No More Learning

Remember that a heart that can forgive thee


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4180
PROSPER JOLYOT CRÉBILLON
Is not a heart to doubt,
Not without crime!
Rhadamistus —
-
-
- no, Rhadamistus,
O thou dear wife, forgive me
My fatal love; forgive me those suspicions
Which my whole heart abhors. The more unworthy
Thy inhuman spouse, the less should thy displeasure
Visit his unjust fears. O dear Zenobia!
Give me thy heart and hand again, and deign
To follow me this day to fair Armenia.
Cæsar hath o'er that province made me monarch;
Come! and behold me henceforth blot my crimes
From thy remembrance with a list of virtues.
Come, here is Hiero, a faithful subject,
Whose zeal we trust to cover o'er our flight.
Soon as the night has veiled the staring sky,
Assured that thou shalt see my face again,
Come and await me in this place. Farewell!
Let us not linger till a barbarous foe,
When Heaven has reunited us, shall part us
Again forever. O ye gods, who gave her
Back to my arms in answer to my longings,
Deign, deign to give to me a heart deserving
Your goodness!


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4181
S. R. CROCKETT
(1862-)
HAT Samuel Rutherford Crockett was born in Little Duchrae,
Galloway, Scotland, in 1862, of a long line of tenant farm-
ers; that, a small white-haired boy, beginning at three and
a half years of age, he did his daily work on the farm and walked
three miles to the parish school, where, under a master who was "a
dungeon of learning," he wrestled with Latin as far as "Omnis
Gallia" and through the Greek alphabet till he was fifteen; that he
then entered Edinburgh University, where he added to his sparse
resources by tutoring and journalistic work;
and that after severe theological training
he was in 1884 ordained to the ministry of
the Free Church of Scotland,- reads like a
familiar story which with a few changes,
such as dates and identities, might have
been told of a host of his distinguished
countrymen.

Between the covers of his books one
may learn all that is essential and char-
acteristic of Mr. Crockett, the most impor-
tant fact in his literary life being an
honorable loyalty to his own home and
people and faith. It is his good fortune
that that home is in a region of romance
and legend and daring adventure; that his people are of an austere
race, whose shrewd humor underlies a solemn gravity, whose keen-
est joy is intellectual controversy, and whose highest ambition is that
at least one representative of the whitewashed farm-house shall "wag
his head in a pulpit. " And fundamentally, for his art's sake, it is his
good fortune that his faith is their faith, a stern conviction of a stern
creed whose tenderest traditions are fostered by the sight of the
Martyrs' Monument on Auchenreoch Muir, and the kirk-yards of Bal-
weary and Nether Dullarg, where under the trees the heroes of Scot-
land lie as thick as gowans on the lea.
Nor should the influence of the scenery of Galloway be ignored
on Mr. Crockett's work. Its trackless moors and lairy coverts, the
green woodlands of Earlston and the gray Duchrae craigs, the sleep-
ing pools guarded by dark firs standing bravely like men-at-arms
S. R. CROCKETT


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4182
S. R. CROCKETT
―
on every rocky knoll, the river Ken flowing silver clear, and the
great Kells range, ridge behind ridge of hills "whose very names
make a storm of music, ". this is the background of wild deeds and
wilder passions, in whose recounting in The Raiders' and 'The
Men of the Moss-Hags' we have as yet the highest exhibition of his
genius.
Construction is not perhaps his strong point, but in these stirring
scenes and dramatic situations, chronicled by the hero who creates
an atmosphere of fond credulity in his adventures and personality,
the author is kept to his work by the stress of hard times. The
action is swift, for in The Raiders' the hill outlaws come down
like the blast of a terrible trumpet; and in The Men of the Moss-
Hags' Lauderdale and Claverhouse are hunting the Covenanters into
the caves of the earth, so that in the rush of events both he who
tells the tale and he who listens are hurried along. The feature of
these fine romances, especially The Raiders,' is their Homeric spirit
of generous simplicity and bellicose cheerfulness. Mr. Crockett is a
fighter for his loves, his fireside, and his Shorter Catechism. And
though there are pathetic passages, the robustness of the men and
the heroism of the women remove them from our pity to our proud
enthusiasm. Were one to seek the source of Mr. Crockett's inspira-
tion, he would probably find it in the Old Testament.
In this class of novels are included the short, sombre story 'Mad
Sir Uchtred' and 'The Gray Man. ' Nor are these works lacking in
the characteristics of his other manner yet to be spoken of. The
long hours in which we ride with John Faa, Lord of Little Egypt,
and with Willie Gordon of Earlston, are enlivened with shrewd
comment and brilliant narration. Humanity in its least complex
aspect, and robust faith in God, transport us to the other and sturdier
age in which they dwelt.
The other field in which Mr. Crockett has made a reputation, his
earlier field, is his presentment of contemporary Scotch peasant life.
Robert Fraser and Janet Balchrystie, in The Stickit Minister,' are
the descendants of John Faa and May Mischief and of Willie Gor-
don and Maisie Lenox. They dwell in the same sweet holms and
by the levels of the same lochs, bonny and broad, and their faith is
nurtured on the rugged Caledonian doctrine for which these, their
literary forbears, fought and died. As the shepherd knows his sheep
that to us who are not shepherds show so little unlikeness, so Mr.
Crockett knows the lines and lineaments of his characters. The
pathos of their brave lives is kept in shadow with the fine reserve
of one who will not suffer a stranger to intermeddle, but it is felt
as we feel that there are dark depths to the sea whose surface waves
sparkle in the sun.


