 CHAPTER 36 The Laird O'Logy In 1592 the Earl of Bothwell Francis Stewart failed in an attempt against King James VI, whom he tried to surprise in the Palace of Falkland. Among his adherents, whom he sought about the king's person, was the hero of this ballad, The Laird of Logy, who was taken prisoner and laid in Edinburgh Chapel in the keeping of Sir John Carmichael, the hero of the ballad called The Raid of Reedswire. Carmichael was at this time captain of the king's guard and had the keeping of state criminals. I will sing, if ye will hearken, if ye will hearken unto me, The king has tain a poor prisoner, the wanton Laird, or young Logy. Young Logy's laid in Edinburgh Chapel, Carmichael's the keeper of the key, And May Margaret's lamenting sir, all for the love of young Logy. Lament, lament now, May Margaret, and of your weeping let me be, For you mount to the king himself to seek the life of young Logy. May Margaret has kilted her green-clothing, And she has curled back her yellow hair. If I canna get young Logy's life, farewell to Scotland for ever, ma'er. When she came before the king, she kneeled it lowly on her knee. Oh, what's the matter, May Margaret, and what needs all this courtesy? A boon, a boon, my noble liege, a boon, a boon, I beg of thee, And the first boon that I come to crave, is to grant me the life of young Logy. Oh, now, oh, now, May Margaret, for sooth and so it might not be, For all the gold of fair Scotland shall not save the life of young Logy. But she has stolen the king's red inkame, likewise the queen her wedding knife, And sent the tokens to Carmichael, to cause young Logy get his life. She sent him a purse of the red gold, another of the white money. She sent him a pistol for each hand, and bade him shoot when he got free. When he came to the Tollbooth Stair, there he let his volley flee. It made the king in his chamber start, in in the bed where he might be. Gae out, gae out, my merry men all, and bid Carmichael come speak to me, For I'll lay my life the pleasure that, that yons the shot, a young Logy. When Carmichael came before the king, he fell low down upon his knee. The very first word that the king spake was, Where's the lad, a young Logy? Carmichael turned him round about, I watched the tear blind at his ear. He, there came a token for your grace, has tain away the lad for me. Has thou played me that, Carmichael? And has thou played me that, Quoth he? The mourn, the justice courts to stand, and Logy's place you morn supply. Carmichael's away to Margaret's bower, even as fast as he may dreary. Oh, if young Logy be within, tell him to come and speak with me. May Margaret turned her round about, I what a loud laugh left she. The egg is chipped, the bird is flown. He'll see, nay, Mayor, a young Logy. Jamie Telfa of the Fair Dodd Head Note, the Telfas, though they had become scotch at the time of this ballad, were originally a Norman family descended from the night Ty Fair cut iron, who came over with William the Conqueror. Tis I, Jamie Telfa of the Fair Dodd Head, and a harried man I think I be. There's nothing left at the Fair Dodd Head, but a woeful wife and Barney's three. About Martin Mustime, when border steeds get corn and hay, the captain of Buchussel rode over to Tivydale to Forage. And first he met a guide in hard horse-wire, and next he met a guide low down in Borthwick water. What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide? No tidings have I, yet if ye go to the Fair Dodd Head, I'll let ye see many a cow's calf. Right hastily they came to the Fair Dodd Head, loosed the cows, and ransacked the house. Jamie Telfa's heart was sore when he saw this, and the tears ran down his cheeks, and he pleaded with the captain to give him back his gear, or else he would have revenge upon him. But the captain only laughed and said, Man, there's nothing in thy house but an old sword without a sheath that could scarcely kill a mouse. The sun was not up, though the moon had gone down, and there was a sprinkling of new fallen snow upon the ground, when Jamie Telfa ran ten miles a foot between the Dodd Head and Stobbs Hall. When he came to the tower gate he shouted aloud, and old Gibby Alligott came out and asked the meaning of such disturbance. It is I, Jamie Telfa, of the Fair Dodd Head, and a harried man am I, for nothing is left at Fair Dodd Head but a sad wife and three bannies. Go and seek help at Branksome Hall, for you shall get none from me. Seek help where ye paid blackmail, for man, never did you pay me any. James turned him about, his eyes blinded with tears. Never shall I pay blackmail again to Elliot. My hounds may all run masterless, my hawks may fly as they will from tree to tree, and my lord may seize the lands of his vassal, for never shall I see again the Fair Dodd Head. He turned him to Tyviot side, and made as fast as he could for Coulthart Clouffe, and there he shouted aloud until out came old jock grieve, and asked who it was that made such a noise. It is I, Jamie Telfa, of the Fair Dodd Head, and a harried man am I, for nothing is left at Fair Dodd Head but a weeping wife and three bannies, and six poor calves stand in the stall crying aloud for their mothers. Alack, quoth jock grieve, alack my heart is sore for thee, for I married the eldest of three sisters, and you married the youngest. So he took out his bonny black horse, right well fed with corn and hay, and set Jamie Telfa on his back to take his troubles to Catslock Hill. When he came to Catslock Hill he shouted aloud, until out came Williams Watt to ask what was the matter. It is I, Jamie Telfa, of the Fair Dodd Head, and a harried man am I, the captain of Bue Castle has driven away my gear, for God's sake rise and help me. Alack, and alack, quoth Williams Watt, my heart is sore for thee, never did I yet come to the Fair Dodd Head and found thy basket bare. He said his two sons on coal-black steeds, and he himself mounted a freckled grey, and with Jamie they rode to Branksome Hall, where they shouted so loud and high that old beclew came out to ask what was the matter. It is I, Jamie Telfa, of the Fair Dodd Head, and a harried man am I, there's not left at Fair Dodd Head but a weeping wife and three bannies. Alack, quoth the good old lord, my heart is sorry for thee, go call Willie my son to come speedily, go call up hastily the men that live by the water-side, they who will not ride for Telfa's cattle, let them never again look me in the face. Call up Watt O' Harden and his sons, call up Borthwick Water, Gordylands, and Allenhoff, call Gilman's Cloof and Commonside, ride by the gate at Priest Horseswire, and call the curres of the Lee, and call brave Willie of Gorinbury as ye come down the Hermitage Slack. So the Scots rode and ran bravely and steadily, shouting, ride for Branksome, and when Willie looked ahead he saw the cattle being driven fast up the frosty Lee Brook and to the plain. Who drives young cattle? cried Willie Scott, to make us a laughing stock. It is I, the captain of Buchassel, I will not hide my name from thee. Let Telfa's cattle go back, or by the faith of my body said Willie, I'll wear my dame's calf skin on thee. I will not let the cattle go back, neither for thy love nor fear. I will drive Jamie Telfa's cattle in spite of all your company of Scots. Set on them lads, cried Willie, set on them cruelly. There will be many an empty saddle before they come to Ritterford. So they set to with heart and hand, and blows fell like hail, until many were slain, and many a horse ran masterless. But Willie was struck by a sword through the headpiece and fell to the ground, and old Watt of Hardin wept for rage, when he saw that his son was slain. He took off his steel cap and waved it thrice, and the snow on Dinley Mountain was never whiter than the locks of his hair. Revenge, revenge, he cried, lay on them lads. Willie's death shall be revenged, or we will never see tiv yet side again. The lances flew into splinters, and many another brave rider fell. And before the curse hope forward was reached, the Scots had got the victory. John of Brigham was slain, and John of Barlow, and thirty more of the captain's men lay bleeding on the ground. The captain himself was run through the right thigh, and the bone broken. And never would woman love him again if he should live a hundred years. Take back the chi, said he. They are dear chi to some of us. Never will a fair lady smile on me, if I should live to be a hundred. Word came to the captain's bride in her bower, that her lord had been taken prisoner. I would rather have had a winding sheet, said she, and helped to put it over his head, than that he should have been disgraced by the border scot when he led his men over Liddle. There was a wild gallant there, named Wattie Woodspurs, or Madspurs, who cried, Let us onto his house and stain girth side if any man will ride with us. So they came to stain girth side, pulled down the trees, burst open the door, and drove out all the captain's chi before them. An old woman of the captain's kin cried, Who dare loose the captain's chi, or answer to him and his men? It is I, Wattie Woodspurs, that loose the chi. I will not hide my name from thee, and I will loose them in spite of him and his men. When they came to the fair dod head, they were a welcome sight, for instead of his own ten milk chi, Jamie Tilfer now had got thirty three. He paid the rescue shot in gold and silver, and at Willie Scott's burial there were many weeping eyes. End of Section 40 Section 41 of Stories of the Scottish Border by Mr and Mrs William Platt This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 38 Muckle Mowed Meg The Scott family was very powerful on the border in the days of Queen Elizabeth, the bravest and strongest of them being the bold Lord of the Clue. His name is often mentioned in border history, and so is that of another Scott, Old Watt Scott of Hardin. He was a fit man for these wild times, being both brave and canny. He married a beautiful border lass, the flower of Yarrow, and it is surprising how many able men have descended from this marriage. Not only did Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson claim descent from this final free-booter, his daughter Maggie married Gilbert Elliot of Stobs, nicknamed Gibi with the golden garters, and from them were descended George Augustus Elliot, Lord Heathfield, famous for his splendid defence of Gibraltar, worthy of the best border traditions, and also the Eliot's of Minto, who have twice been viceroys of India, once late in the 18th century and once early in the 20th century. One of the sons of Scott of Hardin came perilously near to finding out how far his neck was capable of carrying the weight of his body. It was late in Queen Elizabeth's reign, and King James the Sixth of Scotland was extra anxious to live at peace with England, for he expected now very soon to be king over both countries. So he told his warden, the bold beclue, to restrain the wild Scotch free-booters, and you may imagine that the order was little to their liking. Young Willie Scott, Scott of Hardin's son, quickly determined that cattle he must steal anyhow. He was his father's son, and did not his father once say as he gazed longingly at a fine English haystack, if only he'd got four legs haystack, you would not be standing there. So as Willie Scott was forbidden to steal English cattle, he decided to steal Scotch. Sigidian Murray of Ellybank Castle was an old enemy of the Scott family, having once been told off to punish them for some audacious act of theirs, and Sigidian had some cattle that would make any borderer's mouth water, and his arm itch to drive them home. So Willie and a few boon companions started off one night for Ellybank, but a warning voice had reached Sigidian, and Willie received a warm reception, and was taken prisoner. He lay in the castle dungeon all night, reflecting on the folly of being caught, and fully expecting to be hanged very early next morning, perhaps without even his breakfast, to comfort him. But early on the fatal morning, Lady Murray startled her husband by asking him if he really meant to hang Willie Scott. He looked at her as if she were mad. Of course, what else was there to do? Then she unfolded her scheme. She had a very plain-looking daughter, known as Mucklmoud Meg, or Margaret with the extremely large mouth. Young Scott was handsome and of good family, and poor Meg would never again have such a chance of getting a good husband. Why not release Willie Scott if only he would marry Mucklmoud Meg? They were men of action in those days, and the priest was instantly sent for. Then, all being ready, the prisoner was brought forth. He was shown, on the one hand, the priest and the girl, and on the other hand, the tree and the noose, and was asked to take his choice. His first proud feeling was that he would be mocked at if he married such a girl on such terms, and he walked bravely towards the rope. But the nearer he got to it, the uglier it looked. He had to confess to himself that it was not at all a comfortable-looking rope. He had a nasty feeling round his neck from merely looking at it, and thought it would probably feel worse when it got round his throat. Then he looked at the girl. She certainly was not as beautiful as his mother, the lovely flower of Yarrow, and a borderer loved a beautiful wife. But if he hanged, he would have no wife at all. Then he suggested that he should have three days to think it over. But Murray said no. Neither priest nor noose was prepared to wait. He must decide at once. Then he looked again at Meg, and saw a kind glance in her eye. She felt sorry for the handsome young fellow. Then he knew she had a good heart, and that decided the matter. He went up and kissed her with a good grace, and the priest married them straight away. Afterwards he became Sir William Scott, and an important man on the border. And best of all, Meg proved to be a real good wife to him, and he never regretted the day when he elected to suffer the knot, to be tied by the priest, instead of by the hangman. This is one of the most famous and widely known of all the border ballads, and has proved a source of inspiration to several poets, including Wordsworth, who wrote three poems upon the subject. The bard does not relate the full particulars, but gives only the barest outlines of facts, which were well known in his day, and still live in tradition. The story tells of a duel between two brothers-in-law. The very spot where it took place is still pointed out, a low mure on the Yarrow banks. The slain knight was apparently Walter Scott, one of the ancestors of Lord Napier. His murderer was his brother-in-law, John Scott. Dawey means melancholy, and den is a word used to describe a narrow rocky valley, usually wildly beautiful. Late at in drinking the wine, and ere they paid the loying, they set to combat them between, to fight it in the dawn. O stay at home, my noble lord, O stay at home, my marrow. My cruel brother will you betray, on the Dawey hooms of Yarrow. O fare ye well, my Lady Gay, O fare ye well, my Sarah, for I must go, though I ne'er return, from the Dawey banks of Yarrow. She kissed his cheek, she combed his hair, as oft she had done before O. She belted him with his noble brand, and he's a way to Yarrow. And he gave up the tenes bank, I what he gave with sorrow, till down in a den he spied nine armed men, on the Dawey hoom. O come ye here to part your land, the Bonnie forest thorough, O come ye here to wield your brand, on the Dawey hooms of Yarrow. If I come not here to part my land, and neither to beg nor borrow, I come to wield my noble brand, on the Bonnie banks of Yarrow. If I see all year nine to one, and that's an unequal marrow, yet will I fight, while last's my brand, on the Bonnie banks of Yarrow. Four has he hurt, and five has slain, on the bloody braze of Yarrow, till that stubborn knight came him behind, and ran his body thorough. Gayame, gayame, good brother John, and tell your sister Sarah to come and lift her leafle Lord, he's sleeping sound on Yarrow. Yes treene I dreamed a doleful dream, I fear there will be sorrow, I dreamed I pulled the heather green, with my true love on Yarrow. O gentle wind that bloweth south, from where my love repaireth, convey a kiss from his dear mouth, and tell me how he fareth. But in the glen strive armored men, they've wrought me dole and sorrow, they've slain the comliest night they've slain, he bleeding lies on Yarrow. As she sped down Yon High High Hill, she gaid with dole and sorrow, and in the dens spied ten slain men, on the dowy banks of Yarrow. She kissed his cheek, she came to his hair, she searched his wounds all thorough, she kissed them till her lips grew red on the dowy hooms of Yarrow. Now hold your tongue, my daughter dear, for all this breeds but sorrow, I'll wed ye to a better Lord than him ye lost on Yarrow. O hold your tongue, my father dear, ye mind me but of sorrow, a fairer rose did never bloom, than now lies cropped on Yarrow. CHAPTER 40 BELTERED WILL AND THE BARONRY OF GILSLAND When for the lists they sought the plain, the stately ladies, silk and rain, did noble Howard hold. Unarmed by her side he walked, and much in courteous phrase they talked, of feats of arms of old. Costly his garb, his Flemish rough, fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff, with satin slashed and lined. Torny his boot and gold his spur, his cloak was all of Poland fur, his hose with silver twine. His billbow a-blade by Marchman felt, hung in a broad and studded belt. Hence in rude phrase the border is still, call noble Howard, Beltered Will. Scott, lay of the last minstrel. One of the many picturesque figures of border history was Beltered Will, or to call him by his proper name and title, Lord William Howard, a younger son of the powerful Duke of Norfolk. His mother had died when he was an infant, and his father, the foremost Roman Catholic nobleman in England, took up the cause of Mary Queen of Scots, whom he wished to marry. For this treason against Queen Elizabeth he was beheaded, in 1572, when young Lord William was only nine years old. At the age of fourteen the young Lord's guardians arranged for him a marriage with Elizabeth Dacre, a member of a powerful border family, and heiress to the baronry of Gilsland. As the bride was even younger than her boy-husband, let us hope that they both went to school again immediately after the marriage. When he grew to manhood Lord William warmly supported the Roman Catholic cause, and was imprisoned by Elizabeth, but when James became king he was released and restored to his estates on the border. Throughout the remainder of his career he was the most notable man of his district. He knew how to make himself respected by his wild neighbours. His fame and power were great, he founded the fortunes of his family so surely, that he it is who is usually thought of as the ancestor of the Earls of Carlisle, though his great-grandson was the first to hold the title. Lord William had great energy and many interests, and was remarkable as being an all-round man. He was equally a leader of men and a lover of books. No detail in the management of his estates was too small for him to study. He was a good husband to his wife, and a splendid father to his fifteen children. He selected the most beautiful of his several castles that of Noweth, and repaired and almost rebuilt it. He took there the fine old oak ceiling from the ancient castle of Kirkoswald, which was ornamented with portraits of all the kings of England. Visitors to Noweth concede today the Hall of Belted Will by kind permission of the present Earl of Carlisle. He was something of a poet, and very much of an antiquarian. His estates were full of interesting things, and none knew them better than he. There were miles of the Roman wall still in excellent condition. There were many Roman altars and inscriptions which he copied and translated. Quite near him at Coon Craigs was a Roman quarry which can still be seen today, with marks of Roman tools on its stones. It stands in a beautiful wood by the side of the lovely river Irthing, and only a little further on, standing on a fine cliff overlooking