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 Envisioning
Holograms
Design Breakthrough
Experiences for Mixed Reality

M. Pell

Foreword by Tony Parisi

Envisioning Holograms
M. Pell
Woodinville, Washington, USA

ISBN-13 (pbk): 978-1-4842-2748-0 ISBN-13 (electronic): 978-1-4842-2749-7

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-2749-7
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017959386

Copyright © 2017 by Mike Pell

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole
or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical
way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation,
computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter
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Trademarked names, logos, and images may appear in this book. Rather than use a
trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, logo, or image we use the
names, logos, and images only in an editorial fashion and to the benefit of the trademark
owner, with no intention of infringement of the trademark.
The use in this publication of trade names, trademarks, service marks, and similar terms,
even if they are not identified as such, is not to be taken as an expression of opinion as to
whether or not they are subject to proprietary rights.
While the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the
date of publication, neither the authors nor the editors nor the publisher can accept any
legal responsibility for any errors or omissions that may be made. The publisher makes no
warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein.
Managing Director: Welmoed Spahr
Editorial Director: Todd Green
Acquisitions Editor: Jonathan Gennick
Development Editor: Jonathan Gennick
Coordinating Editor: Jill Balzano
Copy Editor: Lori Lynn Cavanaugh
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Artist: M. Pell
Distributed to the book trade worldwide by Springer Science+Business Media New York,
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Printed on acid-free paper
This one is for me.
Table of Contents
About the Author vii
Acknowledgmentsix

Forewordxi

Introductionxv

Part I: A New Frontier 1

Chapter 1: What’s So Special About Holograms? 3

Chapter 2: Why is Holographic Design So Challenging? 17

Chapter 3: How Can Envisioning Help? 31

Chapter 4: When Should I Use Envisioning? 41

Chapter 5: Where Do We Start? 51

Part II: Envisioning Holograms 63

Chapter 6: Shifting Your Mindset 65

Chapter 7: Choosing a Technique 87

Chapter 8: Breakthrough Examples 119

Part III: The Envisioning Process 137

Chapter 9: Flow 139

Chapter 10: Frame 151

v
Table of Contents

Chapter 11: Prototype 171

Chapter 12: Test, Refine, Restart 189

Chapter 13: Invaluable Tools 201

Part IV: Holographic Designs 223

Chapter 14: HoloScenes 225

Chapter 15: Datascrapers 249

Chapter 16: HoloArt Gallery 275

Chapter 17: Design Insights 301

Closing Thoughts 311

Index313

vi
About the Author
Bold, insightful, and uncompromising,
M. Pell is recognized as a thought leader in the
fields of Holographic Envisioning and Smart
Information.
Pell currently leads Design for The Microsoft
Garage, the company’s outlet for experimental
projects and curiosity-fueled explorations,
worldwide.

As a lifelong Designer/Coder, he has consistently been on the leading

edge of design and innovation over his thirty years in high-­technology.

Career highlights include creating the first stylized Font menu at the
dawn of the Macintosh (MenuFonts), working with Pixar to pioneer 3D
type generation with RenderMan (TextMan), co-inventing electronic
document interchange (Adobe Acrobat), conceptualizing dynamic 3D
information (InfoSpaces), developing a rapid design method (Fast Design),
and being the inventor on over a dozen U.S. Patents.

Besides his writing, M. Pell is a dynamic presenter who delivers

entertaining talks on a wide variety of design topics. His evolution from
intrepid entrepreneur, to VC-backed startup veteran, to corporate man for
Adobe and Microsoft has given him a unique perspective to draw on when
discussing how to combine business, experience, and technology to create
experience breakthroughs.
You can discover more about M. Pell and see his current work at
futuristic.com.

vii
Acknowledgments
Who knew?

I thought writing and illustrating a book would be relatively easy. Writing

was fun for me, it came pretty easy, and I had endless things to say. How
hard could it be?

Turns out that writing a book for the first time is quite the endeavor.
Holy crap. So, it’s no surprise that I could not have done this particular
book without the help of a ton of people and decades of experience.

First and foremost, the team at Apress took my initial concept and
helped me shape it into what you see before you. Jonathan Gennick led
me through the book writing and editing process like the pro that he is,
Jill Balzano found innovative ways to accommodate my experiments, and
Welmoed Spahr had the vision to expand the publisher’s view of itself.
Many thanks for your support and hard work.

Next, there’s no question I continue to learn and grow every single

day of my life because of my amazing team in The Microsoft Garage
around the world. You all bring out the best in me and provide the right
environment to do epic work. Thank you for crushing it every day.

And finally, for the hundreds of people who have inspired me over a
lifetime of adventures (and expect to see your name listed here), you know
who you are, and already know how much I appreciate you. Thank you.

Until next time,

M. Pell

ix
Foreword
A Postcard from the Bleeding Edge

In the summer of 1977, I was one of millions of American nerd boys who
flocked to see Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope. Of its many iconic
scenes, one that really stuck with me was the scene where Princess Leia
delivered Obi-Wan Kenobi a message of vital importance to the resistance –
via a tabletop video hologram. Though George Lucas was telling a story
that happened long ago and far, far away to other people, he was really
envisioning our future. And as it turned out, it wouldn’t take that long to
become a reality.

Looking back, I think that scene from Star Wars is in no small way
responsible for drawing me to immersive computer interfaces. I eventually
became a professional software programmer, working on random boring
stuff for a few years, but at every job I would find excuses to work on 3D
graphics. 3D charts rendered to inkjet printers. Real-time wireframe
models to visualize data on workstation computers. Nothing fancy back
then; the tech to make the really cool stuff wouldn’t land on laptops for
another decade, and mobile phones for another decade after that. All
this 3D tinkering eventually led me to an absurdly ambitious project
to build the Metaverse: virtual people in 3D-rendered environments,
communicating in real time, transcending time and space. That project,
which came to be known as the Virtual Reality Markup Language, or
VRML, was ultimately too early by twenty years.

It was back then that I met Mike Pell. Since I’ve known him, Mike
has been on a quest to create software designs that put people at the
center. Mike was early with 3D as well, working through a series of startup
xi
Foreword

companies exploring how far he could push the boundaries of human-

computer interface. These days, years might go by between our face to face
encounters, but Mike is the kind of guy where when you do see each other
again, you pick up right where you left off. Our most recent reunion came
about a year ago, with Mike firmly ensconced at Microsoft and me with
a new job at Unity Technologies. Two old soldiers, with gray hair but the
same sparkle in our eyes, and the same mission: to make computers work
for us.

Forty years have gone by since the premiere of Star Wars, and
computers have come a long way. We appear to be at the cusp of a next
great wave of breakthroughs, including mixed reality, voice recognition,
artificial intelligence, and the Internet of Things. Combined with genetic
engineering and advances in materials science, the possibilities are
magical and limitless, and without a doubt will shape the next several
decades of human endeavor.

3D interface is no longer a theoretical possibility; it’s the new reality.

And with all this new potential comes the need for a new approach to
design. To create mixed reality applications, the software designer must
transform, becoming parts and alternately architect, interior designer,
information designer, storyteller, filmmaker, game designer, and social
engineer. But most importantly, we need to learn to envision.

Can you envision what a 3D Wikipedia will be like? How 3D maps, with
elevation and physical features, operate when displayed as holograms on
your tabletop? Speaking with 3D video holograms of your loved ones in
some future version of FaceTime? Or a 3D PowerPoint, with persuasive
presentation graphics rendered all around you?

