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With 16 lUttstimtions by Wabwick Oobuc. Cktap EdiiioH. Crcvm Bvo, ctoth, 3*. 6d. London: nODDER AND STOUQHTON. ay, Patesnostu Row. .^*'^3' j^"':Xx>i^: RAIDERLAND ALL ABOUT GREY GALLOWAY ITS STORIES, TRADITIONS, CHARACTF S HUMOURS BY S. R. CROCKETT WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOSEPH PENNILL " Where about the graves of the martyrs The whaups are crying," TORONTO WILLIAM BRIGGS 1904 mmm'^^m^'^. DA8SO G I /ss^ >V/A CCO^ •■•:t«s^'^'!n..:^ FOREWORD CONCERNING WHAT I PROPOSE TO MYSELF AND WHAT NOT iLiVTX ^""^ "°^ '^ "^""** **» ''"»« * new book about Gal oway a. to focus and concentrate what I h^e JaTetr i"i" ^ r °' ^-^'^-y-'overs and Gallowa, ^lulL """^"^ * guide-book, but rather a garru- IxUt I^rtoT^'""K. 1° '''' K^'de-book, which aL7y ^1^1 •?'°'* ''*'''*^ """y ^ '^"«n 'n the future Secondly, I ^„te not of All Galloway, but only of the part lew «^ M K ^*'^'" Country "-about which traditions "hTc^nJ^ have materialised themselves with something of the concreteness and exactitude of history. In short. I have m my own way acknowledging „o Uw save my own fancy! and d«»uuig only to give a true, if incomplete, picture oMhS Ancen Free Province of Galloway, sp^ialli of ti!t Lore 7^S:J:1 ^"'^^"^^" '' ' '^-^ - ''^^^^ For . hitherto unfrequented province Gallowav is well eq»|K?ed mth book, deling with L history «d 321'" Md the^ too, .re not .tatel. «d coMly to™«, lil^^Kii E^ Counj^ h,storie^ but comp«t and e«i.v obt^n^e volume, wh.chm.y accompany the traveller on hi, journey! X, "dofTL "°, " "'' ^'■'*'^' "ft" hi, returi ofTe wld land of bog.myrtle and peat where he ha, been ,ojounu„g! H-per.. ^imirable "Ramble, in" G^SIo^y^"-. t-k^^ST'S "i^^'^'yr^^^PW vt FOREWORD f^ 5f^ knowledge and sympathy, savouring alike of the brown moors and of Calloway's oat-cakes and inutton-hams. The author has quite recently brought it up to date, and made it more indispensable than ever to all who wish to understand the history and antiquities of the province. To Mr. Harper's book ought to be added the excellent and ve./ practical "Guide to the Stewartry" by the late Mr. J. H. Maxwell of Castle-Douglas, the father of a family of journalists, whose writings have been more widely read than those signed by many more famous names. To these I hope that the smaller edition of "Raider- land" may be added, as a record of the more poetical and imaginative interests of Galloway, as these appear to the present writer. Of books which may occupy a place in the library of the lover of our mountainous southland, there are many. A full list of them may be found at the end of Sir Herbert Maxwell's excellent "History of Dumfriesshire and Galloway." Of these, my own private shelf contains the following : to wit, two chronicles — Mackenzie's old-fashioned but most readable " History of Galloway "—and (what is indispensable for the critical student). Sir Herbert MaxweU's aforesaid History, in which he applies modem methods to many a good old hoary fiction concocted by the romancers of the times of eld, and leaves his pages plain and truth-telling as mine (fair warning !) are romance-laden and imaginative. However, I object entirely to the tacking our free and ancient province to the tail of Dumfriesshire. And though Sir Herbert, like a patriotic Gallovidian, generally allows the tail to wag the dog throughout his terse and knowledgeable chapters, still he owes it to his native heather that he should write the History of Galloway more at large, leaving all the Johnstones and Jardines of Annandale and the Border to settle their own moss-trooping affairs. To the histories ought to be added quaint John Mactaggart's "Galloway Encyclopaedia" and Dr. Trotter's two excellent books of "Galloway Gossip." Nothing more racy, more characteristic of the older Galloway now passine awav h«, ever been put on paper than Dr. Trotter'sTribCL^f an dd Scottish housewife, with her prejudi Js? hToSns To these must be added Professor H. M. B Reid's "A Cameronxan Apostle," a very remarkable and honoumble «:h,evemen m sympathetic biography, full of digeS W edge. reachmg past the outer husk of MacMUWs life to the ^Z^^'t °' *^! "^- '' ^^' ^" ^y «Pi-on. by fa^^ thll^'^st Galloway biography ever written, setting a goci man^s life m the veiy atmosphere of his time and thLing ' If the shelf be not too full by this time, then the late Sir ot.tr to r'^!,T"*^^ " ^^^^^^^^ Sheriffs of Galtly" ZnU ^^"^'i^' '°«'*^'" '^''^ ^ excellently edited L comprehensive selection from "The Bard«! of r.u ,, published by Mr. Harper in 1889. ^''*^' «nno^° 1,""*'^ "^ ''^y ^'^ supplement to these random ner- ^d For the rest, my book has nothing to do wiTh modem improvements or faciUties of travel Railway time- ^da^ "^^t^" "'" -PPly these. The s^Ceye "e Rrir^rhaL T'LT ^'^ ^"^^ '^^ mans^nsTf Dooksellers to place a large map in " Raiderland » fircf because maps unfolding out of volumes dSTg^'Jt bTf^' Imn^r^'". "''''! temper-ruffling things, allToo apt to S^ raid, of Levellers and love-makincr «f co- ~ j . ^P ^ 78 XIV ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE DEE, NEAR KIRKCUDBRIGHT CREETOWN FROM THE SHORE THE ISLES OF FLEET, FROM THE CREE TOWN ROAD SWEETHEART ABBEY . THE TOWERS OF DULCE COR NEW ABBEY .... KIRKBEAN SHORE THE COAST NEAR DUMFRIES PORTO'WARREN .... THE NEEDLE'S E'E . . . ABOVE KIPPFORD THE HARBOUR, KIPPFORD . COLVEND SHORE. . .1 NEAR KIPPFORD .... HIGH TIDE, NEAR THE SCAUR LOOKING OUT TO SEA . AT THE SCAUR .... THE BUCHAN .... CASTLE DOUGLAS, FR'^M CARLINWARK ST. NINIAN'S .... KIRKCUDBRIGHT. A TYPICAL FARM NEAR KIRKCUDBRIGHT OLD KIRKCUDBRIGHT THE CASTLE .... ON THE DEE, ABOVE KIRKCUDBRIGHT THE WATER FRONT . THE HARBOUR .... THE MOUTH OF THE DEE , rAOB To fact 82 • »» 86 »• 90 • M 99 • •» 100 »» I03 . 103 . To face 104 t • 10s • • 106 . To face 109 • • 109 . Tofact 113 • >» 114 »» 116 • n 118 • »i 120 • ■ 122 • • 125 • • 130 . Tofau 135 IT 135 « • 136 . To face 136 m • 139 . Toface 140 »> 144 »> 146 ILLUSTRATIONS XV rAGR 148 CARDONESS CASTLE NEAR AUCHENKIM - . To/ace 15a AUCHENCAIRN, LOOKING DOWN THE STREET . ,53 ISLE RATHAN OPPOSITE ISLE RATHAN THE HEART OF BORGUE THE BORGUE SHORE ROAD . CARSLUITH CASTLE ANWOTH CHURCH ON THE WAY FROM GATEHOUSE TO CREETOWN To face 156 » 160 » 164 167 171 To /ace 172 175 CLOUDS AND COASTLANDS, RASCARREL To/ace ,78 THRIEVE CASTLE RAVENSHALL GATEHOUSE-OF-FLEET . THE COAST ROAD TO CREETOWN . THE HEAD END OF LAURIESTON . LOOKING WEST ON THE GATEHOUSE ROAD LAURIESTON "THE AULD ABBEY" . THE SHORES OF LOCH KEN THE TINKLER'S LOUP . NEAR THE TINKLER'S LOUP. LOOKING UP LOCH KEN KENMURE CASTLE . THE STREET, NEW GALLOWAY KENMURE CASTLE AND LOCH KEN CROCKETFORD VILLAGE 181 To face 182 . 186 To face 188 191 To/ace 192 » 196 • I9T To/ace aoo 204 207 214 To face 214 217 To face 218 220 XVI ILLUSTRATIONS THE RAIDERS' BRIDGE, NEAR THE DUCHRAE CARSPHAIRN DALRY— THE VILLAGE STREET AT DALRY . THE GREY MARE'S TAIL ON THE DUMFRIES ROAD THE DEUCH WOOD, ROAD TO DALRY THE COUNTRY NEAR CARSPHAIRN THE MUIR ROAD, NEWTON-STEWART TO NEW GALLOWAY THE ROAD TO CARSPHAIRN . ON THE ROAD TO CARSPHAIRN . APPROACH TO THE MURDER HOLE THE BRIDGE OVER THE BLACK WATER NEWTON-STEWART THE MURDER HOLE . ON THE WAY TO THE RAIDERS' LOCHS LOCH ENOCH ON THE WAY TO LOCH TROOL BRIDGE OVER THE MINNOCH— ON THE ROAD TO LOCH TROOL . THE HARBOUR, GATEHOUSE REMOTE LOCH TROOL . THE MARTYRS' GRAVE, WIGTOWN THE MARTYRS' MONUMENT, WIGTOWN THATCHED COTTAGES, PALNURE . THE COAST, NEAR WIGTOWN NEARING NEWTON-STEWART To face no To fact 334 M 338 • 337 . 349 To foci 250 » 354 256 To fact 260 . 366 To fact 368 370 To face 373 374 276 378 283 *> » 384 287 To face 288 291 To face 294 • 295 To face 296 fi f i THE OLD BRIDGB, DUMFRIBS RAIDERLAND CHAPTER I THE GATES OF GALLOWAY TOGETHER WITH THE TALE OF "HOW THE SCHOLAR CAME HOME" When you step out of Dumfries station under the full "?!2 " } ?** ^^^ °*^" "^^*' *°^ '^ the needle-pointed electncs of the Une and the mellow glow of the Edison-Swan bulbs over at the Railway Hotel ^^^'**^*^ mingling with the red and green and yellow of the more distant signal lamps, you are conscious of a certain brisk elation, a verve and movement which is not provincial. In T^ *I! " '^"e*"* *bo"t the clean sharp-cut brilliance Of Dumfries not unlike some of the newer French towns— or even one of the more frequented suburbs of Paris. I' i\ ■ f ^ Kljrkcud' bright. > RAIDERIJVND Kirkcudbright, on the other hand, ti an old Dutch town, stranded, and as it were half-iubmerged, on some forgotten beach of the Zuider Zee. Yet the smaller burgh is by far the more picturesque and fruitful in suggestion, both artistic and literary. Or so at least it appears to me. Mysteries, solemn and far-reaching, stir and rustle about it. Imagination quickens at the thought of setting foot in it. Legend clothes it as with a garment. In the sough of its Isle woods, in the solitary thorns which grow for ever in Mr. Henry's "Galloway Landscape," and can be seen in their gnarled reality on the Braes of Loch Fergus, there is something wistful as the Solway winds and mysterious as the Picts themselves. But the landscape environment of Dumfries, her brisk atmosphere of trade, are as unromantic and actual as her excellent pavements. In spite of Devorgilla's Bridge and the memories of the sweet sad heart which lies beyond it at Dulce Cor, the "Queen of the South" is of today, and was crowned but yesterday. Only on a wet autumnal gloaming of wailing wind-gusts, shining causeways, and clammy fallen leaves is she at all impressive. For then, at least, we can stand and imagine the fimeral of Bums winding its black and tragic way up past the Mid Steeple. For through all the cheerful clattei of the Wednesday market and above the clanking tumult of the Junction, somehow the last days of Robert Bums overwhelm the heart of the thoughtful visitor, and subdue his mood to a fixed and sober melancholy. One looks in vain among the myriad advertisements of inks and soaps and mustards upon the sUtion walls for the one motto which should be emblazoned there— black on a ground of gold— "the noblest SCOTTISH HEART BROKE HERE." The Banks of Nith are fair and very fair. Slow, soft, and deep it rons above the bridge, and lies like a windbound lake round the bend towards cloistered Lincluden. But for me, I Burns. THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 3 own that I tm glad to be acroM DevorgilU'. crumbling arches and turning up the Glen of Cluden-or still further, out upon the blasted heath beyond Mossdale, where in a better day he composed "Scots Wha Hae." facing the lashing volleys of the ram with a hero's heart. I own it— in Dumfries I am as a stranger in a strange land. r.