In the smoking-room, to which my host now led me, was a packet, fastened with many seals and enclosed in a single sheet of strong paper thus endorsed: 

CONTENTS

 Papers relating to the lives and lamentable deaths of the late Lord Durisdeer, and his elder brother James, commonly called Master of Ballantrae, attainted in the troubles: entrusted into the hands of John M’Brair in the Lawnmarket of Edinburgh, W.S.; this 20th day of September Anno Domini 1789; by him to be kept secret until the revolution of one hundred years complete, or until the 20th day of September 1889: the same compiled and written by me, Ephraim Mackellar, 

Ephraim Mackellar

 For near forty years Land Steward on the estates of his Lordship. 

 As Mr. Thomson is a married man, I will not say what hour had struck when we laid down the last of the following pages; but I will give a few words of what ensued. 

 “Here,” said Mr. Thomson, “is a novel ready to your hand: all you have to do is to work up the scenery, develop the characters, and improve the style.” 

 “My dear fellow,” said I, “they are just the three things that I would rather die than set my hand to. It shall be published as it stands.” 

 “But it’s so bald,” objected Mr. Thomson. 

 “I believe there is nothing so noble as baldness,” replied I, “and I am sure there is nothing so interesting. I would have all literature bald, and all authors (if you like) but one.” 

 “Well, well,” add Mr. Thomson, “we shall see.” 

 

CHAPTER I. SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THIS MASTER’S WANDERINGS.

 The full truth of this odd matter is what the world has long been looking for, and public curiosity is sure to welcome. It so befell that I was intimately mingled with the last years and history of the house; and there does not live one man so able as myself to make these matters plain, or so desirous to narrate them faithfully. I knew the Master; on many secret steps of his career I have an authentic memoir in my hand; I sailed with him on his last voyage almost alone; I made one upon that winter’s journey of which so many tales have gone abroad; and I was there at the man’s death. 

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