miles north-east of Arbroath; the romantic caves are well known, some of which run quite through rocks, and land him who explores them on a spot where all is new around him. One is dark, and runs to great ex Where none who enter'd e'er return'd, To find an earthly grave. When the waning moon hangs in the west, With mildew on her horn, tent under ground. In the ages of Strange shapes would rise from the deep ignorance and superstition, this was named the "Forbidden Cave," and firmly believed to be occupied by demons from the infernal regions. Even in the last century, few would have been found possessed of sufficient fortitude to venture within its portal. I have often heard the outline of my tale told by my grandmother, although I have taken the liberty of altering the catastrophe, which, as related by her, was truly horrible. Dickmount-Law is more than a mile distant from the entrance of the cave, where, according to tradition, the piper and his wife entered, when returning drunk from a wedding. Next day, the piper was heard at Dickmount-Law, sounding his drone, also his wife singing the following distich, in a doleful tone; Lone, lost, and weary, plays Tammy Tyrie, Beneath the barns of Dickmount-Law! Soon after, the piper's dog was seen to issue from the cave, with such accompaniments as I shall not shock your feelings by naming; but they plainly indicated the death of his mistress. The piper continued to play incessantly for some nights and days after, but was never more seen on earth. Thus runs the current tradition, which at one period was firmly believed by many. dark sea, On the bounding billows borne. In wintry winds, a boat of fire, Like arrow from a well-bent bow, Would shoot athwart the gloom, And swifter than the speed of light Dart in its darksome womb. Then the paddling oars were heard to plash, Amidst the salt-sea foam; And a hollow voice, from its dark recess, Would cry, "You're welcome home!" Then shouts of wild unearthly glee And laughter loud, and revelry, Unmeet for man to hear. The sea-fowls, sleeping in their nests, Would wake with wailing scream; And the fisher, laid on his homely couch, Would start in a frightful dream, The sheep would bleat in the distant fold, As the grey-rocks echoed round, And stars would shoot in the midnight sky, So awful was the sound. The frighten'd fish forgot to swim, And jump'd with quivering fin; The limpet clung to the tangled crag, So dreadful was the din. Down div'd beneath the briny flood, The monsters of the deep; The Piper of Dickmount-Law. And the hoary seal, with shaggy head, I CHANT the deeds of departed days, If you've ever been where rude rocks rise, You've seen the deep indented caves, As they rush o'er the strand. Behind the rocks would creep. And then would wake the winds of heav'n, And the bellowing tempests roar ; And the mountain wave, with curling head, Would lash the sounding shore. And never a boat would take the sea Who liv'd at Dickmount-Law, better pleased than when he can extract some fun from his philosophy. But, exclusive of losing the Town Clerkship, by quizzing the Provost, he has lately had two practical lessons, which, it is the hope of his friends, will, in some degree, wean him from this propensity. A rich, but simple countryman, not long ago, called on him, intending to employ him as his agent in a lawsuit. The electric machine stood on a table in the room, and Scriblerus saw, with delight, that his client viewed it with wondering curiosity; and in answer to a query what it was, replied, that it was a newlyinvented musical instrument; and proposed playing an air, requesting the man to hold the chain till he put it in tune. The consequence may be easily guessed; the countryman received a shock, which first frightened, and then offended him; no apology nor explanation could appease him; he went off in a rage, and our friend lost his client. The accident alluded to, in the beginning of my letter, was produced by a similar cause. His landlady had got a new servantmaid, who, Martin soon discovered, had never seen an electric machine; he conceived this an opportunity too good to be lost, and soon planned a double plot, in which his dupes were to be the servant-maid Susan, and his landlady's cat. Having put his machine in good tune, he called Susan up stairs, and, by some plausible story, persuaded her to sit down with puss on her lap, holding her gently with both hands. Twisting the chain around the cat's neck, he proceded without delay, and soon produced effects far beyond his anticipations, for when the discharge took place, Susan, uttering a wild scream, fell on the floor, dragging both the cat and the electric machine along with her. Scriblerus, in his attempts to disengage the chain, had his right hand severely bit by the infuriated animal, and the machine was dashed in pieces. The scream of the girl had alarmed her mistress, who, coming up, found Susan on the floor in a swoon, and the lawyer standing over her, with his hand bleeding profusely. The good woman soon formed an opinion of the cause very wide of the truth, and began to express her sentiments accordingly, when her lodger entreated her to run for Dr Tell, and all should be explained afterwards. The man of medicine was luckily at home, and hastened to his friend. When the girl was restored to life, though scarcely to her senses, Martin proceeded to state what had produced this unexpected catastrophe, and expressed great alarm about his wound, which was very painful, and his arm already much swelled. Dr Tell saw his alarm, and believed it might be well to take advantage of his fears, as the means of curing his propensity to those wanton tricks. He therefore dressed the wound with a grave countenance, and being earnestly entreated to say, candidly, whether any bad consequences were likely to follow, seemed reluctant to answer. This only increased the alarm of his patient; and being adjured, in the most solemn manner, to speak candidly, he said, that the cat had been put in a rabid state by the shock, and there was no foreseeing the possible consequences; although he hoped to prevent them, by putting his patient under a troublesome and severe regimen. Having kept his friend under this terror as long as appeared prudent, he read him a severe lecture on the imaginary fears he had too often inflicted on others, and obtained