You can? That’s great! But sorry; pretty much anybody can do that. Now,
really challenge yourself: for any of these scenarios, imagine where and
when they are used, by whom, and for exactly what. Go even further: how

xii
 Foreword

will these experiences not just be cool, more facile and more intuitive, but
really change our lives? I don’t think that, a decade ago, most of us imagined
the extent to which a phone-turned-computer would upend the world the
way it has. I think we could have predicted Yelp. Maybe even Tinder. But
Uber? AirBnB? Snapchat?

What are the holographic analogs to those wildly disruptive, life-

changing applications? And how will we make them? That’s what this book
is all about. It defines the conceptual framework, and shows the processes,
techniques, and production tools to make them real. A lot of the material
in here isn’t really specific to designing for holographic interfaces; it’s
useful for many other endeavors. But to design for holograms, you’ll need
all these and more.

Someday they may teach courses based on this book. I envision a

future — probably after I have shuffled off this mortal coil — where the
information in this book has become part of a canon on how to design and
build the interfaces that save the planet, monitor and control automation,
take us into outer space, and store and present the world’s information.
Holograms will, without a doubt, be an integral part of that future
civilization, in many more ways that George Lucas ever dreamed of.

The information in this book can make magicians of us all.

Envision that.

Tony Parisi
San Francisco, California

xiii
Introduction
“Reality is what you want it to be.” – M. Pell

One thing you notice right away when talking with people in the high-­tech
industry – they are very particular about terminology.

Complete strangers will correct you immediately, with disdain, if you

use a term they care about incorrectly. Call it a geek power trip, lack of
social graces, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, it’s uncomfortable to be
called out for using a term incorrectly. That said, there’s often sufficient
grey area in what these terms refer to that we’re often redefining things
to fit our perspective. At the end of the day, it’s just people splitting hairs
with semantics to make their position known. Which leads me to make a
terminology assertion here before you even start reading this book.

What is Mixed Reality?

Because of the rapid pace of innovation and almost daily product
introductions, the definition of “mixed reality” will continue to shift and
evolve until it’s almost inconsequential. We’ll know it when we experience
it, and it will most certainly be part of a much larger continuum of next
generation computing interactions.

For the purposes of this book, I will define “mixed reality” in this way.

Mixed reality is the blending of digital content seamlessly into the

physical world which appears realistic or natural.

xv
Introduction

These digital “holograms” appear integrated within our physical

spaces and react to several environmental factors in addition to human
interaction. Today, experiencing mixed reality is achieved by using a
device or special optics. Tomorrow, we may not be able to separate our
notion of normal from mixed reality.

Where mixed reality lands on the reality continuum

Mixed reality exists on a continuum that many people have defined as

having physical reality on the far left and completely digital environments
on the far right. My take on where mixed reality exists on this line is close
to where Microsoft currently positions it and defines the other stops on the
line.

Also for the purposes of this book, I will define PR, AR, MR, and VR in
these ways…

xvi
 Introduction

Physical Reality
(PR) is what we are used to and experience every day. It’s what most
people consider the “real world.” Digital content is generally contained
within devices and behind glass screens.

Augmented Reality
(AR) is layering digital content over (and recently within) the physical
world. There’s less difference between AR and mixed reality than there
used to be. The key differentiator still seems to be the notion that AR
content overlays the real world, rather than integrate deeply within. Again,
that’s dissolving quickly through regular advancements.

Mixed Reality
(MR) blends holograms (digital actors) seamlessly into the physical
world in a way that appears natural. The key aspect of mixed reality is the
ability to stay grounded to the real world, as opposed to being completely
immersed in a digital space. Currently, special devices and optics are used
to experience MR.

Virtual Reality
(VR) transports you to a completely digital space where you are immersed
within an experience. The immersion effect is amplified by having no
sights or sounds from your current physical space. VR requires headsets,
motion controllers, and headphones to experience the immersion.

Hope that makes things crystal clear (more like mud, I’m sure). The
fact is, this is all very messy, overlapping, and confusing at the moment
due to the incredible pace of innovation and creativity. Judging by the

xvii
Introduction

speed of convergence, there will soon be a consolidation of technology we

use for each stop into a single experience vehicle. We’ll no longer have to
use separate apparatus for each stop, but rather rely on a single, elegant
solution that scales all the way from PR to AR to MR to VR, seamlessly,
on demand, in a socially acceptable way. On the way to that eventuality,
we’ll coin and a new term that captures the essence of combining all of the
current stops along the reality continuum.

In the meantime, let’s use mixed reality to refer to the most exciting
design space to explore.

What We’ll Cover

If you wanted to know more about designing captivating holograms for
mixed reality experiences, you came to the right place. Let’s jump right in…

By sharing what I have learned through experimenting with mixed

reality, my hope is you can move your own ideas in this space forward. For
me, holographic design all starts with a process called envisioning – the
act of visualizing what could be. By rapidly depicting a desired experience
and experimenting with real-world interactions, you can quickly turn an
initial vision into a tangible example a of truly remarkable mixed reality
experience.

This book, Envisioning Holograms, introduces a mental framework and

design process to conceptualize and create holographic experiences that
have impact, are memorable, and will delight those taking part in them.

• Part 1 – Breaks down why mixed reality is a challenging

design space, even for experts

• Part 2 – Dives into the fresh thinking needed for

holographic design

xviii
 Introduction

• Part 3 – Introduces easy-to-master envisioning

techniques to bring your ideas to life

• Part 4 – Takes you through holographic examples and

design insights

We stay focused on designing compelling holographic experiences, so

it’s not a general treatment of the space or a step-by-step recipe book for
coding up your ideas for holographic experiences. This is a book about
design.

Who This Book Is For

This book is designed to help people in three different situations.

• Designers who are new to mixed reality and want to

quickly learn best practices

• Developers who need to do their own design work for

mixed reality

• Storytellers who want to explore this exciting new

medium for their narratives

Primarily aimed at those designing for Microsoft HoloLens and the

Windows Mixed Reality platform, the techniques in the book are equally
applicable to those targeting or working with augmented reality vehicles
such as Apple ARKit, and the Google ARCore platforms.

xix
Introduction

What You Will Learn

We’ll cover the design thinking and mindshift needed to master
envisioning for this new realm.

This book will help you to:

• Understand what makes mixed reality a challenging

design space

• See how envisioning quickly and persuasively brings

ideas to life

• Explore several innovative rapid envisioning

techniques

• Identify the key elements of your own holographic

experience

• Design an engaging holographic experience start to

finish

Not Covered Here

Holograms are part of very large shift in the computing landscape which
encompasses everything from augmented reality to mixed reality to
virtual reality. This book is focused on designing compelling holographic
experiences, so it’s not a general treatment of the space.

• Coding – this is not a programming book, so no mixed

reality coding examples

• Hardware – we’ll go through enough to set context, but

hardware is not the focus

xx
 Introduction

• Augmented Reality – is touched on, but this is not an

in-depth discussion

• Virtual Reality – is discussed, but again is not the focus

of this book

And finally, thank you for picking up this book. Can’t wait to get
started on this journey into mixed reality design with you. Regardless of
your current role, I think you’ll get something out of this read that can be
applied to several areas of your work where quickly communicating your
vision for how things could be is key.

