ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING. twelve or sixteen miles farther into the Highlands, COPY OF GRAHAME OF KILLEARN'S LETTer, putting himself under the protection of the Earl of Bredalbin. When my Lord Cadogan was in the Highlands, he ordered his house att this place to be burnt, which your Lordship sees he now places to my account. "This obliges him to return to the same countrie he went from, being a most rugged inaccessible place, where he took up his residence anew amongst his own friends and relations; but well judging that it was possible to surprise him, he, with about fortyfive of his followers, went to Inverary, and made a sham surrender of their arms to Coll. Campbell of Finab, Commander of one of the Independant Companies, and returned home with his men, each of them having the Coll.'s protection. This happened in the beginning of summer last; yet not long after he appeared with his men twice in arms, in opposition to the King's troops; and one of those times attackt them, rescued a prisoner from them, and all this while sent abroad his party through the countrie, plundering the countrie people, and amongst the rest some of my tenants. "Being informed of these disorders after I came to Scotland, I applied to Lieut. Genll. Carpenter, who ordered three parties from Glasgow, Stirling, and Finlarig, to march in the night by different routes, in order to surprise him and his men in their houses, which would have had its effect certainly, if the great rains that happened to fall that verie night had not retarded the march of the troops, so as some of the parties came too late to the stations that they were ordered for. All that could be done upon the occasion was to burn a countrie house, where Rob Roy then resided, after some of his clan had, from the rocks, fired upon the king's troops, by which a grenadier was killed. "Mr Grahame, of Killearn, being my deputysheriff in that countrie, went along with the party that marched from Stirling; and, doubtless, will barous people on that account. Besides, that he is my relation, and that they know how active he has been in the service of the Government-all which, your Lordship may believe, puts me under very great concern for the gentleman, while, at the same time, I can forsee no manner of way how to relieve him, other than to leave him to chance and his own management. now meet with the worse treatment from that bar "I had my thoughts before of proposing to Government the building of some barracks, as the only expedient for suppressing these rebels, and securing the peace of the countrie; and in that view I spoke to Genll. Carpenter, who has now a scheme of it in his hands; and I am persuaded that will be the true method for restraining them effectually; but, in the meantime, it will be necessary to lodge some of the troops in those places, upon which I intend to write to the Generall. "I am sensible I have troubled your Lordship with a very long letter, which I should be ashamed of, were I myself singly concerned; but where the honour of the King's Government is touched, I need make no apologie, and I shall only beg leave to add, that I am, with great respect, and truth, "My Lord, "y". Lords, most humble and "obedient servant, "MONTROSE." "Chappellarroch, Nov. 19th, 1716. to give your Grace the trouble of this, by Robert "MAY IT PLEASE YOUR GRACE,-I am obliged Roy's commands, being so unfortunate at present as to be his prisoner. I refer the way and manner I was apprehended, to the bearer, and shall only, in short, acquaint your Grace with the demands, which are, that your Grace shall discharge him of all soumes he owes your Grace, and give him the soume of 3400 merks for his loss and damages sustained by him, both at Craigrostown and at his house, Auchinchisallen; and that your Grace shall give your word not to trouble or prosecute him afterwards; till which time he carries me, all the money I received this day, my books and bonds for entress, not yet paid, along with him, with assurances of hard usage, if any party are sent after him. The soume I received this day, conform to the nearest computation I can make before several of the gentlemen, is 3227£. 2sh. 8d. Scots, of which I gave them notes. I shall wait your Grace's return, and ever am, "Your Grace's most obedient, faithful, 28th Nov. 1716.-Killearn's Release. "Glasgow, 28th Nov. 1716. "SIR,-Having acquainted you by my last, of the 21st instant, of what had happened to my friend Mr Grahame of Killearn, I'm very glad now to tell you, that last night I was very agreeably surprised with Mr Grahame's coming here himself, and giving time of his being carried away. It seems Rob Roy, me the first account I had had of him from the when he came to consider a little better of it, found that he could not mend his matters by retaining Killearn his prisoner, which could only expose him and therefore thought fit to dismiss him on Sunday still the more to the justice of the Government; evening last, having kept him from the Monday night before, under a very uneasy kind of restraint, being obliged to change continually from place to place. He gave him back the books, papers, and bonds, but kept the money. "I am, with great truth, Sir, No. III. CHALLENGE BY ROB ROY. "ROB ROY to ain hie and mighty Prince, JAMES DUKE OF MONTROSE. "IN charity to your Grace's couradge and conduct, please know, the only way to retrive both is to treat Rob Roy