~."^'~""l^i.-' S't-xr r/' j^-'^ f ~N ^' -~•■- THE SHOKB ROAD, COLVBND I If '^l?l^ °^ '^ ^"**^- ^ »**" "« ^ her comforuble hotels, still but uneasUy, Uke a horse in an un- kenned stable. There are, however (praise the ^ Strange pigs I), fellow GaUovidUns to be met with even ^^^ !?^^i*"^7*'*^ I "^^ '*"*" """ "* *"^ ^^^ »bo"t Galloway a little^dly. as if we were in Cape Town or Timbuctoo. ^ This IS no our am hoose, we ken by the biggin' o't "-that en f ^ -f^ r ^^ ^^^*°"* °^ '^^ ^^^ ^ (humbly I confess It by th, sanitary excellence of its streets. Cros^ Devorgilla^s Bng. and the senses inform you at once that ;ou are m Galloway, a more pnmitive land, with all things more ■t f it 4 RAIDERLAND in a state of nature, but, so they tell me— and the detail is diagnostic — with cheaper taxes. Nevertheless, Dumfries is delightful in itself, and many guide-books will inform the curious of the sights thereof. The But for me, I yearn mostly to cross over to the Beauties of green braes of Cargen and Cluden, to lose myself ti^ Foreign in the haunted woods of Goldielee, and to tread ^^^^ the solemn aisles of Sweetheart. Maxwelltown and the bridges— « he waterfront of the two towns (mother and daughter), please me most, especially the view from the Galloway side, though I lil.ed Maxwelltown better when it was still called Brigend. Over the water the old prejudice against the city of Burns and Bruce stands fast. Once (says a not too veracious chronicler) they put out a legend over a grocer's door in Maxwelltown— " Coorse meal for Dumfries masons • " Whereof being advised, the 'prentice builders of Dumfries crossed the bridge and broke many windows ! Yet to take the Holywood road by night, and look down through the summer leaves upon the Nith lying cool and caim and deep beneath, with waifs and strays of moonbeams deflected and reflected till they waver faint and mysterious as the northern hghts, is to taste anew the wonder of the world, and to believe in water-kelpies and mermaidens combing locks of gold under the shade of birken shaws. The meadows c' Netherholm and Camsalloch, deep- bosomed m woods, Quarrelwood, steeped in memories of the The Covenant men and the meetings of the Cameronian Dreamy societies, the far-spying uplands of Kirkmahoe— Nlth Valley. *^^^^ *^^ co™e back to the nature-lover laden with the scent of clover and wild thyme. Ail the summer long the bees are booming among the blossoms, drowsy with the luxury of sweetness, and one can never forget the pecuUarly dreamlike atmosphere that overhangs the valley of the Nith, and which has been most perfectly expressed in art by the brush of James Paterson of Moniaive. Still, for all that, Dumfries is but the gateway of better thmgs-rougher, more rugged things. By the grit and rasp 1 S' III THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 5 of her Silurian beaches, with the boulders of "auld granny granite gmun' wi' her grey teeth." Galloway beckons us. holds us, attaches even the stranger within her gates till he loves her THE HILL ROAD INTO AYRSHIRE With the intemperate zeal of the pervert. Dumfries is a ereen country, but we seek the Grey Land ^ Other things le«l up to Galloway, but she is still the goal. strength of Morton on its little hill. It is one ZJ^'^J^t'^^^ ^^ picturesque ruins in ThomhllL Scotland. Visit Crichupe Linn, and see the rock whence (as tradition avers, and John Faa. Lord and E^ of llule gtsip^^ifp I«i The Eaterkin. 6 RAIDERLAND Egypt, narrates) Grier of Lag cast the boy who carried the minister's bannocks when on his way to the cave near the Grey Mare's Tail. Explore the bowery ducal village itself. Follow the flashings of the Scaur Water with Ralph Pedeii and Daft Jock Gordon— now dashing and roaring in a shallow hnn, and again dimpling black in some deep and quiet pool. Or, northward away with you along Nithside towards the deep defile of Menick, the great purple overlapping folds of the hills drawing down about your shoulders as you pass. Or lastly, approach Galloway by the Enterkin— that "deep and narrow glen " so excellently described by the author of " Robinson Crusoe," and the scene of one of the most daring of Covenanting exploits— "a most wild and fearsome place, where the hills dra y very close together. One of the precipices is called Stey Gail, and is so steep that the sheep grazing upon it are like flies but halfway up!" So plain-spoken Mr. Daniel Foe remarked when he passed that way. On the other side of Enterkin there rises still higher, and almost as steep, the top of the Thirlstane Hill, where is one place where the water runs down the cleft of the mountain and the descent is perpendicular like a wall— so steep, indeed, as Defoe saw it, that "if a sheep die it lies not still, but falls from slope to slope till it end in the Enterkin water." All which is very remarkable. Only one must consider that good Mr. Foe was more accustomed to the ascent of Ludgate Hill than to the steeps of Enterkin, and a much more credible account of it will be found in Dr. John Brown's charming paper descriptive of his walk through the pass in later and less exclamatory days. Nevertheless the railway is, after all, Galloway's main approach. It used to have two front doors, and though The Four *^^ "^^^ companies have to some extent amal- Foot Way. g^^^^^d, in so far as the Province is concerned, the employees still keep up the feud. I am reminded of my old friend Frank Jardine (his name was Ir iiKf the the ielf. den low >ol. the •Ids Sep of the ost sry nd >ut ed cin he rm ke ep in er of ch I'S in in ^ (ii "^^mmwmmm^ THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 7 cognate to that^ now, alas! passed from the earth upon which his feet made so firm a footmark. How often have I seen his portly presence gracing the "Caledonian" platform at Carlisle ! When first I knew Frank he was traffic superin- tendent on the Portpatrick line. From his youth he had been trained m a simple creed of two articles — "to swear by the deep indigo blue of the 'Caledonian' and her trim engines, and to hate the apple-green hulks of the 'Glasgow and South-Westem.'" So when in an evil day the lines amalgamated for .he conduct of their Galloway traflSc, Frank applied for a " shift " at once. It was bad enough to see the carriages of the hated G. & S. W. passing and repassing, ^'»nk the but to be compelled to hunt officially for their '^*^*^ lost trucks was more than Frank could bear. So the P. P. R. knew him no more, and he fled to districts where the Banner of Blue of the 'aledonian " was still unstained by any bar- sinister of South-Westem apple-green. Rest to thine ashes, Frank, faithful servant ! Perchance on some celestial line you are to-day hunting non-arrivals, ex- pediting tardive heavies, and charging up demurrages to the debit of disembodied consignees. At least in this life Frank was faithful to his owners and died in his duty— no bad theology, thought Captain Smollett after he had flown the Union Jack over the famous block-house upon Stevenson's Isle of Treasure. Anciently there were many gates to Galloway, now to all intents and purposes there is but one. Behind horseflesh over the bridge of Dumfries, on foot by Devor- gilla's, or by that which carries the shining metals 0«^" Gates of the Glasgow and South-Westem railway, come *° **** nineteen out of every twenty who view the land ^"°^*y of bog-myrtle and peat A few struggle in by Girvan and that whaup-haunted single track which, Uke an msult to nature, scrapes its way past Barrhill and over the peaty watershed into the long glen of ^'^°» the Luce Water. But those who come this way have a mmajm" «f. n-^^^rmm^^^m 8 RAIDERLAND Drove Roads. TT^- strained, almost terrified look, as of men who have passed great peril and do not care to tell the tale. Still fewer adventure across from Belfast Lough to Stran- raer, seeing behind them the light of Donnachadee lighthouse Bcliast **"™ ^^^^^ **^°" *^® stormy strait-^as from the wmdows of a Back-shore farmhouse many and many a night I have watched it. There were also in old time the drove roads, up which two sorts of "nowt" took their way. The first were sheep and bullocks which returned not again, but dreed their weird as mutton and beef after their kind in far- away markets. Then twice a year they were trodden by that other sort of cattle who, as Bums irrever- ently says, "gang in stirks and come oot asses," as they hied them collegewards over the green sward. Some, doubtiess, issued forth long of ear. But not all_by no means all that have gone that way. There is Carlyle, for instance, who. though a mere Dumfriesian (and Annandale at that), deserved to have been bom in the Free Province. He was never appreciated in the dales. He and all his clan were thrown away upon Ecclefechan. They were not sib to that soil. They should have dwelt under the shadow of the Windy Standard, a name obviously invented on purpose to be the onfl&mme of the stormy Apostle of Silence. Though Carlyle ought of right to have turned off down the Annan Water, yet once at least, coming from visiting Carlyle. ^"^"« *' Glasgow, he travelled by the Galloway college road, whereon he and his friend "tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky." On the famous field of Drumclog they held their chief conference --"under the silent bright skies, among the peat-hags of Dnimclog, with the worid all silent round us-the brown bog all pitted and broken and heathy remnants and bare abrupt wide holes, mostly dry: a flat wilderness of broken bog, of quagmire not to be trusted "-with the lion of Loudon Hill lookmg down on them as serenely as may be. Dear, inexpressibly dear and near to me is the picture of ■.«^^t--^ -, '-H-T.,"* ::^??