3

The their design. This they did with singuhalar openness and carefulness; fearing ste d thenone, and injuring none but the principal

object of their hatred. The motions of the magistrates were too slow, and the neutrality of the inhabitants too favourable, not to facilitate their project. By the aid of the implements used on such on occasions; and, at last of fire, the conraspirators found access to the prisoner, and bore him to his fate at the moment he was animated by security and hope. The erce most distinguished of the riotors was a young man called for the occasion, Madge Wildfire, and dressed in fantastic female attire, who was observed to display throughout the whole, most uncommon activity of body, and presence of mind. In the general liberty which the confusion proofduced for the inmates of the jail, two per

sons, excepting a few debtors, only refused to avail themselves of. One was a young girl, of eighteen to her, the leader of the riot, desisting for a moment from efforts which at other times seemed to absorb his faculties, turned, and with earnest persuasion besought her to escape. She heard him with an air of tenderness, surprise, and many mingled emotions; but standing immoveably, only mournfully muttered, as he obeyed a hasty summons to depart, "Better tyne life, since lost is gude fame."

The rioters soon reached the place of death, and hastened to consummate their work. Butler offered some vain remonstrances, but he was silenced; and when the duty forced upon him was finished, was permitted to take his own course.

Reuben Butler was descended from an English soldier of Monk's army; but his progenitors for two generations, had dwelt in Scotland; and he was an orphan from infancy, was bred up by a doting and indigent grandmother, on the estate of the laird of Dumbiedikes.

Among the tenants of Dumbicdikes, was a "true blue presbyterian, called Deans," the father of two daughters, Jeanic, the offspring of a first marriage, and Euphemia, or Effie, many years

66

Reuben was fitted in all carnal points for the ministry; his faith was sound, and though David disdained his profane learning, and was fearful he might fall into some of the "snares, defections, and desertions" of the times, he would have regarded Butler favourably as his son-inlaw, had he not cherished, for very good reasons of his own, a preference to the laird of Dumbiedikes, who was a daily visiter of his family-looked wistfully at Jeanie, and said nothing to her or any other woman. The prudent lovers had no fears from this rival, and waited with hope deferred till Providence should smile upon their fortunes. Douce David Deans, as he was sometimes called, is a strongly marked character; a character, which in his condition of life, has commonly few occasions of conspicuous action, but expresses itself vividly in its emotions, in conversation, and in a narrow individual influence; a modification of human elements which, with certain principles of conduct, forms a stoic of these latter days, without them, the "little tyrant" of a field; and in a wider sphere of action, creates sometimes a religious persecutor, and sometimes a political despot. David Deans' little world was the Kirk, the fireside, and the pasture; to defend "the law and the testimony," to govern his household, and to observe his growing treasure, were all his avocations; but these made him, for the most part, the man he was.

flowed not for the "afflicted church." At one time uttering pious execration upon a beloved daughter; and at another, tenderly moved by the slightest association with her name; and again, calling down" the blessings of the promise" on a "dear bairn," yet willing to break the tenderest tie of her heart, and unite her to one of those human creatures that are dead even while they live. In fact we behold one of those beings in whom extremes are combined, in which, like the country of Iceland, fire and frost encroach on each other's limits; in which some excellent elements are inflamed and others congealed; and inhich some, with volcanic explosion, would bury and melt away the softer and the better, did not a strong will control the internal action; and, while the breast was agitated with the mighty convulsion, the counter power presented the equilibrium of the soul. Soon after the death of David Dean's second wife, he resolved to change his abode. Stoic as he was, the associations of his home with his loss, determined David to this measure. He chose a lonely house and extensive pasture ground, at a place called St. Leonard's Crags, lying betwixt Edinburgh and the mountain called Arthur's seat. At this time the young Effie was woman grown. We cannot read of her charms, and the first indications of her character, without a trembling interest in her fate.

