Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume III Part 15

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The old story of Scott of Harden and the hay sow, is well known.

[4] Few travellers on the Borders have pa.s.sed unnoticed the "lady's seat."--ED.

THE EXPERIMENTER.

No one who has escaped an imminent danger can resist the impulse that compels him to look back upon it, although the recollection harrows up his soul. It is now nearly thirty years since the events of which I write occurred; still they are as indelibly impressed upon my memory as the felon's brand upon his brow. It has rarely been the fortune of those miserable beings to whose number I had a narrow escape from adding one, to retain so lively a recollection of a long train of mental anguish.

Even at this lengthened period from the occurrence of the events referred to, in my solitary walks, or when sleep forsakes my pillow, they will embody themselves, and pa.s.s in vivid succession over my mind; tears unbidden fill my eyes, and my heart melts in grat.i.tude for my deliverance from so sad a fate--carried out under the cloud of night, buried like a dog, within sea-mark, or in the boundary of two proprietors' lands--entailing disgrace upon my family, and a horror of my memory, even scaring the simple husbandman from the neighbourhood of the spot where my ashes lay.

I was the only child of an aged father, the last of a family who had, in former days, been of no small consequence in that part of the country where he resided; but before his day, the numerous acres of land his forefathers had possessed owned other lords. All he inherited was the respect of the old people, and the tradition of former grandeur. His elder brother, of a more enterprising turn of mind, at their father's death had sold off the wrecks of a long train of mismanaged property, divided the proceeds between himself and my father, and, after an affectionate adieu, set off for the West Indies. My father, less enterprising, remained where all his affections were fixed, and farmed a few acres from one of the new proprietors--void of ambition, content to glide down the stream of life unknowing and unknown by the busy world, all his cares concentrated on me, whom he intended for the church, and educated accordingly. For several years, and until misfortunes pressed so heavily upon him, he maintained me at college. When his means failed, I returned to my disconsolate parents, to consult how I should now proceed--whether to go out to Jamaica to my uncle, or commence teacher.

My father had applied to his brother for aid in his difficulties, and been refused. The fears of my mother, and the wounded pride of my father determined my fate--I commenced teacher, and succeeded equal to my ambition.

My income was small; but my habits were simple and temperate, and my means supplied my wants abundantly. From the first dawnings of reason, my mind was of a studious, inquisitive turn; I thirsted after knowledge of every kind; and, while ardent in all my pursuits, I was of a joyous and hoping disposition. All was sunshine to me; even the blighting of my prospects at college affected not a mind which felt a consciousness of being able to soar to any height; a thousand projects floated through it, each of which, for a season, seemed sufficient to rear me to the pinnacle of fortune and fame. Thus had I dreamed on for three years. One of my many objects of study engrossed the greater portion of my thoughts--the mysterious tie that united soul and body. Could I untie this Gordian knot--and I was vain enough to hope I might--then would I rank amongst earth's brightest ornaments, and fill a niche with Newton and Bacon. This extraordinary subject had even when at school, engaged the greater part of my thoughts. Often have I left my fellows at play, and stolen to some distant part of the churchyard, to muse and commune with myself, not without a boyish hope that some kind tenant of the tomb would reveal to me his mighty secret. Void of fear, I have implored the presence of spirits under the cloud of night. The feeling that filled my mind was an enthusiasm, which, though years and changes have rolled over my head, is still remembered with a sensation of pleasure.

I had kept my school for three years, to the satisfaction of the parents of my pupils and my own. My cup of enjoyment was full to overflowing. I had proceeded so far with several works of science; every one of which, ere I began, was to establish my fame, but each was quickly abandoned for some new idea. I had resumed again the first object of my inquiry, and was busily arranging materials for effecting the glorious discovery, when I was seized by an epidemic fever that was committing fearful ravages in the parish. All after this, for several weeks, is a blank in my memory, a hiatus in my consciousness. Contrary to the expectations of all that attended, I became convalescent. My strength slowly returned; but my mind had undergone a complete change: its buoyancy had fled, and no longer, like a b.u.t.terfly, fluttering from one flower of fancy to another, it was fixed on the one engrossing object; yet I was conscious that the faculties of which I had once felt so proud, were now weak as those of an infant; and, dreamy and listless, I began to wander into the fields. My school had broken up. The greater part of my pupils were with a successful compet.i.tor who now supplied my place. This deepened my gloom; and I often returned with a feeling that my task on earth was accomplished--that all that remained for me was to die--that I was a c.u.mberer of the earth. I never complained, but bore all in silence. I cared not for myself; but when I looked to my parents, I resolved to struggle on, and did struggle manfully. I felt as a drowning man, who sees an object almost within his reach, that, were he enabled to grasp it, would secure his safety. He struggles and plunges towards it in vain, every succeeding effort only serving to diminish his hopes of escape, while, by allowing himself to sink in the stream, he would cease to suffer in a moment. To the eye of a casual observer, I had regained my wonted health, neither was there any strong indication of the change that had come over my feelings; yet to speak or act was painful to me, and I could not endure to be looked at with more than a pa.s.sing glance--shrinking like a criminal, and fearing lest the thoughts that were pa.s.sing in my mind might be discovered.