*' .n^'^-'^^W THE GATES OP GALLOWAY g these two, searching out each other's souls as only youmr men :^''Z'i'i'^''iT ^'' ^° ^^'^ ^' th^in ylu 7^u .1°° <=°»fi<^ent certainty of youth-convinced also hat they will always be able to hold it fest "^°"^*=^ No wonder that the memory of the colloauv U c»ii " mournfully beautiful" to Carlyle fifty y^s after ' LINCLUDEN ABBEY young men-the Might Have Been f hJi . ? *''° ^^** 6 xidve jjeen, the last ghmpse of child- ''fm^: 10 RAIDERLAKD hood's glittering doudland before the mists of common day closed about them and the night drew down. Other two blessed northerly gates there are, both still trackable and rideable even in these days of motor and cycle. Thm vri A ^ ^^* ^^ ^*" °° ^°^^ "^^^^ " perhaps the Sunda!rd 5 ^*^" ^^* * '°*** distinguished by a ^j^y^ certain sweet melancholy, lies through great slumberous hills, wide green valleys, past the western Windy Standard (blessed name I). Beyond, it stretches away along Loch Doon and by Dalmellington, from thence malting a triple track with the railway and Doon Water all the way to Ayr, where it meets the shining salt levels of the lower Firth of Clyde. I knew a young lad who, once on a day (and on a night) trod that way, and the memory of his journeying is still fresh, though his flaxen locks begin to sprinkle with the pepper-and-salt at time. HOW THE SCHOLAR CAME HOME He was young, only a boy indeed, too early sent to college. So, being the only one in the parish, the Scholar they called The Story ^*™—*"** ** ^^^ Scholar we wiU unravel his story, of the ^® ^"^^^^ °" * *"™ ^^^ * father, stem and un- Scholar. approachable even in his affections for the son of his old age. Other brothers there were, but not jealous like Joseph's brethren— rather sUent, kindly men, lifting every burden that the father's stern eye would let them touch, smoothing the Scholar's path, and ever anxious to thrust the thorns and fallen rocks from before his feet. In short, being so much older than he, they were like fathers and brothers all at once. One day at the beginning of the hay harvest or thereby; it chanced that there was announced a cheap railway excur sion from a neighbouring town to Ayr— some cattle show or sheep tryst the effective cause. Two of these elder brothers i THE APPROACH TO DUMFRIES To/ace />. lo I M !i2!^i&^.s«aiife'~*T: THE GATES OF GALLOWAY ,, (very much not according to pattern) having clubbed their small earnings re«)lved to go, taking the Scholar with them. But a sudden improvement in the weather sum- moned all hands to the meadowhay. In a few days the crop might be spoiled. To Ayr Show, therefore, they could not go. ' But our Scholar, being of little practical utility at scythe- work, could go an he would. Willing? Aye, truly, and anxious. A most triumphant and victorious Scholar ! His father even bade him go, somewhat harshly— with the stem reason roughly expressed that his absence would save more in me*.t. than his labour in the meadow would earn if he remained. Now this father loved his youngest bom, his unmothered boy. Even as Jacob loved Joseph, so he loved him. But this was his Scottish fashion of fitting him with the robe of many colours. The old man owed it to his very love to be stern and hard with his youngest son. There are men made that way. Many pitied the Scholar and thought him hardly used. "The heart of the old man is set on his first-bom sons because they are more help about the farm I" That was. frankly, the countryside opinion. But these unusual elder '!! '.S """!. "°* ^^^^^' They knew to whom the best robe belonged and whose head would one day be held the highest. So, being neither Jews nor Patriarchs, they made no bones about bowing down in service to their Scholar. And he was a good Scholar. In no way did he abuse his portion. Indeed his father faithfully chaJ^ed himserwUh So very «u-ly in the morning of Ayr Show day the Schohir started off for the town through the cool dew/ligh! of the summer gloaming-two of the brethren, those two who ^ay Thann^v t^ f ^^f ^^vings. convoying him on his sTnshinI hU^q ^^ V ^^°'" '^^PP'^ °" ^^ ^d elastic feeling of holiday! His very white shirt and collar rasped happiness about his neck. P^ SQ2»5^R35K7 '^.4^.-'/ -WV^^-5k*irJ 19 RAIDERLAND ff i I Add to these thingi the ehition of the ipinning train. Think how at junction! and waiting-station* he watched the leisurely manipuUtions of greasy engine-drivers and grimy firemen. Never before had he been on a raUway, and even now h« can recall the slack drip-drip of the great leathern hose through which the engine had just taken its Gargantuan draught, the alert stiff-jointed armature of the signals up m the sky, as fresh and gay as paint could make them I Then at long and lact Ayr, the blue Firth of Clyde, and the wide bay between the headlands clipping and slapping in the brisk north wmd, which made it all indigo and foam to the boy's eyes. The Scholar made straight for the shore. Beautiful shells beset him, chipped and rounded pebbles, the famous agates Th« Head! jf ^ u* ""**** °^ ^^* tempted him at every step, of Ayr. "^ "® "«<* *»ck that he might have one glimpse of Bums's Cottage. But even here he secretly grudged the time which he lost, away from the seashore and the strange electric clapping palms jf the little waves as they cheered each other oa Thimc of it 1 He had actuaUy never smelt salt water before. ••attlel Tryst I Prizes! Competitions!" They were aU a vain show ! The Scholar never once thought of them. He could see sheep and bullocks enough at home-and he liked them, especially if they would only stay calves and lambs. But here 1 Well, the Scholar thought he knew something better. Somewhere m the distance he divined the moo/ and iroo/ of Uie showyard. He resented the very aroma as it came to him down the wmd. He saw gaily-dressed girls and soUd country men m black clothes and wide-awake hats of shepherd shape moving steadily to the one goal. But fcr him-why, Greenan Castle, the wide pleasance of the shore, the tang of the seaweed m his nostrils, the rasping saltness of the pebbles when he licked them to bring out the colours— that was life. "Cattle shows — faugh ! " It was indeed a high day of tumultuous gladness and fine i-.-v:-: x^-i vr-r •-; f7M}i -rm-. -ATrw.i --Si THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 13 <»nfu«5d emotion to the SchoUr. He forgot everything but the heavens above calling to the earth beneath, ai^ the%cai applauding both. His spirit was at one with Nature-a most imagmstive and dreamy Scholar, though at that time no>.ay. sentimental. He cared no more for a girl in holiday white ^^^^ o * >. m^-* WW^ W^ Hry i\ THE LONO WOOD Or OOLDIKLEA ^/a S*"a'a'*!;^''^u ^'^ ^^'* *^« »»« <=«lo"". that was re' urnTck^."' '' ^"^ ^''^""'°" ^'^» «^ *»^« ™y»tery of Not that the Scholar minded either of til . if k. i. j th,s true tale would never have tS„ \*„^ "i' '^■ hrirhrirnot"^ "V' •^' "■'"""^^ -'""-^ fie was not a spint m unison with the air and the .«.t;.iAj-f^---t-f -'.^T':r.^:^)|i!-1' KM ''m\.:\ PI*' m^^j 14 RAIDERLAND water and the earth, was a most persistent and appalling hunger. He had been vaguely conscious of a want for some time, but the sight of a good housewife at a cottage door near the shore setting out a bicker of porridge to cool, localised the vacancy sharply in the pit of his stomach. Whereupon he drew his hoarded pence out of his pocket, counted them, and going up to the woman he asked cunningly for a drink of water. The woman smiled, and said, •• Ye will be wantin' it in a milky bowl ? " The Scholar smiled, and said as to that he had no objectioa "Then come your ways ben," answered the goodwife, " and sit yr doon. Ye'll be a stranger comed to see the show? Weti, an' what for are ye wanderin' here? Frae Galloway ? A' that road ? To see Burns's Cottage — and the Sands — and Ailsa? Ye hae comed far for verra little ! But there— that will put some fushion intil ye, and then ye can gang your ways back to the showyaird and get in for saxpence after the judgin' is by ! " And so and so, with porridge and good milk and his pence upon him, the Scholar tasted the wholesome Ayrshire hospitality. When he took nis leave Ayr-ward, the woman pressed on him a couple of soda-scones. *• Ye never ken when ye may be glad o' them," she said ; " hunger comes on young things like a ravenin' wolf I " Which indeed shows that the thoughts of youth had not died out of her bosom with wifehood and mother cares. And indeed the Scholar had great reason to bless her foresight and motherhood before all was done. But on the way to the station the boy's good angel deserted him — or perhaps was momentarily displaced by a better angel. For the Scholar lingered, just as if there were not such a thing as a railway time-table on the face of the earth. And neither there was — for him. For when he demanded with weak and feeble utterance when the train would start, r •*%»»-. THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 15 he was told that it had already gone— and that his ticket, being an excursion pasteboard, would frank him by no other. What then must he do ? That was easy — buy another ! But the Scholar had no money, or not nearly : ujut^h to purchase the meanest single ticket that could be >ought— no, not so much as "a half." So, with a suddet thrill thit was not all unpleasant, he turned away from ,n» crowded station, gobg out through the rabble, growing noisy now ana staggery upon its legs. The Scholar never thought of going to besiege any great man in authority— station-master or other. He would as soon have petitioned Her Majesty's High Court of Parliament. He only turned away a Uttle sadly, wandered from street to street making up his mind, suddenly made it up, and bought two Jew's loaves. He can smell those loaves yet. They were a day old, and ripe for the tooth. Each had nine currants in, four above, five below, all visible to the naked eye— no deception ! Then he went up to a shepherd with his dog, all electricity and curling tail amid the unwonted press, and demanded to ba put on the Carsphaim road. " Boy," said the herd, looking down upon the Scholar as if fi-om a mountain-top, "ye are never thinkin' of ga'in* to Carsphaim the nicht ? " " Aye," said the Scholar, speaking with a kind of joy • "for when I get to Carsphaim, I'll be near-hand half-road hame I " He had heard his father say so. Then the herd, thinking that he was being jested with, raised his staflF to strike. But the Scholar di i not run away jeenng as is the way of callants in the wicked town of Ayr' He stood his ground and repeated his question. "Which is the road to Carsphaim— the best road— the quickest road ? " ^here is butae road to Carsphaim," said the herd, "and « TV » f / f iil i6 RAIDERLAND as I gang wi' ye a bittock-ye may een bide the nicht wi' me. and we 11 see what can be dune wi' ye in the momin* 1 » The Scholar thanked him kindly. But on the morrow, you see, he had promised to be back at that farmhouse near the The Cars- ^^ ^^^^' *° ^^'P "^'^ *^« ^^ His father-still P»»**~ ^?I^ brothers-would be wild about him. Ro^ Elder Brother William was to be in waiting at the A ^ ru^T '°°!