fifty
years before the commencement of our history, when it was much damaged
by a casual fire; and the Laird of the day, having just succeeded to a
more pleasant and commodious dwelling at the distance of about three
miles from the village, determined to abandon the habitation of his
ancestors. As he cut down at the same time an ancient rookery, (perhaps
to defray the expenses of the migration,) it became a common remark
among the country folk, that the decay of St. Ronan's began when Laird
Lawrence and the crows flew off.

The deserted mansion, however, was not consigned to owls and birds of
the desert; on the contrary, for many years it witnessed more fun and
festivity than when it had been the sombre abode of a grave Scottish
Baron of "auld lang syne." In short, it was converted into an inn, and
marked by a huge sign, representing on the one side St. Ronan catching
hold of the devil's game leg with his Episcopal crook, as the story may
be read in his veracious legend, and on the other the Mowbray arms. It
was by far the best frequented public-house in that vicinity; and a
thousand stories were told of the revels which had been held within its
walls, and the gambols achieved under the influence of its liquors. All
this, however, had long since passed away, according to the lines in my
frontispiece,

"A merry place, 'twas said, in days of yore;
But something ail'd it now,--the place was cursed."

The worthy couple (servants and favourites of the Mowbray family) who
first kept the inn, had died reasonably wealthy, after long carrying on
a flourishing trade, leaving behind them an only daughter. They had
acquired by degrees not only the property of the inn itself, of which
they were originally tenants, but of some remarkably good meadow-land by
the side of the brook, which, when touched by a little pecuniary
necessity, the Lairds of St. Ronan's had disposed of piecemeal, as the
readiest way to portion off a daughter, procure a commission for the
younger son, and the like emergencies. So that Meg Dods, when she
succeeded to her parents, was a considerable heiress, and, as such, had
the honour of refusing three topping-farmers, two bonnet-lairds, and a
horse-couper, who successively made proposals to her.

Many bets were laid on the horse-couper's success, but the knowing ones
were taken in. Determined to ride the fore-horse herself, Meg would
admit no helpmate who might soon assert the rights of a master; and