In the spring of 1866, Eliza M'Gill, who resided near a romantic church in the Presbytery of St. Andrews, died at the advanced age of ninety-three years. For a long period almost every one, far and near, knew her as a spaewife of no ordinary knowledge. Lizzie (the name usually given her) could scarcely be called an impostor, for she appeared to have sincere faith in her profession. Often she exclaimed with solemn fervency, "The gift I hae is fae aboon, an' what He gies daurna be hidit." It was common for coy damsels and staid matrons to wend their way to Lizzie's cot about twilight, to have their fortunes spaed. About ten years before her death, when the prospects of the herring fishing were discouraging in the extreme, a buxom young woman, belonging to Pittenweem or St. Monance, repaired one evening to Carnbee to consult Lizzie. The damsel went with a heavy countenance, but she returned radiant with smiles, for the wise woman had said, "That altho' it was to be an awfu' puir draw, yet her folk was to hae a grand haul next e'enin'." And, true to the old wife's prediction, the crew in which she interested herself returned with a splendid prize from the fishing ground, followed, of[Pg 598] course, with an increase of fame to the prophetess. On another occasion Lizzie was no less fortunate in the result foretold. A fisher-wife in the former place had received a sovereign from her husband, which, in the hurry of the moment, she had placed on the bedside. Going shortly afterwards to remove it, what was her consternation to find that the gold piece was gone! The most diligent search and inquiry were instituted after the lost treasure, but all to no purpose. In the extremity of her distress the poor woman thought of the "witch o' Carnbee," and, adjusting her cap, was soon on her journey thither. Lizzie's words fell on her troubled spirit like oil on the stormy sea; for she was told that, in the course of a day or two, the sovereign would be again in her possession. And so it proved: on drawing her husband's sea boots from under the bed, the coin fell from the toe of one of them.

On one occasion, a cheap trip by the steamer "Xantho" from Anstruther to Leith being advertised, many of the labouring classes, with their friends, arranged to visit Leith and Edinburgh. Unfortunately, however, the trip was to take place when the farmers of the district were very busy with the sowing of the turnips, and when, of course, their people were needed for that work. For the purpose, it is said, of keeping the men at home, a rumour circulated over the East Neuk, to the effect that the steamer and all on board were to perish in a fearful gale. The servants were so greatly alarmed by the prediction of Lizzie (it was she who spread the report), that they resolved to remain at home. The most remarkable feature of the affair is, that on the day in question a violent gale arose, which prevented the steamer returning to Anstruther until next morning. The non-arrival of the boat, as may be inferred, was the cause of the liveliest alarm to the friends of those on board, and an old worthy was heard to exclaim with respect to the prediction: "I dinna believe in sic things mysel', but, some way or ither, they[Pg 599] aye come true." Lizzie's father and her whole family are said to have been highly respectable. Her truant and impulsive disposition led her, however, into conduct and habits that deprived her of the respect and help of her friends; and necessity at length appears to have constrained her to act the part of a fortune-teller, which she is known to have practised with success more than half a century.

Adam Donald, the prophet of Bethelnie, a contemporary of Lizzie M'Gill, stood high in Aberdeenshire as a seer. From his peculiar appearance in early life, grave doubts existed as to whether he was actually the offspring of his reputed parents, or whether he had not been substituted by the fairies for a lovely boy, the son of a worthy pair who believed not in the existence of witches or fairies.

One day the mother went out, leaving the child well in his cradle, and on returning, about an hour afterwards, she found a cold, marble-like infant, that never throve, never smiled, but, on the contrary, cried from morning to night, and from night till morning. On hearing of the changed infant, people flocked to witness the sudden alteration which had taken place in Mr. and Mrs. Donald's child. One knowing dame thought she understood the whole matter. The fairies were the wicked beings that had done all the mischief; and that they were permitted to do so, arose entirely through the parents' carelessness or ignorance. "Would it be believed," said the dame when speaking of the extraordinary circumstance, "that the simple mother went out, leaving her child alone, uncrossed, without a charm about its person, and without a horse-shoe being nailed on the threshold or behind the door, or a piece of rowan-tree at the door or window or in the cradle?" The friend to whom the reflections were made shook her head, while she replied, "Ay, ay, unbelieving generation; they will be burning the Bible some day soon."