^^ ^°' ^''"' ^ ^e must and would. And so, if he pleased— the road to Carsphaim ? And the herd, with his sheepdogs, his pleasant moorland eyes under the shaggy eyebrows, bleached and tufted like those of his own collies, soon dropped behind, and the Scholar fared forth alone. In an hour he was clear of the turmoil. In two he had settled into his stnde, and was devouring the miles At Dalmel- ^f-^, ^^ !^***„'?'« "^0"^ streak of luck, and got Ungton. J *^** *<> Dalmelhngton, together with much counsel from a farmer who had driven his gig aU the way to Ayr to get his "greybeard" filled, and who felt m the gig-box every hundred yards or so to see that nothing had happened to it No one could take that re- sponsibility but himself, but it was almost too much even lor nim. To this friend our Scholar owed no little. He also urced him to stay the night But the Scholar pressed on, eager at iLt to put himself withm the confines of Galloway. He yearned to see green Caimsmore swelling with its double breasts : for from the craggy summits of his paternal hills, on clear! northerly-blowmg days, he could see the cloud shadows fleck great Caimsmore o' Carsphaim. So up the long valley sped the Scholar, under the gentle cloud of night Here, in W the nights are mostly clear and mercifiil. But there was a weird quality m the light Towards twelve of the clock every broombush loomed up like a phantom leaning forward to clutch at his throat A scurrying rabbit set him quivering with vague but very real alarms. Sq he passed from adven THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 17 •routed" at and ture to adventure. At Meadowhe overS" ^1^""^," **« ")- *. wayside, under an him«If up. with , 5igh like . tiJ ^'"*" *"'' '"'«* awoke fte sun wa, shSng on "he l,n^"S ^- '» more. He knew it bv insiin^, v! *^ ■ """ "' ^'™5- looked verj. different '^ ^ *°°«'' "= «»™«'l P«ls The Scholar leaped to his fr#.f ,« ko-* ^ . than the shake and^ of a s^etchin^^' ^^' '"*^°"* "^°« on the southward road "^ '*°«' *'°"^d «"* again clear\^?^ri:ok':^Tu'^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ the stranger. But he was out of sSLt tf J k "^^ ^'^^ thot'rf ."J ^- .ind wh:[ t^ty ^t ,f; C^splui^n. though she had good in her heart a . ' good and evil alike. nZ^t, t r", ™°""' °' **»«»• fte good and iU do^rs cain« ^e „« L"™''' '"? '*°'™ action in time. "P "«" ™n* to take . nl^'oTie^^iJli^eeTanrs'^ «. .0= &holar knew, was tired to careXut bdnrh,,^ """« '"^- ^e grew too g«t.«„^':s:hCo:^i^^lS!iL""Tt;nr''''^ ^--^ - ;o out or their reach ^.'T ^^ ^l^T^^';^ '^'^^ms^iS^: jS** -J""■5■^:^|l 1,1? 11 it I x8 RAIDERLAND Then the loch opened out, and the Scholar seemed to walk light-headed in a world of misty brightness. Flashes came and went before his eyes, and he reeled with mere sleep. Nay more, in very truth, I think he was some- times asleep upon his feet, hasting and halting ever south- ward. About noon he came to the banning of his own terri- tories, and a herd on the heather over a dyke called to him by name to know what he did there when he should have been in the meadow. But the Scholar was too far gone to talk. He could only move his lips, and make a faint whistling noise in his parched throat. An hour after he stumbled up the little green loaning, across the watering-place, and so by the cattle-yard to the Home. ^°°^' ^® ^^^^ across it. His father lifted him up in his arms an U carried him in. Then something was poured dow-. his throat, and with a nasty taste and a burning feeling in his mouth, he came to himself. He felt comfortable now, and by-and-by could talk. His father listened till he was done, and then said sternly, " Put on clean stockings and your everyday claes, and away doon with you to the hay ! That will learn ye to miss trains, and put them that love ye in fear for your life ! " And because obedience was the first if not the sole law of the house, the Scholar rose and hirpled painfully meadow- wards, where his elder brothers greeted him with joy, and Elder Brother William, ¥rith a careful eye on the coming of his father, made him a lair behind a cole of hay. Upon this the Scholar fell down, and passed (even as a candle is blown out) instantly into dreamless sleep. Nor did his father come near the meadow all the after- noon, but stayed on the hill with his sheep — knowing very well what would be happening down there where the forks were tossing out the hay and the warm June winds blowing. For though a stem man and a just, this father had pity unto his children. i*^i '?miim:ii'^j^Kr.:^s^^*'jm >.^ s5 7. o '-^■is^'mu'js^im^mB^i^'m^'^Tmiir'vm^mii^s^ ^m\,':^^m^'^ifi THE GATES OF GALLOWAY 19 Now the very commonpUce moral of all this is that the Scholar, though stiU dreamy and absent-minded beyond wordL has never mused another train in his life And this is the last of the Ways into GaUoway. and ona which IS not trodden in such fashion twice. ^ '^^^M-^'-:-^---xii^:^m -w^-^^^imsstw^-'iSL:. A GALLOWAY FA»M CHAPTER II THE HEART OF GALLOWAY FOUR GALLOWAY FARMS L-THE FARM BY THE WATERSIDE The Duchrae of Balmaghie lo^^Jli!' ^^ °^ "^^ P^'P^'^ "^'^ *** ''^^^ interests me most-with what set its stamp deepest upon me. rSi^ bnght days when the sun had not long ri^n. and "he fS of mommg was in the blood. li«. I^h!^ ^ ^'''' ^} '' '^ *^^ ^°^«««»t fo^ situation. It lies nestled m green hohn crofts. The purple moors ring it The Farm • '^ '°"°**' "^"^^ "^^ south. To the eastward I know Pmewoods once stood ranked and ready like bat- bet tahons clad in indigo and Lincoln green a^abst w^ "'i"^ sun-that is, till one fell year wh^ the w«>d^n swarmed all along the slopes and t J ring of^es whl. '""^ P«e chips, among which my mother Sd me while she and her brothers gathered •• kindling » among the "et ■im^-"^. ■ mn. THE HEART OF GALLOWAY „ unfallen giants. Too voum to walk I haH »« k- • j • . .•b«k to u« wood. B?i°:f;i'^»'»^';«^^ d«mm .he b«»d .p,«d of the moor bSX ^^ owr which we had < .me, the warmth of the shawl "» '« 'f m which I wa. wrapped, the dreamy «»« of the ^'»* newly cut fir-chip« in which they had leik me r^^ .k. Ss' "f T"*^"" °' "'"W U..UoIed^"7tt: «^^«fnendly a wm,.. a. a white r«ing Ooud X h-ih H Jli? i* "^- u"' ''*«^'"« "»' I """nber of that out- ^^ o'tdr.v"" "" ^" *»- ^'P' *"»«"« wioMjpen. Of mdoor thmgj one only is earlier —n'trr" T" '^'" '^''-«"'y September, most likel, -aU the family out at the oats, following the sliw Vweeflf the «^he or the crisper my of the r«X"U ^ SUence in the little kitchen of the I^ch^ i Tk. Bum- Only my grandmother padding softly about in S*"™" her Ust dippers (or A,,^,), baking farles S '^'"'• ^L" "^T^f-" '".' "■'"'' "■"* of --described by kno^L'?" "" ' *"'"«' ' '"'"' "«. b"' thi» I do kmw-that I came to myself lying under the hood of 7^ oU «rm^ cradle of a wom^plSm-colourV stl^ a° i^ own^bare toe. which I had set up on the bar' atl?.^': rer':sch^r '"" t^" -^^^^^^^ euner Which concerns any but myself. SabSh ^. r^' '^*'/- '* ^^^ ^"^^^' ** ''^t seemed a «Hi« ♦!, "*""^e. nm ot mfiniie marvels. Beyond a littU depended. There was also a sugar-plum tree, under which I ti^T^nl- "mm- 32 RAIDERLAND it 14 A*««, a htUe brook that rippled across the road (now I fear weT^r^' conveyed o a drain-pipe). at which the' horsed TIZ"^. "*u' *"^ "°™"^' »"d ''here I gat myself of rl!;?" tT I*^ '^'^ ^^^"""^ " *" unforgotten little elbow Of road. The loaning runs straight up and down now but you can still see the bend of the old'path and the^r^ bank-nay, only I know where to look for that-the bank on which my mother sat and sang me "The Lord's my Shep- herd on Sabbath afternoons. ^ For of all those who were a part of these things, only one now remama upon the earth. The rest are over th?hiU yonder Ac re b ScT!: '^^'/"'' '''' ^"^^^"' ^' the stnL^wi its a ri^ht r''* m"* T' '"'^ ^^'"«* ™"»' »««»» be, doubt- grlve ^ ' ^°' ""^ '^"^ ^"^^^'^^'^ ^«t««- Then through the gate— no, the yett— ami vou are on th* road to New Galloway. But keep ' traigrrraS a ,i«le wa^ and you wiU find the quaintest'and m'ost delicious bS across the narrows of Woodhall Loch, just where the Lane of Dee nins down to feed the Black Water of Dee thr^h a paradise of pebbly shallows and reedy pools. ShTblac^ Such a heavenly place for a boy to spend his youth in I The water-meadows, rich with long deep g«ss that one could hide m standing erect, bog-mj^le buLrhaz^X and brambles big as prize gooseberries and black as-well as our mouths when we had done eating them Woods of tall Scotch firs stood up^ one hand, oak and ash on the other. Out in the wimplmg fairway of the Black Lane, the Wniia« We ay anchored. Such a place for nuts ! You couu'^e" back-loads and back-loads of them to break your tee^h ujS! A Heavenly Place for Youth. ^^ The Levellers. THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 23 in the winter forenights. Vou could ferry across a raft laden with them. Also, and most likely, you could fall off the raft yourself and be well-nigh drowned. You might play hide- and-seek about the Camp, which (though marked "probably Roman " in the Survey Map) is no Roman camp at all, but in- stead only the last fortification of the Levellers in Galloway— those brave but benighted cottiers and crofters who rose in beUted rebellion because the lairds shut them out from their poor moorland pasturages and peat-mosses. Their story is told in that more recent supplement to •• The Raiders" entitled "The Dark o' the Moon." » There the record of their deliberations and exploits is in the main truthfully enough given, and the fact is undoubted that they finished their course within their en- trenched camp upon the Duchrae bank, defying the king's troops with their home-made pikes and rusty old Covenanting swords. * "There is a ford (says this chronicle) over the Lane of Grennoch, near where the clear brown stream detaches itself from the narrows of the loch, and a full mile before it unites Its slow-moving lily-fringed stream with the Black Water o' Dee rushing down from iti granite moorlands." The Lane of Grennoch seemed to that comfortable English drover, Mr. Job Brown, like a bit of Warwickshire let into the moory hoggish desolations of Galloway. But even as he lifted his eyes from the lily-pools where the broad leaves were already browning and turning up at the «dges, lo! there, above him, peeping through the russet heather of a Scottish October, was a boulder of the native rock of the province, lichened and water-worn, of which the poet sings " See yonder on the hillside scaur, Up amang the heather near and far, Wha but Granny Granite, auld Granny Granite, Girnin' wi' her grey teeth." If the traveller will be at the pains to cross the Lane of * Macmillan & Co. I' .'4 **^ j| m AiK u RAIDE AND G«nnoch, om. i, u «>,„„,. commonly c.lW,,heOoch« Then over the Iteei uxl k...i k ^^ , ™ ^"'* "lU. "i" h.». (like SLrAuJ^T^""'."' *' """*" '•"• •» defence, if the Kleni ^^^71^™'^ V™" "^ *' ""i" them eK.p«i 2.