However, it was no use making myself miserable before the time, and as I was at any rate now free from the choking London atmosphere I could revel in the thought of fresh country air, liberty and leisure.
I stayed the night at Heathtown (famous for the church wherein Bernard Gilpin, ‘the apostle of the north,’ stayed the hot Borderers from feud), and, drawing the heather-honeyed air deep into my lungs, felt my strength so renewed that the thoughts of shifting the ticket-of-leave gentleman if he didn’t, in North-country phrase, ‘keep a civil tongue in his heid and behave hissel’ respectable,’ positively inspired me with pleasure.
The postman in his cart was, as it chanced, going up to the little village, styled a ‘toon,’ where the last post and telegraph-office this side of Scotland is situated, and insisted upon giving me a ‘cast’ so far upon my road.
‘No, nowse is changed ava,’ he replied, in answer to my query, ‘syne ye were last here, save belikely that we are aal a year older, an’ that Farmer Newton’s missus was brought tae bed wi’ anither bairn a month ago last Saterday. Ye’ll mind she had her fourth bairn the last time ye were here, an’ Farmer Newton, he says he’ll just hae tae turn priest, an’ get the Sixstanes livin’,[22] an’ there, ye ken, the Queen sends ye a ten-pound note for every addition tae yor fam’ly; an’ though there might not be ower muckle profit in it, it wud help tae keep the pot a-boiling, says he. But I’m thinkin’ mysel’,’ continued my informant reflectively, ‘that if Farmer Newton were tae give up shootin’ an’ huntin’ sae muckle, an’ took a turn at farmin’, he’d have a less reason for complaining.’
And so we passed the time away, he regaling me with all the domestic gossip of the countryside, I interrupting him now and again to point out the historical objects of interest on either hand of us; for, like all true countrymen, though he knew every stick and stone by the wayside, he was entirely ignorant of the past history of his vale.
We were now close on the village where my driver ended his stage, and it suddenly occurred to me to inquire, as I thanked him for his kindness to myself, if he knew anything of my friend’s protégé at the Fair Green Haugh.
‘Well,’ he replied slowly, ‘I have heard as hoo he has ta’en up wi’ a convick or gaol-bord o’ that description. Wey, I canna tell. He’d muckle better hae getten’d hissel’ marrit; an’ sartinly we divvn’t want that sort o’ specie up this wattor-side. We hevn’t muckle gear belike, but we prefer tae keep wor ain. He’ll be ain o’ the lifting kind likelies, the same as thae moss-troopin’ fellers ye were crackin’ on aboot enoo whae divvn’t seem ivvor tae hae heard on the fifth commandment. Ye’ll be weel employed this holiday-time o’ yors wi’ lookin’ efter him, I’s warn’d. But yo’re a lawyer chap,’ he continued, ‘an’ dootless ye’ll find an excuse tae shift him wi’. Put on yor wig, an’ nae doot but it will tarrify him.’
I thanked the speaker for his advice somewhat ruefully, for his words exactly fitted my own presentiment.
Having bade adieu to my postman friend, and arranged for my heavier luggage to be sent forward in the next carrier’s cart that might be going ‘up the wattor,’ I set out across the hills to The Nook on Fair Green Haugh with my knapsack on my back.
Two hours’ walking brought me within view of The Nook, and as I paused at the top of the brae to drink in the well-beloved aspect of the small ‘bigging’ that sheltered in the green coign between Windy Law and Blind Burn side, I noticed the figure of a man carrying a small child in his arms.