Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume VIII Part 8

He was a decent, substantial-looking farmer--plain and unsophisticated in his manners, intelligent, and shrewd, with a spice of humour about him which he seemed to have some difficulty in controlling.

Having mentioned to Mr Pentland the purpose of my visit, and my wish to take a look of Dryfield and its premises, he instantly accompanied me thither--having previously provided himself with a couple of keys: one to procure us access to the garden, through which it was necessary to pa.s.s to reach the house; the other to admit us to the house itself.

Our way lay through a romantic wood, that grew on a steep bank overhanging the Clyde, and which was traversed by various winding paths.

Having taken one of these, we soon threaded the little forest, and, emerging at its western side, found ourselves on a green lawn, at the further end of which stood the mansion-house of Driffel, as it was more shortly p.r.o.nounced by the natives. It was a compact and comfortable-looking house, but had evidently been long untenanted.

Everything around it was running to waste. The honeysuckle, with which its walls had been clothed, had fallen from its fastenings, and was idly sweeping the footpath below; the flower-plats in front were over-run with weeds; the garden was uncropped; and shrubs, bushes, and trees were revelling in an unprofitable luxuriance. Everything, in short, bespoke neglect, and the absence of a presiding care and taste.

"The house does not seem to have been tenanted for a long time, Mr Pentland?" said I, as we walked towards the house.

"'Deed, it's a gey while since there was what ye may ca' a reglar tenant in't," replied my companion. "We hae had families, from time to time, for a month or twa in the summer season, but nae reglar tenant since Mr Darsy himsel left, and that's gaun noo in ten years since."

"Is Mr Darsy dead?"

"Ou no! He gaed abroad for the benefit o' his health--him and his man Ramsay. He was to hae been back in six months, but he has never returned yet. But I'm sure the blessin o' the poor and the needcessitous'll follow the worthy man wherever he goes."

"He was a benevolent man, was he?"

"That he was, sir. Just ane o' the best men breathin. Some folk thocht him a wee whimsical now and then; but his heart was in the richt place.

He had just five hunner a-year; and I'm sure he gied awa three o't in charity, if he gied a saxpence."

"Any family?"

"No; he never was married. It's said that he was ance crossed in love in his younger days; but whether this be sae or no, I dinna ken. There was naebody lived here wi' him but an auld maiden sister, his man Ramsay, and twa servant la.s.ses. His sister's dead; and it's thocht it was partly her death that sent him awa frae Dryfield; for they war just extraordinar attached to ane anither. Just to show you, sir, how worthy a man he is," continued Mr Pentland, "the rent o' this property is, by his orders, to be handed owre to the minister, for the use o' the poor o' the parish."

Just as the conversation had reached this point, we reached the door of the house. Mr Pentland inserted the key, but found some difficulty in turning the lock, from its having become stiff and rusted through disuse. While he was engaged in alternately coaxing and forcing the obstinate bolt, my attention was attracted by an inscription on the stone over the doorway. This inscription was in part concealed by some straggling branches of honeysuckle which had broken loose from their fastenings, and were hanging over it. These I removed with the end of my stick, and having done so, read--

"To balance fortune by a just expense, Join with economy magnificence."

The quotation I remembered was from Pope, and thought it rather a peculiar sort of taste that had placed it where I now saw it.

By this time, Mr Pentland had succeeded in opening the door; and we entered. I found the house to be an excellent one--well finished, commodious, and judiciously arranged.

Having gone through all the rooms, we finished our survey by a visit to the kitchen. On entering this apartment, the first thing that caught my eye was a small board over the fireplace, on which, in gilt letters on a black ground, were the following lines:--

"To worth or want, well-weigh'd, be bounty given And ease, or emulate the care of Heaven; Whose measure full o'erflows on human race, Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace."

"What!" said I, "Pope again?"

Mr Pentland smiled. "Ou ay, sir," he at length said, "Mr Darsy had an awfu wark wi' Pope; and so had his man Ramsay. It was that brocht them first thegither, and it's maistly that has keepit them thegither ever since, nearly thirty year. Mr Darsy was aye gi'ein us screeds o' Pope; and onybody that could quote Pope to him was sure to win his favour, and to get a' the a.s.sistance he could gie them in whatever way they micht want it. It was a queer conceit o' his; and mony a time the worthy man was imposed on, by designin folk, through the medium o' this fancy. When ony o' that kind wanted his a.s.sistance, they had naething ado but get twa or three lines o' Pope by heart, come to him wi' a lang face, and tak an opportunity o' slippin out the lines, and their business was done. I've seen him actually shed tears when he was quotin his favourite author. He was just clean crazed about him. He made me a present o' the 'Essay on Man,' and gied me nae rest, nicht or day, till I got every line o't by heart."

"But he did you a good service in that, my friend," said I: "it is a n.o.ble poem--full of fine thoughts, beautifully expressed."

