Catriona, Robert Louis Stevenson [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

Catriona

By Robert Louis Stevenson.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Dedication Catriona Part I: The Lord Advocate I: A Beggar on Horseback II: The Highland Writer III: I Go to Pilrig IV: Lord Advocate Preston Grange V: In the Advocate’s House VI: Umquile the Master of Lovat VII: I Make a Fault in Honor VIII: The Bravo IX: The Heather on Fire X: The Redheaded Man XI: The Wood by Silvermills XII: On the March Again with Alan XIII: Gillane Sands XIV: The Bass XV: Black Andie’s Tale of Tod Lapraik XVI: The Missing Witness XVII: The Memorial XVIII: The Tee’d Ball XIX: I Am Much in the Hands of the Ladies XX: I Continue to Move in Good Society Part II: Father and Daughter XXI: The Voyage Into Holland XXII: Helvoetsluys XXIII: Travels in Holland XXIV: Full Story of a Copy of Heineccius XXV: The Return of James More XXVI: The Threesome XXVII: A Twosome XXVIII: In Which I Am Left Alone XXIX: We Meet in Dunkirk XXX: The Letter from the Ship Conclusion Endnotes Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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Dedication

To Charles Baxter

Writer to the Signet

My Dear Charles:

It is the fate of sequels to disappoint those who have waited for them; and, my David having been left to kick his heels for more than a lustre in the British Linen Company’s office, must expect his late reappearance to be greeted with hoots, if not with missiles. Yet, when I remember the days of our explorations, I am not without hope. There should be left in our native city some seed of the elect; some long-legged, hotheaded youth must repeat today our dreams and wanderings of so many years ago; he will relish the pleasure, which should have been ours, to follow among named streets and numbered houses the country walks of David Balfour, to identify Dean, and Silvermills, and Broughton, and Hope Park and Pilrig, and poor old Lochend⁠—if it still be standing, and the Figgate Whins⁠—if there be any of them left; or to push (on a long holiday) so far afield as Gillane or the Bass. So, perhaps, his eye shall be opened to behold the series of the generations, and he shall weigh with surprise his momentous and nugatory gift of life.

You are still⁠—as when first I saw, as when I last addressed you⁠—in the venerable city which I must always think of as my home. And I have come so far; and the sights and thoughts of my youth pursue me; and I see like a vision the youth of my father, and of his father, and the whole stream of lives flowing down there, far in the north, with the sound of laughter and tears, to cast me out in the end, as by a sudden freshet, on these ultimate islands. And I admire and bow my head before the romance of destiny.

R. L. S.

Valima, Upolu, Samoa, 1892.

Catriona Being Memoirs of the Further Adventures of David Balfour at Home and Abroad Part I The Lord Advocate I A Beggar on Horseback

The 25th day of August, 1751, about two in the afternoon, I, David Balfour, came forth of the British Linen Company, a porter attending me with a bag of money, and some of the chief of these merchants bowing me from their doors. Two days before, and even so late as yestermorning, I was like a beggarman by the wayside, clad in rags, brought down to my last shillings, my companion a condemned traitor, a price set on my own head for a crime with the news of which the country rang. Today I was served heir to my position in life, a landed laird, a bank porter by me carrying my gold, recommendations in my pocket, and (in the words of the saying) the ball directly at my foot.

There were two circumstances that served me as ballast to so much sail. The first was the very difficult and deadly business I had still to handle; the second, the place that I was in. The tall, black city, and the numbers and movement and noise of so many folk, made a new world for me, after the moorland braes, the sea-sands, and the still countrysides that I had frequented up to then. The throng of the citizens in particular abashed me. Rankeillor’s son was short and small in the girth; his clothes scarce held on me; and it was plain I was ill qualified to strut in the front of a bank-porter. It was plain, if I did so, I should but set folk laughing, and (what was worse in my case) set them asking questions. So that I behooved to come by some clothes of my