a solemn promise, that these tricks should be renounced; he then assured Scriblerus he had no bad consequences to apprehend, and that he would undertake the cure with the utmost confidence. The story soon got air, to the amusement of his friends, and the secret gratification of his enemies. Some advised him to apply to Prince Hohenloe; while others agreed, that, being a heretic, the holy man would not pray for him, or even if he did, it would not be answered. Martin himself now laughs at the joke, which is known all over the town, and has already cost him a new gown to the servant-maid, and another electric machine, besides disqualifying him from writing for some time to come. I now annex a copy of his seypiece, which he prefaced with the following introduction : The scene of the following tradi– tionary tale lies on the coast, a few miles north-east of Arbroath; the romantic caves are well known, some of which run quite through rocks, and land him who explores them on a spot where all is new around him. One is dark, and runs to great ex Where none who enter'd e'er return'd, When the waning moon hangs in the west, With mildew on her horn, tent under ground. In the ages of Strange shapes would rise from the deep dark sea, On the bounding billows borne. In wintry winds, a boat of fire, Like arrow from a well-bent bow, ignorance and superstition, this was named the "Forbidden Cave," and firmly believed to be occupied by demons from the infernal regions. Even in the last century, few would have been found possessed of sufficient fortitude to venture within its portal. I have often heard the outline of my tale told by my grandmother, although I have taken the liberty of altering the catastrophe, which, as related by her, was truly horrible. Dickmount-Law is more than a mile distant from the entrance of the cave, where, according And a hollow voice, from its dark recess, to tradition, the piper and his wife Lone, lost, and weary, plays Tammy Tyrie, Soon after, the piper's dog was seen to issue from the cave, with such accompaniments as I shall not shock your feelings by naming; but they plainly indicated the death of his mistress. The piper continued to play incessantly for some nights and days after, but was never more seen on earth. Thus runs the current tradition, which at one period was firmly believed by many. The Piper of Dickmount-Law. If you've ever been where rude rocks rise, In age sublimely hoar; You've seen the deep indented caves, The work of Nature's hand; As they rush o'er the strand. Would shoot athwart the gloom, Dart in its darksome womb. Then the paddling oars were heard to plash, Amidst the salt-sea foam; Would cry, "You're welcome home!" So awful was the sound. The frighten'd fish forgot to swim, And jump'd with quivering fin; Down div'd beneath the briny flood, And then would wake the winds of And the bellowing tempests roar; And the mountain wave, with curling head, Would lash the sounding shore. And never a boat would take the sea Who liv'd at Dickmount-Law, When the bridegroom went to meet his bride, The piper aye cheer'd him on ; And the harvest-home was dull and sad Without his mirthful drone. Kate Gray, his wife, had a rosy cheek, And bright was her black eye; With love, plain fare, and good brown ale, Their years flew swiftly by. Tom said, "I go to a wedding-feast, Kate, you'll gang to the sea; The moon is round, and the crabs are rich, And you'll gather a dish for me." The sun shines bright, and bonny Kate Deep, deep in a pool, a crab she saw, With claws of wondrous size; And plunging deep, she dragg'd him out, Exulting o'er her prize. Her basket full, she lean'd her down, To rest on a hillock green, She doz'd and dream'd-no matter what, But the matchless crab was gone. She sought him east, and she sought him west, Where'er she thought he'd sprawl; And just in the jaws of the haunted cave She beheld him swiftly crawl. His elastic claws were large and long, She stoops, but still he shuns her grasp, Within the foul Forbidden Cave She caught him by the claw; And turn'd around, to bear him out, Then hie to Dickmount-Law; But dark clouds now bedim the sky, Loud thunders roll along the heav'ns, The fire-flaught spreads in sheets of flame, Still presses on the rolling waves; More deep the gloom profound; Tam Tyrie winds his humming drone, Oh! little does the minstrel ween So rare the minstrel's melody, So rich their mirthful fun, Tam homeward bends his way; His little dog across the plain The leveret would pursue, At home, instead of the welcome smile, The bonny lasses were now forgot, He looked long among craigs and rocks, Convinced she would know the sound. He follow'd the scent till he came to the cave, Where all was dark within, Stood still, and whin'd, and wagg'd his tail, Afraid to venture in; Came back and caught the piper's coat, He led the piper o'er the stones, Till the Cave was right before, And tried to drag the minstrel in, As he finger'd his chanter o'er. His sharp shrill pipe, and sounding drone, Loud echo'd in the air; He tried to peep within the Cave, But all was darkness there. The sun was warm-his throat grew dry, And sweat ran o'er his e'en ; And the piper thought of the good brown ale He quaff'd so free yestreen. He paus'd for breath-then jump'd in joy, And shew'd a flowing can: 66 "O blessings on you, my bonny Kate! Come here, my winsome dame !" "It may not be-you must come to me, For I cannot leave my hame; "But come, dear Tam-we've meat and drink, And mirthful minstrels too; I've danced till the sweat ran o'er my brow, But I'll dance a reel with you!" Her cheek had ne'er so richly glow'd, Ne'er was her eye so bright; Tam never thought that woman's face Could give such dear delight: As in some low'ring, dismal night, A thousand lamps, in fragrance sweet, Was coral, mix'd with gold. Tam gazed upon a fairy throng, With ravish'd eyes and ears; The King led Catherine to the floor, It boots not here to tell; So pow'rful was the spell. But Kate thought on her bairns and home, She whisper'd in her husband's ear, He blew a Highland pibroch loud, The starry lamps no longer shine, The golden floor is gone; And Tam and Kate, in midnight gloom, His drone had never bumm'd so loud, So lightly on the sounding pipe At home, the bairns around the fire All gazed in silence dumb : No piper was on hill or dale; But aye they heard the sound; |