A strange sensation had, for some time, taken possession of me. I felt as if in a false position, by some means or other, to me inscrutable--that I had, at some former period of existence, either on this earth or some other planet, lived, acted, and witnessed, as I was now doing. Nothing appeared new to me: every incident of unwonted occurrence produced a dreamy effect of memory, as if I had experienced it before. This frame of mind was more annoying than painful, for I even at times felt a faint pleasure in it, and strove to antic.i.p.ate events that were lodged in the womb of futurity: but my efforts were vain; I could not penetrate the mist; I could only recognise the objects as it cleared away.

At this time I was so fortunate as to procure the situation of amanuensis to a literary gentleman, who was employed upon a work of great extent, but of little interest. My labour was entirely mechanical.

The confinement and the sedentary nature of my employment wrought still greater change on me; for hours I have sat, like an automaton, copying pa.s.sages I felt no interest in, held only to my task by the consciousness of being no longer burthensome to my parents. An entire new train of ideas began to pa.s.s through my mind in rapid succession; some of them so fearful and horrid that I trembled for myself. I felt as if impelled to crime by some power almost irresistible, and a strange pleasure in meditating upon deeds of blood took possession of me. My favourite subject, the mysterious connection between soul and body, was again strong upon me, and I longed to witness the last agonies of a person dying by violence. It was necessary to elucidate my theory, and the desire to obtain the knowledge, increased. The crime and all its horrors never occurred to me as any thing but a great, a magnanimous action, a sacrifice of my own feelings for the benefit of mankind.

One evening my employer detained me much later than he was wont. We sat as usual--he at one side of the table, I at the other. I had, all the afternoon, been much stronger than I had for some time before, and felt more confidence in myself than I had done for several weeks. No sensation gave indication of the misery that was to fill my heart. All at once my mind was hurled, as if by a whirlwind, from its calm. My employer stooped over a book, in which he was deeply engaged--his head was towards me. I was mending my pen with a stout, ivory-handled desk-knife. The temptation came upon me, with hideous force, to plunge the knife into his head, and obtain the great object I so long had desired. In this fearful moment I even reasoned--if I dare use the often-abused term--that the wound would be small, and hidden by the hair, so that no man could ever know, far less blame me for the act. I grasped the knife firmly in my hand, changing it to the best position to strike with effect. My mind felt pleased and happy. I actually exulted in the opportunity. My arm was raised to strike the unconscious victim of my madness, when he raised his head, and looked me in the face. I sank into my seat, with a faint scream, and wept like a babe. The impulse had pa.s.sed away, like a hideous nightmare. I shook in every limb, and raised my eyes to heaven, imploring pardon, and sighed forth a mental prayer of thanks; while the intended victim of my madness, unconscious of the danger he had escaped, did his utmost to soothe the agitation and distress which I could not conceal. I could no longer look upon his benign and placid countenance without a shudder of horror, such as the wretch must feel who is dragged to the spot where the body of his murdered victim lies witnessing against him. I felt that he was a victim s.n.a.t.c.hed from me by a merciful G.o.d--a victim I had murdered in my heart.

That same night I gave up my situation, much against the desire of my kind employer, and returned to my parents' roof, the most to be pitied of living men.

For several days I never left my bed, and scarcely took any food. My mind felt, at times, quite confused; at other times, strange ideas shot transitorily through it, with the vividness of lightning; but they were only coruscations, and left no impressions. I forgot them as quickly as they arose, and sank again into gloom. My malady began gradually to a.s.sume a new turn. Phantoms began to visit me; the sages of antiquity were my guests. I hailed them, at first, with pleasure, and enjoyed their presence, but soon grew weary of the voiceless, fleeting communion. In vain I spoke to them, or put questions in the most impa.s.sioned tones. No sound ever met my ear save my own. Yet there was a strange community of sentiment--an intercourse of soul between us; for they would shoot their ideas in through my eyes--smile, or look grave--and nod, a.s.sent, or shake the head, as various thoughts pa.s.sed through my mind. After the first visits, I ceased to use articulated language; it was a joyless communion, a languid inanity, and I felt as if my own soul was no longer a dweller in its earthly tabernacle, but held a mysterious middle state between life and death. In vain I endeavoured to exert my energies. I left my bed, and began to move about; still this new torment clung to me. I possessed a strange power.

I had only to think of any event in history, and the whole was present before me, even the scenes around becoming changed to the places where the circ.u.mstances happened. I wished my memory annihilated; I strove not to think. My very endeavours called up more vividly new and strange ideas; wherever I was, the place seemed peopled by phantoms. Wherever I turned my eyes, a moving pageant of gorgeous or hideous figures, strangely real, were before me.

