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National Library of Scotland B000520673 A THE RED HOSE A TALE OE UPPER CL YDESDALE. BY WILLIAM SCOTT. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor.” (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) LONDON and MANCHESTER: JOHN HEYWOOD. GLASGOW: LOVE. EDINBURGH: MENZIES. t^y B 530 ^JY a V976/ 5 PREFATORY NOTE. The following story does not profess to have any higher aim than that of furnishing a truthful sketch illustrative of real life amongst the humbler classes in the rural district of the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire, in the reign of George the Fourth. If it serves to interest the reader in moments of relaxation from literature of a higher class the ambition of the Author will have been amply satisfied. The scenes are laid in a district with which, as a native, he is well acquainted, and the dialect of those of the characters who use the vernacular is that which, as a boy, he spoke himself. The most serious part of the plot is based upon actual occurrences, as may be gathered from the following quotation from an article by a local journalist in a district paper:— “To those who feel an interest in an unexampled chapter in the history of humanity we would seriously recommend to their attention the proceedings of the Doubting Club, as related in that interesting tale ‘The Red Hose.* The main facts stated there, though the names may be different, are no novel, but a strange and terrible reality.” Manchester, August, 1879. / CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I.—The Wager i II.—The Somervilles 6 III. —The Ballingalls of Burnhouse n IV. —The Biggar Club of Ancient Doubters 16 V.—The Farmer’s Chimney Corner 27 VI.—Dick Dangerfield Sees a Ghost 33 VII.—Dangerfield Makes Inquiries 40 VIII.—A Haymaking Festival 45 IX.—Love’s First Doubts 53 X.—A Wild Proposal 58 XI.—Somerville’s Bill Discounted 63 XII.—A Stranger from the Antipodes 68 XIII. —The Attempted Robbery 73 XIV. —Mary Sorbie Caught Again 77 XV.—Carnwath Games 81 XVI.—The Red Hose 87 XVII.—Dangerfield Captures the Ghost 92 XVIII.—Helen Somerville Refuses to be Assisted 98 XIX.—The Twin Brothers 101 XX.—The Casting of the Lots 106 XXL—Dangerfield in Trouble 113 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXII.—The Ghost at the Club 117 XXIII.—Break-up of Somerville’s Home 123 XXIV.—A Body Found in the River 130 XXV.—A Letter from Somerville to his Wife 135 XXVI.—The Burglary at Bailie Denholm’s 138 XXVII.—‘‘You’ll be Me, and I’ll be You” 142 XXVIII.—Dr. Downing Gives his Services 147 XXIX.—Dick Dangerfield a Prisoner 153 XXX.—The Gypsies Strike Their Tents 157 XXXI.—Dixon Convalescent 162 XXXII.—Dixon Begins His Story 166 XXXIII.—Dixon Concludes His Story 171 XXXIV.—Moneypenny Brought to Bay 175 XXXV.—Helen Somerville Obtains Her Rights 180 XXXVI.—Night Incident at Libberton Toll 185 XXXVII.—The Last of William Dangerfield 189 XXXVIII.—Escape of the Prisoner 193 XXXIX.—Murdoch at Work 197 XL.—The Chase 201 XLI.—' ‘ Kemping ” 206 XLII.—More Love Difficulties 210 XLIII.—The Fate of an Artist 215 XLIV.—Tom Morris Fascinated 219 XLV.—Rustic Wooing 223 XLVL—Dr. Downing’s Sale 227 XLVIL—Hillhead Kirn 231 XLVIII.—A Narrow Escape 236 CONTENTS. V CHAPTER PACE XLIX.—Saved 240 L.—The Mad Race 244 LI.—Going, Going, Gone 249 LII.—A Fatal Shot 254 LIIL—From Information Received 259 LIV.—A Fair Start 265 LV.—A Sudden .Reconciliation 268 LVI.—On the Track 273 LVII.—With the Fugitives 277 LVIII.—Over the Linn 280 LIX.—Exit Gilbert Torrens 283 LX.—Exeunt Omnes 286 i THE RED HOSE. "CHAPTER I. THE WAGER. HERE is not a more charming or a more interesting town than Lanark in all broad Scotland. It is beautifully situated on the steep banks of the Clyde, at the most picturesque part of the river's course, and surrounded by a varied landscape of moors and fertile fields, orchards, and plantations. Approaching it from the woods of Smyllum, or from Hyndford Bridge, the traveller enters by the head of the town, amidst the measured click of shuttles, while the hand- looms are seen in busy motion through the windows of the houses. Coming up the steep ascent from Kirkfieldbank, or along the great highway which runs from Stirling to Carlisle, one gets at once into the region of quiet, snug shops, and either way the aspect of the burgh is pleasant and cheerful. To the west, Cartland Crags, in their wild beauty, and to the south-east the falls of the river, with their manifold associations in connection with Wallace and