Old Mortality

is said, of the parish of Closeburn, in Dumfries-shire, and probably a mason by profession — at least educated to the use of the chisel. Whether family dissensions, or the deep an

llingly rendered him, and when that was not proffered, he always had money enough to provide for his own humble wants. His person

sh, for the purpose of a close examination of the ruins of the Castle of Dunnottar, and other subjects of antiquarian research in that neighbourhood. Old Mortality chanced to be at the same place, on the usual business of his

to provide for their wants, and finally penned up in a subterranean dungeon in the Castle of Dunnottar, having a window opening to the front of a precipice which overhangs the German Ocean. They had suffered not a little on the journey, and were much hurt both at the scoffs of the northern prelatists, and the mocks, gibes, and contemptuous tunes played by the fiddlers and pipers who had come from every quarter as they passed, to triumph over the revilers of their calling. T

others broke their limbs, and incurred fatal injury, in desperate attempts to escape from their stern prison-house. Over

f in a serious dilemma, when he stated his case to a farmer of rather the better class, who was employed, as the others, in digging his winter fuel. The old man at first made the same excuse with those who had already declined acting as the traveller’s guide; but perceiving him in great perplexity, and paying the respect due to his profession, “You are a clergyman, sir?” he said. Mr. Walker assented. “And I observe from your speech, that you are from the north?”—“You are right, my good friend,” was the reply. “And may I ask if you have ever heard of a place called Dunnottar?”—“I ought to know something about it, my friend,” said Mr. Walker, “since I have been several years the minister of the parish.”—“I am glad to hear it,” said the Dumfriesian, “for one of my near relations lies buried there, and there is, I believe, a monument over his grave. I would give half of what I am aught,

s described in the Novel. I was very desirous to see something of a person so singular, and expected to have done so, as he took up his quarters with the hospitable and liberal-spirited minister. But though Mr. Walker invited him up after dinner to

y the abomination of abominations. Perhaps, after all, he did not feel himself at ease with his company; he might suspect the questions asked by a north-country minist

des some other circumstances, among which are those of the old man’s death, I learned the particulars described in the text. I am also informed, that the old palmer’s family, in the third generation, survives, and is highly respected both for ta

aclellan; and although he is now in the 70th year of his age, preserves all the vivacity of youth — has a most retentive memory, and a mind stored with information far above wha

ott, who occupied the farm of Ilaggisha, in the parish of Hawick, during nearly the f

freestone quarry of Gatelowbrigg, in the parish of Morton. Here he built a house, and had as much land as kept a horse and cow. My informant cannot say, with certainty, the year in which his father took up his residence at Gatelowbrigg, but he is sure it must have been only a short time prior to the year 1746, as, during the memorable frost in 1740, he says his mother still resided in the service of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick. When the Highlanders were returning from England on their route to Glasgow, in the year 1745-6, they plundered Mr. Paterson’s

object. As his enthusiasm increased, his journeys into Galloway became more frequent; and he gradually neglected even the common prudential duty of providing for his offspring. From about the year 1758, he neglected wholly to return from Galloway to his wife and five children at Gatelowbrigg, which induced her to send her eldest son Walter, then only twelve years of age, to Galloway, in search of his father. After traversing nearly the whole of that extensive district, from the Nick of Benncorie to the Fell of Barullion, he found him at last working on the Cameronian monuments, in the old kirkyard of K

which is highly venerated as being the first erected, by Old Mortality, to the memory of several persons w

the emblems of death, and of the inscriptions which adorn the ill-formed blocks of his erection. This task of repairing and erecting gravestones, practised without fee or reward, was the only ostensible employment of this singular person for upwards of forty years. The door of every Cameronian’s house was indeed open to him at

Fleet, 4th Fe

debtor to MARG

r seven weeks,. . .

it Meal,. . . . . .

oes. . . . . . . . .

at the time

. . . . . . . . . . . .

s of Yell wi

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

lled by the name of Old Keelybags, who deals in the

ce him to alter his erratic way of life. He travelled from one churchyard to another, mounted on his old white pony, till the last day of his existence, and died, as you have described, at Bankhill, near Lockerby, on the 14th February, 1801, in the 86th year of his age. As soon as his body wa

ccount of his funeral expenses — the ori

e Funral Charges

ll on the 14th day

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

m. . . . . . . .

tten Stockings

Founral. . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

o Annam. . . . .

r. . . . . . . .

a sheet to him

en dead,. . . .

authenticated by the

ankhill to attend the funeral of his father, which I regret ve

o in vain, as his death is not registered in the session-book of any of the neighbouring parishes. I am sorry to think, that in all probability, this singular person, who spent so many years of his lengthe

n, in comfortable circumstances, and is much respected by his neighbours. Walter died several years ago, leaving behind him a family no

ector in this turn to festivity. Like Master Silence, he had been merry twice and once in his time; but even his jests were of a m

ld men in their serious occupation. The most petulant of the juvenile party were two or three boys, grandchildren of a person well known by the name of Cooper Climent. This artist enjoyed almost a monopoly in Girthon and the neighbouring parishes, for making and selling ladles, caups, bickers, bo

e, when many a dinner was spoiled by the loathing which the intelligence imparted; for the account of the materials was supposed to explain the reddish tinge which, even in the days of the Cooper’s fame, had seemed somewhat suspicious. The ware of Cooper Climent was rejected in horror, much to the benefit of his rivals the muggers, who dealt in earthenware. The man of cutty-spoon and ladle saw his trade interrupted, and learned the reason, by his quondam customers coming upon him in wrath to return the goods which were composed of such unhallowed materials, and demand repayment of their money. In this disagreeable p