Oh, how I loathed my situation! Yet I complained to no one--not even to my parents; enduring all in secret, and hearing the bitter taunts of friends and acquaintances, who pa.s.sed their heart-cutting remarks upon my indolence, and strange way of pa.s.sing my time. To the eye of a casual observer, I was in good health, and shrunk from making known my painful and unheard-of state, lest I should be considered insane, and treated as such, by being placed in confinement--an idea that made me shudder. I often doubted my own sanity; yet I felt not like ordinary madmen. I had a consciousness that I was under some strong delusion, and what I saw could not be real; still, my visions were not the less annoying and painful. The only intervals of rest I enjoyed, was when the desire to witness the last expiring throb of a person dying by violence haunted me, which it did at times, if possible, with more overwhelming force than ever. This was the more unaccountable to me, for I am naturally of a humane and benevolent disposition; and, when not overpowered by a gust of pa.s.sion, timid and averse to acts of strife and violence of any kind--shuddering and becoming faint at the sight of blood. My mental sufferings, from these conflicts between my natural turn of mind and its morbid state, became so great, that life grew a burden more than I could long endure. Still, I shrunk from self-destruction; or, more properly speaking, the thought never occurred to me; for, had it come with half the force of the others by which I was enslaved, I would have, in a moment, obeyed the impulse. I had no idea of any crime, or a wish to witness the sufferings of the individual. I felt as a patriot might feel who sacrifices all for the good of his country--immolating my own feelings at the altar of science, and deeming the realization of my dreams of vital importance to mankind, who had hitherto been unable to discover the mysterious link that bound soul and body together.

At length, the thought came into my distracted mind that I might be able to try the great experiment upon myself; and a sensation near akin to joy came over me, as I turned over the various ways in which this might be accomplished. My whole invention was at work, contriving the safest mode in which I could approach nearest, without crossing "that bourne from whence there is no return;" and I felt, for days, all the pleasures and disappointments of a projector, adapting or rejecting the various schemes by turns. Bred at a short distance from the beach, I swam well. To fasten a weight to my body, sufficient to sink me, with a knife in my hand, to cut the cord as the last pang came upon me, and then rise to the surface, often presented itself, and was as often rejected. I might be so weak, as not to rise, or, in my confusion, I might stab myself in my effort to cut the cord, and the secret would be lost. At length, I fixed upon the following mode. Unknown to my parents or any one, I prepared the little room I had occupied from childhood, and, with a feeling of pride, called my study, by carefully securing from it all access of air, as far as was in my power; then, attaching a cord to the door and window, so contrived that the slightest pull would throw them wide open, I placed a chair in the centre of the room, and a chaffer of burning charcoal by its side. With a feeling of exultation, I sat down to complete my experiment. The cords were fixed to my arms, so that, when I fell from my seat unconscious, the door and window would open, and restore animation by the access of vital air. I would thus attain my object, without exposing myself, or becoming the subject of public remark, which at all times was most hateful to me. I watched every mutation of feeling. For the first few minutes, I felt no change, except that the room became warmer and more agreeable. Gradually my breathing became more quick; but not in the least laboured. A gentle perspiration came upon me, accompanied by a luxurious languor, such as if I had ate a plentiful dinner, and stretched myself upon a sunny bank; an irresistible desire to sleep was stealing over me. My feelings were highly pleasing; but a stupor gradually came over me, and banished thought. My next sensation was a thrill of agony, which no words can express. It was more intense than if thousands of pointed instruments had been thrust into every muscle of my body--plucked out, and again thrust in, with the rapidity of lightning. Thrilling coruscations of vivid light flashed across my eyes. I attempted to shriek--only a faint groan escaped; my organs of voice refused to obey their office. Human nature could not continue to suffer as I suffered. Again I sank into unconsciousness, and again my agony came on me, though not so intense as before. Faint glimmerings of thought began to visit me. The first was that the agonies of death were upon me; that I was in danger of sitting too long; and, with a convulsive effort I attempted to throw myself from the chair, but felt I was restrained. Opening my eyes, I found them dim and visionless; a dull and benumbing sensation made me feel as if my brain was bursting my head; whether it was day or night I could not distinguish; my ears were filled with confused sounds, mixed with a hissing and booming that distracted me; I felt faint and sick, so as I never felt before or since. That I was dying, I firmly believed; and again I attempted to sink from off the chair. As consciousness returned, I found myself stretched upon my bed. Still, all was darkness and confusion, I fell into a lethargy or sleep, which lasted for hours.

When I awoke, my mother sat weeping by the side of my bed; her suppressed sob was the first sound that fell upon my ear. Never can I forget that moment!--her melting woe, as she sat stooping towards me; the anguish expressed in my father's countenance, as he stood supporting himself upon the back of her chair, his eyes bent on my face. I turned myself upon my pillow, and gave vent to a flood of tears.