the river, is the old Roman station of Amboglana, a fort that covered five and a half acres, with walls that were once five feet thick. The main foundations of which are still standing, clear enough for anyone to trace them out. It is quieter there to-day than it was in Roman times or in the stirring days of Belted Will. It is good to think that this broad-shouldered, gallant, powerful nobleman, who could ride, shoot, fight, and keep this wild district in order, was at the same time such a clever student and bookworm. They tell a story that he was once sitting in his library, intent on a book, when his men brought in a robber whom they had caught red-handed, and asked Lord William to try him. Belted Will, angry at being interrupted, cried out, Don't disturb me! Hang him! Half an hour later he rose and came down to try the man, but finding that he was already hanged, he went on with his book. It is only fair to add that robbers in those days expected no mercy when caught. One of the many clever things that Lord William did was to have figures carved in oak to represent soldiers. These he placed on the top of his high towers, and deceived the Scots into thinking that he had a large and very watchful garrison. These figures can still be seen at Noweth. Near Noweth Castle is Lannacost Priory, where King Edward I stayed on his way to Scotland. There is a secret passage from Noweth Tower, which is supposed to run under the river to Lannacost. No one is allowed to go through it, as it is considered dangerous. The people of the district say that the last man to do so was Oliver Cromwell. Visitors to Noweth today should certainly go on to Gilsland itself, the picturesque, straggling little town which was the head of the baronry, which Elizabeth Dacre brought to her boy-husband. The earthing at Gilsland runs through a wonderfully beautiful gorge, rocky and wooded, wild and romantic. Stand on the venture some stepping stones near the old church, with the river rushing at your very feet, and see if this is an exaggeration of the beauties of the scene. Right in the midst of the Glen you can see the popping stone, where Sir Walter Scott walked with the lady of his choice and asked her to marry him. Readers of Guy Manoring can see in over-denton church near Gilsland the grave of Meg Merleys, who died here at the age of 98. The town is also interesting for the fact that the county border is at Gilsland, and there is an inn so built that it stands in both counties, and contains a bed in which you can sleep, with your head in Northumberland, and your feet in Cumberland. There is a story of Beltedwill that tells eloquently of the strength of his character. When he was released from prison by King James, he found his estates so ruined by careless management that he knew that great care was needed to put things right again. So until he got his affairs into order, all the pocket money that he would allow himself was twenty shillings per month. Bold William, Beltedwill, gallant Lord Howard, as you will, died at Noweth in 1640, aged 77, one year after the death of his devoted wife. His descendants were, like himself, students and men of action. The present Earl of Carlisle is directly sprung from him, and is very proud of the fact. Section 44 of Stories of the Scottish Border by Mr. and Mrs. William Platt This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 41 Gilderoy Gilderoy was a celebrated and most daring highwayman, who roamed far and was well known all over Scotland and indeed in London. His death inspired a very striking ballad, but this is hardly a border lowland ballad, but refers chiefly to another border district, namely that between the lowlands and highlands. Just as the Scottish lowlanders thought the English their legitimate quarry, so the Highlanders in turn looked upon the lowlanders as created to supply them with all they lacked. There is a story on record of a Highland chief who, finding his men had carelessly robbed another Highlander, returned the spoil with a handsome apology, and issued stringent orders that in future nothing was to be taken except in the lowlands, where all men make their prey. Among the robber clans of the Highlands, the McGregors stand easily in the first rank. In a long series of Scottish acts of parliament, they are habitually referred to as the wicked clan Gregor, so long continuing in blood, slaughter, theft and robbery. One of their most famous exploits was the Battle of Glen Fruin, when they defeated their enemies the Colhouns, and slew 200 of them. The Colhouns appeared before the king at Stirling, with the bloody shirts stripped off their dead, and the law was put in motion against the McGregors more vigorously than ever. This was in 1603. The execution of Gilderoy, as described in our poem, took place in 1638. His real name was Patrick McGregor, and the fact that he belonged to this Ishmaelite clan, whose hand was directed against every man, and whose very name had been solemnly abolished, may well serve as an excuse for his career of crime. Gilderoy in Gaelic means the red-haired Gilly, or lad, and besides the name, there are many other points of similarity between him and Rob Roy, who was the head of the clan McGregor in the following century. Both Gilderoy and Rob Roy were professional blackmailers, that is, they could be relied on, never to plunder anyone who was prudent enough to buy them off by paying a fixed contribution. This is what is meant in the following lines of the ballad. All these did honestly possess he never did annoy, who never failed to pay their sess to my love Gilderoy. The sess is the blackmail or insurance against robbery. The widespread reputation of Gilderoy is attested by the many legends of him which are printed in the old chapbooks and lives of the high women. According to these authorities, Gilderoy once robbed Oliver Cromwell near Glasgow. But an even more romantic episode of his career was a roaming trip upon the continent, in the course of which he is said to have picked Cardinal Richelieu's pocket, while he was celebrating mass in the King's presence, at the Church of Sandinine in Paris. He made his way even to Madrid, where he succeeded in carrying off the Duke of Medina cell's plate. Altogether a most notorious and dashing catarame. The ballad is supposed to be spoken by a young woman who had all her life been attached to him. Gilderoy was a bonny boy, had roses to his shun, his stockings were of silk and soy with garters hanging down. It was Iween a comely sight to see so trim a boy. He was my Joe and heart's delight, my handsome Gilderoy. My Gilderoy and I were born both in one town together. We scant were seven years before we began to love each other. Our daddies and our mommies they were filled with mechal joy to think upon the bridal day of me and Gilderoy. But there intervened the spirit of adventure, which had ever been the birthright of all of his surname. Oh that he still had been content with me to lead his life, but our his manful heart was bent to stir in deeds of strife, and he in many a venturous deed his courage bold would try, and now this gars my heart to bleed for my dear Gilderoy. No doubt those who knew Gilderoy personally would have agreed, as was actually said of Robroy, that he was a benevolent and humane man in his way. My Gilderoy, both far and near, was feared in every town, and boldly bore away the gear of many a lowland loon. For man to man doth meet him none, he was so brave a boy. At length with numbers he was tain, my winsome Gilderoy. He was not so fortunate as Robroy, who ultimately died peacefully in his bed. Gilderoy had lost the game, and he had to pay the stakes. Of Gilderoy so feared were they, they bound him fast and strong. To Edinburgh they led him there, and on a gallows hung. They hung him high above the rest, he was so trimmer boy. There died the youth whom I love best, my handsome Gilderoy. Thus perished one of the characteristic products of an age whose standards were so different from ours that we can hardly judge him fairly. He was banned before his birth, a scion of a race so indomitably and innately ferocious that the law attempted to extirpate them root and branch. The very name of Gregor could be given by no clergymen at baptism under penalty of deprivation and banishment. Cunning and politic neighbours were not slow to take advantage of the stubborn disposition of the Magregas and gradually stripped them of their once extensive lands in Argyle and Perthshire. Gilderoy might well consider that he was an honest man than stood on any of their shanks. And we may be excused for feeling a very lively sympathy with him, and for echoing, in our inmost hearts, the exquisitely feminine point of view, expressed by the Lady Composer of the Ballard. If Gilderoy had done a mess, he might have banished Bean. Ah, what sore cruelty is this, to hang such handsome men, to hang the flower of Scottish land so sweet and fair a boy, no Lady had so white a hand as thee, my Gilderoy. When he had yielded up his breath, I bare his corpse away, with tears that trickled for his death I washed his comely clay, and, sicker in a grave so deep, I laid the dear-loved boy, and now for ever, mon-I-weep, my winsome Gilderoy. King, the story he has told, and I, when he gun-rock and sing, Charlie his sides would hold. Archie Armstrong lived in Eskdale, where he did his best to keep up the grand reputation of his family, as being among the very boldest sheep-stealers of the border. His house was at Stubham, where the walk-up stream runs into the River Esk, near where the picturesque town of Langham now stands. Living in the reign of Charles I, after the Union of Crowns, the profession of free-booter was far less honourable than of old. He could not now plead that he was a border soldier, fighting against his nation's enemy. The wild border blood in him might cry out for the old adventurous career, but he could no longer hope for the aid of powerful border families. When cornered, his sole protector would be his own wits, and woe betide him if they failed. Archie's house was about