Envision the possibilities.

M. Pell
Seattle, Washington

xxi
PART I

A New Frontier
CHAPTER 1

What’s So Special
About Holograms?
People are inherently dreamers.

We love to imagine what could be. It’s part of who we are. And as natural
storytellers, we feel compelled to share our thoughts with other people.
Those aspirational dreams have long been communicated through
gestures, drawings, conversations, books, films, games, and more recently
as digital experiences. Thanks to breakthrough technologies, our dreams
have finally escaped from behind the screen. They take the form of ultra-­
realistic digital additions to our physical world, vying for our attention,
wanting to be shared.

Our dreams are now holograms.

M
 odern Magic
Holograms are digital representations of literally anything we can imagine
blended into our physical spaces. They are unlike any other digital
construct that we have ever created for people to interact with in the
modern age, in large part because of their fantastical nature. Holograms
defy logic. We innately know they aren’t real, but still, we are surprised how

© Mike Pell 2017 3

M. Pell, Envisioning Holograms, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-2749-7_1
ENVISIONING HOLOGRAMS

convincingly they blend into the real world. Just like a master magician’s
finale, holograms hold us absolutely spellbound and believing they’re real.

“Fragments” illustrates just how well holograms can blend into

our surroundings (source: Microsoft)

People often refer to the feeling of interacting with holograms as

magical. In large part, that’s because they manage to suspend our disbelief
just well enough for us to let go and be very present in the moment. We are
transported. Transfixed. And even though it’s not an entirely immersive
transportation like with virtual reality, it is enough to evoke that childlike
wonder we too often forget we’re capable of.

The interesting part of this phenomenon is we know full well

holograms are not real – just as most audience members realize the
magician on stage has just tricked them through sleight of hand or
misdirection. Yet momentarily, we are all fooled into believing an amazing
feat has been accomplished right in front of our eyes.

Holograms are the embodiment of that grand illusion and willing belief
in magic. And just like a magician’s best trick, they leave us wanting more.

4
 Chapter 1 What’s So Special About Holograms?

Profound Impact
Saying that holograms are completely mind blowing may not actually do
them justice. Seeing and interacting with a hologram for the first time is
truly memorable. For some, it is even profound. Holograms excite the
mind with blinding speed. We see a universe of possibilities and new
realities all in an instant. Everything suddenly seems possible. Nothing
is out of bounds. We immediately recognize we’re right on the edge of
something truly transformative for us as dreamers and storytellers. And in
that way, it’s a spiritual awakening of sorts – a realization of how incredibly
clever humans are and what we’re capable of.

This is a bit hard to do, but I’ll try to illustrate that first time feeling.
See if you can imagine a cute dolphin appearing out of thin air right in
front of you, squeaking a greeting, then tearing off to swim tight circles
through the air around you so fast your head spins. Suddenly it stops,
winks at you, squeaks a goodbye and disappears as quickly as it came. Did
that work? Great. But, that’s nothing like what interacting with a hologram
feels like. Sorry. No one can really describe it. It’s familiar and believable,
exciting and fun, yet completely surreal. So, get out there and try it for
yourself!

One thing you’ll probably notice about holograms is they are

fundamentally a contradiction. Clearly digital, but uncannily real at the
same time; life sized, yet resizable. Responsive, but not alive. Within reach,
but not touchable. They are right there, but elusive. Holograms are like
unicorns in that way. This paradox is precisely why they have such an
impact on people.

5
ENVISIONING HOLOGRAMS

Real enough to touch? Medical students learn anatomy

holographically (source: Microsoft)

Not restricted to being just animated characters or everyday objects,

holograms can take just about any shape and make any sound. They can
be collections of abstract shapes and colors that react to music, or appear
as incredibly realistic books, or tower over us like giant buildings. Their
range is astounding.

Some holograms are even capable of warping space. You can create
the appearance of entirely new spaces within existing physical ones.
A breath-­taking special effect used within holographic experiences is to
punch out holes in floors or walls that seem to reveal entirely new worlds
within. It is startlingly realistic and convincing. So much, you may not want
to go too close.

The impact of holograms being so immensely flexible is that we can

now express our dreams and aspirations in significantly new ways, some of
which can’t even be imagined right now. They hold that much potential for
true resonance.

6
 Chapter 1 What’s So Special About Holograms?

Emotional Response
Another fascinating aspect of holograms is they cannot help but elicit
an emotional response in people. They appear to co-exist in our space
and our minds simultaneously, which triggers an unexpectedly personal
connection. It’s as if we are hardwired to be fascinated and drawn in by
their charms. This is a true experience goldmine if you are a Designer or
Storyteller.

The most common advice given to creators of experiences is to make

an emotional connection with the person engaged in the activity. We
strive to leave people with a positive impression from the humanistic side.
It’s considered the mark of a truly successful design effort. Holographic
computing delivers that without even trying.

A sense of wonder is a common reaction to seeing holograms

Given the kind of emotional reaction holograms evoke, you’d think

trying to understand why people are so drawn to holographic experiences
would be a key consideration for any new project. Sadly, that’s often

7
ENVISIONING HOLOGRAMS

not the case. It’s so natural to tackle projects from the technological
viewpoint first, we often rush headlong into these new endeavors with little
consideration for the human side of the equation.

That said, we can easily avoid taking such a technologically heavy view
of holographic computing by consciously putting people first in our design
work. That doesn’t mean figuring out how to make the experience as
efficient or fun as possible, or creating a cardboard cutout of the fictional
customer. It does mean deeply understanding the entire holographic
experience from another person’s perspective and context. What’s their
emotional state? Is this so different from normal that it unintentionally
causes anxiety or stress? How can we reinforce the fun aspects?

Digging into these questions with real people is just as important as

understanding the mind-bending tech being used for holograms. Getting a
solid foundation to make interaction decisions on will result in a huge leap
forward from the experience design perspective.

Manageable Immersion
Unlike a virtual reality (VR) experience that completely immerses you in
an encompassing digital world, mixed reality (MR) keeps you anchored
to the real world by blending holograms in with the physical objects you
naturally see around you. While VR acts as a transport mechanism to take
us into self-contained worlds, mixed reality is an augmentation of the real
spaces we reside in. It turns out that makes a tremendous difference in
how someone will react to the immersion.

Many people report being motion sick or disoriented from VR

experiences, due in part to a fairly common condition where our brains
can’t properly process the inputs of moving within an enclosing world

8
 Chapter 1 What’s So Special About Holograms?

that is somehow mismatched with our bodies in the real world. Better
techniques and newer technology are reducing the occurrences of VR
sickness, but it’s more the nature of the complete immersion that triggers it.

Mixed reality doesn’t have as much of that discord since the person’s
physical space is always visible and in sync with your senses. That natural
connection to the real world keeps participants from getting sick as often,
or often at all. Being anchored to the real world makes mixed reality much
easier to stomach for many people (so to speak). It also allows you to see
the people who may be watching you interacting with holograms, which
alleviates to a degree the awkwardness and self-conscious feeling of being
watched while fully immersed in VR.

Your physical environment is still visible when using mixed reality

(source: Microsoft)

9
ENVISIONING HOLOGRAMS

This more manageable type of immersion is why mixed reality is

expected to be the dominant type of computing experience in the future.
It remains to be seen if both approaches evolve to become more like each
other over time, blurring the lines between complete versus manageable
immersion.