[Pg 600]Adam grew up, and became a wonderful being. From his ability to tell secrets past and future, and his power to effect cures, he became known as the "prophet of Bethelnie." Owing to a distorted state of body, he could not engage in robust employment to obtain a subsistence. He therefore, to amuse himself, read such books as his parents' stinted means could afford. Though it was supposed he could scarcely read English, he carefully collected many curious books in French, Latin, Greek, Italian, and Spanish. He often retired to an old churchyard and church in ruins, near his residence, to hold converse (so he said) with spirits of the dead, which informed him of things unknown to ordinary men.

When property went amissing, the owner repaired to the "prophet;" when cattle died, he named the witch who had killed them; and when any one became sick, Adam Donald supplied a remedy either by charms or herbs. Every Sunday, for many years, people of all classes crowded to consult him either as a necromancer or physician. His fee seldom exceeded sixpence for each consultation, yet he lived in comparative comfort.

When far advanced in life, miserable-looking object though the "prophet" remained, he prevailed on one of the handsomest girls of his neighbourhood to marry him. This matrimonial alliance helped to strengthen the supposition that Adam possessed more than human power.

The prophet of Bethelnie, although he had offspring, went to his long home without instructing a successor in the secret art he for many years followed with pecuniary advantage. He saved his reputation by preserving silence. If the following anecdote be true, there can be little doubt that the prophet assisted to restore decaying nature by the use of amulets or charms.

An old woman, whose eyes had become dim by reason of years, purchased a charm from the prophet, which Adam assured her would revive her sight to its former[Pg 601] clearness. On the charm—hieroglyphics traced on parchment—being suspended from the neck, it proved effectual. In a short time the old woman could thread a small needle, and see to pick up a pin from the floor. A female neighbour, with impaired sight, hearing of the cure, begged the charm from the lucky owner, but she would not part with it. All the favour the applicant could obtain was permission to copy the hieroglyphics on paper. The copy thus obtained and worn by the second patient brightened up her eyes also. Adam's medicines excited love, and his charms secured affection.

Fifty or sixty years ago Kincardineshire had its wise women. At the time referred to, a recruiting sergeant (whom we shall call Donald Campbell), equally devoted to his sovereign and the fair sex, made a favourable impression on the inhabitants of a small town fifteen or twenty miles from Aberdeen. The parish minister, the parochial teacher, and the doctor had something favourable to say of the sergeant. Nurses and other servant-maids could see nothing but the sergeant's red-coat; and it was whispered that even the young ladies smiled on him. Indeed that must have been so, for we are told that every one welcomed the Highlander: even the little children ran to meet him; and how heartily he did kiss them, but whether for their own sakes or the love he bore to their nurses, sisters, or aunts, none could tell. This, however, is certain: he did not encourage the shoemaker's sister, the tailor's daughter, nor the buxom widow who presided at the little inn. His affections were concentrated on a lady whom one could scarcely expect to yield her heart to such a humble son of Mars. The fair one was no less a personage than the daughter of Captain B—— of U——, a lady well known for miles around for her courage and love of out-door sports. Few could manage a high-spirited horse better than Rose Bloomer (by this name we introduce the young lady to our readers),[Pg 602] or clear a fence with greater ease. And as for the fishing-rod and fowling-piece, she could handle them as dexterously as any disciple of Isaac Walton or of Nimrod could desire. True, she was not what is generally termed a beauty: her features, though not coarse, were scarcely those a sculptor or a painter would desire to have before him while completing his "Venus" for the next fine-art exhibition. In her short stout figure and determined look were indications of a strong-minded woman. Miss Bloomer, having lost her mother in early life, and her father being devoted to the chase, pedestrianism, and other athletic sports congenial to most country gentlemen, the young lady, his only child, had ample scope for indulging her inclinations.

Sergeant Campbell greatly admired Miss Bloomer's dexterity. Often did he watch her guidance of a high-mettled steed, now urging it to its utmost speed, and then reining in the impatient animal. The sergeant, we have said, greatly admired Miss Bloomer's dexterity; but, what is more, he resolved to secure her hand in marriage. Plan after plan, laid with the view of obtaining an introduction, failed. The lady frequently passed him without deigning to cast her eyes on his red-coat. Why should she? Was he not a poor soldier? and was she not a match for the best young gentleman in the county? These and like questions occurred to Campbell, and more than once made him almost despair of securing the lady's affections. Again and again his drooping spirits revived; his pertinacity had no bounds. What could not be secured, thought he, by ordinary means, might be obtained by extraordinary measures.