Before a word had been exchanged, the surgeon, to whose exertions I was indebted for my restoration to life, entered. To his inquiries after me, my mother answered, that, for the last few hours, I had been in a quiet sleep, and had just moved and turned as if I had awakened; but that, agreeable to his desire, she had not spoken to me. Without answering her, he stooped over the bed to feel my pulse. I turned to him, and inquired what had happened. A mutual explanation took place. That I had attempted suicide, both he and my parents believed, until, to vindicate myself, I gave them a minute account of the object I had in view in what I had done. He listened with intense interest, not unmixed with astonishment, as he gradually drew from me an account of my long train of mental anguish. I could at once perceive that he did not ridicule me, but rather sympathised with me, and blamed me much for not making my case known long before, as it was not, he hoped, beyond the reach of medicine. He told me of several cases in which he had been successful, nearly similar to my own, although not to the extent of duration and variety of change. The following, which had nearly been as fatal, and would have been as inexplicable, made the greatest impression on me.

The subject of his narrative was the wife of a near neighbour of ours, who had been dead for some years. At the time both were well stricken in age, and remarkable both for their piety and walk in life. Their family, the greater part of whom were alive, had all reached manhood, and were engaged in active duties in different parts of the country. The old couple themselves were living on the fruits of their early industry and economy, in a small solitary cottage, calmly closing the evening of a well-spent life. The first attack of the malady was sudden and severe, its approach being unperceived by any one, even by the sufferer. Both had spent the day at church, and returned, conversing with their neighbours, until they reached their own cottage, where they sat reading their Bible, or conversing on subjects derived from it, until the herd-boy brought home the cow from the common pasture. On looking up, the woman saw the cow standing and lowing at the byre door. She rose from her seat, and went to admit and attend to the welcome guest. She did not return to the house after an unusually protracted stay; and her husband, beginning to be uneasy, and fearful lest the cow might have kicked or hurt her, went to ascertain the cause of her tarrying. Struck with horror, he found her talking in a fearful strain to an imaginary second person, the cow still uncared for, and the milking-pail upside down, she standing upon the bottom, busy adjusting a halter to one of the beams, and imploring the ideal person not to go until she could get all ready to accompany him to that happy land of which he spoke, and to which he showed her the way. Her distressed husband, rushing forward, clasped her in his arms as she was putting the noose over her head. She screamed and resisted with all her energies, calling upon the phantom to rescue her from her cruel husband. For several weeks she remained in this state, confined and strictly watched. The surgeon succeeded in subduing the disease; and when reason returned, she had no consciousness of anything that had happened during the interval; but, with a grateful heart, returned thanks to G.o.d for preservation and recovery.

My pride was wounded to observe that the surgeon thought I was insane, for he quoted the above case as a parallel to mine. This I remonstrated against; and, although I could perceive a credulous smile upon his features, I at once cheerfully agreed to put myself under his care. When he retired for the evening, I found that I was indebted for my escape from death to a strange circ.u.mstance--the death of my uncle, my father's brother, who had returned from the West Indies some years before with considerable wealth and a broken const.i.tution. We had never seen him since his return. Prosperity had brought to him no pleasure, riches no enjoyment. From being one of the most joyous and liberal of lads before he left home, he had returned to his country sullen and avaricious; with all his wealth, a poorer man, in mind, than when he left it--suffering from a continued dread of poverty, and the victim of hypochondria.

"Poor John!" my father would say, "how I pity you! Your money is not your own; you are only the gatherer for some other person. You dare not enjoy a shilling; neither can you take it with you when you die." My father had just received an intimation from a lawyer, requesting his immediate attendance in Edinburgh, where his brother had died suddenly the evening before, to make arrangements for his funeral, and look after his effects, as he believed he had died intestate. My mother had hastened up stairs with the intelligence, and to request me to come down, when she found me seated upon the chair, with my head sunk upon my breast, as if I had been in a profound sleep. Overcome by the vapour, she sank upon the floor; the noise of her fall brought up my father, whose first task was to rush to me, give me a gentle shake, and then look in agony at me and at his wife. When he took his hand from me, I fell to the floor by the side of my mother, and the window opened as I had contrived. Uttering a cry of anguish, he seized the wife of his bosom in his arms, hurried out of the fatal room, sent the servant girl for the surgeon, and returned for me, who was lying as if dead, my eyes open and fixed, dull and void of expression. My mother soon recovered; a few neighbours came to her aid; and the surgeon was, fortunately, soon found. Their utmost efforts were for long, to all appearance, of little avail. The surgeon had almost despaired of success; at length his patience and skill were rewarded by my returning animation. The rest is already known.

So violent was the shock my const.i.tution had sustained, from the action of the noxious gas, that it was several weeks before I was enabled to leave my room. The skill of my surgeon was evidently operating a beneficial change upon my mind. The languor and heaviness, mixed with restless anxiety, which had so long oppressed me, began to yield to the powers of his prescriptions; my hallucinations became less annoying and more distant in their attacks, until they entirely ceased, and I was restored to the full enjoyment of existence. Change of scene was his final medicine; and this I most cheerfully agreed to take, for my circ.u.mstances were now affluent, and enabled me to live or wander where I might choose. My restless mind would at times dwell with peculiar pleasure upon some one favoured project or other; and, fearful lest I should fall again into some new philosophical dream, I resolved to travel. With a stout horse and a heavy purse, I bade adieu to my parents for a short time, and rode out of my native valley, accompanied by Malcolm Dow, a stout lad who had been reared in the family, as my servant.

