
understood what a jiggot was, I might have reasoned till the day of
doom without redress. As for the Doctor, I declare he's like an
enchantit person, for he has falling in with a party of the elect
here, as he says, and they have a kilfud yoking every Thursday at
the house of Mr. W-, where the Doctor has been, and was asked to
pray, and did it with great effec, which has made him so up in the
buckle, that he does nothing but go to Bible soceeyetis, and
mishonary meetings, and cherity sarmons, which cost a poor of money.

But what consarns me more than all is, that the temptations of this
vanity fair have turnt the head of Andrew, and he has bought two
horses, with an English man-servan', which you know is an eating
moth. But how he payt for them, and whar he is to keep them, is
past the compass of my understanding. In short, if the legacy does
not cast up soon, I see nothing left for us but to leave the world
as a legacy to you all, for my heart will be broken--and I often
wish that the cornel hadna made us his residees, but only given us a
clean scorn, like Miss Jenny Macbride, although it had been no more;
for, my dear Miss Mally, it does not doo for a woman of my time of
life to be taken out of her element, and, instead of looking after
her family with a thrifty eye, to be sitting dressed all day seeing
the money fleeing like sclate stanes. But what I have to tell is
worse than all this; we have been persuaded to take a furnisht
house, where we go on Monday; and we are to pay for it, for three
months, no less than a hundred and fifty pounds, which is more than
the half of the Doctor's whole stipend is, when the meal is twenty-
pence the peck; and we are to have three servan' lassies, besides
Andrew's man, and the coachman that we have hired altogether for
ourselves, having been persuaded to trist a new carriage of our own
by the Argents, which I trust the Argents will find money to pay
for; and masters are to come in to teach Rachel the fasionable
accomplishments, Mrs. Argent thinking she was rather old now to be
sent to a boarding-school. But what I am to get to do for so many
vorashous servants, is dreadful to think, there being no such thing
as a wheel within the four walls of London; and, if there was, the
Englishers no nothing about spinning. In short, Miss Mally, I am
driven dimentit, and I wish I could get the Doctor to come home with
me to our manse, and leave all to Andrew and Rachel, with kurators;
but, as I said, he's as mickle bye himself as onybody, and says that
his candle has been hidden under a bushel at Garnock more than
thirty years, which looks as if the poor man was fey; howsomever,
he's happy in his delooshon, for if he was afflictit with that
forethought and wisdom that I have, I know not what would be the
upshot of all this calamity. But we maun hope for the best; and,
happen what will, I am, dear Miss Mally, your sincere friend, JANET
PRINGLE.

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