The labouring classes of commerce, and the mechanic arts, seem, from the effect of incessant and uniform manual effort, to lose sight of some of the highest distinctions and privileges of the moral nature. To be industrious, honest, temperate, is generally the widest extent, and the highest praise of their appropriate virtue. Not so the man who tills the soil the manifestations of God are always before him, uneffaced and unobstructed by such multiplied intervention of second causes, as stand.in the other walks of life. The labours of agriculture, severe but quiet, and the intervals of those labours, often long, lead the labourer to speculation; to the contemplation of his maker, to his own nature, his relations, his destiny, and his duties, without often furnishing him leisure and means to become highly enlightened. Yet thus are formed many acute inquirers, deep reasoners, triumphant casuists, and anxious scekers after wisdom: many, who by their advances before their common associates, are led to a pitch of self-exaltation as complacent as that of the pedant, and as arbitrary as the law of the conqueror; and who pertinaciously reject all the super-added light which would depress their fancied eminence, and show them their own place. This self-estimation, and selfwill, does not exclude the stronger affections, though it limits their operation to the objects of its power, and the appendages of its importance. Thus we find David Deans a fond husband, and an affectionate father; but not a disinterested friend: his distinguishing traits are,strength of prejudice, genuine piety, and as much spiritual pride; and, blended with this pride, a compromising infusion of mammon and worldly wisdom. He is a good illustration of his class of mind, and displays that vacillating influence of mingled motives and passions, which he who knows the human heart can alone estimate and describe. At the same moment we see him weeping for the woman he loved, throwing a slur at "carnal seekers," and reproaching himself that his tears

"Effie Deans, under the tender and affectionate care of her sister, had now shot up to a beautiful and blooming girl. Her Grecian shaped head, was profusely rich in waving ringlets of dark hair; which, confined by a blue snood of silk, and shading a laughing Hebe countenance, seemed the picture of health, pleasure, and contentment. Her brown russet short-gown, set off a shape which time, perhaps, might be expected to render too robust, the frequent objection to Scottish beauty; but which, in her present early age, was slender and taper, with that graceful and easy sweep of outline, which at once indicates health, and beautiful proportion of parts.

"Scarce an eye could behold this living picture of health and beauty, without pausing on it with pleasure; the traveller stopped his weary horse on the eve of entering

the city which was the end of his journey, to gaze on the sylph-like form that tripped by him with her milk pail poised on her head, bearing herself so erect, and stepping so light and free under her burden, that it seemed rather an ornament than an incumbrance. The lads of the neighbouring suburb, who held their evening rendezvous for putting the stone, casting the hammer, playing at long bowls, and other athletic exercises, watched the motions of Effie Deans, and contended with each other which should have the good fortune to attract her attention. Even the rigid presbyterians of her father's persuasion, who held each indulgence of the eye and sense to be a snare, at least, if not a crime, were surprised into a moment's delight while gazing on a creature

so exquisite; instantly checked by a sigh, reproaching, at once, their own weakness, and mourning that a creature so fair should share in the common and hereditary guilt and imperfection of our nature. She was currently entitled the lily of St. Leonard's, a name which she deserved as much from her guiltless purity of thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of face and person.

"Yet there were points in Effie's character, which gave rise to strange doubt and anxiety on the part of Douce Davie Deans, whose ideas were rigid, as may easily be supposed, upon the subject of youthful amusements; but even of serious apprehension to her more indulgent sister. The children of the Scotch of the inferior classes, are usually spoiled by the early indulgence of their parents. Effie had had a double share of this inconsiderate and misjudged kindness. Even the strictness of her father's principles could not condemn the sports of infancy and childhood; and, to the good old man, his younger daughter, the child of his old age, seemed a child for some years after she attained the age of womanhood; was still called the bit lassie,' and little Effie,' and was permitted to run up and down uncontrolled, unless upon the Sabbath, or at the times of family worship. Her sister, with all the love and care of a mother, could not be supposed to have the same authoritative influence; and that which she had hitherto exercised became gradually limited and diminished, as Effie's years entitled her, in her own conceit at least, to the right of independence, and free agency. With all the innocence and goodness of disposition, therefore, which we have described, the lily of St. Leonard's possessed a little fund of self-conceit and obstinacy; and some warmth and irritability of temper, partly natural, perhaps, but certainly much increased by the unrestrained freedom of

her childhood."

The first circumstance which indicated Effie's misfortunes, also exhibited the surpassing sweetness of her temper; and

awakens that fascinating interest in her, which is prolonged through her eventful history, sometimes with agonizing suspense, and always with exquisite regret.

