Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty
John Stuart Mill · en
The Maccullochs of the parish of Cromarty, a family now extinct, were,
for about two centuries, substantial respectable farmers. The first
of this family, says tradition, was Alaster Macculloch, a native of
the Highlands. When a boy he quitted the house of his widow mother,
and wandered into the low country in quest of employment, which he at
length succeeded in procuring in the parish of Cromarty, on the farm of
an old wealthy tacksman. For the first few weeks he seemed to be one
of the gloomiest little fellows ever bred among the solitudes of the
hills;--all the social feelings of his nature had been frozen within
him; but they began to flow apace; and it was soon discovered that
neither reserve nor melancholy formed any part of his real character.
A little of the pride of the Celt he still retained; when he attended
chapel he wore a gemmy suit of tartan, and his father’s dirk always
depended from his belt; but, in every other respect, he seemed a true
Lowland Scot, and not one of his companions equalled him in sly humour,
or could play off a practical joke with half the effect.
His master was a widower, and the father of an only daughter, a
laughing warm-hearted girl of nineteen. She had more lovers than half
the girls of the parish put together; and when they avowed to her their
very sincere attachment, she tendered them her very hearty thanks in
return. But then one’s affections are not in one’s own power; and as
certainly as they loved her just because they could not help it, so
certainly was she indifferent to them from the same cause. Their number
received one last accession in little Alaster the herd-boy. He shared
in the kindness of his young mistress, and his cattle shared in it too,
with every living thing connected with her father or his farm; but his
soul-engrossing love lay silent within him, and not only without words,
but, young and sanguine as he was, almost without hope. Not that he was
unhappy. He had the knack of dreaming when broad awake, and of making
his dreams as pleasant as he willed them; and so his passion rather
increased than diminished the amount of his happiness. It taught him,
too, the very best species of politeness--that of the heart; and young
Lillias could not help wondering where it was that the manners of the
red-cheeked Highland boy had received so exquisite a polish, and why it
was that she herself was so much the object of his quiet unobtrusive
attentions. When night released him from labour, he would take up his
seat in some dark corner of the house, that commanded a full view of
the fire, and there would he sit for whole hours gazing on the features
of his mistress. A fine woman looks well by any light, even by that of
a peat fire; and fine women, it is said, know it; but little thought
the maiden of the farmhouse of the saint-like halo which, in the
imagination of her silent worshipper, the red smoky flames shed around
her. How could she even dream of it? The boy Alaster was fully five