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    Kidnapped
    Kidnapped
    Kidnapped
    Ebook272 pages4 hours

    Kidnapped

    By Robert Louis Stevenson

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    "Kidnapped" is the story of David Balfour, who travels to meet his uncle and collect his inheritance following the death of his father. Betrayed by his family, David finds himself kidnapped and in a fight for his life. David escapes his kidnappers with the renegade Alan Breck and is soon in the middle of the struggle between the Scottish Highlanders and English Rule. David sets out with Alan against almost impossible odds to evade his captors in the middle of a war to find safety.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateJan 1, 2010
    ISBN9781596252158
    Author

    Robert Louis Stevenson

    Robert Lewis Balfour Stevenson was born on 13 November 1850, changing his second name to ‘Louis’ at the age of eighteen. He has always been loved and admired by countless readers and critics for ‘the excitement, the fierce joy, the delight in strangeness, the pleasure in deep and dark adventures’ found in his classic stories and, without doubt, he created some of the most horribly unforgettable characters in literature and, above all, Mr. Edward Hyde.

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    Reviews for Kidnapped

    4/5

    1,219 ratings47 reviews

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    • 2/5
      Disappointing and dated.
    • 4/5
      St. Barts 2017 #7 - Famous Stevenson tale that i have heard about my entire life, and is usually the case, i cannot believe i have not ever read. So off on my vacation it came, and i read it at the same time as a friend. I certainly enjoyed the adventure, but the Scottish dialect language, even with the Stevenson-installed footnotes, and the very confusing political climate at the time of this story left me spinning more than i wanted. Scottish clan battles and English Kings obviously dominated daily lives at the time of this story, and having absolutely zero knowledge of the players and the motives, it was just a lot of distracting clutter to me. Our hero David Balfour does struggle mightily with many things not going his way, and tells this story with a certain charm and self-deprecating style that saves this for me. Lots of swashbuckling sea-faring excitement, some time spent on an island, & a healthy dose of eclectic characters challenge David as he struggles to survive his ordeal. I always thought of this as a children's book, but i think i was either wrong, or I am just way in over my head. Very glad that it is now on the pile of books i have read!
    • 4/5
      At first sight, this work seems disquietingly similar to Stevenson's better known Treasure Island: around the middle of the 18th Century (not Stevenson's own 19th Century), an impoverished, inexperienced, but self-respecting teenage hero is set to sea by circumstance. Here he faces a crew of thugs whom, supported by strong role-models, he valiantly defeats. Then follows a long voyage of wandering & discovery until at last he comes to spiritual & material independence under the wise & watchful eye of his mentors, portrayed as very pillars of a romanticized British Empire.But there the similarity does stop. Kidnapped is exclusively about 18th Century Scotland & its entirely unforgettable inhabitants. Its sea voyage is a circumnavigation of Scotland, no more, no less. The perilous return to the home town takes place across hills & heather. Finally & most important, every character in the novel is as Scottish as its teenage hero - or as Stevenson was himself.You might say that Kidnapped offers all the assets of Treasure Island, plus one: the tense but warm atmosphere of an independence-loving nation during the waning years of its armed rebellion against the English. Stevenson, in loving mastery of his subject yet never as uncritical as he seems, ignores neither politics, intrigues, & clan quarrels, nor the (predictable) homage to bagpipe & tartans. The book is therefore flavoursome in a manner that even Treasure Island, for all its power, never attains. The historical & cultural depth here is simply greater - & the book perhaps as entertaining.
    • 4/5
      When 16-year-old David Balfour meets his estranged uncle for the first time, he is shocked by the man's cruelty. Soon, Balfour has been kidnapped and he must rescue himself and travel back to the town of his uncle to claim his inheritance. This is an exciting little book...not quite up to scratch with Treasure Island, but still has quite an adventure. It would probably be a fun book for teenagers to read, if they like classics (or if you want to thrust classics upon them).
    • 4/5
