10 shaped into a pen; made himself a kind of ink with gunpowder from his horn and water from the running stream; and tearing a corner from his French military commission, which he carried in his pocket, like a talisman to keep him 5 from the gallows, he sat down and wrote as follows:"DEAR KINSMAN, Please send the money by the bearer to the place he kens of. "Your affectionate cousin, "A. S." This he intrusted to the bouman, who promised to make what manner of speed he best could, and carried it off with him down the hill. He was three full days gone, but about five in the evening of the third, we heard a whistling in the wood, 15 which Alan answered; and presently the bouman came up the water side, looking for us, right and left. He seemed less sulky than before, and indeed he was no doubt well pleased to have got to the end of such a dangerous commission. 20 He gave us the news of the country: that it was alive with redcoats; that arms were being found, and poor folk brought in trouble daily; and that James and some of his servants were already clapped in prison at Fort William, under strong suspicion of complicity. It seemed 25 it was noised on all sides that Alan Breck had fired the shot; and there was a bill issued for both him and me, with one hundred pounds reward. This was all as bad as could be; and the little note the bouman had carried us from Mrs. Stewart was of a mis 30 erable sadness. In it she besought Alan not to let him self be captured, assuring him, if he fell in the hands of the troops, both he and James were no better than dead men. The money she had sent was all that she could beg or borrow, and she prayed Heaven we could be doing with it. "It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in his pocket, "but it'll do my business. And now, John Breck, if ye will hand me over my button, this gentleman and me will be for taking the road.” 5 But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse 10 that hung in front of him in the Highland manner, though he wore otherwise the lowland habit, with sea trousers, began to roll his eyes strangely, and at last said, “Her nainsel will loss it," meaning he had thought he had lost it. "What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button, that was my father's before me? Now, I will tell you what is in my mind, John Breck: it is in my mind this is the worst day's work that ever ye did since ye were born." 15 And as Alan spoke he set his hands on his knees, 20 and looked at the bouman with a smiling mouth and that dancing light in his eyes that meant mischief to his enemies. Perhaps the bouman was honest enough; perhaps he had meant to cheat and then, finding himself alone with 25 two of us in a desert place, cast back to honesty as being safer; at least, and all at once, he seemed to find the button and handed it to Alan. "Well, and it is a good thing for the honor of the Maccolls," said Alan, and then to me, "Here is my button 30 back again, and I thank you for parting with it, which is of a piece with all your friendships to me." Then he took the warmest parting of the bouman. "For," says he, "ye have done very well by me, and set your neck at a venture, and I will always give you the name of a good 5 man." Lastly, the bouman took himself off by one way; and Alan and I, getting our chattels together, struck into another to resume our flight. I. Lin: waterfall; cataract. Glĕg: brisk. Prettiest: bravest Däun'tons: daunts; disheartens. Gom'er al: silly fellow. Neat spirit: unadulterated liquor; that which is free from mixture. Brǎck'en: fern. II. Bûrn: a small stream. Bir'sle scorch; broil. Thōle: bear; endure. Lāỉth: loath; unwilling. Bou'man: a tenant who takes stock from the landlord and shares with him the increase. Troth truth; faith. Rife: prevailing; abundant. Gael'ic: the language of the Highlanders of Scotland. Grăv'ĕled: embarrassed; perplexed. Chat'tels: goods. La Belle Dame sans Merci BY JOHN KEATS John Keats (1795-1820): An English poet whose works are characterized by melody, great powers of fancy, and vivid perception of the beautiful. The undeservedly harsh criticism of his early poems wounded his sensitive spirit, but he was cheered by the appreciation of such friends as the poet Shelley. Among his principal works are "Hyperion," "Lamia," "Isabella," "The Eve of St. Agnes," and some shorter poems of exquisite beauty. "Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? 5 10 15 The sedge has withered from the lake, "Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, And the harvest's done. "I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. 5 10 15 20 "She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild sad eyes Pale warriors,-death-pale were they all; "I saw there starved lips in the gloam, On the cold hill's side. "And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. BACON |