Sergeant Campbell, learned in the superstitions of his native land, believed them with a child-like faith. He had heard of Lucky Lightfoot, the spaewife; and to her he went for assistance. The old woman, on hearing the sergeant's tale, requested him to leave with her a gold[Pg 603] ring he was wearing—a request he complied with. A few days afterwards the woman returned the soldier his ring, now charmed, with instructions to endeavour to get Miss Bloomer to wear it, though but for a few minutes.

In her frequent rambles along the banks of a meandering stream, the beauties of which Arthur Johnstone had celebrated in Latin verse, and regarding which Thomas the Rhymer had uttered prophecies, Campbell, unnoticed, followed Miss Bloomer, in the hope that fortune would favour him some day. She botanized, fished, and shot, unheeding her secret admirer. One day, to his delight, he observed her coming along a footpath, and resolved to drop the ring, in the hope that she would pick it up. Having left it in a conspicuous place, he retired into a thicket to watch the result. The lady, seeing the ring, took it up, examined it, and having no pocket or purse, put it on one of her fingers, and, as fate would have it, on the fourth finger of the left hand—the finger the Greeks discovered, from anatomy, had a little highly sensitive nerve going straight from it to the heart. "Now," thought he, "she is mine. I shall follow her, and ask whether she has found my ring;" but before he could muster courage to carry his resolution into effect, Miss Bloomer disappeared.

With the view of discovering the owner, she continued to wear the ring. Unexpectedly, Fred and Georgina Hopper, her cousins, while driving past, stopped to take dinner, and to them she showed the ring. Fred, who was an inveterate joker, made it the subject of several jests, all of which Miss Bloomer bore with good humour; but when Miss Hopper suggested that the ring might belong to some mean person, and hinted that it was an act of impropriety to wear it, the blood rushed to Miss Bloomer's cheeks; and she clenched her little fist, but for what purpose did not transpire.

[Pg 604]In the evening the cousins drove away, leaving Miss Bloomer in anything but a pleasant mood. Evidently the charm had commenced to take effect, or Miss Hopper's remarks had disturbed the young lady's equanimity.

Still wearing the ring, Miss Bloomer retired to rest, or rather to bed, for during the night she was restless, tossing from side to side like one in delirium. One, two, three struck on the old clock, and still sleep did not come to soothe her disturbed brain. Whether in a sleeping or waking state she could not tell, but a regiment of armed men, with the recruiting sergeant at their head, seemed to pass before her, while in the distance there appeared ships at anchor in a large commodious bay. At four o'clock the lady stood at her window admiring the beautiful scenery. Retiring again to rest, she fell asleep, and did not waken before her accustomed time of rising.

After breakfast Miss Bloomer went out, as usual, to follow the bent of her mind. She had not gone far, before Sergeant Campbell approached her in a most respectful manner, and inquired if she had found a ring the previous day. It was scarcely necessary for her to return an answer, because there before him, on her ungloved hand, the ring appeared. As she handed it to him, an indescribable sensation ran through her whole frame. They entered into conversation; and how long they walked and chatted together, and what were the subjects of their conversation, we shall not pause to mention: sufficient to say that, before they parted, an early meeting was arranged. In due time, and quickly after each other, other meetings took place.

In course of time, old dames hinted that if the lady continued to keep tryst in the romantic secluded spots of her father's domains with such a fine-looking soldier as Campbell, she would provoke the goddess supposed to preside over love affairs, and most likely entitle herself to a rush-ring only on her wedding-day, instead of the[Pg 605] customary gold one. But the evil prophetesses were wrong for once. Seldom did a recruiting party forward more stalwart soldiers to headquarters than Sergeant Campbell and his subordinates did. Indeed he owed much of his success to Miss Bloomer's exertions. She proved a valuable assistant; for, through her persuasion, a large number of young men on her father's estate were induced to enlist, and leave the homes of their youth for ever.