eight miles from the border, and he could not help strolling towards the fascinating line and tasting the sweetness of temptation. When the chance came that seemed to him sufficiently safe, he would go home in company, though he had walked out alone. The company being a good, fat English sheep. One night a shepherd had marked him lingering about, and had watched him, and raised an alarm. Away went Stout Archie at a marathon pace. Halfway home he passed Gilnocchi Tower, where his ancestor, bold Johnny Armstrong, lived so gaily. Alas, thought Archie dolefully, he too was hanged in the end. He got home well in front of his pursuers, but his wife gave him small encouragement. With typical Scottish doerner she remarked to him, ye will be tamed this night and hanged in the morning. But Archie put a braw face on it, and declared that he would never hang for one silly sheep. Quicker than any butcher, he skinned and roughly trimmed the dead animal, throwing the rejected parts into the swift stream. Then, rejoicing in the fact that his child was away with its aunt, he put the carcass carefully in the cradle, and began rocking it and singing a lullaby to it, as if he were the most loving father in all the British Isles. The pursuers now rushed in, and began to accuse Archie triumphantly, but he rebuked them for making so much noise, telling them that his child was at death's door. As for stealing their sheep, he took a solemn oath, that if he had done such a thing, he would ask to be doomed to eat the flesh this very cradle holds. Such an oath on the borders was a very serious matter. They little knew that the only flesh in the cradle was sheep's flesh, which Archie asked nothing better than to devour. Impressed, but not convinced, his enemies carefully searched the whole of Archie's house and garden. It was only with very great unwillingness, that they at last decided that they must miss the supreme pleasure of hanging him. They went away, saying that they must have been deluded by the devil or by witches, and the shepherd resolved to hang a branch of a row-and-tree, mountain ash, by his fold, for that was well known to have the power to keep witches away. As soon as they were all on their way to England again, Archie skipped about like a dancing fiddler. Wife, he said, I never knew before that I would make such a good nurse. After this, Archie wandered down to London, and his wild jests becoming famous, he was made court-gestor by King Charles I. And many a time he acted the story to the king, rocking a pretended cradle, and singing a persuasive lullaby to the king's intense amusement. Nevertheless, Archie lost his place by his boldness. These were the days of Archie's death. These were the days of Archbishop Lord, 1637, who was hated by the Scots. One day, as the Archbishop was about to say grace before dinner, Archie asked the king's permission to say grace instead. The king consented, and the jesters' double-meaning words were as follows. All praise to God, and little Lord to the devil. The Archbishop, in many senses a little man, had Archie dismissed in disgrace, but such were the chances of these uncertain times the Archbishop was executed in the end, while the sheep's stealer escaped that fate. End of section 45 Section 46 of Stories of the Scottish Border by Mr. and Mrs. William Platt Chapter 43 Christie's Will The resourceful Archie, whose tale we have just told, was not the only one of the reckless Armstrong's to keep up the old free-booting habits in the reign of Charles I. There lived at Gilnocky Tower, the old residence of the famous Johnny Armstrong, in the parish of Kenobi, a notorious willy Armstrong known as Christie's Will. Like Archie, he more than once owed his life to his ready wit. He was shut up in Jedburgeale, when the Earl of Traquire, Lord High Treasurer, paid the prison an official visit. When he asked Will the cause of his being there, the free-booter answered, for stealing two halters, my Lord. Traquire was surprised, but Will afterwards owned, that there was a fine colt at the end of each halter. Traquire was amused and pleased by the boldness of the man, and had him set free. Some little time afterwards, Traquire was involved in a lawsuit which was set down to be decided by Lord Dury, who seems to have let it be known beforehand what his opinion was upon the case. Nothing would save Traquire's interests, except that Dury must be got out of the way before the case began. But how was it to be done? Christie's Will was appealed to, and merely said, leave it to me. It was the judge's habit to take horse-back exercise on the sands of Leith without any attendant. One morning, while so riding, a well-dressed and gentlemanly stranger on a good horse happened to overtake him. A courteous greeting led to a friendly conversation, in which the stranger proved himself so affable and entertaining that the judge rode on by his side without suspicion. Suddenly, when they had come to a lonely spot, Lord Dury found himself seized by this muscular gentleman, smothered up in a big cloak, whisked off his horse and on to the strangers, who galloped off, mischief knows where. It was Christie's Will carrying out his promise. The judge's horse galloped home riderless, search was made, but the judge could not be found. It could only be supposed that he had been thrown off into the sea. His successor was appointed, and Lord Traquire's case was heard and won. Lord Dury had languished for several months in a dreary underground vault. I wonder if he thought of the many poor wretches he had sentenced to a similar fate. Suddenly, at midnight, he was roughly awakened, muffled up as before, and carried away again by his captor on horseback. Next morning, by the light of the newly risen son, he found himself on the very spot by the Sons of Leith, from which he had been kidnapped. We will hope that everyone, including his successor, was glad when he thus came to life again. When the civil war began, the Earl of Traquire was faithful to King Charles I. Having some papers of importance, that he wished to have given into the king's own hands, he entrusted these to the bold free booter. Christie's Will did his errand, and received an equally important answer. But spies at court had given Cromwell word of the matter, and the command was sent up to Carlyle that Will Armstrong must be intercepted there. Not knowing his danger, Will halted in the town to refresh his horse, then pushed forward to the bridge which crossed the Eden on the northern boundary of the city. Cromwell's soldiers were waiting for him. The bridge was high and narrow. The broad Eden waters were swirling in high flood. Christie's Will, without one second's hesitation, spurred his horse over the parapet. He sank, he came up, he sank, he came up, he sank, he came up, this time at the very bank. He cut his heavy dripping cloak from his shoulders. Relieved of the weight, his horse struggled to the land. Away went Will, away went the troopers after him. It was a hard race to the river Esk, and this also Will had to swim. But now he was in Scotland, and his friends were at hand. Gaely Will turned to his pursuers who dared not cross the water. Good friends, cried he, come over and drink with me. But they showed him their backs and their horses' tails, and he saw no more of them. Such were the exploits of Christie's Will. He was the last of the freebooters, but he certainly knew how to live up to their boldest traditions. End of Section 46 Section 47 Of Stories of the Scottish Border by Mr. and Mrs. William Platt This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 44 Northumberland at the time of the Civil War During the stormy days of King Charles I, the borders, and especially Northumberland, saw many stirring scenes. It must be remembered that shortly before the long Parliament was elected, King Charles almost came to war with the Scottish Presbyterians, because they would not obey the harsh rule of Archbishop Lord. The Scots raised an army under the lead of Shrewd General Alexander Leslie, the old, little, crooked soldier of great experience, trained by the great Gustavus of Sweden. In 1639 Charles sent ships up to the fourth, in reply to which Leslie marched his army to threaten the border. The old quarrel between the two countries began to blaze up again. King Charles led an army to the border, and was received with splendid applause at Newcastle. Many joined his army, and shouted with joy at the thought of meeting the Scots in battle. But they were an untrained, disorderly crew, who fired off their guns at random, and kept no military order whatever. Gallant Leslie marched his men down to Dunn's Law in South Berwickshire, and was ready to fight. But King Charles would not trust his army that length. He made terms with his opponents, promising them the reforms they set their hearts upon, and the two armies melted away like schoolboys at the end of the term. Things were soon as bad as before. Lord Conway was sent by the King to put Newcastle into a strong defensive state. His greatest difficulty was to get money for the purpose, for the King's quarrel with his various parliaments had deprived him of supplies. The badly paid troops mutinied, and the ringleader was shot. Very soon the Scottish army came across the tweed, the Highlanders armed with bows and arrows. They pitched their camp on head and law, and soon proved to the country folk that they had not come for plunder. But would pay for all they wanted to eat. This reassured the country people, who had no real quarrel with the Scots, and even became most friendly to them. With Lord Conway it was otherwise. He was the King's officer, and was bound to offer resistance. His opinion was that if once the Scots crossed the tine, and attacked Newcastle from the south or Gateshead side, they were sure of victory. Accordingly, leaving a strong garrison to protect the town, he marched out with two thousand or more foot, and fully one thousand horse to command the important ford across the tine at Newburn, a place five or six miles due west of Newcastle. It is interesting to