like himself, in appointing your place and choice of arms, that at once you may extirpate your inveterate enemy, or put a period to your punny (puny?) life in falling gloriously by his hands. That impertinent criticks or flatterers may not brand me for challenging a man that's repute of a poor dastardly soul, let such know that I admit of the two great supporters of his character and the captain of his bands to joyne with him in the combate. Then sure your Grace wont have the impudence to clamour att court for multitudes to hunt me like a fox, under pretence that I am not to be found above ground. This saves your Grace and the troops any further trouble of searching; that is, if your ambition of glory press you to embrace this unequald venture offerd of Rob's head. But if your Grace's piety, prudence, and cowardice, forbids hazarding this gentlemanly expedient, then let your design of peace restore what you have robed from me by the tyranny of your present cituation, otherwise your overthrow as a man is determined; and advertise your friends never more to look for the frequent civility payed them, of sending them home without their arms only. Even their former cravings wont purchase that favour; so your Grace by this has peace in your offer, if the sound of war be frightful, and chuse you whilk, your good friend or mortal enemy." [This singular rhodomontade is enclosed in a letter to a friend of Rob Roy, probably a retainer of the Duke of Argyle in Isla, which is in these words:-] SIR,-Receive the enclosed paper, qn you are taking your bottle; it will divert yourself and comrades. I got noa news since I saw you, only qt we had before about the Spanyards is like to continue. If I get any account about them I'll be sure to let you hear of it, and till then I will not write any more till I have more account. I am, Sir, your affec Cn [cousin], and most humble servant, "Argyle, 1719. Addressed, To Mr Patrick Anderson,} at Haig-These. The seal, a stag-no bad emblem of a wild catteran. ROB ROY." FROM ROBERT CAMPBELL, alias M‘GREGOR, COMMONLY CALLED ROB ROY, TO FIELD-MARSHAL WADE, Then receiving the submission of disaffected Chieftains and Clans.1 "SIR,-The great humanity with which you have constantly acted in the discharge of the trust reposed in you, and your ever having made use of the great powers with which you were vested, as the means of doing good and charitable offices to such as ye found proper objects of compassion, will, I hope, excuse my importunity in endeavouring to approve myself not absolutely unworthy of that mercy and favour which your Excellency has so generously procured from his Majesty for others in my unfor 1 This curious epistle is copied from an authentic narrative of Marshal Wade's proceedings in the Highlands, communicated by the late eminent antiquary, George Chalmers, Esq. to Mr Robert Jamieson of the Register tunate circumstances. I am very sensible nothing can be alledged sufficient to excuse so great a crime as I have been guilty of, that of Rebellion. But I humbly beg leave to lay before your Excellency some particulars in the circumstance of my guilt, which, I hope, will extenuate it in some measure. It was my misfortune, at the time the Rebellion broke out, to be liable to legal diligence and caption, at the Duke of Montrose's instance, for debt alledged due to him. To avoid being flung into prison, as I must certainly have been, had I folfowed my real inclinations in joining the King's troops at Stirling, I was forced to take party with the adherents of the Pretender; for the country being all in arms, it was neither safe nor indeed possible for me to stand neuter. I should not, however, plead my being forced into that unnatural Rebellion against his Majesty, King George, if I could not at the sametime assure your Excellency, that I not only avoided acting offensively against his Majesty's forces upon all occasions, but on the contrary, sent his Grace the Duke of Argyle all the intelligence I could from time to time, of the strength and situation of the Rebels; which I hope his Grace will do me the justice to acknowledge. As to the debt to the Duke of Montrose, I have discharged it to the utmost farthing. I beg your Excellency would be persuaded that, had it been in my power, as it was in my inclination, I should always have acted for the service of his Majesty King George, and that one reason of my begging the favour of your intercession with his Majesty for the pardon of my life, is the earnest desire I have to employ it in his service, whose goodness, justice, and humanity, are so conspicuous to all mankind. I am, with all duty and respect, your Excellency's most, &c. ROBERT CAMPBELL." N'. V. THERE are many productions of the Scottish Ballad Poets upon the lion-like mode of wooing practised by the ancient Highlanders when they had a fancy for the person (or property) of a Lowland damsel. One example is found in Mr Robert Jamieson's Popular Scottish Songs: "Bonny Babby Livingstone Gaed out to see the kye, "Four-and-twenty Hieland men, "And they have sworn a deadly aith, That she should wed with Duncan Ger, Or they'd make bloody worke." This last we have from tradition, but there are many others in the collections of Scottish Ballads to the same purpose. The achievement of Robert Oig, or young Rob House, Edinburgh, and published in the Appendix to an Edition of Burt's Letters from the North of Scotland. 