I would have gone to the Continent, and visited the banks of the Rhine, Switzerland, and Italy; but I bethought me of the delightful and romantic scenery of our own dear land, with its infinitely varied beauties; the endless pleasure I would have in viewing them, in all their bearings, from the dark frowning pa.s.ses in the Highlands, where rock rises piled upon rock, and the impetuous cataract makes the stoutest eye reel in looking on it, to the wimpling stream that glides through some bosky dell, where wild flowers spangle the banks, driving some village mill, whose distant clack, mingling with the murmur of the stream and the song of birds from the woods, forms a concert so sweet to the lover of nature. Without an object further than amus.e.m.e.nt, Malcolm and I jogged on for the Falls of the Clyde. Early in the afternoon, we arrived in Lanark, where I resolved to stop for a few days; and leaving Malcolm at the inn, looking after the horses, I walked out by the West Port, to visit the Falls of Stonebyres. I descended the steep brae to the old bridge, where I sat for some time, enjoying the sweep of the river, which was considerably swollen at the time, and the falls were in great magnificence. I could hear the roar of the waters as they dashed over from fall to fall, and perceive the grey mist that rose from the abyss. As I sat absorbed in the scene, a venerable personage, evidently of the cla.s.s of farmers in the neighbourhood, came to me, and, after the salutation of strangers, he seated himself upon the parapet by my side, and joined in conversation and anecdote of the scenes around. He agreed with me that Clyde was a lovely stream; but added, it was a b.l.o.o.d.y one.

I felt shocked at such an epithet being applied to the object of my present admiration, and requested his reason for it.

"O sir," he said, "my reason is too good for giving it that name; it has been the grave of thousands, and will yet swallow more in its greedy bosom. My only son, the hope of my declining years, perished in its waves; and even here where we sit, before this bridge was built, a scene of heroic fort.i.tude and resignation was exhibited to sorrowing numbers, who could render no aid--a scene indeed not surpa.s.sed in ancient or modern history."

Struck by his manner, I requested him to give me the account as he had heard it.

"You shall hear it," said he, "as I had it when a boy, from my grandfather, who was one of the sorrowing witnesses of the event. There lived, in a cottage on the banks, some distance up the stream from where we are at present, a pious and industrious man, who had a very small farm attached to the ferry, which he rented; the boat that plied across the river for the accommodation of pa.s.sengers was his princ.i.p.al support.

He was very poor, and had a numerous family--very young--to provide for by his exertions. The river was much swollen by heavy rains which had fallen for some days. It was the day of the fair at Lanark, and he rejoiced in the gains he should acquire. He was resolute and athletic, and, from long practice, knew the ferry well. The labours of the day had pa.s.sed off with cheerfulness; the river had continued to rise rapidly, the evening was coming on, and the last boat-load, among whom was my grandfather, were embarked. He pushed out into the stream, and, skilfully as he manoeuvred his boat, the river carried them down considerably below the usual landing place. The steady boatman, of all that were in danger, was alone collected, and free from alarm. His wife, who stood on the side with an infant in her arms, mingled cries and prayers with the roaring of the swollen river. At length he neared the side at an eddy, and the pa.s.sengers waded to the green banks. His wife and all called to him to step out also, and haul the boat out of the stream; but they implored him in vain, for he relied too much upon his own skill and strength, and heeded them not. Two or three pa.s.sengers stood on the opposite bank, wishing to cross also; and the temptation of a few more pence induced him to push again into the angry stream, after a kind a.s.surance to his wife, and those with her, that there was no danger. Scarce had he spoke, when it was evident that he and the boat were as much the sport of the swollen Clyde, as a withered leaf. The skiff shot along like an arrow towards the fall. A wild scream arose from both sides of the river; all aid was out of human power, yet no cry for help escaped him; he sat down with calm resignation, pulled his bonnet over his eyes, and, m.u.f.fling his face in his plaid, cried--'Jesus have mercy!' and, ere the sounds died away, he was swept over the tremendous fall, and perished."

The scene seemed to pa.s.s before me, as I listened to him, and gazed upon the stream. We parted, and I proceeded to view the fearfully majestic spot, where the river on my right, increasing its angry roarings, gushed over the awful rock. Descending the footpath on my right, the whole scene of terror and grandeur burst upon me. The evening was approaching apace, and slowly and reluctantly I began to ascend, after having scrambled to almost every accessible spot on the side where I was. So much did the noise and sublimity affect me, that I felt one of my unsettled fits stealing over my mind. Strange thoughts began to arise. I quickened my pace until I reached the top of the height; and the glorious view--the beautiful sloping braes of Nemplar, and the village gilded by the beams of the setting sun--burst upon me. I again longed for a view of the magnificent fan-looking cascade from a new point; and so imperative was my desire that I never thought of the danger. Stepping to the brink of the chasm, where the fearful tumult raged many feet below, I could only catch an angular glance; and, to extend it, I caught a bush, and leaned forward upon one hand and my knees. Dreadful moment! horrid recollection!--I felt the bank giving way. A convulsive effort to regain my equilibrium, and a stifled cry for mercy, are all I recollect--my heart collapsed, and all consciousness ceased.