remember that here also the Romans had had fortifications along the line of the wall, and the very spot where the Scots and English fought may well have been the scene of contests between the Roman legions and the wild Picts. The English arrived first on the south bank of the river, and threw up earthworks hastily. Very soon they saw the Scots march into Newburn village on the north bank, where they employed themselves by hauling their cannon up to the church tower. Remarkable cannon they were, made out of bar iron, hooped together with cord and wet raw hides. But they were not required to carry any distance, the foe was only on the other side of the tine. All the morning the enemies looked at one another across the river, each hesitating to fire the first shot of the war. At last an English officer shot a Scotch officer, and the fight began. The Scots were on the higher ground, and their cannon, rough as they were, sent heavy shot onto the English. Then, when the river tide went down, the Scots rushed across the ford, and the battle was soon won, the royal standard being taken. English runaways rushed through the woods, and into Newcastle crying, Fly for your lives, naked devils have destroyed us. Whether they referred to Kilted Highland as is uncertain. Anyway, Leslie and his Scots entered Newcastle in triumph, but were afterwards bought off with a payment of £60,000 and recrossed the tweed into Scotland. This was in 1641, a year in which King Charles was quarrelling bitterly with his long parliament, though the actual civil war in England did not begin until 1642. Early in 1642 it was decided that so important a town as Newcastle ought to be put in a stronger state of defence. William Cavendish, Earl of Newcastle, was made governor of the town, but he was much hindered in his plans by lack of money. King Charles, however, promoted him from Earl to Marquess of Newcastle, and the lack of funds he made up as best he was able. However, a governor of Holy Island, off the Northumberland shore, found himself left for 16 months without any pay. He wrote to the King's treasury a protest in verse, beginning, The great commander of the Cormorants, the geese and ganders of these hallowed lands, where Lindisfarne and Holy Island stands, these worthless lines sends to your worthy hands. The allusion in the first two lines is to the fact that Holy Island and the Farne Islands were then, and are still today, so thinly peopled that sea birds gather there in large numbers, adding greatly to the wild beauty of these islets and rocks. In January 1644, a serious struggle began. Leslie and his soldiers crossed the tweed at Berwick Bridge, and again entered Northumberland. General Bailey marched his men from Kelso across the frozen river, and joined Leslie at Annick. Walk with castle, though it contained canon and provisions, surrendered at once. The Scottish general gravely told Bemerton, the governor, that if he had learnt to fight as well as he had learnt to dance, his castle could never have been taken. The country districts of Northumberland had no quarrel with the Scots, and it was soon evident that the real fight would be at Newcastle, bravely held by the Marquis and by the Mayor Sir John Marley. The Scottish murdering pieces, as the Canon were called, were brought down by sea, and the obstinate conflict began. Despite the terrible weather of a very rough February, frequent skirmishes took place, while the Scots closed nearer and nearer round the gallantly defended town. Leslie soon found that the defences had been put into good order. The ditch round the town was dug deep and close to the walls. The walls themselves were strongly underpinned. The battlements were strengthened by stone and lime, but the top stones were loosened so as to slip if the enemy attempted to mount them. Every Canon was placed carefully to the best advantage. But the Marquis of Newcastle was called southwards by the needs of his king. With him were his thousand brave white coats, so called because they wore white coats, which they promised to die in the blood of the enemy. But they met the terrible iron sides at Marston Moor, and in a conflict of furious bravery on both sides, all of the gallant thousand, except thirty, were slain on the field of battle. This was in July of 1644, but it did not affect the siege of Newcastle, which still dragged obstinately on under the skillful guidance of the Dauntless Mare. By October, Sir John Marley was so buoyed up by his success that he sent a letter to General Leslie to ask if he was still alive. This the Scots took to be an insult, and a grand assault was begun. The Scots were furious, and the defence was desperate. The roar of the Canon and the rattle of the musketry were succeeded, as the assault got nearer and nearer to its aim, by the clashing of swords and the clanging of pikes. But last, the regiments of Lodun and Beklu succeeded in forcing their way into the town. In vain, the defendants made their last gallant charge. Their cause was now hopeless, and soon the marketplace was filled with fugitives, who flung down their arms and cried aloud for quarter at the hands of the triumphant Scots. In these days, the defender was often made to feel the anger of the scouts, who, in the flush and cruelty of victory, avenged their dead, only too terribly upon the losing tide. Not so at Newcastle. Prominent in its day, it stands out because of the mercy of the Scottish conquerors, as much as for the heroism of its defence. In this, the last great struggle on English ground between Scots and English, it is pleasing indeed to recall facts that redound to the high honour of both parties. End of Section 47 Section 48 of Stories of the Scottish Border by Mr. and Mrs. William Platt This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 45 Montrose and Leslie James Graham, the great Marcus of Montrose, who at first sided with the Scottish Covenanters against Charles I, was so out of sympathy with the extreme turn which Ferris took later against that unhappy monarch that he went over to the king's side. Gathering the Highland clans under his standard, he marched southward and defeated the Covenanters in a series of brilliantly fought battles. He occupied Edinburgh and laid great plans to complete the conquest of Scotland by subduing the borderland. If the borders had remained in their old fighting state, no doubt many a border chief would have joined Montrose's army and aided his bold plans. But, unfortunately for King Charles, the borders had been tamed and disarmed since the Union of England and Scotland under James I. Only a few adventurous spirits, like Christie's Will, remained as examples of the old wild days. The remnant of the army of the Covenanters was commanded by the stern General David Leslie, not the Alexander Leslie who figures in the preceding chapter and was somewhere in the border district. Gay Gallant Montrose did not bother as to exactly where this army was. He despised it too heartily. He himself was at Selkirk while his army was encamped on the neighbouring plain of Philip Hall. Montrose was busy writing a cheering message to King Charles to the effect that he had now no enemy left in Scotland who could offer an effective resistance to his arms. Little did he think that General Leslie was gradually creeping nearer, nearer, and was now actually within four miles of his army. With the advantage of a thick scotch mist, Leslie's army actually burst upon Montrose's infantry without a single scout having seen them to give warning of their approach. In such confusion Montrose's men had no chance whatever. The Marquis galloped up only to find his soldiers hopelessly defeated and great numbers slain. There was nothing left but for those to escape who could. The Marquis succeeded in cutting his way through and gathered his troops to fight again later on but his efforts would doom to failure. A popular ditty of these days sung to a stirring tune was called Leslie's March. Sir Walter Scott seems to regard this as wholly serious and ranks it as a Covenanter song. It appears to me however that many of the lines have a very sarcastic flavour. No doubt the Covenanters did really think that there's none in the right but we of the old Scottish nation but they would probably have phrased it a little less boldly. To me it appears as if this song were the work of an onlooker and not a partisan one ready to see the faults of both sides and very much inclined to hold back his final opinion till he saw which was going to win. But let the March speak for itself. Leslie's March March March Why the dealed in our March Stand to your arms my lads fight in good order front about ye musketeers all till you come to the English border stand dealt and fight like men true gospel to maintain the Parliament's blies to see as are coming when to the Kirk we come we'll purge it Elkarum free popish relics and a sick innovation that all the world may see there's none in the right but we of the old Scottish nation a truly partisan ballad of the day describes the battle of Philip Hall and exalts in the defeat of Montrose our cruel enemy it calls him as a ballad it has no great poetic merit the very sober covenanters probably regarded ballad making as a frivolity but it describes rather graphically how an aged father from the countryside led Leslie's army very cautiously and wisely to the very tense of the foe these details are no doubt accurate though the ballad writer whoever he was displays his ignorance of other matters by making the old soldier say that he was at the battle of Solway Moss which took place one hundred years before and at that of dumb bar which was not fought till five years later the following are the opening verses of the ballad giving an idea of its plane straightforward style on Philip Hall a fray began at Hare Headwood it ended the Scots out o'er the Graham's they ran say merrily they bended Sir David Fray the border came we heart and hand came he we hymn three thousand Bonnie Scots to bear him company we hymn three thousand valiant men a noble sight to see a cloud amiss