      Previously I have ranked Robert Louis Stevenson among my favorite authors simply on the basis of Treasure Island, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and selections from A Child’s Garden of Verses. Now I’m pleased to add Kidnapped to that list.In my review of Treasure Island, I called Stevenson a master of atmosphere, and that’s true here as well. He has a most miraculous ability to make me feel like I’ve stepped into a new world and am experiencing it for the first time, side by side with our hero, David Balfour: On the forenoon of the second day, coming to the top of a hill, I saw all the country fall away before me down to the sea; and in the midst of this descent, on a long ridge, the city of Edinburgh smoking like a kiln. There was a flag upon the castle, and ships moving or lying anchored in the firth; both of which, for as far away as they were, I could distinguish clearly; and both brought my country heart into my mouth.But while every page of Treasure Island seems to be bathed in salty air, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in grimy fog, in Kidnapped the atmosphere varies from setting to setting, from scene to scene. There’s a Gothic air pervading the encounters with Uncle Ebenezer (truly one of the lowest and most despicable of Stevenson’s characters, and not at all similar to his usual Devil-as-Gentleman villain), followed by a nautical section that invokes all of the danger and little of the lightness of Treasure Island. The majority of the tale, however, centers on the romance and mystique of the highlands.The character who best embodies Stevenson’s idea of highland honor is Alan Breck Stewart; all the complexity that Stevenson spared in creating Uncle Ebenezer he seems to have kept in reserve for the portrait of this adventurous outlaw, who was a real historical personage. Stevenson’s Alan is alternately heroic and petty, friendly and shortsighted. At times he almost seems younger than his juvenile companion, although he’s never less than sympathetic.By my calculations, David himself ought to be roughly the same age as Jim in Treasure Island, but David is the more complicated character, and thus Kidnapped reads as an “older” story. Unfortunately, it’s also more episodic than Treasure Island, with a weaker plot and an open ending. Still, I enjoyed it, and look forward to reading more Stevenson—including the sequel, Catriona!
    • 5/5
      This story grabs the reader's attention through an action packed adventure around Scotland. We follow David Balfour through his travels to find who he is and claim his true inheritance. This story would be suitable for readers in grades 6 and up.
    • 2/5
      The overall story for this book was good, but the strong Scottish dialect made it difficult to follow. Once I gave up on trying to figure out exactly what was going on, the book was more enjoyable.
    • 4/5
      A great story with a good narrative drive involving the betrayal and kidnapping of the central character, David Balfour, his flight across the Scottish landscape and his eventual rescue and restoration to his fortune. There are a number of other colourful and intriguing characters especially David's uncle Ebenezer (similar to his Dickensian namesake) and Alan Breck Stewart. Good stuff, though there are an awful lot of Scots words not recognised in the OED and only a few of which are explained in footnotes in the Delphi Collected Works edition.
    • 5/5
      This book is appropriate for the upper elementary school grade levels. It is an exciting book of a boy who is kidnapped onto a pirate ship. It is a classic that children will enjoy reading for years to come.
    • 3/5
      Forty plus years after reading "Treasure Island", I have finally completed my second book by Robert Louis Stevenson, "Kidnapped".Protagonist David Balfour is the heir to his uncle's estate, but his uncle doesn't want to share, so he arranges for his nephew to be taken to the Carolinas as a slave. Sometimes plans just don't follow through as we'd like, and David finds himself on the run, trying to survive long enough to get home and enact revenge.Good story, should be interesting and/or readable for youth and up.Note: I gave this book three stars: the story moved along nicely, although the Scottish words used throughout the text had me skipping to the glossary in the back of the book, a lot.
    • 4/5
      Two hundred page buildup for a four page payoff. Reminds me of a much shorter "Count of Monte Cristo". All setup for revenge. But with both writers, what a sweet payoff as we see Balfour's uncle get his due. Fantastic. I can read it fairly easily, but the dialect is beyond children now.
    • 3/5
