It was early in the month of June，1751，when I shut the door of our house behind me for the last time．All my life I had lived in the quiet little village of Essendean，in the Lowlands of Scotland，where my father had been the dominie，or schoolteacher．But now that he and my mother were both dead，I had to leave the house．The new dominie would soon arrive，and he would teach at the school and live in the dominie's house．So，although I was only seventeen，there was nowhere for me to live，and no reason for me to stay in Essendean．

But my heart was beating with excitement as I walked down the road，because in my hand I carried the letter that my father had given me just before he died．‘Davie，’he had said，‘when I am dead，take this to the house of Shaws，near Cramond．That's where I came from，and that's where you must go．Put this letter into the hands of Ebenezer Balfour．’

Balfour！The same name as my own！It was the first time I had heard of any of our family outside Essendean．

So I decided to walk to Cramond，hoping that perhaps this Mr Balfour，in his fine big house，would receive me kindly，and help me to become a rich man one day．With my plaid over my shoulder，I walked fast up the hill away from the village．What an adventure，to leave that sleepy place，where nothing ever happened，and go to a great，busy house，to be with rich and important people of my own name and blood！But when I reached the top of the hill，I turned a little sadly，to take my last look at the dominie's house，and Essendean churchyard，where my father and mother lay．

My journey northwards took almost two days．By midday on the second day I could see the smoking chimneys of Edinburgh in front of me，and soon I arrived in Cramond．

Now I began to ask people on the road for the house of Shaws．Their answers worried me a little．Some people seemed surprised，some afraid，and some angry，when I spoke the name of Ebenezer Balfour．I could not understand this，but it was too far to go back to Essendean that day， and I wanted to find the rest of the Balfour family very much So I continued on my way，and when I met a dark，wild-looking woman coming towards me，I asked her where the house of Shaws was She took me to the top of the next hill，and showed me a large building standing alone in the bottom of the next valley．Although the fields around were green，and the farmland was excellent，the house itself looked unfinished and empty．Part of its roof was missing．There was no road to it，and no smoke coming from any of its chimneys，nor was there any garden． ‘That！’I cried．‘No，it can't be！’ ‘It is！’cried the woman angrily．‘That is the house of Shaws！Blood built it，blood stopped the building of if，and blood shall bring it down！Black is the heart of Ebenezer Balfour！Ye can tell him from me that I hope to see him die，and his house fall down around him！’ The woman turned and disappeared．I stood where she left me，shaking like a leaf，and looking down at the house for a long time．But when it began to get dark，I noticed some smoke coming out of the chimney，and felt a little more hope ful．‘There must be a fire，and cooking，and people in the house，’I thought．So I walked up to the front door．The house seemed locked up and unwelcoming，but there was fire light shining through the kitchen window，and I could hear someone talking quietly to himself．Bravely，I lifted my hand and knocked loudly on the strong wooden door．The house was suddenly silent，and there was no reply．I knocked and knocked，and shouted as loudly as I could．Finally，the win dow opened，and a man holding a gun put his head out．

‘What do ye want？’he asked．

‘I've come here with a letter for Mr Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws．Is he here？’

‘Who is it from？’asked the man with the gun．

‘That's none of your business，’I replied，getting angry．

‘Well，put the letter down by the door，and leave．’

‘I will not！’I answered sharply．‘I'm going to give it to Mr Balfour himself．The letter introduces me to him．’

‘Who are ye then？’was the next question．

‘I'm not ashamed of my name． It's David Balfour．’

The man almost dropped his gun．After a long while，he asked in a changed voice，‘Is your father dead？’I was too surprised to answer，but he continued，‘Aye，he must be dead，and that's why ye have come．Well，man，I'll let ye in，’and he disappeared from the window．

Now the door was unlocked，and a voice from the darkness said，‘Go into the kitchen and touch nothing．’I obeyed，while the man locked the heavy door carefully again．I found myself in the emptiest kitchen that I had ever seen．There was a fire，but no other light．On the table was a bowl of porridge and a glass of water，in front of the only chair．Around the walls were several locked chests．There was no other furniture．The man who now appeared in the kitchen was small，mean-looking and white-faced，between fifty and sev enty years old，and wearing a dirty old nightshirt．The worst thing about him was that he could neither take his eyes away from me，nor look straight into my face．

‘If ye're hungry，’he said，‘ye can eat that porridge．It's grand food，porridge！Let me see the letter！’

‘It's for Mr Balfour，not you，’I replied．

‘And who do ye think I am？Give me Alexander's letter！Ye may not like me or my house or my porridge，but I'm your born uncle，Davie，my man！’

This was the end of all my hopes．I was too tired and miser able to speak，so I silently gave him the letter，and sat down to eat the porridge．

‘Your father's been dead a long time？’he asked，giving me a quick look from his sharp eyes．

‘Three weeks，sir，’I said．

‘He was a secretive man，Alexander was．Perhaps he didn't talk much about me？ Or about the house of Shaws？’

‘I never knew he had a brother，sir，or ever heard the name of Shaws．’

‘To think of that！’he replied．‘A strange man！’But he seemed very pleased，and began to look at me with more inter est．Soon he jumped up and said，‘We're going to get on well，Davie！What's mine is yours，man，and what's yours is mine．Blood's thicker than water，and there's only ye and me of the name of Balfour． Now I'll show ye to your bed．’

He took me up some dark stairs and showed me into a room．I could not see anything． ‘Can I have a light，sir？’I asked． ‘No，ye can't．No lights in this house！I'm afraid of fires，ye see．Good night to ye，Davie，my man．’And before I had time to reply，he pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside．The room was very cold，but luckily I had my plaid with me，so I covered myself with it like a blanket，and soon fell asleep．

The next day my uncle and I had a small bowl of porridge and a glass of water for breakfast，lunch and supper．He did not speak much to me，but was clearly thinking hard．I often noticed him looking at me，while pretending to do something different， and he never left me alone in the kitchen with the locked chests，in which，I supposed，he kept his money．I did not like the way he looked at me，and began to wonder if he was a little crazy，and perhaps dangerous．

After supper he said suddenly，‘Davie，I've been thinking．I promised your father a bit of money for ye before ye were born．A promise is a promise—and so I'm going to give ye…forty pounds！’ These last words seemed very painful to him．He added，in a kind of scream，‘Scots！’

A Scottish pound was the same as an English shilling．I could see that his story was a lie，so I laughed at him，saying，‘Oh，think again，sir！English pounds，surely！’

‘That's what I said，'replied my uncle quickly．‘Go outside for a moment，and I'll g............