Breakthrough Technology
You can count on one hand the number of truly breakthrough computing
platforms that have come along in the last few decades — Desktop, Web,
Mobile, Cloud. Each disrupted the status quo and set us on a new path into
the future. Holographic is now without question one of those computing
breakthroughs – and perhaps the most challenging platform for Designers
and Developers to take full advantage of. We have once again leapt ahead
into the future.

Holograms are currently only visible with the aid of ultra-high

technology apparatus. Today, those are somewhat bulky and a bit
heavy, but by the time you read this, who knows how miniaturized and
lightweight they have become. Our sci-fi movies predict we’ll eventually
be able to project holograms anywhere, or use optical lenses and implants
to enable innocuous continual use. Perhaps a ways off, those visions are
the roadmap for innovation in this space that all started with the following
examples of breakthrough holographic technology.

Microsoft HoloLens
At the time of its introduction in 2015, Microsoft HoloLens represented
the absolute apex of holographic computing technology – the ability to
see lifelike 3D holograms with an untethered headset. Resembling a pair
of high-tech ski goggles, the first holographic computing device ran on
a custom Holographic Processing Unit (HPU) chipset, included Wi-Fi

10
 Chapter 1 What’s So Special About Holograms?

connectivity, built-in spatial sound, and rechargeable battery. A true

technological marvel, the Microsoft HoloLens was just the first step on the
journey to a rich holographic computing universe.

Microsoft HoloLens, the world’s first self-contained holographic

computer

Windows Mixed Reality

The world’s first holographic operating system was originally introduced
by Microsoft in 2015 to power the Microsoft HoloLens. Originally known
as Windows Holographic, this variant of the Windows operating system
provided a mixed reality platform for developers to experiment with, and
featured the ability to integrate existing Windows Universal Apps into the
mixed reality environment. Subsequently, Microsoft enabled compatible
headsets to use a Windows Mixed Reality environment within Windows
itself, mainstreaming some of the user experience that Microsoft HoloLens
previously introduced.

11
ENVISIONING HOLOGRAMS

The Desktop becomes immersive through Windows Mixed Reality

(source: Microsoft)

Magic Leap
Not much is publicly known about this highly secretive, Florida-based
startup company as of mid-2017, but Magic Leap has successfully raised
over $1 billion USD in venture capital to bring their vision of mixed reality
computing to market.

Touted as being the most visually realistic solution in this space based
on early prototypes of their light field technology, the Magic Leap product
may indeed raise the experience bar and spur great competition in the
mixed reality marketplace.

