Our mother had an uncle, William Leslie by name, who with his wife tenanted the old farmhouse of Braeside of Darvel. Uncle William, as my brother Ronald and I called him, was a splendid specimen of the Scottish tenant farmer of a past day. His sterling uprightness and more than average intelligence commanded the respect of all who knew him, while his genial nature and his great fund of old stories caused him to be beloved by us boys. Nothing delighted us more than a visit to Braeside, and when my mother told us of the proposed trip we were in great glee.
On a lovely harvest morning father saw us three—mother, Ronald and me! safely bestowed on the “Defiance” coach, and off we went to the sound of the guard’s horn. At noon we reached the Darvel toll house, where Uncle William sat in his shanrydan phaeton waiting to convey us the last two miles of our journey. I need not descant on the heartiness of our welcome, or of all that was done to make us happy. I have lived that week over again many times since then. The farmhouse at the Braeside had at one time been a dower-house of the Forbeses of Darvel, but for several generations it had been occupied by our forebears. It formed two sides of a quadrangle, the other two sides of which were stables and farm buildings. The dwelling house was full of all sorts of odd little apartments, and had just that mysterious something about it which awoke in an impressionable boy a desire for the romantic and legendary.
One evening during our visit the wind was whistling shrilly in the old wide chimneys, and we had all gathered around a blazing peat fire in the room which Uncle William used as his study and business room. On either side of the broad open fireplace stood two large easy chairs upholstered in quaintly-embossed leather. They were so different from all the other furniture that my boyish curiosity was aroused, and I asked the old man whence they had come. My mother, who sat in one of them, smiled at my eagerness.
“If you would like a story to while away the evening, I’ll tell you how these chairs came to the Braeside,” said Uncle William, and of course we were at once all attention. Generally he spoke in good colloquial English, with a strong north-country accent, but when he waxed enthusiastic over anything he would fall into the broad Doric Scotch.
“It was in the spring of 1746, just after Prince Charlie and his men had been defeated at Culloden. The Duke of Cumberland’s redcoats were scouring the country far and wide in search of the luckless Jacobites, who fell on all sorts of devices to avoid capture. One evening, just about bedtime, my grandfather and his wife were sitting around this very fireplace when they heard a gentle tap on the window. At first they were a little alarmed and did not move from their seats, but when a second tapping was heard my grandfather, taking a candle in his hand, went to the door opening into the front garden, and unlocked it. Two men, weary and footsore, stood there. One, whom he at once recognized, was the Laird of Darvel.
“‘We are in great danger, William,’ said he. ‘Can you take us in for an hour or two? We need food and rest. This is my friend Mr. Oliphant, of Gask, a faithful follower of our prince and a loyal member of our poor church.’
“‘Say nae mair, sir; come in baith o’ ye; ye are welcome to onything that William Leslie can do or gie.’
“They stepped quietly into this room, where in a very short space of time an abundant table was spread. An earnest discussion took place as to what had best be done to protect them from their pursuers, who, they said, were not far away. The night was dark, so there was little chance of annoyance before morning. In that wee room there the two noble Jacobites slept till daybreak, while my grandfather kept careful watch. When the first signs of daybreak began to appear my grandmother emptied yonder aumrie of its store of cheese and oatcakes; she folded a blanket so as to make a rug wide enough for one to lie upon, placed it far back on the broad bottom shelf of the aumrie, while a similar arrangement converted the upper shelf into a bed. On these two shelves the two wanderers placed themselves, and in front of them, to screen them from observation, she placed the provisions that had been removed. Nothing needed to be said to any of the other members of the household, for no one save my grandmother ever interfered with anything in this room. Everything about the place went on as usual till breakfast time, when one of the servant lassies came in and said that a company of soldiers were in the courtyard.
“William Leslie at once went out and was accosted by the officer in command.
“‘We are seeking two rebels who we have reason to believe are in hiding here.’