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S. R. CROCKETT
4183
In this earlier manner A Galloway Herd,' 'The Play-Actress,'
and the delicate fantasy The Lilac Sunbonnet,' are written. If in
'Cleg Kelly,' the story of an Edinburgh waif, there is a touch of the
melodramatic, much may be forgiven an author who with the mastery
of subtle peculiarities of individual types combines the power to
make a novel vibrate with dramatic action.
ENSAMPLES TO THE FLOCK
From The Stickit Minister': the Macmillan Company, Publishers
THE
HE family of the late Tyke M'Lurg consisted of three loons
and a lassie. Tyke had never done anything for his child-
ren except share with a short-lived and shadowy mother
the responsibility of bringing them into the world. The time
that he could spare from his profession of poacher he had sys-
tematically devoted to neglecting them. Tyke had solved suc-
cessfully for many years the problem of how to live by the least
possible expenditure of labor. Kind ladies had taken him in
hand time and again. They had provided clothes for his child-
ren, which Tyke had primarily converted into coin of the realm,
and indirectly into liquid refreshment, at Lucky Morgan's rag
store in Cairn Edward. Work had been found for Tyke, and he
had done many half-days of labor in various gardens. Unfor-
tunately, however, before the hour of noon it was Tyke's hard
case to be taken with a "grooin' in his inside" of such a nature
that he became rapidly incapacitated for further work.
"No, mem, I canna tak' it. It's mony a year since I saw
the evil o't. Ye'll hae to excuse me, but I really couldna. Oh,
thae pains! O sirce, my inside! Weel, gin ye insist, I'll juist
hae to try a toothfu' to obleege ye, like. ”
But Tyke's toothfu's were over for this world, and his short-
comings were lying under four feet of red mold. Half a dozen
kindly folk who pitied his "three loons and a lassie" gathered a
few pounds and gave him a decent burial,-not for his own sake,
but in order that the four little scarecrows might have a decent
start in life. It is the most fatal and indestructible of reproaches
in the south of Scotland to have a father buried by the parish.
The lassie was the eldest of the children. She was thirteen,
and she hardly remembered what it was to have a mother or a
new frock. But ever since she was eleven she had never had a
dirty one. The smith's wife had shown her how to wash, and


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4184
S. R. CROCKETT
she had learned from the teacher how to mend. "Leeb" had
appeared on the books of the school as Elizabeth M'Lurg, and
she had attended as often as she could — that is, as often as her
father could not prevent her; for Tyke, being an independent
man, was down on the compulsory clause of the Education Act,
and had more than once got thirty days for assaulting the School
Board officer.
When he found out that Leeb was attending school at the
village he lay in wait for her on her return, with a stick, and
after administering chastisement on general principles he went
on to specify his daughter's iniquities:-
"Ye upsettin' blastie, wad ye be for gangin' to their schule,
learnin' to look doon on yer ain faither that has been at sic
pains to rear ye? "— (a pause for further correction, to which poor
Leeb vocalized an accompaniment). "Let me see gin ye can
read! Hae, read that! " he said, flinging a tattered lesson-book,
which the teacher had given her, to his daughter. Leeb opened
the book, and punctuating the lesson with her sobs, she read in
the high and level shriek of a locomotive engine, "And so brave
Bobby, hav-ing sa-ved the tr-r-r-em-bling child, re-turn-ed with
the res-cu-ed one in his mouth to the shore. "
"Davert! but ye can read! " said her father, snatching the
book and tearing it up before her eyes. "Noo, listen; I'll hae
nane o' my bairns teached to despise their faither by no Schule
Boards. Look you here, Leeb M'Lurg, gin ever I catch you
within a mile o' the schule, I'll skin ye! "
But for all this tremendous threat, or maybe all the more
because of it, and also because she so much desired to be able
to do a whitè seam, Leeb so arranged it that there were few
days when she did not manage to come along the mile and half
of lochside road which separated her from the little one-roomed,
whitewashed schoolhouse on the face of the brae. She even
brought one of the "loons" with her pretty often; but as Jock,
Rab, and Benny (otherwise known as Rag, Tag, and Bobtail)
got a little older, they more easily accommodated themselves to
the wishes of their parent; and in spite of Leeb's blandishments
they went into "hidie holes" till the School Board officer had
passed by.
M'Lurg's Mill where the children lived was a tumble-down
erection, beautiful for situation, set on the side of the long loch
of Kenick. The house had once been a little farm-house, its