      Well, even though this is supposed to be a kids' book, it was pretty engaging even for this Mom. I loved the fact that in my 1948 edition anyway, that even though the author sometimes writes in dialect, he takes the time to do footnotes of unfamiliar Scottish words that he uses in his writing. Most of it is fairly easy to figure out, but I appreciated it.The story itself is of a young man of 17 who's father passes away & leaves him an orphan, since the mother passed years before. David gets instructions from Mr. Campbell, his father's laird, to go seek his uncle Ebenezer, since he is the last of the Balfour family. Uncle Ebenezer, like the other famous character by that name, is not a nice guy. He arranges to have his nephew shanghai'd by a boat crew, to be sold as a white slave in the Carolinas. Well, all manner of mishaps occur, & the boat never makes it because it's wrecked off the coast. David makes his way across Scotland with Alan, who's a bit of a bad guy himself, but, he takes care of David, & that's how that odd friendship develops. Eventually, David makes his way back...I won't give away the ending, you'll just have to read it for yourself
    • 5/5
      This adventurous story follows a seventeen year old boy who is told to find his long lost uncle after his parents die. His travels take a dangerous turn and he ends up being in way more than he had bargained for. If you are looking for an adventure that is steeped in Scottish history and culture, this book is for you. Appropriate for ages 5th grade and up.
    • 3/5
      This story was a friendship story rather than a kidnapped story. For sure, hero was kidnapped by his uncle but it was just only beginning of the story. after that he met young man who saw him precious person. They ran away and hid from their enemy. The end was a little sentimental happy end.
    • 5/5
      I read this book as a child. It has always been my favorite. I would recommend it for readers of all ages.
    • 5/5
      This is perhaps my favorite adventure novel. The characters are just great and the plot is very quick. In my opinion its much better then Treasure Island. If you want to read a classic that is actually fun, this is the way to go.
    • 4/5
      After his father's death in 1751, young David Balfour learns about an uncle he'd never heard of before. David is surprised to learn that he is the heir to an estate, but before he can get used to the idea, his uncle has him kidnapped on a ship headed for the American colonies. En route, he befriends Jacobite Alan Breck Stewart. Although the highland Catholic Alan and the lowland Protestant David make an unlikely pair, they share adventures including shipwreck and pursuit through the highlands. It's an entertaining tail of adventure, and it's worth reading just to get acquainted with David Balfour. I listened to the audio version and I found it difficult to understand the reader's accent and the somewhat archaic Scots dialect.
    • 3/5
      I must say that, for once, I found a book a bit difficult to follow. He has written the book very well. No doubt about this. There is lots of local flavour when it comes to the language. However, I did not follow the plot as well as I usually do, and was a bit happy when the book finally ended!
    • 5/5
      I enjoyed Michael Page's narration very much & his Scottish burr seemed spot on to these American ears. Betrayal, friendship and adventure in 1751 Scotland with some Jacobite politics in the background... What fun!
    • 4/5
      A 1001 CBYMRBYGU.Young David Balfour discovers after his father’s death that his family has unexpected wealth and power. David ventures off to meet up with his father’s only brother and finds a man who deceives him and sells him off into slavery, sending David off on a ship bound for America. On the ship, David meets lots more bad guys and there is a lot of shooting and fighting. He falls overboard, survives to live for a while on an isolated island, and then gets thrown into a Scottish struggle for power, with more shooting and scavenging. I loved the action in this book. With books like these available, you can see why so many boys read books a hundred years ago. I also loved all the new-to-me words in this book. I could write a whole post on all the new words I discovered while reading this book. Ay, faith, I ken Scotland be a braw place, no sae bad as ye would think, in this bonny tale of a man and a halfling boy, who werenae feared of being laid by the heels, hoot-toot, hoot-toot.
    • 5/5