12
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
them presented his carbine at her—
“Off, mistress; blast my heart, if it were not for your pretty face, I
would send an ounce of cold lead through you. What the devil—
haven’t we spared your father’s life, and you would have us connive
at the escape of a murderer, to the risk of our own necks!”
“Do not distress yourself about me, my sweet girl,” cried Graham
—“farewell once more!”
And she turned back weeping, while the troopers held their way
towards the western outlet of the valley.
 Chapter III.
Mary was too generous to be happy in the safety of her father,
when that was bought with the life of his brave deliverer. When
Graham was taken away, she felt a pang as if he had been led to
execution. Instead, therefore, of indulging in selfish congratulation,
her whole soul was taken up in the romantic and apparently hopeless
scheme of extricating him from his danger. There was not a moment
to lose; and she asked her father if he could think of any way in
which a rescue might be attempted.
“Mary, my dear, I know of none,” was his answer. “We live far from
any house, and before assistance could be procured, they would be
miles beyond our reach.”
“Yes, father, there is a chance,” said she, with impatience. “Gallop
over to Allister Wilson’s on the other side of the hills. He is a strong
and determined man, and, as well as some of his near neighbours, is
accustomed to contest. You know he fought desperately at Drumclog;
and though he blamed you for not joining the cause, he will not be
loth to assist in this bitter extremity.”
Allan, at these words, started up as if awakened from a reverie.
“That will do, my dear bairn. I never thought of it; but your
understanding is quicker than mine. I shall get out the horse; follow
me on foot, as hard as you can.”
This was the work of a minute. The horse was brought from the
stable, and Allan lashed him to his full speed across the moor. Most
fortunately he arrived at Allister’s house as the latter was on the
point of leaving it. He carried a musket over his shoulder, and a huge
claymore hung down from a belt girded round his loins.
“You have just come in time,” said this stern son of the Covenant,
after Allan had briefly related to him what had happened. “I am on
my way to hear that precious saint, Mr Hervey, hold forth. You see I
am armed to defend myself against temporal foes, and so are many
others of my friends and brethren in God, who will be present on that
blessed occasion. Come away, Allan Hamilton, you are one of the
timid and faint-hearted flock of Jacob, but we will aid you as you
wish, and peradventure save the young man who has done you such a
good turn.”
They went on swiftly to a retired spot at the distance of half a mile;
it was a small glen nearly surrounded with rocks. There they beheld
the Reverend Mr Hervey standing upon a mound of earth, and
preaching to a congregation, the greater part of the males of which
were armed with muskets, swords, or pikes; they formed, as it were,
the outworks of the assembly,—the women, old men, and children
being placed in the centre. These were a few of the devoted
Christians who, from the rocks and caves of their native land, sent up
their fearless voices to heaven—who, disowning the spiritual
authority of a tyrannic government, thought it nowise unbecoming or
treasonable to oppose the strong arm of lawless power with its own
weapons; and who finally triumphed in the glorious contest,
establishing that pure religion, for which posterity has proved, alas,
too ungrateful!
In the pressing urgency of the case, Allister did not scruple to go
up to the minister, in the midst of his discourse. Such interruptions
indeed were common in these distracted times, when it was
necessary to skulk from place to place, and perform divine worship
as if it was an act of treason against the state. Mr Hervey made
known to his flock in a few words what had been communicated to
him, taking care to applaud highly the scheme proposed by Wilson.
There was no time to be lost, and under the guidance of Allister the
whole of the assemblage hurried to a gorge of the mountains through
which the troopers must necessarily pass. As the route of the latter
was circuitous, time was allowed to this sagacious leader to arrange
his forces. This he did by placing all the armed men—about twenty-
five in number—in two lines across the pass. Those who were not
armed, together with the women and children, were sent to the rear.
When, therefore, the soldiers came up, they found to their surprise a
formidable body ready to dispute the passage.
“What means this interruption?” said Ross, who acted the part of
spokesman to the rest. Whereupon Mr Hervey advanced in front
—“Release,” said he, “that young man whom ye have in bonds.”
“Release him!” replied Ross. “Would you have us release a
murderer? Are you aware that he has shot his officer?”
 “I am aware of it,” Mr Hervey answered, “and I blame him not for
the deed. Stand forth, Allan Hamilton, and say if that is the soldier
who saved your life; and you, Mary Hamilton, stand forth likewise.”
Both, to the astonishment of the soldiers, came in front of the
crowd. “That,” said Allan, “is the man, and may God bless him for his
humanity.”—“It is the same,” cried his daughter; “I saw him with
these eyes shoot the cruel Clobberton. On my knees I begged him to
sue for mercy, and his kind heart had pity upon me, and saved my
father.”
“Soldiers,” said Mr Hervey, “I have nothing more to say to you.
That young man has slain your captain, but he has done no murder.
His deed was justifiable: yea, it was praiseworthy, in so far as it saved
an upright man, and rid the earth of a cruel persecutor. Deliver him
up, and go away in peace, or peradventure ye may fare ill among
these armed men who stand before you.”
The troopers consulted together for a short time, till, seeing that
resistance would be utter madness against such odds, they
reluctantly let go their prisoner. The first person who came up to him
was Mary Hamilton. She loosened the cords that tied him, and
presented him with conscious pride to those of her own sex who were
assembled round.
“Good bye, Graham,” cried Ross, with a sneer;—“you have bit us
once, but it will puzzle you to do so again. We shall soon ‘harry’ you
and your puritanical friends from your strongholds. An ell of strong
hemp is in readiness for you at the Grassmarket of Edinburgh. Take
my defiance for a knave, as you are,” added he, with an imprecation.
He had scarcely pronounced the last sentence when Graham
unsheathed the weapon which hung at his side, sprang from the
middle of the crowd, and stood before his defier. “Ross, you have
challenged me, and you shall abide it—draw!” Here there was an
instantaneous movement among the Covenanters, who rushed in
between the two fierce soldiers, who stood with their naked weapons,
their eyes glancing fire at each other. Mary Hamilton screamed aloud
with terror, and cries of “separate them!” were heard from all the
women. Mr Hervey came forward and entreated them to put up their
swords, and he was seconded by most of the old men; but all
entreaties were in vain. They stood fronting each other, and only
waiting for free ground to commence their desperate game.
 “Let me alone,” said Graham, furiously, to some who were
attempting to draw him back; “am I to be bearded to my teeth by that
swaggering ruffian?”
“Come on, my sweet cock of the Covenant,” cries Ross, with the
most insulting derision, “you or any one of your canting crew—or a
dozen of you, one after the other.”
“Let Graham go,” was heard from the deep stern voice of Allister
Wilson; “let him go, or I will meet that man with my own weapon. Mr
Hervey, your advice is dear to us all, and well do we know that the
blood of God’s creatures must not be shed in vain; but has not that
man of blood openly defied us, and shall we hinder our champion
from going forward to meet him? No; let them join in combat and try
which is the better cause. If the challenger overcomes, we shall do
him no harm, but let him depart in peace: if he be overcome, let him
rue the consequences of his insolence.”
This proposition, though violently opposed by the women and the
aged part of the crowd, met the entire approbation of the young men.
Each felt himself personally insulted, and allowed, for a time, the
turbulent passions of his nature to get the better of every milder
feeling. A space of ground was immediately cleared for the combat,
the friends of Ross being allowed to arrange matters as they thought
fit. They went about it with a coolness and precision which showed
that to them this sort of pastime was nothing new. “All is right—fall
on,” was their cry, and in a moment the combatants met in the area.
The three troopers looked on with characteristic sang froid, but it
was otherwise with the rest of the bystanders, who gazed upon the
scene with the most intense interest. Some of the females turned
away their eyes from it, and among them Mary Hamilton, who
almost sank to the earth, and was with difficulty supported by her
father.
The combat was desperate, for the men were of powerful strength,
and of tried courage and skill in their weapons. The blows were
parried for some time on both sides with consummate address, and
neither could be said to have the advantage. At length, after
contending fiercely, Ross exhibited signs of exhaustion—neither
guarding himself nor assaulting his opponent so vigorously as at
first. Graham, on noticing this, redoubled his efforts. He acted now
wholly on the offensive, sending blow upon blow with the rapidity of
lightning. His last and most desperate stroke was made at the head
of his enemy. The sword of the latter, which was held up in a
masterly manner to receive it, was beat down by Graham’s weapon,
which descended forcibly upon his helmet. The blow proved decisive,
and Ross fell senseless upon the ground. His conqueror immediately
wrested the weapon from him, while a shout was set up by the crowd
in token of victory. The troopers looked mortified at this result of the
duel, which was by them evidently unexpected. Their first care was to
raise up their fellow comrade. On examination, no wound was
perceived upon his head. His helmet had been penetrated by the
sword, which, however, did not go further. His own weapon had
contributed to deaden the blow, by partially arresting that of Graham
in its furious descent. It was this only which saved his life. In a few
minutes he so far recovered as to get up and look around him. The
first object which struck him was his opponent standing in the ring
wiping his forehead.
“Well, Ross,” said one of his companions, “I always took you to be
the best swordsman in the regiment; but I think you have met your
match.”
“My match? confound me!” returned the vanquished man, “I
thought I would have made minced meat of him. There, for three
years, have I had the character of being one of the best men in the
army at my weapon, and here is all this good name taken out of me
in a trice. How mortifying—and to lose my good sword too!”
“Here is your sword, Ross, and keep it,” said Graham. “You have
behaved like a brave man; and I honour such a fellow, whether he be
my friend or foe. Only don’t go on with your insolent bragging—that
is all the advice I have to give you; nor call any man a knave till you
have good proof that he is so.”
“Well, well, Graham,” answered the other, “I retract what I said; I
have a better opinion of you than I had ten minutes ago. Take care of
old Dalzell—his “lambs” will be after you, and you had better keep
out of the way. Take this advice in return for my weapon which you
have given me back. It would, after all, be a pity to tuck up such a
pretty fellow as you are; although I would care very little to see your
long-faced acquaintances there dangling by their necks. Give us your
hand for old fellowship, and shift your quarters as soon as you
choose. Good bye.” So saying, he and his three comrades departed.
 After these doings, it was considered imprudent for the principal
actors to remain longer in this quarter. Mr Hervey retired about
twenty miles to the northward, in company with Allan Hamilton and
his daughter, and Allister Wilson. Graham went by a circuitous route
to Argyleshire, where he secreted himself so judiciously, that though
the agents of government got information of his being in that
country, they could never manage to lay hand upon him. These steps
were prudent in all parties; for the very day after the rescue, a strong
body of dragoons was sent to the Lowthers, to apprehend the above
named persons. They behaved with great cruelty, burning the
cottages of numbers of the inhabitants, and destroying their cattle.
They searched Allan Hamilton’s house, took from it everything that
could be easily carried away, and such of his cattle as were found on
the premises. Among other things, they carried off the body of the
sanguinary Clobberton, which they found on the spot where it had
been left, and interred it in Lanark churchyard, with military
honours. None of the individuals, however, whom they sought for
were found.
For a short time after this, the persecution raged with great
violence in the south of Lanarkshire; but happier days were
beginning to dawn; and the arrival of King William, and the
dethronement of the bigoted James, put an end to such scenes of
cruelty. When these events occurred, the persecuted came forth from
their hiding-places. Mr Hervey, among others, returned to the
Lowthers, and enjoyed many happy days in this seat of his ministry
and trials. Allan and his daughter were among the first to make their
appearance. Their house soon recovered its former comfort; and in
the course of time every worldly concern went well with them. Mary,
however, for a month or more after their return, did not feel entirely
satisfied. She was duller than was her wont, and neither she nor her
father could give any explanation why it should be so. At this time a
tall young man paid them a visit, and, strange to say, she became
perfectly happy. This visitor was no other than the wild fighting
fellow Graham,—now perfectly reformed from his former evil
courses, by separation from his profligate companions, and by the
better company and principles with which his late troubles had
brought him acquainted.
 A few words more will end our story. This bold trooper and the
beautiful daughter of Allan Hamilton were seen five weeks thereafter
going to church as man and wife. It was allowed that they were the
handsomest couple ever seen in the Lowthers. Graham proved a kind
husband; and it is hardly necessary to say that Mary was a most
affectionate and exemplary wife. Allan Hamilton attained a happy
old age, and saw his grandchildren ripening into fair promise around
him. His daughter, many years after his death, used to repeat to
them the story of his danger and escape, which we have here
imperfectly related. The tale is not fictitious. It is handed down in
tradition over the upper and middle wards of Lanarkshire, and with a
consistency which leaves no doubt of its truth.
 THE POOR SCHOLAR.