2 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh, 1818. Roy, as the Lowlanders called him, was celebrated | in a ballad, of which there are twenty different and various editions. The tune is lively and wild, and we select the following words from memory: "Rob Roy is frae the Hielands come, Down to the Lowland border; "He set her on a milk-white steed, Untill they reached the Hieland hills, "Saying, Be content, be content, Be content with me, lady; Have heard MacGregor's fame, lady. "I am as bold, I am as bold, I am as bold and more, lady; Be content with me, lady; 1 A pass on the eastern margin of Loch Lomond, and an entrance to the Highlands. N°. VI. GHLUNE DHU. THE following notices concerning this Chief fell under the Author's eye while the sheets were in the act of going through the press. They occur in manuscript memoirs, written by a person intimately acquainted with the incidents of 1745. This Chief had the important task intrusted to him of defending the Castle of Doune, in which the Chevalier placed a garrison to protect his communication with the Highlands, and to repel any sallies which might be made from Stirling Castle.Ghlune Dhu distinguished himself by his good con duct in this charge. Ghlune Dhu is thus described:-" Glengyle is, in person, a tall handsome man, and has more of the mien of the ancient heroes than our modern fine gentlemen are possessed of. He is honest and disinterested to a proverb-extremely modest-brave and intrepid-and born one of the best partisans in Europe. In short, the whole people of that country declared that never did men live under so mild a government as Glengyle's, not a man having so much as lost a chicken while he continued there." It would appear from this curious passage, that Glengyle-not Stewart of Balloch, as averred in a note on Waverley-commanded the garrison of Doune. Balloch might, no doubt, succeed MacGregor in the situation. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION—(1817.) course so numerous, that, besides the suppression of names, and of incidents approaching too much to reality, the work may in a great measure be Several anachronisms said to be new written. WHEN the Editor of the following volumes published, they might be given to the Public, with such alterabout two years since, the work called "The Anti-ations as should be found suitable. These were of quary," he announced that he was, for the last time, intruding upon the public in his present capacity. He might shelter himself under the plea that every anonymous writer is, like the celebrated Junius, only a phantom, and that therefore, although an ap-have probably crept in during the course of these parition of a more benign, as well as much meaner changes; and the mottoes for the Chapters have description, he cannot be bound to plead to a charge been selected without any reference to the supposed of inconsistency. A better apology may be found date of the incidents. For these, of course, the in the imitating the confession of honest Benedict, Editor is responsible. Some others occurred in the that, when he said he would die a bachelor, he did original materials, but they are of little consequence. not think he should live to be married. The best In point of minute accuracy, it may be stated, that of all would be, if, as has eminently happened in the bridge over the Forth, or rather the Avondhu the case of some distinguished contemporaries, the (or Black River), near the hamlet of Aberfoil, had merit of the work should, in the reader's estimanot an existence thirty years ago. It does not, however, become the Editor to be the first to point out tion, form an excuse for the Author's breach of these errors; and he takes this public opportunity promise. Without presuming to hope that this may to thank the unknown and nameless correspondent, prove the case, it is only further necessary to mention, that my resolution, like that of Benedict, to whom the reader will owe the principal share fell a sacrifice, to temptation at least, if not to of any amusement which he may derive from the following pages. stratagem. It is now about six months since the Author, through the medium of his respectable Publishers, received a parcel of Papers, containing the Outlines of this narrative, with a permission, or rather with a request, couched in highly flattering terms, that 1st December 1817. 1 As it may be necessary, in the present Edition, to speak upon the square, the Author thinks it proper to own, that the communication alluded to is entirely imaginary. Rob Boy. CHAPTER I. How have I sinn'd, that this affliction Should light so heavy on me? I have no more sons, You have requested me, my dear friend, to bestow some of that leisure, with which Providence has blessed the decline of my life, in registering the hazards and difficulties which attended its commencement. The recollection of those adventures, as you are pleased to term them, has indeed left upon my mind a chequered and varied feeling of pleasure and of pain, mingled, I trust, with no slight gratitude and veneration to the Disposer of human events, who guided my early course through much risk and labour, that the ease with which he has blessed my prolonged life, might seem softer from remembrance and contrast. Neither is it possible for me to doubt, what you have often affirmed, that the incidents which befell me among a people singularly primitive in their government and manners, have