      “In 1886, Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped began serialization in Young Folks magazine. It was this book, along with the earlier Treasure Island (1883) and A Child's Garden of Verses (1885) which first drew me to Stevenson more than fifty years ago. Along with a handful of other authors these books became the foundation of my early reading and love of books. I still have that feeling for Stevenson as I have gradually explored some of his other novels and essays. While he is considered one of England's most popular writers of "Children's Literature", these novels and his others, especially The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, are worth exploring and enjoying as an adult. Jekyll and Hyde in particular, provoked by a dream and written in a ten-week burst during the writing of Kidnapped, is one of the outstanding examples of the use of the theme of 'the double' in literature, and a classic late Victorian text. Though Stevenson wrote prolifically and in almost every genre, these four books from the mid-1880s are all he would need to be remembered more than a century later. This reader continues to look back a the beginning of his reading as a boy and remember when he first encountered the adventures depicted in Kidnapped and Treasure Island. like”
    • 3/5
      If you looking for a glimpse into Scottish Highlander hijinks - and don't mind wading through text that's heavy with brogue - then you'll enjoy this classic by Stevenson.
    • 3/5
      I found it simplistic and believe it's description as a boy's adventure novel fitting. It gives some good lessons for "coming of age" young people. I liked the Scottish dialogue, learning a bit of history and the description of the countryside to be an enjoyable part of the book.
    • 4/5
      A young man is dispossessed by his 'evil' uncle and has many challenges on his way back to reclaiming his inheritance. Despite the unrealistic story line the hardships of young David Balfour are portrayed realistically.
    • 4/5
      It's been such a long time since I've read this. A ripping good yarn!
    • 3/5
      KidnappedBy Robert Louis StevensonNarrated by Kieron ElliottⓅ 2015, Recorded Books9 hrs and 7 minsCLASSIC / ADVENTURESet in the seventeenth century, newly orphaned seventeen-year old David Balfour, discovers that he is of the wealthy House of Shaws and heads to Edinburgh to meet his relatives. Once in the city, however, he finds that his only extant relative is a squirrelly uncle who is clearly a threat to David’s own life. After a particularly close brush with death, David is tricked onboard a ship and whisked away on to a life of hardship and adventure including ship battles, ship wreck, mutiny, and running with outlaws. The story is everything you would want and expect for a tale of swashbuckling heroism, clever ruses, and breath taking scenes of danger! The only thing missing is a damsel in distress; but as a “boy’s tale” the lack of a romance isn’t surprising.Kieron Elliot is a “Scottish actor, host, voice over artist and comedian” who narrated this classic tale, slowly and carefully; and with a full-on Scottish brogue. There is the temptation to speed up the recording; but the special (nautical), archaic, and idiomatic language of the novel demands a more considered approach, especially to American listeners’ ears. However, as much of a sucker for a Scottish accent that you may be [Ahem, me], his deliberate pace and lack of narrative flow mark him as a novice audiobook narrator. Indeed, it appears that he has only narrated one other audiobook, a romance for Harper Audio under the name Kieran Elliott, 'To Marry A Scottish Laird' (by Lyndsey Sands). Still, I would have liked to have heard more from this narrator. There is the sense that once he “gets” narration as an admixture of voice over and performance, he would be a top tier narrator.OTHER: I received a CD Library edition of Kidnapped (by Robert Louis Stevenson; narrated by Kieron Elliott) from Recorded Books in exchange for review. I receive no monies, goods (beyond the audiobook) or services in exchange for reviewing the product and/or mentioning any of the persons or companies that are or may be implied in this post.
    • 3/5
      Rarely thrilling, Kidnapped is an adventure story only secondarily. It is best described as an evocation of Scotland in the 1700s, a place and time in which honor retained its power to motivate, without having fallen into stiffness - a balance best witnessed in Alan Breck, a man as quick to laugh as he is quick to take offense at a slight.
    • 4/5
      This book is on a par with Treasure Island although it lacks the excitement of a treasure hunt, there is plenty of excitement anyway and the plot is better.
    • 4/5
      This was a great story with often unpredictable events. As I am very lucky to have a version that is of original published dates it made it so much more enjoyable. Highly recommended!
    • 5/5
      The best adventure fiction I have ever read, and one of the most satisfying books on many levels. If I hadn't run out of fiction to read on holiday and found this in the thrift shop, I might never have read it. Talk about close shaves! Definite reread material. Setting, pacing, fascinating historical information, the characters of both the land and the people, and the relationship between the protagonists--a Whig and a Jacobite--absolutely brilliant and utterly thirst-quenching.