™r^,i?f ^ ^ '.*" "^ '"'' "'^":'' ■""< of behind «, . ^ Tu'^f'KT''^ " '" "» "O""- "^e "■ound ,« d^,o1?rf„f'^\"''"» ">« "V of thel«np *« I^eMe™^ ^hl""" '^. ■" '«»' ""ushwood tent, of tio» to theJ^tt^Hot S?S^^.^" -"^ '" •" *-■ '-vtt^o':^'. t.S oSw!^' ^ r -e poor. p^'^dt"n:.":r^^£i^n:^-"of r^^ hUUide holdu.t.Xir'tl '^^> *»« *"> from their 'aU.?Ztn^l«1tkrh *' "P"^"" "<' Of '"« Troo. /. /"u can see when the sun s settine over •*.*»«. t u ■»ount«n-,ide, regular « AeJri!^ higher «,ll, a«Mnding the - «cien. ri^. r£.TL^:^\ZZ^ayZ1X THE HEART OF GALLOWAY ,5 the«> wild«it and most .^mote rcccs«« of the hill. All i. now pMied away and matter fnr r«m- I . " " 7 mm* matter for romance— but it is truth ,VN^.\^ iH all the THE DUCHRAB WOOD ROAD ZZ. ""'■ """ """^ -^ •*" " ""«»« f- and without a6 RAIDERLAND m It The Gottntiy of the Covenant. From the Crae Hill, especiaUy if one continues a little to the south till you reach the summit cairn above the farmhouse of Nether Crae, you can see many things. For one thing yoir are in the heart of the Covenant Country. "He pointed north to where on Auchencloy Moor the slender shaft of the Martyrs' Monument gleamed white among the darker heather— south to where on Kirkconnel hillside Grier of Lag found six living men and left six corpses— west towards Wigton Bay, where the tide drowned two of the bravest of womankind, tied like dogs to a stake— east to the kirkyards of Balmaghie and Crossmichael, where under the trees the martyrs of Scotland lie thick as gowans on the lea."^ Save by general direction you cannot take in all these by the seeing of the eye from the Crae Hill. But you are in the midst of them, and the hollows of the hills where the men died for their "thocht," and the quiet God's Acres where they lie buned, are as much of the essence of Scotland as the red flushing of the heather in autumn and the hill tarns and " Dhu Lochs " scattered like dark liquid eyes over the face of the wilds. Chiefly, however, I love the Crae Hill because from there you get the best view of the Duchrae, where for years a certain The ^°"®^^ ^^^^'^ played, and about which in after years Duchrae. ^ "^^^^ P°°^ imaginings have worked themselves out Here lived and loved one Winsome Char- teris— also a certain Maisie Lennox, with many and many another. By that fireside sat night after night the original of Silver Sand, relating stories with that shrewd beaconing twinkle in the eye which told of humour and experience deep as a draw-well and wide as the brovra-backed moors over which he had come. From these low-lying craigs in front of the farm buildings, one Kit Kennedy saw the sun raise its bleared winter-red eye over the snows of Ben Gaim as he hied him homewards after feeding the sheep. Cleg Kelly turned somersaults by the side > "The Stickit Minister." p. 109. (T. Fisher Unwin.) ■;- . :"J»Sffi*r: •'^?, ^ M Mirffe»fW THE HEART OF GALLOWAY of thar crambling wall, and a score of boys have played out their hfe games among the hazels of that tangled waterside plantation which is still to-day the Duchrae Bank. There is indeed Uttle difference about the house since the pUce was really Craig Ronald-a new porch to the door, new roofs to the farm buildings, the pleasant front garden quite abobshed. These make the sum of the differences you wiU find when you go up the loaning and look for a moment at the white cottage-farm, where once on a time some of the earth's exceUcnt ones were passmg rich on a good deal less than forty pounds a year. The farm by the waterside is at its best in harvest, or perhaps — " About the Lammas-tide, When the moor men win their hay." ..c-,^*"*" y°" "^^y *=^ce to find something like this- Silence deep as that of yesterday wrapped about the farm- house of Craig Ronald. The hens were all down under the ee of the orchard hedge, chuckling and chunnering low to themselves, and nestling with their feathers spread baUoon- wise, while they flirted the hot summer dust over them. It feu upon theu: droopy and flaccid combs. Down where the glass was in shadow a mower was sharpening his blade. The clear metalhc sound of the 'strake' or sharpening strop, covered with pure white Loch Skerrow sand set in gr Jse. cut through the slumberous hum of the noonday air as the blade .tself cute through the meadow grass. The bees in the purple flowers beneath the window boomed a mellow bass, a^d the grasshoppers made love by miUions in the couch grass. cAtmng in a thousand fleeting raptures." Coming down the Crae Hill, let us return, not by the bridge, but by the front of the deserted cottage. OnyourriehL as you descend through the pinewood, is a tiny islet, crowded standing-room for half-a-dozen grown men.' ^°^ *« but an entire continent for a boy to explore in the ****** long days of the blanket-washing, when all the women-folk of f < 28 n n RAIDERLAND the farm were down there boiling their great pots, rubbine water was tinged with a strange misty blue. Some years «ro ^Tm^:tl '"k1 Vk'» ~--^ - of yore 4K-h1S ana WUlow-herb; while the Lane of Duchrae, beeinninir its There, straight before us, at Dan's Ford is th*. mnc* Ktn^Jf ^'^"'"^ '" °^ stepping-^^e's S the%orrd,* trefc^irrt ?; °"' '° '"P °^^^ ^P'^^ unexpectedly into the coolness of the water. Or you can sit, as Sw^theaA and Dan'sFofd. ^ "^ *» ^°> «Pon the big central one and eat . , ^ ^ yo""" ^'wch, as much isolated as Crusoe uoon his ^land, the purl of the leaves and the murmur oTTefS^d the ^'atTt^*'•^T'*^'"P^^^• Looking dowr, you 1 Thth TL^"^ ""^ '^'"^-P^"' ^^ ^° ««* know its name^ which I can remember to have tickled my toes, as I wadS Xrw:;ere"^^' ''' "^"^ --^^ ^--^-e to I^nv\u''^ ^ ^u"" ""^ y°" ''^"^^ ^^* '^^ter of the finest to dnnk. there is the wayside weU a Uttle farther on the^ Sweetheart's T^^'u""" ^^^^^^^ ^^''^oru Just underneath Wdt ?*" ^ r^yji" fi?d it. It has, I fear, been offl^Joi ^ ? ® *^"**^ cabmed, and confined by the ^cial roadmen, but still there are some cupfuls oTVaterf c^! and dehaou^^ m the deepest shadow. A^d if you hIveTo ^^'^^^:^::t!^^X " "" ""^^ ^ ^^-^^ northw!H5'°T**J^''' ^'^''^y Station you keep your face steeo t^.'^'^f T "^ "^^ ^'"'^^ '^^ waters'and^e tt biSf Wmt,rd"^ ."^^'^^ '''' ^^ ^"- *»>ove uic Dircnes vviU Gordon and Mais e Lennox olaved .f w«« derers and King's Mea And we. like the" tw^mr; It P^kS witrh'ri''' "^iV'^^"^ ^^ ^^^ dales'anS'hdi' pranked with hawthorn and broad gowans. and in the wood- r;ii?^;?Bii?s^^?=^ s I Ml •i...«. . 44iASr^-^^- m^' ,N,'. ■ a S^- *f T.JR"«!ES«^.-^" I) (I ''■^m'^a^:s^-'--*^r The Sab. bath Air. THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 29 land hidmg-places frail little wild-flowers lurking like hunted Covenanters or escaping Levellers. Sabbath at thi Farm Ah, that was another matter. Still— still with a or-t of the Sabbath Day over our GaUoroj farm. The birds dM woreftipfui note. There was a something in the very sunshine as It lay on the grass that was not of theweekdav TmZt more restful hush breathed abroad in the Sbtth i '"°""' Necessary duties and services were earlier and more auietlv of pnvation or discouragement for tc3 boy. For not only was his path strewn with "let ups" from too much gravity by sympathising seniors, but he even dis. covered « let ups " for himself, in everything that 1 Tsy^^ or flew, in heaven or earth or the waters under.* UsuaUy when the boy awoke, the sun had lomr been un Tl:^!"^ ^^k"*""*^^ °^ ^^«"'' generdTsolud^wef; hush«i about the farm. There was a breathless sSe.^nd .he b^^nd „, ^ 1 '^Z hf^.'S'up^ttr m self-communion, «,d sometimes groaned awT^S ^^',<'f''»™»P<»=- prayer. Hisr^1os:^ae tht vS tX^ The^7w^\£--;----'t' K-^r^ssri?:is;ttrySS » •• Bog-Myrtle and Pcat." (Sands ft Co.) 30 M : n RAIDERLAND so found when his mother came in. * Ae house forwaid to h" e^i^ "^^^^^ bT^.^"^ "^ women knew hownear the l^yWe^s call "^^'^ °^ "^^ omitted that morning. AnS Xurm^r k '"^ *"'^'*'J' T^»g ol "»■> °f the coming week, . thanksgiving for that iktBuik.- -fh-d, h.d beenleft behi^l Th;"B„ik»«L hide of a calf was bm^^hf^ I ^gh-coated in the haiiy bowed himself In all , hi 1?^;** ''°™ ^"^ " «»<1 could be fST it wl « v r" *"' ^ « «''»« *a. Walter r«oI,ed,oT. ^^"^ ?'"»"' «"""»« *a, ^° °® * Sood boy for the entire ww»lr tk- psalm was reverently given out. two lines at TlZ " They in the Lord that firmly trust, Shall be like Zion hill." ^ Slit :xr- :r:.r ^?rur r«id.ng of the Word-accorfing to tTe ^Son 1?,! *! "ening-LnJ^es^fhe^iifDarfp' """."""^ "" ^*"!::Sr:j^^- r«p?^r: .i»^^ THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 3, .11 IL'^^.^ T?***^ *''" P^y*^""' ''^"^ " ^th one motion a l^a^ir . '''i*" *f *" P"y^^ •" ^» ^"^ house or asked taelt. This last was the highest compliment that could be nott.. But here was „„ liturgy, no lepetitioTof phni, «t dronL"* '""'^ ,'^° '" "»■"«»'«• 1' ™^ ^n^„ • "^ unconraomly from the specter's lip^ of an Passmg on its way Kirks Free and Kirks EstabUshS^ to deposit Its passengers at the Cameronian Kirk ^ *° on the Hill, where their ancestors had listened The Kirk- to the preached Word throughout their genera- '^°«- Sonr """ '^" '°""''*'°"' *^'«^^ ''''' '^^ ''^o"^ upon aJ^V^J^./" •■'T"'"*^ ^°' '^'^ *««* »°d the women. e^ur?r^rHn k"^"^ " '"^ ^y* "^'^ or 1«« willing to endure hardness, but. at any rate, not consulted in the matt« The men folk, uncles long-legged and strapping.^th iTyhrn ttrth /„'*'* '*"'"^ "P '^^ ^*'««*-«° prompt to it. time ^ watcriTi^" ^^^^^^^ ^-^^^ '-- ^'^ -- c^ock ::: More often, however, the boy remained gratefully behind and after a careful survey of the premises.Te usSuy weni H\ I ^* RAIDERLAND f»d "r. one. o„. T^^' 1*' """^p, but «, ,J ■nto such m„„d.„e KufBinfT^'ll^H "*■ "' ""•«« countiyside u to prove ft.„ SL *^'- ^'' «<"">"» of the the blue. "^ ""■" ^ 'Vkt Cameronian. of II -DRUMBRECK UNDERNEATH THE FLOWE «"ding, which look t^ 1 *'• ''"« <^ ""« ""<« S™- B«g«,o„beiug.h^^*~^"«"«"«Pi^ D^n-b™*. J SchS h''oZ^e„'"fJ?.r "*' '«'<»*•»'' I.t« ti™ wholly pa.