Happy days of single bliss cannot last for ever. Before three short months had passed, Sergeant Campbell and Miss Bloomer observed more than once the finger of scorn pointed at them. Threats were made by the parents of certain young men who had enlisted, to make known the conduct of the young lady and her lover to Captain Bloomer. What was to be done? Miss Bloomer's reputation was at stake, and the sergeant's life endangered, as will afterwards appear.

The betrothed pair (by this time Sergeant Campbell and Miss Bloomer were engaged to be married) perceived the necessity of acting promptly, and therefore they resolved to elope. An obstacle, however, stood in the way of their doing so immediately. If the sergeant abandoned his station, he would be pursued, arrested, and dealt with as a deserter. Miss Bloomer, equal to the occasion, resolved to "buy him off."

The discharge from the army being obtained, and the indispensable arrangements for a long journey completed, the sergeant and his true love secretly departed for Aberdeen, where they were united for better and worse—not by a clergyman, but by a magistrate, before whom they went and declared themselves to be husband and wife—a ceremony as binding by the law of Scotland as if there had been regular proclamation of banns, according to custom, in the parish church, and they had been married by an ordained minister. In place of a new marriage ring[Pg 606] being placed on the bride's finger by the gallant sergeant, he, at her request, put on the charmed ring, the magical power of which she confessed could not be resisted.

Having shown the effect of Lucky Lightfoot's subtle art, we might take leave of the subject; but as the career of Mrs. Campbell (Mr. Campbell did not survive long) is peculiarly interesting, particularly in connection with a class that has created no small stir on both sides of the Atlantic, we shall pursue our narrative a little further.

The newly married couple, not considering themselves safe from pursuit in the Granite City, posted south, and reached the Clyde in less than twenty-four hours, where they secured a passage on board a vessel bound for America.

As soon as Captain Bloomer heard of his daughter's elopement, his rage could not be restrained. Arming himself with a brace of pistols, and mounting his fleetest steed (and a valuable stud he had), he rode in pursuit, stopping not before he reached Aberdeen. Not finding the fugitives there, he hastened to Edinburgh, with the twofold object of bringing back his daughter and shooting her companion in flight. After diligent inquiry in the city, he obtained what he considered reliable information that they had proceeded in the direction of the Borders, to be married at Gretna Green, a village celebrated as a place where many distinguished and obscure persons have been married by a blacksmith. As the reader already knows, the offended father went in the wrong direction.

Months passed before the captain's equanimity became restored; but time, the alleviator of sorrow and best soother of a turbulent spirit, brought a favourable change.

Mr. and Mrs. Campbell arrived safe in America, the land of their adoption, with little more means than sufficient to provide for their immediate wants. After love's first fever ended, calm reflection followed. Romance disappeared before the stern realities of life. Friends[Pg 607] they had few, relations none, in the wild wide expanse of America. Mrs. Campbell became home-sick: the scenes of her father's mansion, and everything pleasant connected with the estate, rose before her mind's eye. Above all, she constantly thought of her father with more than half regret at the rash act she had been guilty of. Then she did what most young ladies would do under similar circumstances—wrote to her father asking forgiveness. Before Captain Bloomer received the letter, the last spark of anger in his breast had given place to paternal anxiety. Left alone without wife or child, gladly would he have welcomed her home, had not prudential reasons rendered it necessary to keep father and daughter separate. Her letter gave great satisfaction; and he resolved to assist her and her husband. Through an English friend, a sufficient amount was remitted to America, to enable Mr. Campbell to purchase an estate. The young couple settled down comfortably in an improving locality, with every prospect of comfort and happiness.

Before the fifth winter of Mr. and Mrs. Campbell's married life had passed, Mr. Campbell died, leaving his wife alone (they had no issue) in a far distant country. Mrs. Campbell returned to Scotland, and took up her residence in Edinburgh for a few years. Again a brave defender of his country led the lady to the hymeneal altar. The union proved an unhappy one: Mrs. Smith (this, though a common name, is the cognomen by which she will now be known) separated from her husband, and sailed once more for America. Preferring town life to solitude in the forest, Mrs. Smith settled down (if such could be said of one possessed of bustling active habits like hers) in the greatest city of the United States. To augment an income rendered small through the misfortune and death of her father, she became a journalist. Her papers were favourably received, being pointed and piquant. Her talents were chiefly directed to the support[Pg 608] of women's rights; and she became a leader of the class of strong-minded women, still seeking to assert their rights in politics, science, and art.

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