    Book preview

    Kidnapped - Robert Louis Stevenson

    KIDNAPPED

    BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

    BEING MEMOIRS OF THE ADVENTURES OF DAVID BALFOUR IN THE YEAR 1751

    HOW HE WAS KIDNAPPED AND CAST AWAY; HIS SUFFERINGS IN A DESERT ISLE; HIS JOURNEY IN THE WILD HIGHLANDS; HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH ALAN BRECK STEWART AND OTHER NOTORIOUS HIGHLAND JACOBITES; WITH ALL THAT HE SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF HIS UNCLE, EBENEZER BALFOUR OF SHAWS, FALSELY SO CALLED

    WRITTEN BY HIMSELF

    AND NOW SET FORTH

    BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

    WITH A PREFACE BY MRS. STEVENSON

    A Digireads.com Book

    Digireads.com Publishing

    Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-2541-8

    Ebook ISBN 13: 978-1-59625-215-8

    This edition copyright © 2011

    Please visit www.digireads.com

    DEDICATION

    MY DEAR CHARLES BAXTER:

    If you ever read this tale, you will likely ask yourself more questions than I should care to answer: as for instance how the Appin murder has come to fall in the year 1751, how the Torran rocks have crept so near to Earraid, or why the printed trial is silent as to all that touches David Balfour. These are nuts beyond my ability to crack. But if you tried me on the point of Alan's guilt or innocence, I think I could defend the reading of the text. To this day you will find the tradition of Appin clear in Alan's favour. If you inquire, you may even hear that the descendants of the other man who fired the shot are in the country to this day. But that other man's name, inquire as you please, you shall not hear; for the Highlander values a secret for itself and for the congenial exercise of keeping it I might go on for long to justify one point and own another indefensible; it is more honest to confess at once how little I am touched by the desire of accuracy. This is no furniture for the scholar's library, but a book for the winter evening school-room when the tasks are over and the hour for bed draws near; and honest Alan, who was a grim old fire-eater in his day has in this new avatar no more desperate purpose than to steal some young gentleman's attention from his Ovid, carry him awhile into the Highlands and the last century, and pack him to bed with some engaging images to mingle with his dreams.

    As for you, my dear Charles, I do not even ask you to like this tale. But perhaps when he is older, your son will; he may then be pleased to find his father's name on the fly-leaf; and in the meanwhile it pleases me to set it there, in memory of many days that were happy and some (now perhaps as pleasant to remember) that were sad. If it is strange for me to look back from a distance both in time and space on these bygone adventures of our youth, it must be stranger for you who tread the same streets—who may to-morrow open the door of the old Speculative, where we begin to rank with Scott and Robert Emmet and the beloved and inglorious Macbean—or may pass the corner of the close where that great society, the L. J. R., held its meetings and drank its beer, sitting in the seats of Burns and his companions. I think I see you, moving there by plain daylight, beholding with your natural eyes those places that have now become for your companion a part of the scenery of dreams. How, in the intervals of present business, the past must echo in your memory! Let it not echo often without some kind thoughts of your friend,

    R.L.S.

    SKERRYVORE,

    BOURNEMOUTH.

    CONTENTS

    CHAPTER I. I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS

    CHAPTER II. I COME TO MY JOURNEY'S END

    CHAPTER III. I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE OF MY UNCLE

    CHAPTER IV. I RUN A GREAT DANGER IN THE HOUSE OF SHAWS

    CHAPTER V. I GO TO THE QUEEN'S FERRY

    CHAPTER VI. WHAT BEFELL AT THE QUEEN'S FERRY

    CHAPTER VII. I GO TO SEA IN THE BRIG COVENANT OF DYSART

    CHAPTER VIII. THE ROUND-HOUSE

    CHAPTER IX. THE MAN WITH THE BELT OF GOLD

    CHAPTER X. THE SIEGE OF THE ROUND-HOUSE

    CHAPTER XI. THE CAPTAIN KNUCKLES UNDER

    CHAPTER XII. I HEAR OF THE RED FOX

    CHAPTER XIII. THE LOSS OF THE BRIG

    CHAPTER XIV. THE ISLET

    CHAPTER XV. THE LAD WITH THE SILVER BUTTON: THROUGH THE ISLE OF MULL

    CHAPTER XVI. THE LAD WITH THE SILVER BUTTON: ACROSS MORVEN

    CHAPTER XVII. THE DEATH OF THE RED FOX

    CHAPTER XVIII. I TALK WITH ALAN IN THE WOOD OF LETTERMORE

    CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUSE OF FEAR

    CHAPTER XX. THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER: THE ROCKS

    CHAPTER XXI. THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER: THE HEUGH OF CORRYNAKIEGH

    CHAPTER XXII. THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER: THE MOOR

    CHAPTER XXIII. CLUNY'S CAGE

    CHAPTER XXIV. THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER: THE QUARREL

    CHAPTER XXV. IN BALQUHIDDER

    CHAPTER XXVI. END OF THE FLIGHT: WE PASS THE FORTH

    CHAPTER XXVII. I COME TO MR. RANKEILLOR

    CHAPTER XXVIII. I GO IN QUEST OF MY INHERITANCE

    CHAPTER XXIX. I COME INTO MY KINGDOM

    CHAPTER XXX. GOOD-BYE

    CHAPTER I. I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS

    I will begin the story of my adventures with a certain morning early in the month of June, the year of grace 1751, when I took the key for the last time out of the door of my father's house. The sun began to shine upon the summit of the hills as I went down the road; and by the time I had come as far as the manse, the blackbirds were whistling in the garden lilacs, and the mist that hung around the valley in the time of the dawn was beginning to arise and die away.

    Mr. Campbell, the minister of Essendean, was waiting for me by the garden gate, good man! He asked me if I had breakfasted; and hearing that I lacked for nothing, he took my hand in both of his and clapped it kindly under his arm.