"Nae doot o't," replied Mr Pentland: "I like the poem weel, and think as much o' Pope as ony man. He is a great philosopher, as well as a great poet; but my excellent friend, Mr Darsy, just carried the thing a wee owre far. His admiration o' him, or rather his constant and open expression of that admiration, bordered on the ridiculous: it amounted to a weakness--although, in other respects, Mr Darsy was a man of great good sense. I've heard him and his man Ramsay--for he's just as great an admirer o' Pope as his master--firin quotations at ane anither for an hour thegither. Indeed they never spoke for five minutes without exchangin a couplet or twa, and seldom conversed on onything else but the merits o' Pope."

In this sketch of the worthy proprietor of Dryfield, I thought I recognised--what I always took much delight in contemplating--an original character; and this was one of the best sort--a compound of oddity and benevolence. What had just been told me of him was enough to excite my curiosity, but far from being enough to gratify it. This, however, I hoped circ.u.mstances would yet effect for me; for, feeling amused by Mr Darsy's peculiarities, and interested by his worth, I determined on learning all about him that I could; and ample opportunity for doing so was subsequently afforded me.

Having expressed to Mr Pentland my satisfaction with the house, and my wish to take it, he proposed that we should adjourn to his residence, and there settle the transaction by missive. We did so; and when the business was concluded, Mr Pentland kindly suggested that, as the day was now far advanced, I had better remain with him all night, and return home the following morning with the first coach. To this proposal, seeing that it would afford me an opportunity of learning something more of Mr Darsy, I at once agreed, and was soon after put in possession, by my good host, Mr Pentland, of some particulars regarding that gentleman, which I have thought might not be found unamusing.

"Of Mr Darsy's early history," said Mr Pentland, who, at my request, began an account of his late worthy neighbour immediately after the dinner-cloth had been drawn, "I do not know much. He was bred, originally, I believe, for the church, but never took orders; for what reason I am ignorant; but have heard it alleged, that it was owing to an extreme diffidence of nature, which shrank at the idea of speaking in public.

"Fortunately, his circ.u.mstances, although far from being affluent, were such as to enable him to yield to this timidity; and I am not sure that he ever adopted any regular profession in lieu of the one he abandoned.

He bought Dryfield about twenty years since, when he also came to reside there; and it was then my acquaintance with him began. From that period till his departure for France, we lived in the closest intimacy and friendship; and during all that period I never heard or saw anything of him but what redounded to his honour. To quote his own favourite author--for he set us a' a-quoting Pope--

'Him portion'd maids, apprenticed orphans, bless'd-- The young who labour, and the old who rest.'

He was truly the Man of Ross in all that is kind and benevolent."

"Oh, say," said I, smiling--

'Oh, say, what sums that generous hand supply-- What mines to swell that boundless charity?'"

My kind host laughed heartily, and readily replied--

"'Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This man possess'd five hundred pounds a-year.

"Such a sum, or one thereabouts, was, in truth, all his dependance; yet the good he did with it was amazing.

"When Mr Darsy came first to our neighbourhood, his family consisted of his sister only, and one servant-maid; and it is probable it would never have received any addition, but for the circ.u.mstance which added Sandy Ramsay to the establishment--as original a character as his master.

Sandy was a sort of general jobber of country work--a good hand at cutting drains, clipping hedges, and felling and thinning timber, making and erecting wooden railings, &c. &c.

"But, besides, and better than all this, Sandy was a learned man. He read a great deal, and was not a little vain of his acquisitions in this way. He was, however, a lively, good-natured little fellow, and very generally liked, notwithstanding that he gave himself out for a philosopher, and looked very grave and wise when he was a.s.serting his pretensions to that character, or when he thought those pretensions were either overlooked or denied.

"Such was Sandy Ramsay, and such was the person whom Mr Darsy found one morning, shortly after his arrival at Dryfield, working at a wooden railing at a little distance from the house.

"'Good morning, honest man,' said Mr Darsy, approaching him with that kindly familiarity of manner which distinguished all his intercourse with his inferiors.

"'Guid mornin, sir,' replied Sandy, resting on the wooden mallet with which he was driving the rails. 'Grand wather for the country, sir.'

"'Excellent,' rejoined Mr Darsy. 'The crops in this neighbourhood look uncommonly well, and I think we shall have both an early and a plentiful harvest. Thanks be to G.o.d!'

"'Yes, sir, as ye say, thank G.o.d for't,' replied Sandy. 'There's a reasonable prospect o' baith peace and plenty in the country; and, as Pope says,

'This day be bread and peace my lot; All else beneath the sun, Thou knowest if best bestow'd or not; And let thy will be done!'

"'Ah, Pope, my friend!' said Mr Darsy, his eye sparkling with delight.

'So you are conversant with Pope, are you?'

"'A wee bit, sir; his works form the staple o' my readin. I admire baith his poetry and his philosophy.'

"'Ah, indeed! Well, do you know, I like that,' replied Mr Darsy. 'I'm one of Pope's worshippers, too; he is my guide, philosopher, and friend--

'Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please.'

"'Yes, sir; and, better still,' replied Sandy, 'he

'Turn'd the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart.'

"'And,' shouted Mr Darsy, in ecstasy--