How long I continued in this state I have no means of ascertaining; my first sensation was a sickness that almost made me again relapse into insensibility, accompanied by a feeling of pain in all my limbs.

Languidly I opened my eyes; all was dark as midnight. The roar of the waters stupified every sense. The horrors of my situation chilled my soul, and annihilated all my courage. How I retained, by the energies of despair, unaided by reason, my half pendulous position, I cannot explain. I was, for a time after consciousness returned, incapable of reflection; my mind, a chaos of fear and horror. I felt wet to the skin, from the thin spray, which fell upon and enveloped me like a cloud; a profuse sweat stood upon my forehead, and rolling down in large drops, made my eyes smart. I grasped something that sustained me, yet I scarcely knew how. Gradually the sickness left me, and cool thoughts of my perilous situation began to occupy my mind; my energies and native desire of preservation began to strengthen. My first care was to ascertain if any of my bones were broken. My legs hung over a ledge of the rock, upon which the rest of my body lay supported by my hands, which still clung to the small object I had grasped; cautiously I moved my legs, the one after the other: no bone was broken; but I found them painful in many places. Still clinging to my hold, on which I felt my whole chance of escape from being plunged into the gulf below depended, I, for some time, and by many useless efforts, attempted to get my knees upon the ledge of rock; my position was becoming every minute more painful, and I less able to retain it; my arms were benumbed, and my hands powerless, from being so long above my head. I dared not pull myself up, for the falling of stones and earth, when I first made the attempt, gave fearful note of the feeble tenure by which I was sustained. My left hand began to cramp; the fear of instant annihilation seized me; I could hold by it no longer. I grasped still more firmly by my right, and, stretching my left, found relief, by moving it gently about, to restore the circulation. I dared not bring it down, lest the other had failed; and, stretching farther than I had yet done, it touched something hard and erect; it was the stem of a stoutish bush, that grew out of a crevice in the rock. A ray of hope darted through my mind. I grasped it, still keeping my first hold, and got my knees on the ledge. To stand on my feet was now an easy effort. The joy of that movement, in the midst of my sufferings and despair, I shall never forget. I felt as if s.n.a.t.c.hed from the roaring abyss. My nearly exhausted strength began to be renewed; I felt comparative comfort; yet I would have given all I possessed for my deliverance; my escape was not yet more certain, or my situation much less perilous. I found that I still held clutched in my right hand the bush that had given way, and been the cause of my disaster; but how far I had fallen, or at what part of the hideous chasm I had been mercifully arrested, I had no means to ascertain; for I stood, like a Russian peasant ready to receive the knout, with my face to the wall of rocks. I looked to the right side and to the left; all was the most impenetrable darkness. My arms, now that the weight of my body was taken from them, felt if possible more benumbed. I groped with my feet as far as I could, and found my standing very narrow, but inclining rather into than from the rock. I loosened one hand, and with an effort, that I thought would have dislocated my shoulder, brought it to my side. The tingling sensation I felt from the returning circulation, almost made me cry aloud. As I found that I still stood firm, I undid the grasp of my left hand, but not before I had turned my face from the rock. I now stood facing the raging flood; but its roaring was all I could distinguish. I now looked towards the Heavens, and thought I could perceive the stars dimly, through the thick cloud of spray in which I was involved. I leaned against the rocks, but my legs began to fail me, and trembled under the weight of my body. I was imperatively compelled, while strength remained, again to change my posture, and at length succeeded, and seated myself upon the ledge, my legs dangling over the edge.

Now, for the first time, I felt as if I were at ease, and began to calculate on the chances of my escape--feeling that my situation was so much improved that there was every reason to hope I should be able to sit out the fearful night, be once more s.n.a.t.c.hed from death, and witness the dawn usher in the glorious...o...b..of day, when I felt a.s.sured every effort would be made for my rescue. I gazed intensely down the roaring void, in hopes to see some indication that I was sought after. Malcolm I knew would strain every nerve, nay, peril his own life, to save mine. I thought I now could perceive first one dark red ball or light upon the edge of the stream, quickly moving, followed by others. The blood-red glare, as they approached, gradually became more bright, surrounded by a lighter halo; but they threw no ray where I sat, anxiously watching them. Their bearers were invisible from where I was. At length they came nearer the whirling pool, and cast a red shade on the water, where it shot over the last shelf. I could look no longer--my brain whirled, I closed my eyes, I felt as if I would have fallen, even after they were shut with all my force. I shouted with all my might, in hopes they might hear my voice. Vain effort!--no sound less loud than the thunders of Heaven could be distinguished amid the turmoil of waters.