them wheel concealed as close as air might be when they came to the shoreburn said he say will we frame I think it is convenient that we should sing a psalm it is not necessary to quote more of it but it may be remarked that in place of the last line as given here the unregenerate substituted that we should take a drum in point of actual fact both versions are probably true end of section 48 section 49 of stories of the Scottish border by Mr. and Mrs. William Platt this Libra Vox recording is in the public domain chapter 46 the death of Montrose during the imprisonment of King Charles I at a time when active war on his behalf might do the unhappy monarch more harm than good the gallant Montrose had retired to France his bright military fame his courteous manners and manly bearing made him friends everywhere and when he visited Germany the emperor conferred on him the rank of marshal hearing of the execution of Charles I Montrose at once placed himself at the disposal of Charles II now a fugitive in Holland this prince named him Captain General of Scotland and the daring hero set out for the Orkney islands with about 500 paid soldiers mostly adventurous Germans and Dutchmen only a reckless spirit like Montrose would have undertaken so wild a commission Scotland was heartily sick of war and learnt with consternation of the arrival of this firebrand Leslie was sent forward with four thousand men to attack Montrose's five hundred Colonel Strachan led the advanced guard which fell unexpectedly upon the invading army and after a brief, fierce struggle totally defeated it Montrose disguised as a peasant and trusted his life to one he believed to be his friend but loud, layered of a saint but this unworthy man betrayed him to his bitterest enemy General Leslie thus at last this brilliant commander was in the hands of the bitter Covenanters into whose hearts his brilliant victories had once spread such terror their treatment of him is a black stain upon their memory for days he was led about in the peasant's disguise which he had put on he was carted through the streets of Edinburgh accompanied by such insults that the populace cried shame upon his captors when tried before the Scottish Parliament for treason he made a most eloquent defence one of the most notable of his assertions being that he had never stained his victory by slaughtering his foes in cold blood after the battle in this he was far above his enemies who had disgraced their victory of Philip Hall by many an execution and who were now bent upon taking the life of Montrose himself the sentence against him was probably decided before his defence had been heard it ran thus that James Graham should next day be carried to Edinburgh Cross and there hanged on a gibbet 30 feet high for the space of three hours then to be taken down his head to be struck off on a scaffold and affixed to the prison his arms and legs to be stuck up on the four chief towns of the kingdom his body to be buried in the place set aside for common criminals to this sentence the great marquis haughtily replied that he would rather have his head so placed than his picture in the king's bedchamber and that he wished he had limbs enough to be dispersed into all the cities of Christendom to prove his dying attachment to his king and in the one evening of life that still remained to him this accomplished and fearless nobleman employed his time in turning these loyal sentiments into verse despite the fact that he triumphed undaunted over all the mean inventions of their malice his enemies persisted to the end the executioner tied mockingly around his neck the book that had been published describing his victories Montrose thanked him saying that he wore it with more pride than he had ever worn the garter of honor he uttered a short prayer then asking them what more indignities they had prepared for him he patiently and with unbroken spirit yielded his life to the hangman at the too early age of 38 whatever opinions we may have as to the rights and wrongs of this quarrel this brutal killing of a gallant soldier and accomplished gentleman can only rank as a hideous blot upon all concerned in it every insult hurled at Montrose has returned in the verdict of time with redoubled force against the malice of those who stooped to such vindictiveness the execution of a soldier who has violated no rule of war is at any time a thing that revolts the human conscience and a sentence horse with the vile taunts of its utterers has so far lost all semblance of justice that it is needless to argue upon it in the verdict of history the great marquis of montrose whether right or wrong in his political views lived and died like a man of honor the ballad of the gallant grems written about this time reflects very sincerely and touchingly the devotion and affection surrounding the great marquis accompanied by the very scottish feeling that in addition to his own personal power and genius he was also the head of the great boarder family of grems the gallant grems now fare thee well sweet ennodale bith kin and country I bid adieu for I'm on away and I may not stay to some uncouth land which I never knew to wear the blue I think it best of all the colors that I see and I'll wear it for the gallant grems that are banished from their country I have no gold I have no land I have no pearl no precious stone but I will sell my silken snood to see the gallant grems come home in wallace days when they began Sir John the grem did bear the grief through all the lands of scotland wide he was lord of the south country and so was seen for many a time for the summer flowers didn't never spring but every grem in armor bright would then appear before the king they were all dressed in armachine upon the pleasant banks of te before a king they might be seen these gallant grems in their array at the gaukehead our camp we set our liga down there for to lay and in the Bonnie's summer light we rode our white horse and our gray our false commander sold our king unto his deadly enemy who was the traitor Cromwell then so I care not what they do with me they have betrayed our noble prince and banished him from his royal crown but the gallant grems have tain in hand for to command those traitors down in Glenprozen we rendezvoused marched to glen she by night and day and took the town of Aberdeen and met the campers in their array five thousand men in armor strong did meet the gallant grems that day at Inverlochie where war began and scarce two thousand men were they gallant Montrose that chieftain bold courageous in the best degree did for the king fight well that day the lord preserve his majesty then woe to Strachan and ilac at Baith and Leslie ill death may thou die for ye have betrayed the gallant grems who I were true to majesty and the lord of ascent has seized Montrose and had him into Edinburgh town and fray his body taken the head and quartered him upon a throne and Huntley's gone the self same way our noble king is also gone he suffered death for our nation our mourning tears can near be done but our brave young king is now come home king Charles the second in degree the lord send peace into his time and god preserve his majesty the ballad writers reference to the coming home of Charles the second probably means his signing of the covenant and placing himself entirely at the mercy of the violent bigots who had killed his most faithful servant Montrose to this was Charles reduced by the desperate nature of his fortunes but this course of action entirely severed the Scottish covenantus from the English Puritans and admirers of the gallant Montrose can take a grim pleasure in the fact that his arch enemy general Leslie was most disastrously defeated by Cromwell at the battle of Dunbar end of section 49 section 50 of stories of the Scottish border by Mr and Mrs William Platt this LibriVox recording is in the public domain chapter 47 the borderers and the Jacobites during the jacobite rising many of the border chiefs took up arms in the steward cause two of these lord derwent water and viscount can mure were be headed on tower hill for their part in the unsuccessful rising of 1715 and another lord nithsdale was only saved from the same fate by the courage of his wife this brave woman travelled in the depth of winter from scotland but when she reached York the snow was so deep that the stagecoach could go no further she continued her journey alone though the snow was above the horse's knees and by good luck she reached London and the tower in safety where by bribing the guards she managed to see her husband she then resolved to petition the king for his life and she herself tells in a letter to her sister how she waited in the anti room to see the king George the first and how she threw herself at his feet to present the petition the king tried to get away from her but she seized hold of his coat and was dragged on her knees along the floor this scene produced no result and as other efforts to procure nithsdale's release also failed the countess determined to save him by a stratagem she again bribed the guards to let her in telling them she had joyful news for her husband about the petition she dressed him in woman's clothes which she had smuggled in for the occasion and painted his face and brought him out speaking to him as to the woman friend who had accompanied her but who had already left the prison calling him Mrs Betty and asking him for the love of god to go as quickly as he could to her lodging and fetch her maid as she wished to go and present her final petition for the release all went well and nithsdale escaped to France but the king was highly incensed and declared that the countess cost him more trouble than any woman in europe her adventures were not yet over however in spite of the fact that the king had wished for her arrest she traveled to scotland to fetch her son and the valuable papers which she had taken the precaution to bury underground on her departure for london she was successful in this second journey and after concealing herself and her son until no further search was made