something interesting and attractive for those who love to hear an old man's stories of a past age. Still, however, you must remember, that the tale told by one friend, and listened to by another, loses half its charms when committed to paper; and that the narratives to which you have attended with interest, as heard from the voice of him to whom they occurred, will appear less deserving of attention when perused in the seclusion of your study. But your greener age and robust constitution promise longer life than will, in all human probability, be the lot of your friend. Throw, then, these sheets into some secret drawer of your escritoir till we are separated from each other's society by an event which may happen at any moment, and which must happen within the course of a few-a very few years. When we are parted in this world, to meet, I hope, in a better, you will, I am well aware, cherish more than it deserves the memory of your departed friend, and will find in those details which I am now to commit to paper, matter for melancholy, but not unpleasing reflection. Others bequeath to the confidants of their bosom, portraits of their external features-I put into your hands a faithful transcript of my thoughts and feelings, of my virtues and of my failings, with the assured hope, that the follies and headstrong impetuosity of my youth will meet the same kind construction and forgiveness which have so often attended the faults of my matured age. One advantage, among the many, of addressing my Memoirs (if I may give these sheets a name so imposing) to a dear and intimate friend, is, that I may spare some of the details, in this case unnecessary, with which I must needs have detained a stranger from what I have to say of greater interest. Why should I bestow all my tediousness upon you, because I have you in my power, and have ink, paper, and time before me? At the same time, I dare not promise that I may not abuse the opportunity so temptingly offered me, to treat of myself and my own concerns, even though I speak of circumstances as well known to you as to myself. The seductive love of narrative, when we ourselves are the heroes of the events which we tell, often disregards the attention due to the time and patience of the audience, and the best and wisest have yielded to its fascination. I need only remind you of the singular instance evinced by the form of that rare and original edition of Sully's Memoirs, which you (with the fond vanity of a book-collector) insist upon preferring to that which is reduced to the useful and ordinary form of Memoirs, but which I think curious, solely as illustrating how far so great a man as the author was accessible to the foible of self-importance. If I recollect rightly, that venerable peer and great statesman had appointed no fewer than four gentlemen of his household to draw up the events of his life, under the title of Memorials of the Sage and Royal Affairs of State, Domestic, Political, and Military, transacted by Henry IV., and so forth. These grave recorders, having made their compilation, reduced the Memoirs containing all the remarkable events of their master's life, into a narrative, addressed to himself in propria persona. And thus, instead of telling his own story in the third person, like Julius Cæsar, or in the first person, like most who, in the hall, or the study, undertake to be the hearers of their own tale, Sully enjoyed the refined, though whimsical pleasure, of having the events of his life told over to him by his secretaries, being himself the auditor, as he was also the hero, and probably the author, of the whole book. It must have been a great sight to have seen the ex-minister, as bolt upright as a starched ruff and laced cassock could make him, seated in state beneath his canopy, and listening to the recitation of his compilers, while, standing bare in his presence, they informed him gravely, "Thus said the duke- -so did the duke infer-such were your grace's sentiments upon this important pointsuch were your secret counsels to the king on that other emergency," circumstances, all of which must have been much better known to their hearer than to themselves, and most of which could only be derived from his own special communication. My situation is not quite so ludicrous as that of the great Sully, and yet there would be something whimsical in Frank Osbaldistone giving Will Tre sham a formal account of his birth, education, and connexions in the world. I will, therefore, wrestle with the tempting spirit of P. P., Clerk of our Parish, as I best may, and endeavour to tell you nothing that is familiar to you already. Some things, however, I must recall to your memory, because, though formerly well known to you, they may have been forgotten through lapse of time, and they afford the ground-work of my destiny. You must remember my father well; for as your own was a member of the mercantile house, you knew him from infancy. Yet you hardly saw him in his best days, before age and infirmity had quenched his ardent spirit of enterprise and speculation. He would have been a poorer man, indeed, but perhaps as happy, had he devoted to the extension of science those active energies, and acute powers of observation, for which commercial pursuits found occupation. Yet, in the fluctuations of mercantile speculation, there is something captivating to the adventurer, even independent of the hope of gain. He who