Again I ventured to open my eyes. The lights had disappeared. I felt, if possible, more forlorn than I had yet done; my heart began to sink; I laid myself along upon the hard rock, and, commending myself to G.o.d, became more calm and resigned to my fate. If ever there was a prayer in which true sorrow for sin, and humble confidence in the goodness and mercy of G.o.d, were poured from the human breast, it was from that fearful place. After my devotions, a calm feeling stole over my mind. I laid my head down, and, strange as it may appear, fell sound asleep as a cradled babe, and awoke refreshed. The horrors of the earlier part of the night came upon me like a fearful dream. The waters thundered in my ears. I opened my eyes, and looked up. The first rays of the sun, glancing upon the mists raised by the falls, formed numerous rainbows. I dared not to look down to the abyss, or forward to the rushing stream.

With a feeling of utter helplessness, I turned my face again to the rock, and looked up. A cry of hope and thanksgiving escaped my lips--the top of the bank was only a few feet from where I lay! Rising to my knees, and holding by the bushes, I poured forth my morning prayers of thanksgiving and supplication for deliverance. I rose to my feet; the edge was only a little above my reach--my situation was still fearfully critical. Whether to risk all, and, by my own efforts, free myself, or wait until aid came, I turned over in my mind for a few minutes, as I examined the s.p.a.ce above me. The noise of the waters, and agitation of my mind, were again beginning to render my situation more and more perilous, and I felt there was no time to lose. It was far more appalling in the glare of day than the cloud of night, and, with a desperate energy, I made the attempt, clinging to what I could grasp. I know not how I succeeded, until I lay stretched upon the verge of the gulf, secure from danger. I dared not rise to my feet--I crept upon my hands and knees for several yards, then sprang up, nor looked behind.

Unheeding the path I took, I ran until I sank exhausted, the roar of the waters no longer sounding in my ears. The sight of the place was now hateful to me. I resolved not to visit it again, or see the other falls--indeed, I was very ill, from the night's exposure to damp, and the sufferings of my mind.

Without hat or shoes, I entered the inn of the village. On raising the people from their beds, my appearance was so suspicious, that it was with difficulty they allowed me to enter; but a seven-shilling piece, which I tendered to the landlady, acted as a charm in raising her good opinion of me. I obtained a warm bed, and a cordial, while she prepared breakfast, and dried my clothes, which were soiled and wet. I evaded all her artful inquiries to learn how I had come into my present situation.

It looked so improbable, even to myself, that I thought no one would give credit to my relation; and the rumours upon my former escape made me resolve to keep it secret from every one, even Malcolm, to whom I wrote to come over to me with the horses.

I remained in my room until his arrival, which was not until late in the forenoon. When he arrived, I thought he would have gone distracted with joy--he wept and laughed by turns--gazing at times with a vacant stare, then touching me to prove my ident.i.ty. After he became more composed, I learned that it was currently reported and believed in Lanark, that I had perished in the river. Malcolm had waited for me with extreme impatience, after nightfall, until about ten o'clock, when he could be induced by the landlord of the inn to remain no longer, and even the landlord had become uneasy. After some delay, several men were engaged to accompany Malcolm in his search for me, and, having procured torches and a lantern, they proceeded to the side of the river, beneath the fall, and, after searching every spot they could reach in the darkness of the night, for more than a mile on each side, they again, on Malcolm's importunities, and his offer of a handsome reward, renewed their search the second time. In an eddy not far below the fall, one of them discovered my hat, sunk near the margin, and filled with water and mud. That I had been drowned none of the party had the smallest doubt.

The search had continued for upwards of three hours, their torches were burned out, and the men refused to remain longer; but no persuasion could induce Malcolm to leave the side of the swollen river, where he had remained during the short interval till day; the landlord promising to return early, with drags, and men, to search for my body. In this manner they had been employed, until all hope had fled, and they, accompanied by Malcolm, had returned to the inn, where he found my letter. Confused by hope and doubt, he had hurried on foot, and run to me. Moved by his affection, I gave him a sum of money, to reward the landlord and his a.s.sistants, telling him I was extremely sorry for the alarm and trouble I had put them all to; but that my hat having fallen in, and my not returning, were caused by a circ.u.mstance I did not choose to explain.

As I felt no serious inconvenience from my adventure, I rose and dressed, and left the village for Glasgow, after dinner. As we pa.s.sed the Cartland Bridge, I shut my eyes, to prevent my seeing the river, and put spurs to my horse, to quit the scene where I had suffered so much in so short a time.

After wandering over the greater part of Scotland for several weeks, I became weary of enjoyment, and turned our horses' heads homewards by the coast of Ayrshire, with a view to visit the Island of Arran, and then cross the country to Stirling, by Loch Lomond. We had reached Largs, on the coast of Ayrshire, and saw the Isle of Bute, the c.u.mbraes, and the lofty summits of Arran, rise out of the Firth of Clyde, in beautiful succession. At this time steamboats were unknown. I agreed with the landlord of the inn to have our horses carefully sent round by Glasgow, to wait us at Dumbarton, and set out for the beach, to enjoy the scene, and agree for a boat to carry us on our aquatic excursion; but the time pa.s.sed on, and evening approached when we were at a considerable distance from the town. We had been sometimes upon the beach, at others among the rocks, as fancy led. I said to Malcolm that I would now return to our inn, and cause our landlord to make arrangements for a boat. As we hurried away from the sh.o.r.e towards the town, four men, in seamen's apparel, rushed from behind a rock, and pinioned our arms before we were aware. Two of them held pistols in their hands, threatening to fire if we uttered a sound, and pushed us before them to the spot whence they had issued. Here we found two other similar characters; the whole were stout, athletic men, of different ages, bronzed by the weather.