By Professor Wilson.

The vernal weather, that had come so early in the year as to induce
a fear that it would not be lasting, seemed, contrary to that
foreboding of change, to become every day more mild and genial,
and the spirit of beauty, that had at first ventured out over the bosom
of the earth with timid footsteps, was now blending itself more boldly
with the deep verdure of the ground, and the life of the budding
trees. Something in the air, and in the great wide blue bending arch
of the unclouded sky, called upon the heart to come forth from the
seclusion of parlour or study, and partake of the cheerfulness of
nature.
We had made some short excursions together up the lonely glens,
and over the moors, and also through the more thickly inhabited
field-farms of his parish, and now the old minister proposed that we
should pay a visit to a solitary hut near the head of a dell, which,
although not very remote from the manse, we had not yet seen; and I
was anxious that we should do so, as, from his conversation, I
understood that we should see there a family—if so a widow and her
one son could be called—that would repay us by the interest we could
not fail to feel in their character, for the time and toil spent on
reaching their secluded and guarded dwelling.
“The poor widow woman,” said the minister, “who lives in the hut
called Braehead, has as noble a soul as ever tenanted a human
bosom. One earthly hope alone has she now—but I fear it never will
be fulfilled. She is the widow of a common cottar, who lived and died
in the hut which she and her son now inhabit. Her husband was a
man of little education, but intelligent, even ingenious, simple,
laborious, and pious. His duties lay all within a narrow circle, and his
temptations, it may be said, were few. Such as they were, he
discharged the one and withstood the other. Nor is there any reason
to think that, had they both been greater, he would have been found
wanting. He was contented with meal and water all his days, and so
fond of work that he seemed to love the summer chiefly for the
length of its labouring days. He had a slight genius for mechanics;
and during the long winter evenings he made many articles of
curious workmanship, the sale of which added a little to the earnings
of his severer toil. The same love of industry excited him from
morning to night; but he had also stronger, tenderer, and dearer
motives; for if his wife and their one pretty boy should outlive him,
he hoped that, though left poor, they would not be left in penury, but
enabled to lead, without any additional hardships, the usual life, at
least, of the widow and the orphans of honest hardworking men. Few
thought much about Abraham Blane while he lived, except that he
was an industrious and blameless man; but, on his death, it was felt
that there had been something far more valuable in his character;
and now, I myself, who knew him well, was pleasingly surprised to
know that he had left his widow and boy a small independence. Then
the memory of his long summer days, and long winter nights, all
ceaselessly employed in some kind of manual labour, dignified the
lowly and steadfast virtue of the unpretending and conscientious
man.
“The widow of this humble-hearted and simple-minded man,
whom we shall this forenoon visit, you will remember, perhaps,—
although then neither she nor her husband were much known in the
parish,—as the wife of the basket-maker. Her father had been a
clergyman—but his stipend was one of the smallest in Scotland, and
he died in extreme poverty. This, his only daughter, who had many
fine feelings and deep thoughts in her young innocent and simple
heart, was forced to become a menial servant in a farmhouse. There,
subduing her heart to her situation, she married that inoffensive and
good man; and all her life has been—maid, wife, and widow—the
humblest among the humble. But you shall soon have an opportunity
of seeing, what sense, what feeling, what knowledge, and what piety,
may all live together, without their owner suspecting them, in the
soul of the lonely widow of a Scottish cottar; for except that she is
pious, she thinks not that she possesses any other treasure; and even
her piety she regards, like a true Christian, as a gift bestowed.
“But well worthy of esteem, and, to speak in the language of this
world’s fancies, of admiration, as you will think this poor solitary
widow, perhaps you will think such feelings bestowed even more
deservedly on her only son. He is now a boy only of sixteen years of
age, but in my limited experience of life, never knew I such another.
From his veriest infancy he showed a singular capacity for learning;
at seven years of age he could read, write, and was even an
arithmetician. He seized upon books with the same avidity with
which children in general seize upon playthings. He soon caught
glimmerings of the meaning even of other languages; and, before he
was ten years old, there were in his mind clear dawnings of the
scholar, and indications not to be doubted of genius and intellectual
power. His father was dead—but his mother, who was no common
woman, however common her lot, saw with pure delight, and with
strong maternal pride, that God had given her an extraordinary child
to bless her solitary hut. She vowed to dedicate him to the ministry,
and that all her husband had left should be spent upon him, to the
last farthing, to qualify him to be a preacher of God’s Word. Such
ambition, if sometimes misplaced, is almost always necessarily
honourable. Here it was justified by the excelling talents of the boy—
by his zeal for knowledge, which was like a fever in his blood—and by
a childish piety, of which the simple, and eloquent, and beautiful
expression has more than once made me shed tears. But let us leave
the manse, and walk to Braehead. The sunshine is precious at this
early season; let us enjoy it while it smiles!”
We crossed a few fields—a few coppice woods—an extensive sheep-
pasture, and then found ourselves on the edge of a moorland.
Keeping the shelving heather ridge of hills above us, we gently
descended into a narrow rushy glen, without anything that could be
called a stream, but here and there crossed and intersected by
various runlets. Soon all cultivation ceased, and no houses were to be
seen. Had the glen been a long one, it would have seemed desolate,
but on turning round a little green mount that ran almost across it,
we saw at once an end to our walk, and one hut, with a peatstack
close to it, and one or two elder, or, as we call them in Scotland,
bourtrie bushes, at the low gable-end. A little smoke seemed to tinge
the air over the roof uncertainly—but except in that, there was
nothing to tell that the hut was inhabited. A few sheep lying near it,
and a single cow of the small hill-breed, seemed to appertain to the
hut, and a circular wall behind it apparently enclosed the garden. We
sat down together on one of those large mossy stones that often lie
among the smooth green pastoral hills, like the relics of some
building utterly decayed—and my venerable friend, whose solemn
voice was indeed pleasant in this quiet solitude, continued the simple
history of the poor scholar.
“At school he soon outstripped all the other boys, but no desire of
superiority over his companions seemed to actuate him—it was the
pure native love of knowledge. Gentle as a lamb, but happy as a lark,
the very wildest of them all loved Isaac Blane. He procured a Hebrew
Bible and a Greek Testament, both of which he taught himself to
read. It was more than affecting—it was sublime and awful to see the
solitary boy sitting by himself on the braes shedding tears over the
mysteries of the Christian faith. His mother’s heart burned within
her towards her son; and if it was pride, you will allow that it was
pride of a divine origin. She appeared with him in the kirk every
Sabbath, dressed not ostentatiously, but still in a way that showed
she intended him not for a life of manual labour. Perhaps, at first,
some half thought that she was too proud of him; but that was a
suggestion not to be cherished, for all acknowledged that he was sure
to prove an honour to the parish in which he was born. She often
brought him to the manse, and earth did not contain a happier
creature than she, when her boy answered all my questions, and
modestly made his own simple, yet wise remarks on the sacred
subjects gradually unfolding before his understanding and his heart.
“Before he was twelve years of age he went to college; and his