embarks on that fickle sea, requires to possess the skill of the pilot, and the fortitude of the navigator, and after all may be wrecked and lost, unless the gales of fortune breathe in his favour. This mixture of necessary attention and inevitable hazard-the frequent and awful uncertainty whether prudence shall overcome fortune, or fortune baffle the schemes of prudence -affords full occupation for the powers as well as for the feelings of the mind, and trade has all the fascination of gambling, without its moral guilt. Early in the 18th century, when I (Heaven help me!) was a youth of some twenty years old, I was summoned suddenly from Bourdeaux to attend my father on business of importance. I shall never forget our first interview. You recollect the brief, abrupt, and somewhat stern mode in which he was wont to communicate his pleasure to those around him. Methinks I see him even now in my mind's eye; the firm and upright figure, the step, quick and determined, the eye, which shot so keen and so penetrating a glance, the features, on which care had already planted wrinkles,-and hear his language, in which he never wasted word in vain, expressed in a voice which had sometimes an occasional harshness, far from the intention of the speaker. When I dismounted from my post-horse, I hastened to my father's apartment. He was traversing it with an air of composed and steady deliberation, which even my arrival, although an only son unseen for four years, was unable to discompose. I threw myself into his arms. He was a kind, though not a fond father, and the tear twinkled in his dark eye, but it was only for a moment. "Dubourg writes to me that he is satisfied with you, Frank." "I am happy, sir". "But I have less reason to be so," he added, sitting down at his bureau. "I am sorry, sir”. "Sorry and happy, Frank, are words that, on most occasions, signify little or nothing-Here is your last letter." He took it out from a number of others tied up in a parcel of red tape, and curiously labelled and filed. There lay my poor epistle, written on the subject the nearest to my heart at the time, and couched in words which I had thought would work compassion, if not conviction,-there, I say, it lay, squeezed up among the letters on miscellaneous business in which my father's daily affairs had engaged him. I cannot help smiling internally when I recollect the mixture of hurt vanity and wounded feeling with which I regarded my remonstrance, to the penning of which there had gone, I promise you, some trouble, as I beheld it extracted from amongst letters of advice, of credit, and all the commonplace lumber, as I then thought them, of a merchant's correspondence. Surely, thought I, a letter of such importance (I dared not say, even to myself, so well written) deserved a separate place, as well as more anxious consideration, than those on the ordinary business of the counting-house. But my father did not observe my dissatisfaction, and would not have minded it if he had. He proceeded, with the letter in his hand-"This, Frank, is yours of the 21st ultimo, in which you advise me" (reading from my letter), "that in the most important business of forming a plan, and adopting a profession for life, you trust my paternal goodness will hold you entitled to at least a negative voice; that you have insuperable—ay, insuperable is the word-I wish, by the way, you would write a more distinct current hand-draw a score through the tops of your t's, and open the loops of your l's-insuperable objections to the arrangements which I have proposed to you. There is much more to the same effect, occupying four good pages of paper, which a little attention to perspicuity and distinctness of expression might have comprised within as many lines. For, after all, Frank, it amounts but to this, that you will not do as I would have you." "That I cannot, sir, in the present instance; not that I will not." "Words avail very little with me, young man," said my father, whose inflexibility always possessed the air of the most perfect calmness and self-possession. "Can not may be a more civil phrase than will not, but the expressions are synonymous where there is no moral impossibility. But I am not a friend to doing business hastily; we will talk this matter over after dinner.-Owen!" Owen appeared, not with the silver locks which you were used to venerate, for he was then little more than fifty; but he had the same, or an exactly similar uniform suit of light brown clothes,-the same pearl-grey silk stockings,-the same stock, with its silver buckle,-the same plaited cambric ruffles, drawn down over his knuckles in the parlour, but in the counting-house carefully folded back under the sleeves, that they might remain unstained by the ink which he daily consumed ;in a word, the same grave, formal, yet benevolent cast of features, which continued to his death to distinguish the head-clerk of the great house of Osbaldistone and Tresham. "Owen," said my father, as the kind old man shook me affectionately by the hand, "you must dine with us to-day, and hear the news Frank has brought us from our friends in Bourdeaux." Owen made one of his stiff bows of respectful gratitude; for, in those days, when the distance between superiors and inferiors was enforced in a manner to which the present times are strangers, such an invitation was a favour of some little consequence. I shall long remember that dinner-party. Deeply |