for them this noble and enterprising woman escaped to France and joined her husband they afterwards went to Rome where they lived happily for many years in an old ballad called lord nithsdale's dream he is described as dreaming in the tower the night before his execution after having said farewell to his beloved wife farewell to thee winifred pride of thy kind soul ray in my darkness soul joy in my pain he listens for the last sound of her footfall and catches the last glimpse of her robe at the door and then all joy and gladness depart out of his life and he prays alone in his dungeon thinking of the dreadful dawn that awaits him he falls asleep and dreams that he is a frolic some boy again playing among the bracken on the braze of the nith bathing in its waters and treading joyfully the green heather or again he is riding to the hunt on his gallant gray steed with a plume in his bonnet and a star on his breast chasing the red deer and the wild mountain row the vision changes and he dreams that he is telling his love to winifred and swearing to be faithful to her watching the red blushes rise on her cheeks at his words of love and hearing her sweet voice replying again he is riding at the head of his gallant band for the pea brock was heard on the hills far away and the clans were all gathered from mountain and glen for the darling of scotland their exile adored they raised the loud slogan they rushed to the strife unfold was the banner and sheathed was the sword for the cause of their heart that was dearer than life and now the dark some more has come the priest is standing by his side saying the prayers for the dead he hears the muffled drum and the bells tolling his death knell the block is prepared the headsman comes and the victim is led bareheaded from his cell waking he turns on his straw pallet and sees by the pale misty light of a taper the form of his wife it is i thy winifred softly she said arouse thee and follow be bold never fear there was danger ahead but my errand has sped i promise to save thee and lo i am here then she puts woman's garb upon him and together they pass the unsuspecting guards and weary sentinels when the peasantry on the nithsdale estates heard of their lord's escape their joy was unbounded one of the songs published and sung everywhere at the time begins what news to me carlin what news to me what news called the carlin the best that god can gie the speaker asks if the true king has come to his own and the carlin answers our ain lord nithsdale will soon be mongers here then the speaker says brush me my coat carlin brush me my shun alawan meet lord nithsdale when he comes to our tune alakaday says the carlin he has escaped to france with scarce a penny then says the first speaker we'll sell our corn and everything we have and send the money to our lord and we'll make the pipers blow and lads and maidens dance and we'll all be glad and joyful and play the stewards back again and make the wigs go mad lord derwent water's fate was not so happy as that of lord nithsdale though lady derwent water made a desperate effort to save him it was she indeed who had urged him to throw in his lot with the stewards saying that it was not good that he should hide his head when other gentlemen were mustering for the cause the peasantry still think that lady derwent water sits on her ruined tower lamenting the evil council she gave her husband and they hasten by in fear when they see her lamp light flickering derwent water is described in the old ballads as a bonnie lord with hair of gold and kind love dwelling in his hawk like eyes he passionately loved his beautiful home in tindale the foundations of which may still be seen the wooded glen below the castle with the little burn running through it spanned by a gray bridge is romantically beautiful his farewell to all this beauty is pathetic farewell to pleasant ditzen hall my father's ancient seat a stranger now must call thee his which gars my heart to greet farewell each kindly well-known face my heart has held so dear my tenants now must leave their lands or hold their lives in fear no more along the banks of tine i'll rove in autumn gray no more i'll hear at early dawn the love rocks wake the day then fare thee well brave withrington and forster ever true dear shaftsbury and errington receive my last adieu and fare thee well george collingwood since fate has put us down if thou and i have lost our lives our king has lost his ground farewell farewell my lady dear ill ill thou counseled me i never more may see thy babe that smiles upon thy knee and fare thee well my bonnie grey steed that carried me i so free i wish i had been asleep in my bed the last time i mounted thee the warning bell now bids me cease my troubles nearly o'er yon sun that rises from the sea shall rise on me no more albeit that here in london town it is my fate to die oh carry me to northumberland in my father's grave to lie there chant my solemn requiem in hexams holy towers and let six maids of fair tinedale scatter my grave with flowers and when the head that wears the crown shall be laid low like mine some honest hearts may then lament for Radcliffe's fallen line fare well to Pleasant Ditson Hall my father's ancient seat a stranger now must call thee his which gars my heart to greet before his death Earl Doentwater signed a paper acknowledging King James III as his sovereign and saying that he hoped his death would contribute to the service of his king he is said to have looked closely at the block and to have asked the executioner to chip off a rough place that might hurt his neck then pulling off his coat and waistcoat he tried if the block would fit his head and told the executioner that when he had repeated Lord Jesus receive my soul for the third time he was to do his office which the executioner accordingly did at one blow history tells that Doentwater was brave and open-hearted and generous and that his fate drew tears from the spectators and was a great misfortune to his country he was kind to the people on his estates to the poor the widow and the orphan his request to be buried with his ancestors was refused and he was interred at St Giles Hoban but his corpse was afterwards removed and carried secretly to Northumberland where it was deposited in Dilston Chapel the Aurora Borealis which appeared remarkably vivid on the night of his execution was long called in that part of the country Lord Doentwater's lights immediately after Doentwater's execution Lord Ken Muir also suffered death after his execution a letter was found in his pocket addressed to the pretender by the title of King James saying that he died in his faithful service and asking him to provide for his wife and children the following ballad describes his rising in the stewart cause oh ken muir's on and awar willy oh ken muir's on and awar and ken muir's lords the bravest lord that ever Galloway saw success to ken muir's band willy success to ken muir's band there's no a heart that fears a wig that rides by ken muir's hand his lady's cheek was red willy his lady's cheek was red when she saw his steely dupes put on which smelled a deadly feud here's ken muir's health in wine willy here's ken muir's health in wine there now was a coward a ken muir's blood nor yet a gordon's line there's a rose in ken muir's cap willy there's a rose in ken muir's cap he'll steep it red in ruddy hearts bled before the battle drop here's him that's far awar willy here's him that's far awar and here's the flower that i love best the rose that's like the snow oh ken muir's lads are men willy oh ken muir's lads are men their hearts and swords are metal true and that their foes shall ken they live or die we fame willy they live or die we fame and soon we sound of victory may ken muir's lord come home end of section 50 section 51 of stories of the scottish border by mr and mrs william plat this libre vox recording is in the public domain chapter 48 the nine nicks of thirlwall if you stand upon rose hill which rises from the banks of the river earthing just where northumberland meets cumberland you have lying around you one of the finest wild prospects in the united kingdom hills to the north stretching away into scotland hills to the east broken into picturesque valleys especially the great gap through which rushes the young time hills to the south dominated by the powerful head of cross fell a great sprawling mountain not a peaked one the highest stretch of which is nearly 3000 feet above sea level but while drinking in the glories of the distances the eye will note with curiosity a strange looking but picturesque hill only a couple of miles to the southeast with a long rocky ridge at its top deeply cut into or nicked in nine different places this giving it a very wild appearance it is one of these hills which tempts the keen observer to go on and explore it if we cut direct to it over the fields it is rough going but the view is good all the way and there are four special objects of interest all close together the rushing tpult river thirlwall castle the roman wall and the nine nicks thirlwall castle rises tall square and stern with a dark fur wood behind it at the foot of the hill where a bend in the river a natural moat approaching it from rose hill it looks as if the building was still nearly complete but the south side has almost entirely fallen away and all the floors and the roof are out edward the first slept in this castle when it was newly built in 1306 but now it is grass grown and moss grown and its three bare walls rise gaunt and grim to the sky it is entirely built out of stones with roman chisel marks taken from the great roman wall which unfortunately was once regarded as a handy stone quarry for anyone to take from the name thirlwall means drill wall and marks the spot as that at which the wild northern tribes first drilled or broke through the wall the name was of course given to the place long before this castle was built to mount from thirlwall castle to the top of the nine nicks is an easy enough task for any vigorous person it is just a fine healthy scramble when