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No one spoke to Domsie as we went down the cart track, with the ripe corn standing on either side, but he beckoned Chalmers to walk with him. "Ye hae heard him speak o' me, then, Maister Jamieson?" "Ay, oftentimes, and he said once that ye were hard driven, but that ye had trampled Satan under yir feet."
A moment ago she sent me a message by Chalmers saying she wanted to speak to me about something important. I dashed into my clothes expecting to find her downstairs, but she'd disappeared." "It is odd. Still, I should find out if the doctor is about. I hear he was going to drive her into Cannes." "Oh, was he? I'll look for him."
'I have, he said in a letter dispatched from Port Chalmers on the voyage out, 'the greatest admiration for the officers and men, and feel that their allegiance to me is a thing assured. This spirit of good-fellowship and give-and-take was a remarkable feature of life during the time spent in the Discovery, and the only man Scott had a word to say against was the cook.
He was nearly out on his feet, feet where broken boots were mired within inches of their tops. Drew put down his cup and jumped up to steady the man. "General Forrest's compliments, suh. Will you bring up the division to join General Chalmers? The battle's on at Nashville, and it may be necessary to form a rear guard for a retreat " He got the message out mechanically in a croak.
His female correspondents were women of superior intelligence and accomplishments. They can lay claim to a large proportion of his letters. Mrs. McLehose takes forty-eight; Mrs. Dunlop, forty-two; Maria Riddell, eighteen; Peggy Chalmers, eleven. These four ladies received among them rather more than one-fourth of the whole of his published correspondence.
It was eight o'clock of the evening above referred to, when a chaise entered the old avenue, passed the ruins of the Tower and the old mansion-house, and drew up immediately opposite old Adam Chalmers. The steps were immediately let down, and out sprung, with a bound, the long lost child, the blooming and matronly looking Mrs Wilson.
In 1846, she left her native land for ever, as the melancholy event proved to join Mr and Mrs Spring in a European tour. Her letters home contain much pleasant gossip about some of the Old-World notabilities. Thus she records her interviews with Wordsworth in his Rydal retreat, with Dr Chalmers, Dr Andrew Combe, Mr De Quincey, the Howitts, &c.
There is only one effectual way of dealing with things one does not want to do make past history of them as fast as possible. Very soon after entering the garden I asked Mr. Chalmers, who was mildly interested in the beauties before him, to sit down with me. Without further dallying, I went straight to the point of the interview.
Forty years later a thrill of horror electrified the world when the cables flashed from land to land the terrible tidings that James Chalmers, the most picturesque and romantic figure in the religious life of his time, had been killed and eaten by the Fly River cannibals. It is the evening of Easter Sunday.
Early next day I cornered Jane privately and told her of the conversation I had overheard the night before and the visitor I was expecting, adding, "This is Orphan Asylum day. I can't go, but take Zura with you. I don't want her to see that Chalmers boy again. He's too friendly, too highly colored to suit my ideas."
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