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<h2> CHAPTER I </h2>
<h3> I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS </h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"Are ye sorry to leave Essendean?" said he, after awhile.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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.'"</p>
<p>"The house of Shaws!" I cried. "What had my poor father to do with the
house of Shaws?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Mr. Campbell," I stammered, "and if you were in my shoes, would you go?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Well, sir," said I, "it may be; and I'll promise you I'll try to make it
so."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>And then, in the minister's own hand, was added:</p>
<p>"Likewise for sprains, rub it in; and for the cholic, a great spooneful in
the hour."</p>
<p>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.</p>
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