    Well, Davie, lad, said he, I will go with you as far as the ford, to set you on the way.

    And we began to walk forward in silence.

    Are ye sorry to leave Essendean? said he, after awhile.

    Why, sir, said I, if I knew where I was going, or what was likely to become of me, I would tell you candidly. Essendean is a good place indeed, and I have been very happy there; but then I have never been anywhere else. My father and mother, since they are both dead, I shall be no nearer to in Essendean than in the Kingdom of Hungary, and, to speak truth, if I thought I had a chance to better myself where I was going I would go with a good will.

    Ay? said Mr. Campbell. Very well, Davie. Then it behoves me to tell your fortune; or so far as I may. When your mother was gone, and your father (the worthy, Christian man) began to sicken for his end, he gave me in charge a certain letter, which he said was your inheritance. 'So soon,' says he, 'as I am gone, and the house is redd up and the gear disposed of' (all which, Davie, hath been done), 'give my boy this letter into his hand, and start him off to the house of Shaws, not far from Cramond. That is the place I came from,' he said, 'and it's where it befits that my boy should return. He is a steady lad,' your father said, 'and a canny goer; and I doubt not he will come safe, and be well lived where he goes.'

    The house of Shaws! I cried. What had my poor father to do with the house of Shaws?

    Nay, said Mr. Campbell, who can tell that for a surety? But the name of that family, Davie, boy, is the name you bear—Balfours of Shaws: an ancient, honest, reputable house, peradventure in these latter days decayed. Your father, too, was a man of learning as befitted his position; no man more plausibly conducted school; nor had he the manner or the speech of a common dominie; but (as ye will yourself remember) I took aye a pleasure to have him to the manse to meet the gentry; and those of my own house, Campbell of Kilrennet, Campbell of Dunswire, Campbell of Minch, and others, all well-kenned gentlemen, had pleasure in his society. Lastly, to put all the elements of this affair before you, here is the testamentary letter itself, superscrived by the own hand of our departed brother.

    He gave me the letter, which was addressed in these words: To the hands of Ebenezer Balfour, Esquire, of Shaws, in his house of Shaws, these will be delivered by my son, David Balfour. My heart was beating hard at this great prospect now suddenly opening before a lad of seventeen years of age, the son of a poor country dominie in the Forest of Ettrick.

    Mr. Campbell, I stammered, and if you were in my shoes, would you go?

    Of a surety, said the minister, that would I, and without pause. A pretty lad like you should get to Cramond (which is near in by Edinburgh) in two days of walk. If the worst came to the worst, and your high relations (as I cannot but suppose them to be somewhat of your blood) should put you to the door, ye can but walk the two days back again and risp at the manse door. But I would rather hope that ye shall be well received, as your poor father forecast for you, and for anything that I ken come to be a great man in time. And here, Davie, laddie, he resumed, it lies near upon my conscience to improve this parting, and set you on the right guard against the dangers of the world.

    Here he cast about for a comfortable seat, lighted on a big boulder under a birch by the trackside, sate down upon it with a very long, serious upper lip, and the sun now shining in upon us between two peaks, put his pocket-handkerchief over his cocked hat to shelter him. There, then, with uplifted forefinger, he first put me on my guard against a considerable number of heresies, to which I had no temptation, and urged upon me to be instant in my prayers and reading of the Bible. That done, he drew a picture of the great house that I was bound to, and how I should conduct myself with its inhabitants.

    Be soople, Davie, in things immaterial, said he. Bear ye this in mind, that, though gentle born, ye have had a country rearing. Dinnae shame us, Davie, dinnae shame us! In yon great, muckle house, with all these domestics, upper and under, show yourself as nice, as circumspect, as quick at the conception, and as slow of speech as any. As for the laird—remember he's the laird; I say no more: honour to whom honour. It's a pleasure to obey a laird; or should be, to the young.

    Well, sir, said I, it may be; and I'll promise you I'll try to make it so.

    Why, very well said, replied Mr. Campbell, heartily. And now to come to the material, or (to make a quibble) to the immaterial. I have here a little packet which contains four things. He tugged it, as he spoke, and with some great difficulty, from the skirt pocket of his coat. Of these four things, the first is your legal due: the little pickle money for your father's books and plenishing, which I have bought (as I have explained from the first) in the design of re-selling at a profit to the incoming dominie. The other three are gifties that Mrs. Campbell and myself would be blithe of your acceptance. The first, which is round, will likely please ye best at the first off-go; but, O Davie, laddie, it's but a drop of water in the sea; it'll help you but a step, and vanish like the morning. The second, which is flat and square and written upon, will stand by you through life, like a good staff for the road, and a good pillow to your head in sickness. And as for the last, which is cubical, that'll see you, it's my prayerful wish, into a better land.