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S. R. CROCKETT
4185
windows brilliant with geraniums and verbenas; but in the latter
days of the forlorn M'Lurgs it had become betrampled as to its
doorsteps by lean swine, and bespattered as to its broken floor
by intrusive hens. It was to M'Lurg's Mill that the children.
returned after the funeral. Leeb had been arrayed in the hat
and dress of a neighbor's daughter for the occasion, but the three
loons had played "tig" in the intervals of watching their father's
funeral from the broomy knoll behind the mill. Jock, the eldest,
was nearly eleven, and had been taken in hand by the kind neigh-
bor wife at the same time as Leeb. At one time he looked as
though he would even better repay attention, for he feigned a
sleek-faced submission and a ready compliance which put Mis-
tress Auld of the Arkland off her guard. Then as soon as his
sister, of whom Jock stood much in awe, was gone out, he
snatched up his ragged clothes and fled to the hill. Here he was
immediately joined by the other two loons. They caught the
Arkland donkey grazing in the field beside the mill-dam, and
having made a parcel of the good black trousers and jacket, they
tied them to the donkey and drove him homeward with blows
and shoutings. A funeral was only a dull procession to them,
and the fact that it was their father's made no difference.
Next morning Leeb sat down on the "stoop" or wooden
bench by the door, and proceeded to cast up her position. Her
assets were not difficult to reckon. A house of two rooms, one
devoted to hens and lumber; a mill which had once sawn good
timber, but whose great circular saw had stood still for many
months; a mill-lade broken down in several places, three or four
chairs and a stool, a table, and a wash-tub. When she got so
far she paused. It was evident that there could be no more
school for her, and the thought struck her that now she must
take the responsibility for the boys, and bring them up to be
useful and diligent. She did not and could not so express her
resolve to herself, but a still and strong determination was in
her sore little heart not to let the boys grow up like their
father.
Leeb had gone to Sabbath school every week, when she could
escape from the tyranny of home, and was therefore well known
to the minister, who had often exercised himself in vain on the
thick defensive armor of ignorance and stupidity which encom-
passed the elder M'Lurg. His office-bearers and he had often
bemoaned the sad example of this ne'er-do-weel family which


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4186
S. R. CROCKETT
had intrenched itself in the midst of so many well-doing people.
M'Lurg's Mill was a reproach and an eyesore to the whole
parish, and the M'Lurg "weans" a gratuitous insult to every
self-respecting mother within miles. For three miles round the
children were forbidden to play with, or even to speak to, the
four outcasts at the mill. Consequently their society was much.
sought after.
When Leeb came to set forth her resources, she could not
think of any except the four-pound loaf, the dozen hens and a
cock, the routing wild Indian of a pig, and the two lean and
knobby cows on the hill at the back. It would have been possi-
ble to sell all these things, perhaps, but Leeb looked upon her-
self as the trustee for the rest of the family. She resolved
therefore to make what use of them she could, and having most
of the property under her eye at the time, there was the less
need to indite an inventory of it.
But first she must bring her brothers to a sense of their
position. She was a very Napoleon of thirteen, and she knew
that now that there was no counter authority to her own, she
could bring Jock, Rab, and Benny to their senses very quickly.
She therefore selected with some care and attention a hazel
stick, using a broken table-knife to cut it with a great deal of
deftness. Having trimmed it, she went out to the hill to look
for her brothers.
It was not long before she came upon them engaged in the
fascinating amusement of rooting for pignuts in a green bank-
side. The natural Leeb would instantly have thrown down
her wand of office and joined them in the search, but the Leeb
of to-day was a very different person. Her second thought was
to rush among them and deal lusty blows with the stick, but
she fortunately remembered that in that case they would scat-
ter, and that by force she could only take home one, or at most
two. She therefore called to her assistance the natural guile of
her sex.
«< Boys, are ye hungry? " she said. "There's sic a graun'
big loaf come frae the Arkland! " By this time all her audi-
ence were on their feet. "An' I'll milk the kye, an' we'll hae a
feast. "
"Come on, Jock," said Rab, the second loon, and the leader
in mischief, "I'll race ye for the loaf. "
"Ye needna do that," said Leeb calmly; "the door's lockit. "


