[VISIT TO PEEBLESSHIRE.
In the autumn of 1797, Walter Scott, accompanied by his brother John, and Adam Ferguson, made an excursion to the borders of Cumberland, taking in their way the mansion of Hallyards, in the parish of Manor, Peeblesshire, where Dr Adam Ferguson was now temporarily settled with his family. Here Scott resided for a few days, visiting Barns and other places in the neighbourhood. In a small cottage on the property of Woodhouse resided a poor and singular recluse, dwarfed and decrepit, by name David Ritchie, who was visited as one of the curiosities of the district; and it was doubtless on this occasion that Scott received those impressions which afterwards figured in the character of the ‘Black Dwarf.’
Ritchie, with all his oddities, had a deep veneration for learning; and as he was told that Scott was a young advocate, he invested him with extraordinary interest. Ferguson gave an amusing account of the interview. He and his companion were accommodated with seats in the lowly and dingy hut. After grinning upon Scott for a moment with a smile less bitter than his wont, the dwarf passed to the door, double-locked it, and then, coming up to the stranger, seized him by the wrist with one of his hands, and said: ‘Man, hae ye ony poo’er?’ By this he meant magical power, to which he had himself some vague pretensions, or which, at least, he had studied and reflected upon till it had become with him a kind of monomania. Scott disavowed the possession of any gifts of this kind, evidently to the great disappointment of the inquirer, who then turned round and gave a signal to a huge black cat, hithertounobserved, which immediately jumped up to a shelf, where it perched itself, and seemed to the excited senses of the visitors as if it had really been the familiar spirit of the mansion. ‘Hehas poo’er,’ said the dwarf, in a voice which made the flesh of the hearers thrill, and Scott, in particular, looked as if he conceived himself to have actually got into the den of one of those magicians with whom his studies had rendered him familiar. ‘Ay, he has poo’er,’ repeated the recluse, and then going to his usual seat, he sat for some minutes grinning horribly, as if enjoying the impression he had made; while not a word escaped from any of the party. Mr Ferguson at length plucked up his spirits, and called to David to open the door, as they must now be going. The dwarf slowly obeyed; and when they had got out, Mr Ferguson observed that his friend was as pale as ashes, while his person was agitated in every limb. Under such striking circumstances was this extraordinary being first presented to therealmagician, who was afterwards to give him such a deathless celebrity.
Before quitting the district, Scott had an opportunity of visiting the old inn and posting establishment of Miss Ritchie in Peebles, then, and for ten or twelve years later, the principal place of accommodation for travellers. Miss Ritchie, an elderly lady, was somewhat of an original in manner, and there can be little doubt that her peculiarities furnished such recollections as were afterwards matured in the character of ‘Meg Dods of the Cleikum Inn, St Ronans.’ Proceeding southwards, the tourists at length reached Carlisle, and extended their excursion to Penrith and other places of interest in Cumberland, where an incident occurred that requires more than a casual notice.]