    With that he got upon his feet, took off his hat, and prayed a little while aloud, and in affecting terms, for a young man setting out into the world; then suddenly took me in his arms and embraced me very hard; then held me at arm's length, looking at me with his face all working with sorrow; and then whipped about, and crying good-bye to me, set off backward by the way that we had come at a sort of jogging run. It might have been laughable to another; but I was in no mind to laugh. I watched him as long as he was in sight; and he never stopped hurrying, nor once looked back. Then it came in upon my mind that this was all his sorrow at my departure; and my conscience smote me hard and fast, because I, for my part, was overjoyed to get away out of that quiet country-side, and go to a great, busy house, among rich and respected gentlefolk of my own name and blood.

    Davie, Davie, I thought, was ever seen such black ingratitude? Can you forget old favours and old friends at the mere whistle of a name? Fie, fie; think shame.

    And I sat down on the boulder the good man had just left, and opened the parcel to see the nature of my gifts. That which he had called cubical, I had never had much doubt of; sure enough it was a little Bible, to carry in a plaid-neuk. That which he had called round, I found to be a shilling piece; and the third, which was to help me so wonderfully both in health and sickness all the days of my life, was a little piece of coarse yellow paper, written upon thus in red ink:

    TO MAKE LILLY OF THE VALLEY WATER.—Take the flowers of lilly of the valley and distil them in sack, and drink a spooneful or two as there is occasion. It restores speech to those that have the dumb palsey. It is good against the Gout; it comforts the heart and strengthens the memory; and the flowers, put into a Glasse, close stopt, and set into ane hill of ants for a month, then take it out, and you will find a liquor which comes from the flowers, which keep in a vial; it is good, ill or well, and whether man or woman.

    And then, in the minister's own hand, was added:

    Likewise for sprains, rub it in; and for the cholic, a great spooneful in the hour.

    To be sure, I laughed over this; but it was rather tremulous laughter; and I was glad to get my bundle on my staff's end and set out over the ford and up the hill upon the farther side; till, just as I came on the green drove-road running wide through the heather, I took my last look of Kirk Essendean, the trees about the manse, and the big rowans in the kirkyard where my father and my mother lay.

    CHAPTER II. I COME TO MY JOURNEY'S END

    On the forenoon of the second day, coming to the top of a hill, I saw all the country fall away before me down to the sea; and in the midst of this descent, on a long ridge, the city of Edinburgh smoking like a kiln. There was a flag upon the castle, and ships moving or lying anchored in the firth; both of which, for as far away as they were, I could distinguish clearly; and both brought my country heart into my mouth.

    Presently after, I came by a house where a shepherd lived, and got a rough direction for the neighbourhood of Cramond; and so, from one to another, worked my way to the westward of the capital by Colinton, till I came out upon the Glasgow road. And there, to my great pleasure and wonder, I beheld a regiment marching to the fifes, every foot in time; an old red-faced general on a grey horse at the one end, and at the other the company of Grenadiers, with their Pope's-hats. The pride of life seemed to mount into my brain at the sight of the red coats and the hearing of that merry music.

    A little farther on, and I was told I was in Cramond parish, and began to substitute in my inquiries the name of the house of Shaws. It was a word that seemed to surprise those of whom I sought my way. At first I thought the plainness of my appearance, in my country habit, and that all dusty from the road, consorted ill with the greatness of the place to which I was bound. But after two, or maybe three, had given me the same look and the same answer, I began to take it in my head there was something strange about the Shaws itself.

    The better to set this fear at rest, I changed the form of my inquiries; and spying an honest fellow coming along a lane on the shaft of his cart, I asked him if he had ever heard tell of a house they called the house of Shaws.

    He stopped his cart and looked at me, like the others.

    Ay said he. What for?

    It's a great house? I asked.

    Doubtless, says he. The house is a big, muckle house.

    Ay, said I, but the folk that are in it?

    Folk? cried he. Are ye daft? There's nae folk there—to call folk.

    What? say I; not Mr. Ebenezer?