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S. R. CROCKETT
4187
So as Leeb went along, she talked to her brothers as soberly
as though they were models of good behavior and all the vir
tues, telling them what she was going to do and how she would
expect them to help her. By the time she got them into the
mill-yard she had succeeded in stirring their enthusiasm, espe-
cially that of Jock, to whom with a natural tact she gave the
wand of the office of "sairgint," a rank which on the authority
of Sergeant M'Millan, the village pensioner, was understood to
be very much higher than that of general. "Sairgint" Jock
foresaw much future interest in the disciplining of his brothers,
and entered with eagerness into the new ploy. The out-of-doors
live stock was also committed to his care. He was to drive
the cows along the roadside and allow them to pasture on the
sweetest and most succulent grasses, while Rab scouted in the
direction of the village for supposititious "poalismen" who were
understood to take up and sell for the Queen's benefit all cows
found eating grass on the public highway. Immediately after
Jock and Rab had received a hunch of the Arkland loaf and their
covenanted drink of milk, they went off to drive the cows to the
loch road, so that they might at once begin to fill up their lean
sides. Benny, the youngest, who was eight past, she reserved
for her own assistant. He was a somewhat tearful but willing
little fellow, whose voice haunted the precincts of M'Lurg's mill
like a wistful ghost. His brothers were constantly running away
from him, and he pattering after them as fast as his fat little
legs could carry him, roaring with open mouth at their cruelty,
the tears making clean watercourses down his grimy cheeks.
But Benny soon became a new boy under his sister's exclusive
care.
"Noo, Benny," she said, "you an' me's gaun to clean the
hoose. Jock an' Rab will no' be kennin' it when they come
back! " So, having filled the tub with water from the mill-lade,
and carried every movable article of furniture outside, Leeb
began to wash out the house and rid it of the accumulated dirt
of years. Benny carried small bucketfuls of water to swill over
the floor. Gradually the true color of the stones began to shine.
up, and the black incrustation to retreat towards the outlying
corners.
"I'm gaun doon to the village," she said abruptly.
you keep scrubbin' alang the wa's. "
« Benny,


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4188
S. R. CROCKETT
Leeb took her way down rapidly to where Joe Turner, the
village mason, was standing by a newly begun pig-stye or swine-
ree, stirring a heap of lime and sand.
"G'ye way oot o' that! " he said instantly, with the threaten-
ing gesture which every villager except the minister and the
mistress of Arkland instinctively made on seeing a M'Lurg.
This it is to have a bad name.
But Leeb stood her ground, strong in the consciousness of
her good intentions.
"Maister Turner," she said, "could ye let me hae bucketfu'
or twa o' whitewash for the mill kitchen? an' I'll pey ye in hen's
eggs. Oor hens are layin' fine, an' your mistress is fond o' an
egg in the mornin'. "
Joe stopped and scratched his head. This was something
new, even in a village where a good deal of business is done
according to the rules of truck or barter.
"What are ye gaun to do wi' the whitewash? " he inquired,
to get time to think. "There was little whitewash in use about
M'Lurg's Mill in yer faither's time! "
"But I'm gaun to bring up the boys as they should," said
Leeb, with some natural importance, sketching triangles on the
ground with her bare toe.
"An' what's whitewash got to do wi' that? " asked Joe, with
some asperity.
Leeb could not just put the matter into words, but she
instinctively felt that it had a good deal to do with it. White-
wash was her badge of respectability both inside the house and
out, in which Leeb was at one with modern science.
"I'll gie three dizzen o' eggs for three bucketfu's," she said.
"An' hoo div I ken that I'll ever see ane o' the eggs? "
asked Joe.
"I've brocht a dizzen wi' me noo! " said Leeb, promptly,
producing them from under her apron.
Leeb got the whitewash that very night, and the loan of a
brush to put it on with. Next morning the farmer of the Crae
received a shock. There was something large and white down
on the loch-side, where ever since he came to the Crae he had
seen naething but the trees which hid M'Lurg's mill.
"I misdoot it's gaun to be terrible weather. I never saw
that hoose o' Tyke M'Lurg's aff our hill afore! " he said.


