St. Ronans Well | Page 6

committed a
literary suicide in this unhappy attempt. The voices, therefore, were, for
a time, against Saint Ronan's on the southern side of the Tweed.
In the author's own country, it was otherwise. Many of the characters

were recognised as genuine Scottish portraits, and the good fortune
which had hitherto attended the productions of the Author of Waverley,
did not desert, notwithstanding the ominous vaticinations of its
censurers, this new attempt, although out of his ordinary style.
1st February, 1832.

ST. RONAN'S WELL.
CHAPTER I.
AN OLD-WORLD LANDLADY.
But to make up my tale, She breweth good ale, And thereof maketh
sale.
SKELTON.
Although few, if any, of the countries of Europe, have increased so
rapidly in wealth and cultivation as Scotland during the last half
century, Sultan Mahmoud's owls might nevertheless have found in
Caledonia, at any term within that flourishing period, their dowery of
ruined villages. Accident or local advantages have, in many instances,
transferred the inhabitants of ancient hamlets, from the situations which
their predecessors chose with more respect to security than convenience,
to those in which their increasing industry and commerce could more
easily expand itself; and hence places which stand distinguished in
Scottish history, and which figure in David M'Pherson's excellent
historical map,[I-A][I-1] can now only be discerned from the wild moor
by the verdure which clothes their site, or, at best, by a few scattered
ruins, resembling pinfolds, which mark the spot of their former
existence.
The little village of St. Ronan's, though it had not yet fallen into the
state of entire oblivion we have described, was, about twenty years
since, fast verging towards it. The situation had something in it so

romantic, that it provoked the pencil of every passing tourist; and we
will endeavour, therefore, to describe it in language which can scarcely
be less intelligible than some of their sketches, avoiding, however, for
reasons which seem to us of weight, to give any more exact indication
of the site, than that it is on the southern side of the Forth, and not
above thirty miles distant from the English frontier.
A river of considerable magnitude pours its streams through a narrow
vale, varying in breadth from two miles to a fourth of that distance, and
which, being composed of rich alluvial soil, is, and has long been,
enclosed, tolerably well inhabited, and cultivated with all the skill of
Scottish agriculture. Either side of this valley is bounded by a chain of
hills, which, on the right in particular, may be almost termed mountains.
Little brooks arising in these ridges, and finding their way to the river,
offer each its own little vale to the industry of the cultivator. Some of
them bear fine large trees, which have as yet escaped the axe, and upon
the sides of most there are scattered patches and fringes of natural
copsewood, above and around which the banks of the stream arise,
somewhat desolate in the colder months, but in summer glowing with
dark purple heath, or with the golden lustre of the broom and gorse.
This is a sort of scenery peculiar to those countries, which abound, like
Scotland, in hills and in streams, and where the traveller is ever and
anon discovering in some intricate and unexpected recess, a simple and
silvan beauty, which pleases him the more, that it seems to be
peculiarly his own property as the first discoverer.
In one of these recesses, and so near its opening as to command the
prospect of the river, the broader valley, and the opposite chain of hills,
stood, and, unless neglect and desertion have completed their work,
still stands, the ancient and decayed village of St. Ronan's. The site was
singularly picturesque, as the straggling street of the village ran up a
very steep hill, on the side of which were clustered, as it were, upon
little terraces, the cottages which composed the place, seeming, as in
the Swiss towns on the Alps, to rise above each other towards the ruins
of an old castle, which continued to occupy the crest of the eminence,
and the strength of which had doubtless led the neighbourhood to
assemble under its walls for protection. It must, indeed, have been a

place of formidable defence, for, on the side opposite to the town, its
walls rose straight up from the verge of a tremendous and rocky
precipice, whose base was washed by Saint Ronan's burn, as the brook
was entitled. On the southern side, where the declivity was less
precipitous, the ground had been carefully levelled into successive
terraces, which ascended to the summit of the hill, and were, or rather
had been, connected by staircases of stone, rudely ornamented. In
peaceful periods these terraces had been occupied by the gardens of the
Castle, and in times of