«,Ur TT^^dSr 'r^'™ •>"■<»' ««eiaUy.l50 "a boir"a^„ft, ,! "*"" *«^ "kept . man" Two dear and .A,,^ 1.°^ * '*™"' "«•" -g»v, «>o„«r.^":^i"':^«'^,«.e a™, .cgethe, TwoKto.. ?°<'"«»Peckti.»f.r^r„e^' Ar^^^ •<» m«u house to dwcU in was nni,mwLX • P'"*"* •"•ys- How I h.H ^ I'n'mbreck m those " Dante "driliri into rebvS,?^?*" "<' CatT". frpm whose history) I "^7.?^;.*?" -■>««. <*««o.er^t still see the elder broth«^,h ^, K ?" *"^"«'" I «> poUdc. or »hce;>sale.-Se ' u„«r1S ,™ "" "f" ''"P " we and page together of c«LHTT"'^"'«*'°8 Milton-or, perh.™ onlv Kn^M^ ..T^""*^' Tennyson, England --notinft^dis^L^^'- ^'"°™' H«>o.i of once I oKcussing, arg,ung, quarrelling all at "Oh, laddie," I can hear his crv nW hour, "will ye „» belicTe? T^,^ "* «P«>«chful to this that MacauUy says it? ^ere^? j!^^"!. ^^ -o see / I ncre 11 IS m printers' ink | » -.r'"-'".^v\3P.', THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 33 fi. \i' i' NEAR WOODHALL LOCH. LAURIKSTON |!'l 34 RAIDERLAND I %\ l>-f in j " I dinna care if the Man in the Moon said it," I would reply to proroke him, " I dinna believe a word of it I " But here, in the stillness which fell on the farm when the "men" were out at work, I lived a life free as any bird. A Lonely J*<*^-^«« ""ked not my life, for owing to Boy. household favouritism in high quarters, dinner, tea, and supper had no definite hours for me. They were ready in that bounteous house when I dropped "iT the tree-tops-litemlly-or from among the tussocks and black hags of the moss, or all adrip from the reedy- weedy lochs which star the great flowe between Bargatton and Glentoo. There is a huge sUte, now deeply sunk in beech-wood, on which, when that beech was young, I used to sit swinging my legs mto space and reading every book which I could bee borrow or steal-Chambers's "Edinburgh Journal," "Hoa^s Instructor," the two volumes of Chambers's "English Litera- ture -the hist pored over to the point of illegibility and accounted a most marvellous treasure. These were for lone my chiefest text-books. To which be added, with the ever- present Shakerpeare, a red-bound reprint of the works of a certom great unappreciated poet, Longfellow by name, soUed witn au Ignoble use in primers and recitation books. But the natural feature most characteristic of Drumbreck is the immmence and omnipresence of the high peat Flowe TheUppe* **^^® *'• '^^^ "***^® ^«^<** "e but islets in an pio^^ encompassing peat-moss— hardly won indeed, and yet more hardly kept by generations of good husbandry. To which be added meadows to the west with slow black water "lanes," dank and weedy, winding through them, then the haunt of coot and water-rat, and an admir- able practice-ground for the use of the leaping-pole. Even the paths which lead to the little house knoU, with Its tall beech-trees and white farm buildings, are mere threads through the marshes, often overflowed at Espie Meadow or about Bargatton March. But high above, imminent and mysterious, stretched the i-. #!^ ^ il 'vV M .(Fr^jr-^ w"& M^ wasmii^ii ^j^'jmw. mf-'W fWBife^te^fflte^ ' T THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 35 chief Joy of my life «t Drumbreck-the Flowe mv with .^jei^'jTi "k' '"^'r- '' "° "-"• cSourbur- ♦ K^ u •" »»»»">o<=k8 .nd tummocks, with grien wet Whiln^'hrf'*'?"*^^ C.rr/K-«w....«/" So the bird, went /^W*.K u "^ '"'P"' '''^'P'^K '^^iJ of ••P'^ing. the wild Zr b^rtn K ^"^'l *^'' *="""^- And I loved the oZn \t^ I ^^ T* ^^ *'^*» ''^« d«^««l bird, of iU curved beak to the horn, of "auld Sawtan, Nick, or Clootie" -^nd the peewit, because in that Covenanting country it. senile., clamour and the energy wiiJ, which it keep. thTJo conKience »ke. Any one who attempts to croM the Flowe 1 ™T^;r^ '~" *^*^ ™'^**'«*>f April to the end of jX will easity be convinced that many of tho.e martyr grave, wS flower the heather of Scotland owe their position^ the „d,t cuno«ty of thi. ill-conditioned, unchancy, yammering birr ' It wa. at least partly in revenge for ihi, peculiarity that. orLrh:^"'/T'^'«^ '«^ ^<^ smal!^nd."^eth« on some bed of bent. I avenged the fallen t.. Covenanter, m a .imple and natuml fashion. J^L* With a paper of salt in one's pocket and a 57h."^ ' crust or two of bread, one may go far in the Martyr.. liH^^ T^"" *""* "^« ^n% all the way. Above the Flowe of Drumbreck grey plover, golden plover w stUl. On the moor itself whin-chat and stone-chat knapped; among the gall-bushes, for all the torid See from^';^!^* ? *^' '''"*'t ''^ *^" ™°^^ ^ "^^^^ ''^^"e. «^'eened from view at peace with all men, I drew a book from mv pocket and fell to-the world meantime swinging along J {, i;l 36 RAIDERLAND • - i !1 • I I unregarded as the great white-sailed cloud-galleons aloft. But, here as at my own birthplace, it was my lot to be a child alone, or (what is the same thing) a child among grown-ups— a child whose plays are in his head, never entrusted to another shared by none, to himself sufficient— so that all unconsciously he forms the habit of never being less alone than when alone. The which may be a good thing or not, according to the child. In later days, with Drumbreck as a centre, there opened out a new world of night adventure, of visitations far afield, Night °^ practical jests, all the mirth of farm-ingles and Adventure. ^^^ meetings under cloud of night. But the time to speak of such things is not yet, and indeed that is another tale altogether. But if you would know what it is like— why, you can read the story of the loves of Nance and the Hempie in a book called "Lads- Love." IIL— THE BIG FARM AlRIj2LAND When I went first to Airieland it struck me that I had never seen so big a place. The bams were great as churches. The AWeknd. P^o"«^™en, the herds, and the cotmen formed an army in themselves. The name of the harvesters was legion. The Big Hoose was a palace, every room of which I soon transformed into pure romance by attaching to It some story I had read or dreamed or simply "made up." But my proper domain was the basement— the kitchen and the parts adjoining. The mere size and space of these com- prised a marvel-the Dairy, the Cheese Room, the Laundry —all with then- names and styles marked in white script across the doors, even as the pews in the parish church were in- scribed with the names of the farms to which they pertained The whisk and scutter of the rat-armies behind the plaster and the headlong way in which they used to run races appar- ently from the rigging to the ceUars of the old house, struck » y^-Tf^r: •J^T ^ *" THE HEART OF GALLOWAY 37 it my soul with a fearful admiration. This used to increase when my aunt left me to sup my porridge alone in the darkening gloaming, while she went above stairs to argue with her mistress or tell the lady of the house what she was to have for supper. Then during these awful moments I could see rat after rat stealing across the further wall in awful pantomime. One, I can remember well, used to sit up and wash its face. But I thought it was only saying grace before meat, ere it hurled itself at my throat. However, as I grew older, these terrors became no longer aflnghting. I grew learned in catapults, and in time avenged my former fears by the slaughter of more than one rat, killing necessarily "upon the wing"— not from sporting reasons or pride of marksmanship, but "because the brutes would not sit still." The Leddy of Airieland, gentle, gracious, kindly above women, was (nominally) my aunt's mistress. ly kinswoman was in service— also nominally. Really The Leddy her will was unquestioned both above stoirs or J?**^^' below. So much I gathered even at that early ****** age. Such a relationship could not exist, or at least hardly, in these later and more mercenary times. The Laird of Airieland, when he passed our way, abode in my grandfather's house as guest with host. He it was who alone was permitted to " tak' the Buik " in the presence of the head of the family. Then for a whole long forenoon they would talk the Fundamentals over together, or settle point by point the minister's last sermon, shaking grave heads over many a doubtful "application" and shamefully un- developed " particular." "And Jen?" the host would ask casually after a pause. He was inquiring for his daughter. " Oh, Jen ! " her master would reply with equal careless- ness; "Jen's on fit— muckle aboot it, I judge. At least I heard her telling the mistress she was to get ready the pots for the berry-jeely boiling the mom ! " '^ I k\ . 38 RAIDERLAND hi i ! was^^VnT I" '1 *^" ^°"* °^ ^«l*««« "> broad P-rd of e„;^ " ** """""' "™ of """'—he ver, van- eangtystrangercursatoneanother-. heels. For to the man ■' •^:' -r^iji^^j^ •■' '! THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY ^y from DumfriM k^lZ *"'' ""* "«•'<' '» • ■»« nun H?!f "• r'r* "°'''^'y ^'«""«»» ^^^ « Ay .h. -- n»»n. He IS an Ayrshireman by intent For h.^.i be no excuse. For his villainy'no ,^Hatfon I tl "'J m the records of Scottish kw . w-n Tw • '^^''^ '"' which one Mossman w^ha^L orL' "^^^^^ ' ^^^ ''^ following indictment ^ ^ ° ^*^ '°' ''^5, unor th. without'^u.i'' ''""" "" '^""^ °" '"^^ ^^^'^ high... *■ J^.* he "wandered in his discoorse." 3- TAat ke beionged to Carrick.** The last count was proven and was fatal to him a a with good reason Manv .» k^ . """• ^^^ forleL. *^*"y *" honester man has been hanged was much retarded bv the nrAj..,i,«» • *^'"" *" ^aiioway ,h„ -^.u ?'