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S. R. CROCKETT
4189
The minister came by that day, and stood perfectly aghast at
the new splendors of the M'Lurg mansion. Hitherto when he
had strangers staying with him he took them another way, in
order that his parish might not be disgraced. Not only were the
walls of the house shining with whitewash, but the windows
were cleaned, a piece of white muslin curtain was pinned across
each, and a jug with a bunch of heather and wild flowers looked.
out smiling on the passers-by. The minister bent his steps to
the open door.
He could see the two M'Lurg cows pasturing
placidly with much contented head-tossing on the roadside, while
a small boy sat above, laboring at the first rounds of a stocking.
From the house came the shrill voice of singing. Out of the
firwood over the knoll came a still smaller boy, bent double with
a load of sticks.
«<
In the window, written with large sprawling capitals on a
leaf of a copy-book under the heading Encourage Earnest
Endeavor," appeared the striking legend:-
SOWING & MENDING DUN
GOOD COWS MILK
STICKS FOR FIREWOOD CHEEP
NEW LAID EGGS
BY ELIZABETH MCLURG
The minister stood regarding, amazement on every line of his
face. Leeb came out singing, a neatly tied bundle of chip
made out of the dry débris of the saw-mill in her hand.
"Elizabeth," said he, "what is the meaning of this? "
"Will ye be pleased to step ben? " said Leeb. The minister
did so, and was astonished to find himself sitting down in a
spotless kitchen, the walls positively painfully white, the wooden
chairs scoured with sand till the very fibre of the wood was
blanched, and on a floor so clean that one might have dined off
it, the mystic whorls and crosses of whiting which connect all
good Galloway housekeepers with Runic times.
Before the minister went out of M'Lurg's Mill he had learned
the intentions of Leeb to make men of her brothers.
He said,
"You are a woman already, before your time, Elizabeth! "
which was the speech of all others best fitted to please Leeb
M'Lurg. He had also ordered milk and eggs for the manse to


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4190
S. R. CROCKETT
be delivered by Benny, and promised that his wife would call
upon the little head of the house.
As he went down the road by the loch-side he meditated, and
this was the substance of his thought:-"If that girl brings up
her brothers like herself, Tyke M'Lurg's children may yet be
ensamples to the flock. "
But as to this we shall see.
SAWNY BEAN; AND THE CAVE OF DEATH
From The Gray Man': copyright 1896, by Harper and Brothers
FOR
'OR a moment in the darkness I stood dazed, and my head
swam. For I bethought me of the earl's words, and I
knew that my fate stood upon tiptoe. For here in the
finding of this box lay all my life, and it might be my love
also. But again another thought crossed the first, damming
back and freezing the current of hot blood which surged to my
heart. The caird's words in the Grieve's kitchen came to me:-
"You will find the treasure of Kelwood in the cave of Sawny
Bean, in the head of Benanback over against Benerard. "
If this were to be, there was little doubt that we stood in in-
stant and imminent danger of our lives. Yet I could not bring
myself to leave the treasure. Doubtless I ought to have done
so, and hastened our escape for the sake of the girls. But I
thought it might be possible to convey the chest out, and so
bring both our quests to an end at once - that for the treasure
by the recovery of the box which had been lost and found and
lost upon the Red Moss, and that of vengeance by the certain
condemnation of the Auchendraynes upon Marjorie's evidence.
――――――――――
―
The next moment great fear took hold on me. All that I
had heard since my childhood about the Unknown who dwelt
upon the shore-side, and lived no man knew how, ran through
my mind, his monstrous form; his cloven feet that made steads
on the ground like those of a beast; his huge hairy arms, clawed
at the finger-ends like the claws of a bear. I minded me of the
fireside tales of the travelers who had lost their way in that
fastness, and who, falling into the power of his savage tribe,
returned no more to kindlier places. I minded also how none
might speak to the prowler by night or get answer from him;
how every expedition against him had come to naught, because


