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Ne're-Do-Weel Tam
"I never kenned a lad that
I entertained a higher regard for than Thomas Elliot. His faither left him
fifteen hundred pounds, laid out upon a mortgage at five per cent,
interest, and bequeathed in such a way, that he couldna lift the
principal. There was a vast deal of real goodness about his heart—he was
frank, liberal, sincere. Every person that kenned him liked him. His first
and greatest fault was, that he was owre open; he laid bare his breast, as
it were, to the attack of every enemy that chose to hurl a shaft at it. He
was a fool for his pains; and, I daresay, he saw it in the end. There was
always some person taking the advantage of the frankness of his
disposition. But the thing that ruined him, and fixed the bye-name on him
was, that he became a sort of fixture in Luckie Riddle’s parlour. His
chief companion was a lad of the name of William Archbold—a blithe,
singing chield, thas was always happy, and ready at onything. Thomas and
he were courting two sisters—Peggy and Jenny Lilly—the daughters of a
small farmer in the neighbourhood, and both of them were bonny, weel
respected lasses. The folk in this quarter used to call William Archbold,
Blithe Willie. He was a blacksmith to his trade, but quite a youth; and
come upon him by night or by day, Willie was sure to be found laughing,
whistling, or singing. He hadna an yearly income like Thomas Elliot; and,
strange to say, he got the blame of gieing him a howff at Luckie Riddle’s.
But that was a doctrine which I always protested against; and I said it
was much more likely that, as Thomas was fu’ handed, while his neighbour
had to work for his bread, that the man of money led the blacksmith to
their howff, and not the blacksmith the man of money. One thing is
certain, that both of them were far oftoner at Luckie’s than was either
good for their health, wealth, or reputation. One night, it seems, after
having drunk until, if ‘they werena fu’, they just had plenty,’ they
reeled away to see the two sisters, their sweethearts. Jenny didna wish to
quarrel wi’ Thomas, because he had the siller; but Peggy turned away wi’
scorn from Blithe William, and said that she ‘never again would speak to
one who was no better than a common blackguard, and who neither had regard
for himself, nor for any one connected wi’ him.’ What more passed between
them I cannot tell, but it is said he turned sober in an instant; and
certain it is, that night he left the town, and has never been more heard
tell of.
Thomas Elliot and Jenny
were married, but she died the second year after their marriage, leaving
to his charge an infant son, who was kirsened by the name of Alexander.
Thomas, after his wife’s death, tried many things (for while she lived she
keepit him to rights), but he neglected them all. He began twenty things
and ended nothing. He was to be found in Luckie Riddle’s in the morning,
and he was to be seen sitting there at night. Before he was forty, he
became a perfect sot; and I used to ask—‘Wha leads him away, now?’ The
fact was, he was miserable save when he was in company; and, for the sake
of company, he would have sat sipping and drinking from sunrise to sunset,
without ever perceiving that in that time he had been sitting wi’ twenty
different companies, each of whom had remained maybe half an hour, and
left him bibbing there to make a crony of the customer that last came in.
But this course of life could not last long. He had mortgaged the mortgage
that his father left him, until, although he could not lift it, he had
almost swallowed it up; and at the age of forty-four he fell into the
grave like a lump of diseased flesh—a thing without a soul!
I have informed ye that he
left a son, named Alexander, behind him. He was a laddie that was beloved
by the whole town; and it was him that frae bairnhood was set down as the
future husband of Esther Anderson, our minister’s daughter. I have already
told ye how he enlisted, when he fancied that she was drawing up wi’ the
young laird and slighting him.
Now, mark ye, sir—for this
is one of the most singular things in the history of our village—about
three years after the melancholy deaths of Esther and her father, the
laird, wi’ a pack o’ young men as thonghtless and wicked as himself, came
down to the Ha.’ It was plain as noon-day that the murder of a young
lassie, her bairn, and her honoured father, had never cost the young
libertine a thought. He returned to all his former profligacy, as a sow
returns to its wallowing in the mire.
He was returning, towards
evening, with three or four of his companions from an otter-hunt, and was
within a quarter of a mile of the Ha,’ when he was met by two
strangers—the one a youth, and the other a man of middle age.
‘Stand!’ cried the young
man, sternly.
‘What do you want, fellow!’
inquired the laird, proudly.
‘Dismount!’ retorted the
other, ‘and take this!’ presenting to him a pistol. ‘I come to avenge the
murder of Esther Anderson and her father!—and,’ added he, ‘wi’ your blood
to wash the bruise ye have inflicted on my wounded heart! Did ye think,
because her brave brother was with the dead, that there was none left to
revenge the ruin of her innocence? Beneath the very tree where we now
stand, she plighted me her first vow, and we were happy as the birds that
sang upon its branches, until ye, as a serpent, crossed our path.
Dismount, Laird Cochrane, if ye be not coward as weel as villain!’
‘Alexander Elliot!’ replied
the laird, ‘are ye not aware that I am a magistrate, and have power to
commit ye even now as a deserter. Begone, sir, and take your hand from my
horse’s head, for it becomes not a gentleman to quarrel wi’ such as you.’
‘Dismount! ye
palsy-spirited slave!’ cried Alexander, ‘and choose your weapon and your
distance. Let your friends that are wi’ you see that you have fair play.
Dismount! or I will shoot ye dead where ye sit!’ And as he spoke he
dragged him from his horse.
It was an awful tragedy to
take place in a peaceable corner of the earth like this. The stranger that
accompanied Alexander took the pistols, and addressing one of the
gentlemen that were wi’ the laird, said coolly—‘This business must be
settled sir; and the sooner the better. Choose ye one of these weapons,
and let the principals take their ground.’
They did take their ground,
as it was termed, and their pistols were levelled at each other’s heart.
Guilt and surprise made the laird to tremble, but revenge gave steadiness
to the hand of young Elliot. Both fired at the same moment, and with a
sudden groan the laird fell dead upon the ground.
Some said that the earth
was weel rid of a prodigal, while others thought it an awfu’ thing that he
should have been cut off in such a manner, in the very middle of his
iniquities, and career of wickedness; and it was generally regretted that
he should have fallen by the hand of a lad so universally respected as
Alexander Elliot. Such, sir, was the end of the young laird, but what has
become of Alexander is more than any one in these parts can tell. I have
just now a few words to say concerning--- |