    Ou, ay says the man; there's the laird, to be sure, if it's him you're wanting. What'll like be your business, mannie?

    I was led to think that I would get a situation, I said, looking as modest as I could.

    What? cries the carter, in so sharp a note that his very horse started; and then, Well, mannie, he added, it's nane of my affairs; but ye seem a decent-spoken lad; and if ye'll take a word from me, ye'll keep clear of the Shaws.

    The next person I came across was a dapper little man in a beautiful white wig, whom I saw to be a barber on his rounds; and knowing well that barbers were great gossips, I asked him plainly what sort of a man was Mr. Balfour of the Shaws.

    Hoot, hoot, hoot, said the barber, nae kind of a man, nae kind of a man at all; and began to ask me very shrewdly what my business was; but I was more than a match for him at that, and he went on to his next customer no wiser than he came.

    I cannot well describe the blow this dealt to my illusions. The more indistinct the accusations were, the less I liked them, for they left the wider field to fancy. What kind of a great house was this, that all the parish should start and stare to be asked the way to it? or what sort of a gentleman, that his ill-fame should be thus current on the wayside? If an hour's walking would have brought me back to Essendean, had left my adventure then and there, and returned to Mr. Campbell's. But when I had come so far a way already, mere shame would not suffer me to desist till I had put the matter to the touch of proof; I was bound, out of mere self-respect, to carry it through; and little as I liked the sound of what I heard, and slow as I began to travel, I still kept asking my way and still kept advancing.

    It was drawing on to sundown when I met a stout, dark, sour-looking woman coming trudging down a hill; and she, when I had put my usual question, turned sharp about, accompanied me back to the summit she had just left, and pointed to a great bulk of building standing very bare upon a green in the bottom of the next valley. The country was pleasant round about, running in low hills, pleasantly watered and wooded, and the crops, to my eyes, wonderfully good; but the house itself appeared to be a kind of ruin; no road led up to it; no smoke arose from any of the chimneys; nor was there any semblance of a garden. My heart sank. That! I cried.

    The woman's face lit up with a malignant anger. That is the house of Shaws! she cried. Blood built it; blood stopped the building of it; blood shall bring it down. See here! she cried again—I spit upon the ground, and crack my thumb at it! Black be its fall! If ye see the laird, tell him what ye hear; tell him this makes the twelve hunner and nineteen time that Jennet Clouston has called down the curse on him and his house, byre and stable, man, guest, and master, wife, miss, or bairn—black, black be their fall!

    And the woman, whose voice had risen to a kind of eldritch sing-song, turned with a skip, and was gone. I stood where she left me, with my hair on end. In those days folk still believed in witches and trembled at a curse; and this one, falling so pat, like a wayside omen, to arrest me ere I carried out my purpose, took the pith out of my legs.

    I sat me down and stared at the house of Shaws. The more I looked, the pleasanter that country-side appeared; being all set with hawthorn bushes full of flowers; the fields dotted with sheep; a fine flight of rooks in the sky; and every sign of a kind soil and climate; and yet the barrack in the midst of it went sore against my fancy.

    Country folk went by from the fields as I sat there on the side of the ditch, but I lacked the spirit to give them a good-e'en. At last the sun went down, and then, right up against the yellow sky, I saw a scroll of smoke go mounting, not much thicker, as it seemed to me, than the smoke of a candle; but still there it was, and meant a fire, and warmth, and cookery, and some living inhabitant that must have lit it; and this comforted my heart.

    So I set forward by a little faint track in the grass that led in my direction. It was very faint indeed to be the only way to a place of habitation; yet I saw no other. Presently it brought me to stone uprights, with an unroofed lodge beside them, and coats of arms upon the top. A main entrance it was plainly meant to be, but never finished; instead of gates of wrought iron, a pair of hurdles were tied across with a straw rope; and as there were no park walls, nor any sign of avenue, the track that I was following passed on the right hand of the pillars, and went wandering on toward the house.

    The nearer I got to that, the drearier it appeared. It seemed like the one wing of a house that had never been finished. What should have been the inner end stood open on the upper floors, and showed against the sky with steps and stairs of uncompleted masonry. Many of the windows were unglazed, and bats flew in and out like doves out of a dove-cote.

    The night had begun to fall as I got close; and in three of the lower windows, which were very high up and narrow, and well barred, the changing light of a little fire began to glimmer.

    Was this the palace I had been coming to? Was it within these walls that I was to seek new friends and begin great fortunes? Why,

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