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S. R. CROCKETT
4191
that he was protected by a power stronger, warned and advised
by an intelligence higher than his own. Besides, none had been
able to find the abode or enter into the secret defenses where
lurked the Man-beast of Benerard.
And it was in this abode of death that I, Launce Kennedy,
being as I supposed in my sane mind, had taken refuge with
two women, one the dearest to me on earth. The blood ran
pingling and pricking in my veins. My heart-cords tightened
as though it had been shut in a box and the key turned.
Hastily I slipped down, and upon a pretext took the dominie
aside to tell him what it was that I had found.
"Ye have found our dead-warrant, then. I wish we had never
seen your treasures and banded boxes! " said he roughly, as if I
had done it with intent.
And in truth I began to think he was right. But it was
none of my fault, and we had been just as badly off in that
place if I had not found it.
After that I went ranging hither and thither among all the
passages and twinings of the cave, yet never daring to go very
far from the place where we were, lest I should not be able to
find my way back. For it was an ill place, where every step
that I took something strange swept across my face or slithered
clammily along my cheek, making one grue to his bone marrows.
I am as fond of a nimble fetch of adventures as any man, as
every believing reader of this chronicle kens well by this time.
But I want no more such experiences. Specially now that I am
become a peaceable man, and no longer so regardlessly forward
as I was in thrusting myself into all stirs and quarrels up to the
elbows.
Then in a little I went soft-footed to where Marjorie and
Nell had bestowed themselves. When I told them how we had
run into danger with a folly and senselessness which nothing
could have excused, save the great necessity into which by the
hellish fury of our enemies we had been driven, it was cheerful
to hear their words of trust, and their declaration that they could
abide the issue with fortitude.
So we made such preparations as we could-as preparing our
pistols and loosening our swords. Yet all had to be done by
touch in that abode of darkness and black unchristian deeds.
It was silent and eery in the cave. We heard the water lap-
ping further and further from us as it retreated down the long


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S. R. CROCKETT
4192
passage. Now and then we seemed to catch a gliff of the noise
of human voices. But again, when we listened, it was naught
but the wind blowing every way through the passages and halls
of the cave; or the echo of the wing-beatings of uncanny things
that battened in the roofs and crevices of the murtherous cavern
where we abode, unfathomed, unsounded, and obscure.
But we had not long to wait ere our courage and resolution
were tested to the uttermost. For presently there came to us
clearly, though faintly at first, the crying and baying of voices,
fearful and threatening: yet more like the insensate howling of
dogs or shut-up hounds in a kennel than human creatures. Then
there was empty silence, through which again the noise came in
gusts like the sudden deadly anger of a mob; again more sharp
and edged with fear, like the wailing of women led to their
unpitied doom. And the sound of this inhuman carnival, ap-
proaching, filled the cave.
The direful crying came nearer and nearer, till we all cow-
ered pale-faced together, save Marjorie alone-who, having been
as it were in hell itself, feared not the most merciless fiends
that had broken loose therefrom. She stood a little apart from
us, so far that I had not known her presence but for the
draught of air that blew inward, which carried her light robe
towards me so that its texture touched my face, and I was aware
of the old subtle fragrance which in happy days had turned my
head in the gardens of Culzean.
But Nell Kennedy stood close to me— so close that I could
hear her heart beating and the little sound of the clasping and
unclasping of her hands. Which made me somewhat braver,
especially when she put both her hands about my arm and
gripped convulsively to me, as the noises of the crying and
howling waxed louder and nearer.
"I am vexed that I flouted you, Launce! " she whispered in
my ear.
"I do not care what you said to Kate Allison. After
all, she is not such a truth-telling girl, nor yet very by-ordinary
bonny. "
I whispered to her that I cared not either, and that I was
content to die for her.
Thus we sat waiting. Suddenly there was a pause in the
noise which filled the cavern below. I thought they had discov-
ered us. But Marjorie moved her hand a little to bid me keep