at the top it becomes evident that some sort of fortification once existed there in point of fact this was the most important roman station called magna which stood at about the middle of the roman wall the wall ran from sea to sea that is to say from the mouth of the tine to the solway thus it was nearly 80 miles long and a very elaborate structure indeed it consisted of three distinct portions one the main stone wall with a ditch to the north of it two an earthwork to the south of this consisting of either two or three ramparts about 70 feet apart with a ditch between three stations castles and watchtowers sometimes these were to the north of the wall sometimes in the middle sometimes south according to the nature of the country the height of the main wall was from 16 to 20 feet including battlements it was six to nine feet thick fancy a powerful military wall of about 18 feet high stretching nearly 80 miles right across england it hardly seems possible that the romans could undertake such a work the square strong stones were carefully selected and often brought from quarries at a distance these stones flanked the outsides of the wall and in between was strong concrete which was poured in while in liquid the second wall was of earth and stones and of course lower than the first then there was a castle every mile some of which can still be clearly traced and a station about every four miles of which several interesting ruins remain there was a road 18 feet wide between the two walls those who have the energy to toil on for a full dozen miles of rough walking along the wall eastward from thelwall will be rewarded by some of the most romantic scenes in britain they will see the wall at its best they will pass windshields the highest point in the wall 1230 feet above sea level the wild northumbrian lakes will lie at their feet if the day is fine the solway will be seen glistening 30 miles to the west and on the east the eye follows the tine almost to the sea the pennine ridge bars the view 20 miles to the south while on the north the high cheviot is clear and strong 30 miles away passing windshields it is not far to bork of icus often called house steds where lie the remains of a large roman station wonderful remains showing the whole outline with startling clearness this station covered five acres and here was quartered a cohort of the tongrian infantry consisting of a thousand brave soldiers servants of imperial rome but after all nothing is so impressive as the remains of the wall itself stand at the top either of windshields or of the nine nicks and try to imagine what it looked like in roman days eastward along the tine valley and westward along the earthing valley ran this wonderful work this powerful girdle of stone the very spot was chosen with great judgment for these valleys gave the romans a district protected by the bleak hills where they could live and where they could keep cattle and grow grain but the hilly nature of the ground must have added to the difficulty of the builders the wall had to run up steep hillsides and cling to the edge of cliffs and precipices it had to be carried by bridges over roaring torrents and when it reached low lying ground it had to avoid the treacherous swamps and morasses and yet despite every obstacle the great wall ran on its direct way as strong and persistent as the great people who built it it withstood the shock of war it was not flung down by soldiers marching against it but to the people who wanted to build castles or houses or farms or even to mend roads the wall offered a massive material ready to hand and it suffered not from man's energy so much as from his laziness century after century it was robbed of its stones today a series of long grass grown mounds a few feet high running across the meadows are nearly all that remain of one of the most wonderful pieces of building that was ever erected in great britain even today in its decay it is one of the most romantic features of a highly romantic district end of section 51 section 52 of stories of the scottish border by mr. mrs. william plat this libre vox recording is in the public domain chapter 49 in wild northumberland today these tales of the borders would hardly be complete without a few concluding words about the great romantic charm which still invests the borderline let us for example make a brief survey of some of the haunting spots in wild northumberland we will pass over such towns as walkworth annik allenmouth beautiful as they are they have moved with the times and are too modern to be more than mentioned here but in a place like holy island we feel the call of the old days and the charm that was theirs this island was the scene of the first efforts of christianity to curb the wild and warlike north ambrians st aiden and st cuthbert both men of remarkable genius and great influence taught their lessons of peace and justice without which every warlike state would descend into mere savagery the island is about two miles square and at low tide it is easy to walk across the sands to or from the mainland of northumberland the distance is two and a half miles and it is necessary to take off shoes and stockings for the water on the sands will often be six inches deep a row of posts marks the way and some of them have ladders reaching up to a barrel on the top so that any caught by the tide can find a safe harbor wherein they will suffer nothing more serious than a long wait the island is inhabited by fishing folk living simple healthy lives there are fine rocks and splendid sands beautiful flowers and lovely shells the seabirds are wonderful the ruins of the old cathedral and castle are very interesting it is a delightful old world place out of the rush and hurry of modern life retracing our steps to the mainland and proceeding westward for a dozen or so miles as the crow flies we reach the river till and the field of flodden here we are near to the big wild wall of the cheviot hills and to keep on the english side of the border we need to turn due south it is then about 30 miles of rough walking through these grandly rugged hills before we come to the field of otterburn but we realize in that walk how it was that the district produced and still produces a hardy race of hunters and sheep farmers and why it is that the towns and farms nestle in the valleys so that the borderers when they meant to say rouse the neighborhood used the phrase raise the water meaning of course the houses along the water side further south still going among splendid shaggy hills we reach the north tine river and soon afterwards some highly interesting roman remains including the arches of a fine bridge over the river at the roman station of chilearnum near choliford this is on the roman wall which has already been described under the heading of thirlwall a few miles to the west would bring us to the picturesque but little known northumberland lakes where the wild swans nest if we continue south and southwest we can follow the beautiful valleys of the allen or the south tine this is a district of hills roads and castles the domain of the fated lord doent water was near here for beauty the whole of this neighborhood would be hard to beat yet it is too little known if we still go south the scenery grows wilder and wilder as we approach the huge mountain of cross fell we may cross into southeast cumberland and visit the quaint old town of olston one of the highest towns in england here were once the royal silver mines when english coins were made from olston silver led is chiefly mined there now and the mines are worth a visit near cross fell also is a rough road called the maiden way and an old legend says it was made by women who carried the stones in their aprons the western slope of the fell is famous for a specially violent wind called the helm wind which rages there at certain seasons it is just as if it were rushing fiercely down the hill with a roaring noise and strength enough to overturn a horse and cart and to beat the grass and grain till it is black but though it does a deal of damage it is very exhilarating making people feel merry in spite of themselves and on cross fell slopes can be seen the beautiful river tees which can be followed to its grand waterfalls of the cauldron and the high force in the first the water dashes onto huge rocks and is thrown back on itself roaring foaming and fighting in the second it tumbles sheer down a dark and noble cliff and everywhere on the heights there are splendid views in making any such excursions as the ones here outlined into the out of way parts of northumberland and the borders we find an added pleasure in the character of the people the borderers are still a grand race big man vigorous honest courteous hospitable free from all that is mean and small in some districts you can hear thou and these still used and meet old men who have never seen a railway one dear old farmer a real picture of a simple honest man hearing i had come from london asked me if the london men had got their haycrop in yet one typical northumbrian of great natural intelligence bearing a name famous on the borders his station master at a local station that stands in a wood and between trains studies bird and wildflower till he has made himself a most interesting naturalist a stranger who has lost his way will find these courteous folk ready to walk a mile or two with him out of their own way just to set him right and he who is tired and hungry will be invited to step in and eat and perhaps find himself introduced to all the family and treated like an honored guest then not a penny of payment taken they will set him on his way with a bunch of the best flowers from the garden for hearts on the border are very human and warm so that in due time he who knows the borderers will delight to hear the unmistakable northumbrian or the pronounced border accent and he will say to himself splendid is the border scenery and stirring are the border ballads but best of all are the border men end of section 52 end of stories of the scottish border by mr and mrs william plat