mother accompanied him to pass the winter in the city. Two small
rooms she took near the cathedral; and while he was at the classes,
or reading alone, she was not idle, but strove to make a small sum to
help to defray their winter’s expenses. To her that retired cell was a
heaven when she looked upon her pious and studious boy. His genius
was soon conspicuous; for four winters he pursued his studies in the
university, returning always in summer to this hut, the door of which
during their absence was closed. He made many friends, and
frequently during the three last summers, visitors came to pass a day
at Braehead, in a rank of life far above his own. But in Scotland,
thank God, talent and learning, and genius and virtue, when found in
the poorest hut, go not without their admiration and their reward.
Young as he is, he has had pupils of his own—his mother’s little
property has not been lessened at this hour by his education; and
besides contributing to the support of her and himself, he has
brought neater furniture into that lonely hut, and there has he a
library, limited in the number, but rich in the choice of books, such
as contain food for years of silent thought to the poor scholar—if
years indeed are to be his on earth.”
We rose to proceed onwards to the hut, across one smooth level of
greenest herbage, and up one intervening knowe, a little lower than
the mount on which it stood. Why, thought I, has the old man always
spoken of the poor scholar as if he had been speaking of one now
dead? Can it be, from the hints he has dropped, that this youth, so
richly endowed, is under the doom of death, and the fountain of all
those clear and fresh-gushing thoughts about to be sealed? I asked,
as we walked along, if Isaac Blane seemed marked out to be one of
those sweet flowers “no sooner blown than blasted,” and who perish
away like the creatures of a dream? The old man made answer that it
was even so, that he had been unable to attend college last winter,
and that it was to be feared he was now far advanced in a hopeless
decline. “Simple is he still as a very child; but with a sublime sense of
duty to God and man—of profound affection and humanity never to
be appeased towards all the brethren of our race. Each month—each
week—each day, has seemed visibly to bring him new stores of silent
feeling and thought—and even now, boy as he is, he is fit for the
ministry. But he has no hopes of living to that day—nor have I. The
deep spirit of his piety is now blended with a sure prescience of an
early death. Expect, therefore, to see him pale, emaciated, and sitting
in the hut like a beautiful and blessed ghost.”
We entered the hut, but no one was in the room. The clock ticked
solitarily, and on a table, beside a nearly extinguished peat fire, lay
the open Bible, and a small volume, which, on lifting it up, I found to
be a Greek Testament.
“They have gone out to walk, or to sit down for an hour in the
warm sunshine,” said the old man. “Let us sit down and wait their
return. It will not be long.” A long, low sigh was heard in the silence,
proceeding, as it seemed, from a small room adjoining that in which
we were sitting, and of which the door was left half open. The
minister looked into that room, and, after a long earnest gaze,
stepped softly back to me again, with a solemn face, and taking me
by the hand, whispered to me to come with him to that door, which
he gently moved. On a low bed lay the poor scholar, dressed as he
had been for the day, stretched out in a stillness too motionless and
profound for sleep, and with his fixed face up to heaven. We saw that
he was dead. His mother was kneeling, with her face on the bed, and
covered with both her hands. Then she lifted up her eyes and said, “O
merciful Redeemer, who wrought that miracle on the child of the
widow of Nain, comfort me—comfort me, in this my sore distress. I
know that my son is never to rise again until the great judgment day.
But not the less do I bless Thy holy name, for Thou didst die to save
us sinners.”
She arose from her knees, and, still blind to every other object,
went up to his breast. “I thought thee lovelier, when alive, than any
of the sons of the children of men, but that smile is beyond the power
of a mother’s heart to sustain.” And, stooping down, she kissed his
lips, and cheeks, and eyes, and forehead, with a hundred soft,
streaming, and murmuring kisses, and then stood up in her solitary
hut, alone and childless, with a long mortal sigh, in which all earthly
feelings seemed breathed out, and all earthly ties broken. Her eyes
wandered towards the door, and fixed themselves with a ghastly and
unconscious gaze for a few moments on the gray locks and withered
countenance of the holy old man, bent towards her with a pitying
and benignant air, and stooped, too, in the posture of devotion. She
soon recognised the best friend of her son, and leaving the bed on
which his body lay, she came out into the room, and said, “You have
come to me at a time when your presence was sorely needed. Had
you been here but a few minutes sooner you would have seen my
Isaac die!”
Unconsciously we were all seated; and the widow, turning
fervently to her venerated friend, said, “He was reading the Bible—he
felt faint—and said feebly, ‘Mother, attend me to my bed, and when I
lie down, put your arm over my breast and kiss me.’ I did just as he
told me; and, on wiping away a tear or two vainly shed by me on my
dear boy’s face, I saw that his eyes, though open, moved not, and that
the lids were fixed. He had gone to another world. See—sir! there is
the Bible lying open at the place he was reading—God preserve my
soul from repining!—only a few, few minutes ago.”
The minister took the Bible on his knees, and laying his right hand,
without selection, on part of one of the pages that lay open, he read
aloud the following verses:—
“Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”
The mother’s heart seemed to be deeply blest for a while by these
words. She gave a grateful smile to the old man, and sat silent,
moving her lips. At length she again broke forth:—
“Oh! death, whatever may have been our thoughts or fears, ever
comes unexpectedly at last. My son often—often told me, that he was
dying, and I saw that it was so ever since Christmas. But how could I
prevent hope from entering my heart? His sweet happy voice—the
calmness of his prayers—his smiles that never left his face whenever
he looked or spoke to me—his studies, still pursued as anxiously as
ever—the interest he took in any little incident of our retired life—all
forced me to believe at times that he was not destined to die. But why
think on all these things now? Yes! I will always think of them, till I
join him and my husband in heaven!”
It seemed now as if the widow had only noticed me for the first
time. Her soul had been so engrossed with its passion of grief, and
with the felt sympathy and compassion of my venerable friend. She
asked me if I had known her son; and I answered, that if I had, I
could not have sat there so composedly; but that I was no stranger to
his incomparable excellence, and felt indeed for her grievous loss.
She listened to my words, but did not seem to hear them, and once
more addressed the old man.
“He suffered much sickness, my poor boy. For although it was a
consumption, that is not always an easy death. But as soon as the
sickness and the racking pain gave way to our united prayers, God
and our Saviour made us happy; and sure he spake then as never
mortal spake, kindling into a happiness that was beautiful to see,
when I beheld his face marked by dissolution, and knew, even in
those inspired moments (for I can call them nothing else), that ere
long the dust was to lie on those lips now flowing over with heavenly
music!”
We sat for some hours in the widow’s hut, and the minister several
times prayed with her, at her own request. On rising to depart, he
said that he would send up one of her dearest friends to pass the
night with her, and help her to do the last offices to her son. But she
replied that she wished to be left alone for that day and night, and
would expect her friend in the morning. We went towards the outer
door, and she, in a sort of sudden stupor, let us depart without any
farewell words, and retired into the room where her son was lying.
Casting back our eyes before our departure, we saw her steal into the
bed beside the dead body, and drawing the head gently into her
bosom, she lay down with him in her arms, and as if they had in that
manner fallen asleep.
 THE CRUSHED BONNET.