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S. R. CROCKETT
4193
down. So very carefully I raised my head over the rock, so
that through the niche I could, as before, look down upon them.
The water-door of the cave was now entirely filled by a black
bulk, in shape like a monstrous ape. Even in the flickering light
I knew that I had seen the monster before. A thrill ran
through me when I remembered the Man-beast with which I
had grappled in the barn of Culzean the night I outfaced the
Gray Man. And now by the silence, and the crouching of the
horde beneath me, I learned also that their master had come
home. The thing stood a moment in the doorway as though
angered at something. Then he spoke, in a voice like a beast's
growl, things which I could not at all understand. Though it
was clear that his progeny did, for there ensued a rushing from
side to side. Then Sawny Bean strode into the midst of his
den. He stumbled, and set his foot upon a lad of nine or ten,
judging by the size of him, who sprawled in the doorway. The
imp squirmed round like a serpent and bit Sawny Bean in the
leg. Whereat he stooped, and catching the lad by the feet, he
dashed his head with a dull crash against the wall, and threw
him like a dead rabbit in the corner.
The rest stood for a moment aghast. But in a trice, and
without a single one so much as going to see if the boy were
dead or only stunned, the whole hornets' byke hummed again,
and the place was filled with a stifling smell of burning fat and
roasting victual, upon which I dared not let my mind for at
moment dwell.
When Sawny Bean came in, he had that which looked like a
rich cloth of gold over his arm-the plunder of some poor
butchered wretch, belike. He stood with his trophy, examining
it, before the fire. Presently he threw it over his shoulders
with the arms hanging idly down, and strode about 'most like a
play-actor or a mad person, but manifestly to his own great
content and to the admiration of his followers, who stood still
and gaped after him.
When he had satisfied himself with this, I saw him look
towards our place of refuge. A great spasm gulped my heart
when I saw him take the first step towards us, for I knew that
it was his forbidden treasure-house in which we lurked.
So I thought it had come to the bitter push. But something
yet more terrible than the matter of the boy diverted for the
moment the monster's attention. The lad whom he had cast to
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4194
S. R. CROCKETT
the side had been left alone, none daring to meddle. But now,
as he passed him, Sawny Bean gave the body a toss with his
foot. At this, quick as a darting falcon on the stoop, a woman
sprang at him from a crevice where she had been crouching—at
least by her shape she was a woman, with long elf-locks twisting
like snakes about her brow. She held an open knife in her
hand, and she struck at the chieftain's hairy breast. I heard the
knife strike the flesh, and the cry of anger and pain which
followed. But the monster caught the woman by the wrist,
pulled her over his knee, and bent back her head. It was a
horrid thing to see, and there is small wonder that I can see it
yet in many a dream of the night. And no doubt also I shall
see it till I die. hear it as well.
―――
Then for a long season I could look no more. But when I
had recovered me a little, and could again command my heart
to look, I saw a great part of the crew swarm like flies, fetching,
carrying, and working like bees upon spilled honey, from the
corner where had been the bodies of the lad and the woman.
But it was not in the ordinary way that they were being pre-
pared for burial. In the centre of the cave was Sawny, with
some of the younger sort of the women pawing over him and
bandaging his wounded shoulder. He was growling and spitting
inarticulately all the time like a wildcat. And every time his
shoulder hurt him, as the women worked with it, he would take
his other hand and strike one of them down, as though it was
to her that he owed the twinge of pain.
Presently the monster arose and took the gold brocade again
in his hand. I thought that of a certainty now the time was
And I looked at Nell Kennedy.
come.
God knows what was in my eyes. My heart was like to
break. For the like of this pass was never man in. That I
should have to smite my love to the death within an hour of the
first kiss and the first owning of her affection!
But she that loved me read my thought in mine eyes.
She bared her neck for me, so that I could see its tender
whiteness in the flicker of the fire.
'Strike there," she said, "and let me die in your arms, who
are my heart's love, Launcelot Kennedy. "
I heard the Beast-man's step on the stair. I looked from Nell's
dear neck to her eyes and back again to her bosom.
I lifted my
hand with the steel in it, and nerved myself for the striking, for


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S. R. CROCKETT
4195
I must make no mistaking. And even in that moment I saw a
dagger also in Marjorie's hand.
Suddenly a tremendous rush of sound filled the cave. The
dagger fell from my hand, and Nell and I clasped one another.
The clamor seemed to be about us and all round us. Roaring
echoes came back to us. The bowels of the earth quaked. Yet
methought there was something familiar in the sound of it. I
turned me about, and there, standing erect with all his little
height, was the dominie. His cheeks were distended, and he
was blowing upon his great war-pipes such a thunderous pibroch
as never had been heard in any land since the pipes skirled on
the Red Harlaw.
What possession had come upon his mind I know not. But
the effect I can tell. The pack of fiends that caroused and slew
beneath stood stricken a moment, in amaze at the dreadful
incomprehensible sounds. Then they fled helter-skelter, yelly-
hooing with fear, down the narrow sea-way, from which the tide
had now fully ebbed. And when I looked over, there was not a
soul to be seen. Only over the edge of a caldron the body of
the murdered woman, or at least a part of it, lay—a bloody
incentive to haste out of this direful Cave of Death.
The dominie stepped down as though he had been leading a
march, strutting and passaging like the king's piper marching
about the banqueting-table at Holyrood. I declare, the creature
seemed fey. He was certainly possessed with a devil. But the
fearlessness of the man. won into our veins also. For with steel
or pistol in each of our hands we marched after him, ready to
encounter aught that might come in our way. Aye, and even
thus passed out of the cave, hasting down the long passage
without a quiver of the heart or a blenching of the cheek, so
suddenly and so starkly, by way of sudden hope, had the glorious
music brought the hot blood back to our hearts, even as it had
stricken our cruel foes with instant terror.
cave of Sawny Bean,
But when in the gray
Thus dry-shod we marched out of the
and not so much as a dog barked at us.
of a stormy morning we reached the cliff's edge, we heard inland
the wild voices of the gang yelling down the wind, as though
the furies of fear were pursuing them and tearing at their vitals.
What they expected I know not. But I guess that they must
have taken us for whatever particular devil they happened to
believe in, come to take them quick to their own place. Which,