Effie, to the infinite concern of Jeanie, had learned to find her most favourite pleasures abroad; and, at last, the frequency and duration of her absence, excited the most torturing fears. These were brought to the highest point, when, at a late hour, Effie was seen to disengage herself from the company of a man unknown to Jeanie. Effie felt that she but she approached her sister was wrong, that a secret was discovered;

"with that affected liveliness of manner, which, in her rank, and sometimes those above it, females occasionally assume to hide surprise or confusion; and she carolled as she came—

'The elfin knight sate on the brae,

The broom grows bonny, the broom grows fair; And by there came tilting a lady so gay, And we daurna gang down to the broom nae mair.'

"Whisht, Effie," said her sister; "our father's coming out o' the byre."-The damsel stinted in her song." Whare hae ye been so late at e'en ?"

"It's no late, lass," answered Effie.

"It's chappit eight on every clock o' the town." "Whare can ye hae been so late?" "Nae gate," answered Effie.

"And wha was that parted wi' you at the stile ?"

"Naebody," replied Effie once more. "Nae gate?-Naebody?—I wish it might be a right gate, and a right body, that keeps folks out sae late at e'en, Effie?"

"What needs ye be aye speering then at folk?" retorted Effie. "I'm sure if ye'll ask nae questions, I'll tell ye nae lees. 1 never ask what brings the laird of Dumbiedikes glowering here like a wall cat, (only his een's greener, and no sae gleg,) day af ter day, till we are a' like to gaunt our chasts aff."

"Because ye ken very weel he comes to see our father," said Jeanie, in answer to this pert remark.

"And Dominie Butler-Does he come to see my father, that's sae taen wi' his Latin words?" said Effie, delighted to find that by carrying the war into the enemy's country, she could divert the threatened attack upon herself, and with the petulence of youth she pursued her triumph over her prudential elder sister. She looked at her with a sly air. in which there was something like irony, as she chaunted in a low but marked tone, a scrap of an old Scotch song-

' Through the kirk-yard

I met wi' the laird,

The silly puir body he said ine nae harm.;
But just ere 'twas dark
I met wi' the clerk.'-

"Here the songstress stopped, looked full at her sister, and observing the tears gather ing in her eyes, she suddenly flung her arms about her neck and kissed them away. Jeanie, though hurt and displeased, was unable to resist the caresses of this untaught child of nature, whose good and evil seemed to flow rather from impulse than affection. But as she returned the sisterly kiss, in token of her perfect reconciliation, she could not suppress the gentle reproof-"Effie, if ye will learn fule sangs, ye might make a kinder use of them."

"And so I might, Jeanie," continued the girl, clinging to her sister's neck; " and I wish I had never learned ane o' them--and I wish we had never come here-and I wish my tongue had been blistered or I had vexed ye."

"Never mind that, Effie," replied the affectionate sister; "I canna be muckle vexed wi' ony thing ye say to me-But O dinna vex our father!"

"I will not-I will not," replied Effie. "and if there were as mony dances the morn's night, as there are merry dancers in the north firmament on a frosty e'en, I winna budge an inch to gang near ane o' them." "Dance!" echoed Jeanie Deans in astonishment. "O, Effie, what could take ye to a dance?"

The word "dance," reached the ears of David Deans; it was so abhorrent to his soul that he could not but express his holy indignation, in all the terms of execration such a Christian could utter; and though he drew tears from Effie's eyes, and a purpose of amendment from the heart, he so magnified her folly, that she determined to withhold a confession of it, from that sister whose counsel would probably have preserved her.

Soon after, Effie was removed from St. Leonard's to the family of Saddletree, in Edinburgh. After living there more than a year, she unexpectedly appeared at her father's house; pale, ill, and almost in a state of mental derangement. The distress of her father and sister was great; but it was augmented almost to phrenzy by the summons of justice, which accused the unhappy Effie of child-murder, and snatched her to prison.

At the first tidings David fell senseless on the hearth; and when recovered by the

aid of the afflicted Jeanie, he exclaimed in "a voice which made the roof ring, 'Where is the vile harlot that has disgraced the blood of an honest man? Where is she

that has no place among us, but has come foul with her sins, like the evil one among the children of God? Where is she, Jea

nie?-Bring her before me, that I may

kill her with a word and a look?" All present, (and there were several visiters at the time) hastened around him, conjuring him to think of "the Rock of Ages, and the promise!"

