Chapter I.
In the reign of James the Fifth, the mill on the Teath, near Doune, was possessed, as it had been for abune a century, by a family of the name of Marshall.
They were a bauld and a strong race of men, and when the miller of whom we’re now to speak was in his prime, it used to be a common saying in the kintra, “Better get a kick frae a naig’s foot, than a stroke frae John Marshall;” and even now that he was threescore and one, there were unco few that liked to come to grips wi’ him. But though John kent he need fear nae man, and would carry things wi’ a high hand when needfu’, yet he was onything but quarrelsome, and was aye mair ready to gree wi’ a man than to fight wi’ him; and as he was a gash sensible man, and thoroughly honest, he had mony frien’s and weel-wishers, and was muckle respeckit in the hale kintra side.
John’s family consisted of twa sons and a dochter, who had lost their mither when they were but weans. The eldest, James, was as like what his father was at the same age, as twa peas; only, if onything, a thought stronger. William, the next, was mair slender; but though he couldna put the stane, nor fling the fore-hammer, within mony an ell o’ James, yet he could jump higher than ony man he had ever met wi’; and as for rinnin’, naebody could come near him. Of Jeanie Marshall we need say nae mair than that she was a sensible, spirited, light-hearted lassie, the pride of her brothers, and her father’s darling.
It happened ae night, as the miller was coming back frae gien his horse a drink at the water, that he heard something cheep-cheeping in the grass at the roadside, and every now and then it gied a bit flee up in the air, and then doun again; and upon looking at it again, the miller saw that it was a robin chased by a whuttrit, which was trying to grip it; and the miller said to himsel, “I canna thole to see the puir bit burdie riven a’ to coopens afore my very een;” so he banged aff the horse, and ran and got it up in his hand, and he let drive sic a kick at the whuttrit, that the beast gaed up in the lift, and ower the hedge, just as if it had been a kuisten snawba’.
On lookin’ at the robin, John saw some straes stickin’ to’t wi’ burd-lime, which had stoppit it frae fleein’, and he begood to pike them aff; but Clod, who was a restless brute, and was wearyin’ for his stable, tuggit and ruggit sae at the helter, that the miller could come nae speed ava. “And now,” says the miller, “gif I set you doun, puir thing, as ye are, some beast or anither will come and worry ye; and it’s no in my power to get on that dancing deevil’s back wi’ ae hand—sae gang ye in there;” and he lifted up the flap o’ his pouch, and pat in the robin.
Now, John Marshall kentna that a’ this time there was a man at the back o’ the hedge wi’ a cockit gun in his hand, ready to shoot the whuttrit; but who, when he saw the miller jump aff his horse, took doun the gun frae his shouther, to watch the upshot o’t; and when he heard what the miller said, and saw him put the robin in his pouch, he thought to himsel, “I maun ken something mair about this man;” sae he follows the miller at a distance. And when he sees him come out o’ the stable, and into the house, and the door steekit, and a’ quiet, he slips up to a window which was a wee bit open, and whaur he could hear and see a’ that gaed on. The first thing he sees is the miller and his family preparing for family worship, for that was a thing John Marshall ne’er missed; and after the psalm was dune, the miller spreads the Bible before him, and pittin’ his hand into his pouch for his napkin, to dight his spectacles, out comes napkin, an’ burd, an’ a’.
“’Od,” says Jeanie, saftly, “gif my father hasna brought hame a robin.”
“Whaur got ye the bit robin, father?” said William.
“Ne’er ye mind, William, my man,” said the miller; “I’m gaun to read ye a part o’ the Word o’ God, and that will do ye mair gude than onything I hae to tell ye;” and as he pat out his hand to tak the corner o’ his napkin, the robin gied him a dab. “Aye, neebor!” says the miller. “But ye’re no to blame, puir beastie, for ye wasna to ken whether I meant ye ill or gude. And now that I think o’t,” continued the miller, “I’ll pass by our regular order the night, and read ye that chapter whaur we’re tauld that no even a sparrow shall fa’ to the grund without the Lord wills it.”