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4196
S. R. CROCKETT
after all, could not be much worse than the den in which we
had seen them at their disport, nor could all the torturing fiends
of lowest hell have been their marrows in devilish cruelty.
So once more the world was before us, and strangely quiet it
seemed, as if we had died in stress and riot and been born again
into an uncanny quiet. There remained now for us only the
bringing to pass of righteous judgments upon the wicked ones
who had compassed and plotted all this terrible tale of evils.
These murders without end, the hellish cruelties and death-
breeding deceits, must not fall alone on the crazed outlaw and
his brood, for the chief criminals were those that were greater
than Sawny Bean and his merciless crew.


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4197
GEORGE CROLY
(1780-1860)
HE versatile Irishman George Croly turned to literature as his
means of livelihood when about thirty years old. He had
been educated in his native town of Dublin, where he had
graduated from Trinity College when only fifteen. Even thus early.
he had distinguished himself as a classical student and for grace in
extempore speaking. He next studied for the ministry, and in 1804
was ordained, and obtained a small curacy in the North of Ireland.
But George Croly had a great fund of ambition, which kept him
dissatisfied in this humble position. Hopes of preferment were several
times held out to him, but they all failed; and tired of disappoint-
ment, he gave up his curacy in 1810 and moved to London with his
mother and sisters. There he soon found an opening in journalism,
and became dramatic critic on the New Times, and a regular con-
tributor to the Literary Gazette and Britannia. He also wrote for
Blackwood's Magazine, and as fellow contributor met the young lady
whom he afterwards married.
In spite of his scholarship and great facility in expression, Croly's
cannot be called an original mind. His verse is mostly a reflection
of the literary influences he experienced. A certain exaggeration of
emotion, the romance of Byron and Moore then in highest favor,
appealed to him, and he emulated it in his most ambitious poems.
'Paris' (1815), although much weaker, strongly suggests 'Childe
Harold. ' Like Moore, his imagination delighted in Oriental color
and richness, and he often chose Eastern subjects, as in 'The Angel
of the World. '
The Traditions of the Rabbins' has been called an imitation of
De Quincey, and indeed a portion of it is wrongly included in the
collection of De Quincey's works. His Life and Times of George
IV. ' is more valuable as entertaining reading than for historical
significance. To religious literature he contributed a 'Commentary
on the Apocalypse,' and a book upon 'Divine Providence, or the
Three Cycles of Revelation. ' But although he loved literature and
had read extensively, Croly's appreciation of it seems to have been
entirely emotional. He could not analyze his impressions, and his crit-
ical work is vague enthusiasm rather than suggestive discrimination.
He essayed drama successfully. Catiline,' in spite of bombastic
reminiscences of Marlowe, has tragic strength and richly rhythmic


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4198
GEORGE CROLY
verse.
'Pride Shall Have a Fall,' a clever exposure of social weak-
nesses, was successfully given at the Covent Garden Theatre.
Although happy in authorship, Croly was anxious to resume his
clerical profession, and in 1835 gladly accepted the rectorship of St.
Stephen's Church, Walbrook, where a fashionable congregation ac-
corded him a great reputation for eloquence. He was less success-
ful in 1847, when appointed afternoon lecturer at the Foundling
Hospital. The orphans and servant-maids failed to appreciate his
flowery periods and emotional fervors. He was evidently quite be-
yond them, and soon resigned in disgust at their ingratitude.
Croly's poems and several other works, highly praised when they
appeared, have been nearly forgotten. His fame rests now upon his
fiction: Tales of the Saint Bernard,' 'Marston,' and 'Salathiel the
Immortal. ' The last especially, with the enduring fascination of the
Wandering Jew legend, is always interesting.