"And I do think of it neighbours-And I bless God that I can think of it, even in the wreck and ruin of a' that's dearest to meBut to be the father of a cast-a-way-a profligate-a bloody Zipporah-a mere murderess!-O, how will the wicked exult in the high places of their wickedness!--the prelatists, the latitudinarians, and the handwaled murderers, whose hands are hard as horn wi' hauding the slanghter weaponsthey will push out the lip, and say that we are even such as themselves. Sair, sair am I grieved neighbours for the puir cast-away-for the child of mine old age-but sairer for the scandal and stumbling-block it will be to all tender and honest souls!"

David Deans soon requested his neighbours to leave him to privacy and prayer. Time and habitual firmness having calmed his soul-the morning after the death of Porteous found him and Jeanie in a state of self-subdued tranquillity.

We left Butler at the close of the sanguinary scene of Porteous' execution at liberty to follow his own will. This led him to the abode of his mistress, but he chose to delay his visit till morning. With this view he lingered near her habitation, "at the bottom of the valley which divides Salisbury Crags from those small rocks that take their name from St. Leonard." This spot was in that day the resort of those young men who chose to decide their differences by the sword; and here Butler encountered a person whose motions and appearance justified the presumption that he had come thither with such a view.

Under this conviction, Butler thought it his duty to accost the stranger, and if possible, to deter his purpose. With this intention, Butler returned a slight saluta

tion, observing to the young man at the same time, that he was early abroad!

"I have business here" was the answer. "I do not doubt it, Sir," said Butler, "I trust you will forgive my hoping that it is of a lawful kind." The stranger was offended, but Butler urged the privilege of his function to interfere in the violation of the divine laws, which he feared was the present intention of his auditor, and at the same time that he apologised by the manner of his expostulation for the liberty he took, enforced the sommandment, "Thou shalt do no murder," with so much eloquence, that he seemed to appal the young man, who assured him that he had come thither not to take life, but to save it, at the same time giving him a most unexpected and inexplicable commission:

Co Go thither,' said the stranger, pointing to David Deans' house, inquire for one Jeanie Deans, the daughter of the good man; let her know that he she wots of, remained here from daybreak till this hour, expecting to see her, and that he must abide no longer. Tell her she must meet me at the hunter's

bog to-night, as the moon rises behind St. Anthony's hill, or that she will make a desperate man of me.'

"Who, or what are you,' replied Butler, exceedingly, and most unpleasantly surprised, who charge me with such an errand!'

"I am the devil!' answered the young man hastily.

"Butler stepped instinctively back, and commended himself internally to heaven; for though a wise and strong minded man, he was neither wiser nor more strong minded than those of his age and education, with whom, to disbelieve witchcraft or spectres, was held an undeniable proof of atheism.

"The stranger went on without observ. ing his emotion. Yes, call me Apollyon Abaddon, whatever name you shall choose, as a clergyman acquainted with the upper and lower circles of denomination, to call me by, you shall not find an appellation more odious to him that bears it, than is mine own.'

"This sentence was spoken with the bitterness of self-upbraiding, and a contortion of visage that was absolutely demoniacal. Butler, though a stout hearted was overawed; for intensity of VOL. IV.-No. II.

man,

12

"The fiery eye, the abrupt demeanour, the occasionally harsh, yet studiously subdued tone whose perfect beauty was now clouded with pride, now disturbed by suspicion, now inflamed by passion, those dark hazle eyes, which he sometimes shaded with his cap, as if he were averse to have them seen, while they were occupied with keenly observing the motions and bearing of others-those eyes that were now turbid with melancholy, now gleaming with scorn, and now sparkling with fury-was it the passions of a mere mortal they expressed, or the emotions of a fiend who seeks, and seeks in vain, to conceal his fiendish designs under the borrowed mask of manly beauty. The whole partook of the mein, language, and port of the Archangel ;the effect upon Butler's nerves, shaken as they were by the horrors of the preceding night, were greater than his understanding warranted, or his pride cared to submit to."

of voice-the features

The scene of Butler's reception at St. Leonard's, is worthy of the master hand that paints it. The limits of these pages