Towards the close of a beautiful autumnal day in 18—, when

pacing slowly on my way, and in a contemplative mood admiring the
delightful scenery between Blair Athole and Dunkeld, on my return
from a survey of the celebrated pass of Killiecrankie, and other places
rendered famous in Scottish story, I was accosted by a female, little
past the prime of life, but with two children of unequal age walking
by her side, and a younger slung upon her back. The salutation was
of the supplicatory kind, and while the tones were almost perfectly
English, the pronunciation of the words was often highly Scottish.
The words, a “sodger’s widow”—“three helpless bairns”—and
“Waterloo,” broke my meditations with the force of an enchantment,
excited my sympathy, and made me draw my purse. While in the act
of tendering a piece of money—a cheap and easy mode of procuring
the luxury of doing good—I thought the countenance, though
browned and weather-beaten, one which I before had seen, without
exactly recollecting when or where. My curiosity thus raised, many
interrogatives and answers speedily followed, when at last I
discovered that there stood before me Jeanie Strathavon, once the
beauty and the pride of my own native village. Ten long and
troublous years had passed away since Jeanie left the neighbourhood
in which she was born to follow the spirit-stirring drum; and where
she had gone, or how she had afterwards fared, many enquired,
though but few could tell. The incident which led to all her
subsequent toil and suffering seemed but trivial at the time, yet, like
many other trivial occurrences, became to her one fraught with
mighty consequences.
She was an only daughter, her father was an honest labourer, and
though not nursed in the bosom of affluence, she hardly knew what it
was to have a wish ungratified. She possessed mental vivacity, and
personal attractions, rarely exhibited, especially at the present day,
by persons in her humble sphere of life. Though she never could
boast what might properly be called education, yet great care had
been taken to render her modest, affectionate, and pious. Her
parents, now in the decline of life, looked upon her as their only
solace. She had been from her very birth the idol of their hearts; and
as there was no sunshine in their days but when she was healthy and
happy, so their prospects were never clouded but when she was the
reverse. Always the favourite of one sex, and the envy of another,
when not yet out of her teens, she was importuned by the addresses
of many both of her own rank and of a rank above her own, to change
her mode of life. The attentions of the latter, in obedience to the
suggestions of her affectionate but simple hearted parents, she
always discouraged, for they never would allow themselves to think
that “folk wi’ siller would be looking after their bairn for ony gude
end.” Among those of her own station, she could hardly be said to
have yet shown a decided preference to any one, though the glances
which she cast at Henry Williams, when passing through the
kirkyard on Sundays, seemed to every one to say where, if she had
her own unbiassed will, her choice would light. Still she had never
thought seriously upon the time when, nor the person for whom, she
would leave her fond and doting parents. Chance or accident,
however, in these matters, often outruns the speed of deliberate
choice; at least such was the case with poor Jeanie.
Decked out one Sabbath morning in her best, to go to what Burns
calls a “Holy Fair,” in the neighbouring parish, though viewed in a far
different light by her, Jeanie had on her brawest and her best; and
among other things, a fine new bonnet, which excited the gossip and
the gaze of all the lasses in the village. Having sat for an hour or two
at the tent, listening earnestly and devoutly to a discourse which
formed a complete body of divinity, she, with many others, was at
length obliged to take refuge in the church, to shun a heavy summer
shower, which unexpectedly arrested the out-door devotions. Here,
whether wearied with the long walk she had in the morning, or
overpowered with the heat and suffocation consequent upon such a
crowd, she began to feel a serious oppression of sickness, and before
she could effect her escape she entirely fainted away, requiring to be
carried out in a state of complete insensibility.
 It was long before she came to herself; and when she did, she
found that the rough hands of those who had caught her when
falling, and borne her through the crowd to the open air, had, amidst
the anxiety for her recovery, treated her finery with but very little
ceremony. Among other instances of this kind, she found that her
bonnet had been hastily torn from her head, thrown carelessly aside,
and, being accidentally trod upon, had been so crushed, as to render
it perfectly useless. The grief which this caused made her forget the
occasion which produced such disaster; and adjusting herself as well
as she could, she did not wait the conclusion of the solemn service,
but sought her father’s cottage amidst much sorrow and confusion.
When she reached home, she found her parents engaged in
devotional reading, their usual mode of spending the Sabbath
evenings. As it was not altogether with their consent that she had not
accompanied them that day to their usual place of being instructed in
divine things, the plight in which she returned to them excited,
especially on the mother’s part, a hasty burst of displeasure, if not of
anger; and the calm improving peace of the evening was entirely
broken. Sacred as to them the day appeared, they could not restrain
inquiry as to the cause of her altered appearance, and maternal
anxiety gave birth to suspicions which poor Jeanie’s known veracity
and simple unaffected narrative could not altogether repress. Thus,
for the first time in her life, had Jeanie excited the frown of her
parents, and every reproving look and word was as a dagger to her
heart.
Night came, and she retired to rest, but her innocent breast was
too much agitated to allow her eyes to close in sleep; and the return
of morning only brought with it an additional burden to her heart, by
a renewed discussion of the events of the previous day. This was
more than she was able to stand, and she took the first opportunity
to escape from that roof where, till now, she had never known aught
but delight, to go to pour her complaint into the ear of one who
seemed to love her almost to distraction,—her youthful admirer,
Henry Williams. Their interview, though not long, terminated in the
proposal on his part to relieve her from her embarrassed situation by
forthwith making her his own. Whether this was what she desired, in
having recourse to such an adviser, cannot be known, but, at all
events, she acceded with blamable facility to his wishes. She could
not endure the thought of being without a friend, and she knew not
that the friendship and affection of her parents had suffered no
abatement, though their great concern for her innocence and welfare
had pushed their reproofs further than they intended, or than
prudence under such circumstances would warrant.
Henry was little more than her own age, of but moderate capacity,
handsome in person, and ill provided with the means of making
matrimony a state of enjoyment; and too much addicted to the
frivolities of his years to be fitted for the serious business of being the
head of a family. Youth and inexperience seldom consider
consequences, and the desire of the one to receive, and of the other
to afford relief, under existing circumstances, made them resolve
neither to ask parental consent to their purpose, nor wait the
ordinary steps prescribed by the Church. The connection was
therefore no less irregular than it was precipitate, and Jeanie never
so much as sought to see her father’s house till the solemn knot was
tied.
In her absence many inquiries were made respecting her by the
villagers, who had witnessed or heard of what had happened to her
on the previous day. Her truth and innocence being thus put beyond
the shadow of a doubt, consternation at the long absence of their
child, and compunction for the severity of their reproofs, drove the
unhappy parents almost frantic. When the news of the re-appearance
of their daughter dispelled their direful apprehensions as to her
safety, though they felt a momentary gleam of joy, yet they
experienced nothing like heartfelt satisfaction.
Jeanie made as sweet and loving a wife as she had been a
daughter; but the cares of providing for more than himself soon
made Henry regret his rashness, and the prospect of these cares
speedily increasing made him more and more dissatisfied with his
new state of life. All Jeanie’s care and anxiety to soothe and please
him were unavailing. It is not in the power of beauty, youth, and
innocence, to check and control the sallies of ignorance and caprice.
Chagrined because his youthful wife had not prepared his morning
meal to his liking, on a day when he was to visit a neighbouring city
for some trifling purpose, he determined to free himself from the
yoke into which he had so heedlessly run, and returned home on the
evening of the following day somewhat altered in dress and