^ "" "' "'°"8'« »f- People Th. R„, who said that they had been there weie loolid "^ "« on "a thoch, agley... a, ,e might T^ L'^^ ^•"* "bo, «,h no record for eonspicuou, daring, asserted that t* h M ii y m^immf^mm^^^ts^^^^: 4* RAIDERLAND he had been to the summit of Mount Everest Accounts of their travels were received with conspicuous and almost msultmg unbelief. "Oh, ye hae been in the Heelants. say ye?" "Ow, aye,— »»r/^a— aye!" Edinburgh was known, of course. It was a bad place, Edmburgh. A Gallowayman only went there once. The place he visited was the Grassmarket, where the king's repre- sentative presented him with the loan of a long tow-rooe for half-an-hour. So that though most of the Galloway lairds of any degree of respectabiUty in the olden times had had their Uttle bit of trouble in the days before the Union, most of them pre- ferred to Se "put to the horn" (that is, proclaimed rebel and traitor to the realm and the king's majesty by three blasts upon the horn at the Cross of Edinburgh), rather than come up and risk gettmg their necks mixed up with the '♦ King's tow." It was a very far cry to Cruggleton and a farther to the Dungeon of Buchan, and the region of Galloway was not healthy for king's messengers. The enteric disease caUed •'SIX mch o' cauld steel in the wame o' him" was extra- ordinarily prevalent in the district, and any one who was known to cairy the king's writ or warrant about his person was almost certain to suflTer from it. It was told of Kennedy of Bargany that on one occasion his man John had crueUy assaulted an innocent traveller upon the hirhway, and was brought before the Sheriff Court at Wigton for the offence. Bargany appeared to defend his man, and his plea of innocence on behalf of John was that the man assaulted " lookit like a Sheriffs offisher or a Uwvyer." John got off. ^ AU Galloway is divided into three parts— the Stewartry, the Shire, and the parish of Balmaghie. Some have tried -Omnii *° **° without the latter division, but their very GaUla." »U-succes8 has proved their error. The parish of Balmaghie is the Cor Cordium of Galloway. It IS the central parish— the citadel of Gallovidian prejudices. It was the proud sanctuary of the reivers of the low country THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 49 ^^T S* J^'^fo^ation- Then it became the headquarters of the High Westlaid Whigs in the stirring times that sent Uavie Crookback to watch the king's forces on the English border. From its Clachanpluck every single man marched away to RuUion Green, very few returning from the dowsing they got on Pentland side from grim long-bearded Dalyell. It was the parish that for many years defied, indiscrimi- nately, law courts and Church courts, tnd kept Macmillan, the^first mmister of the Cameronian Societies, in enjoyment ot lurk, glebe, and manse in spite of the invasion of the emissaries of Court of Session and the fulminations of the lirastian Presbytery of Kirkcudbright Balmaghie was a great place for religious excitement in the old days-though, as one of the historians of the county says, It IS remarkable with what calmness the people of Balmaghie have taken the matter since. The adjoining parts of Galloway— the Stewartry and the Shire— are important enough in their way. They cannot all be Balmaghies, but they do very well. The Stewartry was in ancient time the more important of these two larger divisions Its rental and taxable value were to the Shire in the proportion of mne to five. But, strangely enough, it was not proud of the fact, and has often since tried to get the valuation reduced. This shows how little conceit of themselves Stewartry men have. If you want to see real conceit you must go to the neighbour- hood of Glenluce, and ask who makes the best bee-skeps in Scotland. Now a word as to time. The eighteenth century did not begin in 1701 according to the received opinion. It really b^an with William of Orange coming over from j-h Holland in the year of the "glorious revolution," Eighteenth and settling the country down into that smug re- Century in spectability which for a good while played havoc G*How*y. with the old picturesque interest. Yet in Galloway there always remained elements of special interest, owing to the remote and independent nature of the country. 'i M ■i 11 50 PMDERLAND : k\ \ i to t?r *^*: f*" ^<*' " ''w Walter Scott who put an end to the eighteenth century. The Waverley Novels were a peat av,l««. .„d by making the old world the world of hJ^ •'*' ^" '""'^'*^ "^^'^ •" S~"»«<^ '^^ they were hvuig m modem times-for many had lived contentedly all hear it as M. Jourdain was when he found out that for a lonir season he had been Ulking prose. ^ "Guy Mannering" was the instrument by which Scott cultivated Galloway out of the eighteenth cenlu^ Yet^" loc^ colour of the book is slight, and to a bom Gallovidian hardly recogmwble. For Scott did not know Galloway. He got Galloway egends from Joseph Train, that careful and most exceUent htenwy jackal; but he dressed them up in the E^on or^lr'^ are smooth, green-breasted swells, like Eildon or Tmtoj and there is nothing to show that he even suspected what fastnesses lie hid from the ken of the ordinary I^hXoS. '°P'*™P^^'" **^"* ^^^ ^"°«^« of Buchan and So in this wide field of the eighteenth century it is not easy to give a general idea of how the people of the double province hved. There was indeed a great advance in all the comforts of hving in Galloway during the eighteenth cen- ^-though not so great, perhaps, as during the nine- The ancient gentry of Galloway, of tme GaUoway blood were never a very numerous race, and some of the greatest The Old °*"" ''"*' ^"*^ 'o"« before the eighteenth Names. century. The Douglasses, of course, the greatest «nn. »K flft *^u ^*** ^^ "^''^^'" ^"^ °' P»^ ^n Galloway smce the fifteenth century. The great house of the Kennedies whra '*'*' "^" Ayrshire. Gone were the days " Free Wigton to the toun o* Ayr. An' laigh dooo by the cruives o' Crce, Nae man may howp a lodging there UnleiM he coort wi' Kennedy." I THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 51 But in the eighteenth century there were tcfll Aimews Sac^tr " *I^"\"^ *" ^^'^ ^y' Stewart, in Z^ MacDowalls m Garthland, M'Kies in Myrtoun and in THE raiders' BRtDGB Barrower. Maxwells in Mochrum and Monreith, and of course there were the great politicians of the t.me-the DalrymZ of Stair m the old CassUis stronghold of Castle Kennedy of therl^T^^f T'' '^"^ well-known names were those of the Gordons of Lochmvar and Kenmure-of Earlstoun. and of Culvennan. On the Dumfries Marches the Maxwells hdd 52 RAIDERLAND iu f I I f ^..Sl'TS o?'" ™!!' '°"!»' " «ve quietly „„ ,hei, On^ of^h^ h^K ""^ "hospitality and good-fellowship, one of the big houses could account for a sheep a week '^renT'ir "' " ^ """'^ beast "o "So Jt w«e ™«.,y defer ,. .„d such we.^ °he ^^J t'te cl^ oTth"^*^ ""t""' ""*"<""-">« gipsies S,1 outUw Clans of the hills makuig no scruple to come down "bSZ ^r^:::::^ *° --■■" -'-'^ -ousTr^t^z 5^To:;^o;-h:-siXd-trS .?^t^:;tn-ndn^tsLirti^.i7S " Ye are but a bow o' meal-Gordon." non Of three acres and a cow," used as a bribe, was r^^ll. feudjU m ongin, and b<«an, as many wise and g^tZs^^ m the prcvmce of Galloway. ""ngs aia, THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 53 .n,if *^"J^-' ''*' * '^"^'" ^"^^^^ than the charge which » enshnned in another Galloway story : "K, JT Jl>' . > «'>i^ the Ayrshireman gat the coo^' Thl f^ • kI^T '' has the storv th..c • ..-rif ^*^ admirable Trotter T^m R»k- , .^^^'^ ''*' * q"««' craitur that they caa ^r^utrhad '*,'^'«*°"' and he had a kind o' we^ ness, but he had some clever sayines for all fh«f ai \7 ;; ; HuHo. Tammock, what did you pay for the new bannet ? ' says T^m '"" ^'^^ *'^ Ayrshireman payed for the cJ^!' » ' ^' n^.*v '"* m' P"^ ^°' *^' "°° ^ ' ^J^^ Cochrane. Oh naethingl'says Tarn. •>S.y«i>//a«^///„ w,/^/... and?ri:dlLTlmar ^^^^ ^^'^ '^ ^ ^-^^— The bonnet lairds were a well-known class in r-.i and were mostly the sternest and mos"„lg SthZ They were reared exactly like the ordinary farmers. ' ^• but their farms belonged to themselves, though a "^^^ Bonnet certain service was given to some of the great ^^^^ Stewartry. "'»*"««» ^ one of the representatives of the locked .He. ^ « 1,,,^.^^^ ilZ^'tA ^^ t^n,t °'"°"' """""K the eighteen* c^.^ T^ey l.»«l m the summer .™e and in .he ™,er aliice o7porrid^e H II 'I 54 RAIDERLAND <(, ■!: and milk, flavoured with occasional fries of ham from the fat " gussie " that had run about the doors the year before. Some- times they salted down a " mart " for the winter, and there was generally a ham or two of " tauty " sheep hanging to the joists. Puddings, both white and black, were supposed to be an article of dainty fare. Sometimes the country folk did not wait till the unfortunate animal was dead in order to provide entertainment for their guests. "Saunders, rin, man, and blood the soo— here's the minister gettin' ower the dyke ! " was the exclamation of a Galloway goodwife on the occasion of a ministerial visitation. It is told of the famous Seceder minister, Walter Dunlop, of Dumfries, that he too loved good entertainment when he went out on his parochial visitations. Specially he liked a "tousy tea"— that is, one with trimmings. On one occasion he had to baptize a bairn in a certain house, and there they offere 1 him his tea— a plain tea — before he began. This was not at all to ^^ iter's liking. He had other ideas, after walking so far over the heather. " Na, na, guidwife," he said. " 111 do my work first— edifica- tion afore gustation. Juist pi c on the pan, an' when I hear the ham skirling. 111 ken it's t nt to draw to a conclusion." In the early part of the e ^hte«nth century the common people of Galloway lived in the utmost simplicity— if it be simplicity to live but and ben with the cow. In many of the smaller houses there was no division between the part of the dwelling used for the family and that occupied by Crummie the cow, and Gussie the pig. But things rapidly improved, and by 1750 there was hardly such a dwelling to be found in the eastern part of Galloway. The windows in a house of this class were usually two in number and wholly without glass. They were stopped up with a wooden board according to the direction from "But and Ben* with the Cow. ^ fi m mi 1 1 # THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 55 which the wind blew. The smoke hung in dense muses about the roof of the "auld cUy biggin'," and. in lieu of a chimney, found its way occasionally out at the door. But many of the people who lived in these Uttle houses fared surprisingly well. The sons were "braw lads" and the daughters "sonsy queans." They could dress weU upon occasion, and we are told in wonder by a southern visitant that It is no uncommon thing to see a pcrfectiy weU-dressed man m a good plaid or cloak come out of a hovel like an outhouse. "The clartier the cosier" was, we fear, a Galloway nuudm which was held in good repute even in the earlier part of the eighteenth century among a considerable section of the com- mon folk. Later, however, the small farmers became exceedingly particular both as to cleanliness in food and attention to their persons. We saw recently the dress worn to kirk and market by a Galloway smaU farmer about 1790. It consisted of a broad blue Kilmarnock bonnet, checked at the brim with red and white; a blue coat of rough woollen, cut like a dress- coat of to^y, save that it was made to button with large silver buttons ; a red velvet waistcoat, with long flaps in front ; corded knee-breeches, rig-and-fur stockings, and buckled shoes completed the attire of the douce and sonsy Cameronian farmer when he went a-wooing in his own sober, determined, and, no doubt, ultimately successful way. I have yet to speak of the "ministry of the Word " and of the sute of religion. Things were not very bright in Gallo- way at the beginning of the eighteenth century. We hear, for instance, of a majority of a local G*Uow*y Presbytery being under such famas that the ***»*•*«▼• Syriod had to take the matter up; and in several of the parishes of Galloway the manse was by no means a centre of light and good example. This was perhaps owing to the state of the country after the Killing Time and the Revolution. Many of the people of Galloway would not for iong accept the ministrations of the w •i (!