Scottish independence, throw a halo of national glory round the beauty of the scenery, which in some senses is unsurpassed in any of the lovely regions of the “ land of the mountain and the flood." Moreover, the locality has another interest from the situation—at the foot of the Steep eminences rising from the Clyde, within hearing of the roar of the troubled waters dashing over Cora Linn—of New Lanark cotton mills, with their social peculiarities, and their curious memories of B 2 THE RED HOSE. Robert Owen the socialist dreamer, and David Dale the Christian philanthropist. I have gazed with pleasure on the glittering granite walls of Aberdeen ; I have wandered through and through the amphitheatre of wooded hills encircling the fair city of Perth ; I have stood for hours upon the grey towers and battlements of Stirling, the bulwark of the North; I have sauntered in haste and at leisure through those quaint streets, with their poetic memories, which constitute the venerable town of Ayr; and I have often been delighted with the thriving and prosperous appearance of the cleanly and comfortable border villages of Hawick and Galashiels; and yet I think Lanark more truly and nationally characteristic in its quiet repose. At all events it was so before the days of railways and telegraphs. In the same relation in which Lanark stands to other towns does the Clydesdale Inn in my estimation stand to the other inns north of the Tweed. It is at once cosy and commodious, inviting in winter by its glowing warmth, and in summer by its airy coolness. The cellar is always well stocked with the best vintages, the most palatable spirits, and the most delicious malt liquors, while the cuisine has ever been far beyond reproach. For wines and vivers the hostelry has been alike celebrated, and not only affords first-class accommodation for man and beast, but can supply horses and traps of the most superior class. At this house orders are to be obtained for visiting the far-famed Falls of Clyde, to which, reader, we may have occasion more than once to refer. Our story opens in the coffee-room, or some cognate room, of the Clydesdale Inn, on a Thursday evening at the close of the month of May in the year 18—, but I need not specify the date more precisely than by saying that it was in the days " when George the Fourth was king.” Consequently it was before the advent of the new generation, and at the time when curious ideas were afloat, and there was a great upheaving of the body politic and social. The Upper Ward Regiment of Lanarkshire Yeomanry Cavalry had been up for their ten days’ permanent duty, and had that day been reviewed or inspected on Lanark Moor. The proceedings had been wound up with the usual troop races, and the break up and march homewards were to take place on the following day. The head-quarters of the regiment A TALE OF UPPER CLYDESDALE. 3 had been established at the Clydesdale Inn, as a matter of course, and on the evening referred to several of the officers had assembled in the room alluded to, talking over the events of the day, and of the regimental ball on the previous evening. Gradually the number of the company was reduced to two subalterns and a civilian of sporting propensities, who was the chief functionary in the locality for the enforcement of the law, and was named Mr. Hamilton Murdoch. “Make it worth my while and it's a bargain. I'll just astonish them—see if I don't. By Jove! I'll cause a greater sensation than any ghost upon record ! ” The speaker was a tall young man, in height verging upon six feet, but of somewhat slender build. He wore the undress uniform of the corps—or was in mufti, to put it in other words—• and he had smooth hair, black as the raven’s wing, with whiskers of the same hue worn round the face and under the chin. He had also black piercing eyes. His complexion was sallow; but upon the whole the expression of his features was rather pleasing. He was apparently about twenty-five years of age, and he held a subaltern’s commission in the Carnwath Troop of Yeomanry— whether as a lieutenant or cornet is not remembered in the district, for he always received the courtesy-title of “ Captain.” He was the son of Major Harbord, a retired officer in the Honourable East India Company’s service, a good-hearted but irascible old gentleman, who had obtained a lease of a large house and grounds, somewhere in the parish of Carstairs, upon somewhat favourable terms, because it had been the scene of a terrible tragedy, and was supposed to be haunted.