The place where we were was close by the beach, under a rock which beetled out for a few feet--the sea, at full, coming almost up to the base--but protruding sufficiently to conceal, except in front, a number of people. Still pointing the pistols to our b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and almost touching our vests, they bound our hands together behind our backs, and, taking our handkerchiefs from our pockets, covered our faces. We were silent and pa.s.sive in their hands; yet in agony of fear. They placed us upon the hard rock, and we dared not ask one question, to ascertain the cause of our detention. From the few words that we could pick up out of their conversation, which was carried on in whispers, I could learn that the disposal of our persons engaged them. Malcolm could contain his fears no longer, and began to plead for mercy for his master and himself. One of the fellows snapped his pistol; I could hear the click and smell the powder.

"You are in luck this bout," said a voice; "but don't make me try it again; she never flashed in the pan before. We don't threaten for naught; so bless your luck, and take warning."

A long period of fearful suspense ensued, in which my imagination conjured up a thousand objects of horror and suffering. The sea-breeze gently sighed among the rocks, and we heard the soft cadence of the gentle waves that fell near our feet, as the tide advanced. That we had become objects of alarm to a band of lawless men, whose lives were spent in violating the laws of their country, I was fully aware, but in what manner I knew not, unless that, by our sauntering about the rocks, they had suspected us to belong to the excise. In such cases I had heard that they were apt to do deeds of violence; but Malcolm's escape prevented me from speaking a word, or requesting an explanation. At length the sound of oars pulled steadily and with caution, fell upon my ears; and a confused suppressed sound of many voices soon followed; then there was the trampling of feet through the water and upon the rock, with the noise as if numerous articles were placed close to where we sat.

Shivering from cold, we sat in anxious suspense. That I had been right in my conjecture, I felt now a.s.sured; and, at this moment, I thought they were delivering their cargo. Soon the movements ceased; we were grasped by powerful hands, again threatened with death if we uttered a word, and placed in a boat, which, by the motion, seemed to glide through the water for a considerable time. No word was spoken by those in the boat, except in whispers. Again I found it touch the beach. We were lifted out, and placed upon the edge of the water, the cords cut from our wrists, and, in one moment after, the sound of the departing boat fell upon our gratified ears. We were alone, and the first use we made of our regained liberty, was to take the m.u.f.flings from our faces.

All was dark around, nor could we discern any object except the faint phosphoric light that marked the margin of the waves here and there, like golden threads, as they broke at our feet.

We now breathed more freely; our situation, though far from comfortable, was free from the dread of immediate violence; for we stood alone and solitary upon an unknown beach--but whether in Ayrshire, Bute, or Argyle, we had no means to ascertain. From our painful position while in the boat, the time had hung so heavy on us that it appeared we had sailed a great distance. Not so much as to the value of a farthing had been taken from our persons, nor any violence used, more than was necessary to keep us silent and prevent our escape. I now, indeed, think, that the pistol which was snapped at Malcolm, had only powder in the pan, to intimidate. After consulting for some time on the best means of extricating ourselves from the necessity of pa.s.sing the night on the exposed beach, we agreed to proceed inland, at any risk, whether of falls or a ducking, in quest of a roof to cover us. Before we left, I groped the face of my watch--to see it was impossible, the night was so dark. I found the hands to indicate half-past ten; so we had thus been four hours in the hands of our captors.

Stumbling or falling at every few steps, we now proceeded slowly on.

Malcolm, who preceded me, once or twice plunged into quagmires, through which I followed, until I was almost spent. At length a faint light, at some distance, caught our eyes. Onwards we urged, until we could distinguish a cottage, from whose small window the light proceeded.

After scrambling over a low, loose stone wall, we found ourselves in the cottage garden. I looked in at the window, and could perceive a man and two women--one old, the other young--seated by the fire. There was no other light of any kind burning; and the dull ray of the fire gave to the interior a gloomy appearance, save where it fell on the three individuals who sat crouching before it. There being no door on the side we were on, we walked to the front, and knocked for admittance. This side of the cottage gave no indication of any light being within--the window being carefully closed. For some time we knocked in vain--no answer was made. At length, our knockings were answered by a female voice--

"What want ye here at this time o' nicht, disturbing a lone woman?"

"My good woman," I replied, "we are strangers, who know not where we are. Be so kind as open the door to us."

"Gae 'wa--gae 'wa; I will do nae sic thing; I hae nae uppitting for ye."