■ i' 56 RAIDERLAND reguUr parish clergy, who were re«ly to hold fellowahip with " malignant!. * The Society men, Cameronian and other, held Th« **°°^' *"** t*»ough. till the ser nee of deposi- Qjjjj^^^j^jj^^ tion was pronounced against Mr. Macmillan of Balmaghie, they had no regular ministry, their numbers were very considerable, and their influence greater still. They knew themselves to be the salt of the earth, and we remember that even thirty-five years ago the Cameronians of the remoter parts of Galloway held themselves a little apart in a stiff kind of spiritual independence and even pride, to which the other denominations looked up, not without a certain awe and respect. But the effect on the Cameronian boy was not always so happy. We were in danger of becoming little prigs. When- ever we met a boy belonging to the EstabUshed Kirk (who learned paraphrases), we threw a stone at him to bring him to a sense of his position. If, as Homer says, A# was a lassie, we put out our tongue at her. But it is a more interesting thing to inquire concerning the ttate of religion among the people than into the efficiency of the clergy. In many of the best families, and these too often the poorest, religion was instilled in a very high, noble, and practical way indeed. Such a house as that of William Bumess, de- the "Cotter's Saturday Night," was a type of many Galloway homes of last century. Prayers night and mom were a certainty, however early the field work might be begun, and however late the workers were in getting home. On the Sabbath mom especially the sound of praise went up from every cothouse. In the farm kitchens the whole family and dependants were gathered together to be instructed in religion. The "Caratches" were repeated rounj the circle, and grandmother in the corner and lisping babe each took their turn, nor thought it any hardship. The minister expressed national characteristics excellently well. But even he of the Cameronian Kirk was to some Religion among the People scribed in m^F^mm^^^m'^^?m^ . 1 THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 57 extent affected by t..e tone of learning in the university towni where he had attended the college, and "gotten lear" and "understanding of the original tongues." But in the sterling qualities of many an old Galiu^vay farmer (who, perhaps, never had fifty pounds clear in a yea<- in his life, and whose whole existence was one of biiter struggle with the hardest condi- tions) we get some understanding of how the religion of our country, so stem and tender, so tempest-tossed and so victo- rious, stood the strains of persecution and the frosts of the succeeding century of unbelief. In the darkest times of indifference there were, at least in Scotland, numy more than seven thousand who never bowed the knee to Baal, and whose mouths had never kissed him— though, so far as Galloway is concerned, let it not be forgotten that even this comes with a qualification, like all things merely human. For it is of the nature of Galloway to share with Providence the credit of any victory, but to charge it wholly with all disasters. " Wasna that cleverly dune ? " we say when we succeed. '• We maun juist submit ! " we say when we fail. A most comforUble theology, which is ever the one for the most of Galloway folk, whom "chiefly dourness and not fanaticism took to the hills when Lag came riding with his mandates and letters judicatory." ) ' !^ II.— WHAT WE SEE IN RAIDERLAND The hills of Galloway lie across the crystal Cree as one rides northward towards Glen Trool, much as the Lebanon lies above the sweltering plains north of Galilee ; a land of pro- mise, cool grey in the shadows, palest olive and blue in the lights. By chance it is a day of sweltering heat, and as we go up the great glen of Trool the midday sunshine is almost more than Syrian. The firs' shadows in the woods fringing the loch about Eschonquhan are deliciously cool as the swift cycle drives among them. We get but fleeting glimpses of the water till we come out on the rocky cliff shelf, whicn we follow all m F^-rJK^^J MKXOCOfY MSOUITION TBT CHAIT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) A r:^PPLJED IM/1GE I, Inc 1653 Eost Moin SIrMt ™ (718) «2- 0300- Phon* (718) 2a8-S989-F« 58 RAIDERLAND In. Loch TfooL the way to the farmhouse of Buchan. Trool lies much like a Perthshire loch, set between the granite and the blue- stone— the whin being upon the southern and the granite upon the northern side. The firs, which clothe the slopes and cluster thick about the shores, give it a beautiful and even cultivated appearance. It has a look more akin to the dwellings of men, and that a^egation of individuals which we call the world. Yet what IS gamed in beauty is more than lost in the char- acteristic note of untouched soUtude which is the rarest pleasure of him who recognises that God made Galloway. Trool IS somehow of a newer creation, and the regularity of Its puies tells us that it owes much to the hand of man. Ix)ch Enoch, on the other hand, is plainly and wholly of God, sculptured by His tempests, its rocks planed down to die quick by the ancientest glaciers of "The Galloway Cauldron." The road gradients along Trool-side are steep as the roof of a house From more than one point on the road the loch hes beneath us so close that it seems as if we could tos« % flooded with intense and almost Italian sunshine. But the water lies cool^ solid, and intensely indigo at the bottom. trees, with the sleeping giants of the central hills set thick about ,t. Nor it is not long till, passing rushing bums and heathery slopes on our way, we reach it. Heartsome content within, placid stillness without as we nde up-a broad stmw hat lying in a friendly way upon the I»th-the clamour of children's voices somewhere down by the meadow-a couple of dogs that welcome us with a chorus of belated barkmg-this is Glenhead, a pleasant place for the wandering vagabond to set his foot upon and rest awhUe. Then after a time, out of the coolness of the narrow Utticed sittog-room (where there is such a collection of good books as makes us think of the nights of winter when the storms nge about the hillHcmctured form), we step, lightly following, w^h many expectations, the slow, calm, steady sheph^'s stride of '^t. NBAR MURRAY'S MONUMENT forward to scent the seals on the floes or the salmon running up the Arctic rapids to spawn. To our right, above Loch Valley, is a boulder which is so poised that it constitutes a " logan " or rocking-stone. It is so delicately set as to be moved by the blowing of the wind. ,1 it I ilA^feyU^BiaiiJ > i^^y-¥^" --"-^F 62 RAIDERLAND ii 'I, Loch Valley and Loch Neldricken form, with the twin locha of Glenhead, a water system of their own, connected The Und T*^ ^^*" ^^°°^ ^^ *^® ™P'** torrential bum called of the *® Gairlin, that flashes downward through the Lochs. narrow ravine which we leave behind us to our left ?• we go upward. At the beginning of the bum, where it e:«»pes from Loch Valley, are to be seen the reinains of a weir which was erected in order to raise artificially the level of the loch, subme^ng in the process most of the shinmg beaches of silver granite sand. But the loch was too strong for the puny works of man. One fine day, warm and sunny, our guide tells us that he was working with his sheep high up on the hUl, when the roar and rattle of great stones earned along by the water brought him down the screes at a run. Loch Valley had broken loose. The weir was no more, and the Gairlin bum was coming down in a ten-foot breast, creamy foam cresting it like an ocean wave. ^hT^K i M '* ''""' "^" " ""^'^^^^^ Johnstown disaster, whi e the boulders crashed and ground together with the rush of the water. When Loch VaUey was again seen, it had resumed its pnstme aspect-that .hich it had wom since the viscous gramte paste finished oozing out in sheets from K !. ?^' ?*^^' ^ *^ ^""'^ '"^^'^ ^d the glaciers had done their work of grinding down its spun and out- here^ It takes a Napoleon of engineering to fool with Loch mn«Jr" k\^^*-7^ J'^P *° ^^ "^^^ P««°« ^^^ huge morame which guards the end of the loch and eflectuaUy prev«its a stiU greater flood than that which our master shepherd witnessed. These mounds are full of what are caUed m the neighbourhood "jingling stones." Without doubt they consist of sand and shingle, so riddled with great boulders that the crevices within are constantly being fiUed up and formmg anew as the sand shifts and sifts among the rT"* ., ''f ^'"^^^ *^* ''"^ '^ ^^''^''S over the shoulder of the Memck, and we are bound to hasten, for there is yet far to go. Neldricken and Valley are wide-spreading moun f5nW?; W.^'W^. THE RA'DERS' COUNTRY 63 tain lakes, lying deep among the hills which spread nearly twenty miles in every dire ion. The sides of the glens are seared with the downward rush of many waters. Waterspouts are common on these great hills. It is no uncommon thing for the level of a moorland bum to be raised six or ten feet m the course of a few minutes. A "Skyrebum" warning is proverbial in the south country along Solwayside. But the Mid Bum, and those which strike north from Loch Enoch tableland, hardly even give a man time to step across their normal noisy brattle till they are roaring red and it is twenty or thirty feet from bank to bark. These big boulders, heaped up on one another, often make most evU traps for sheep to fall into. Sometimes it needs crowbars and the strength of men to extricate those that happen to be caught there. The dogs that range the hills, questing after white hares and red foxes, are quick to scent out these poor prisoners. These prison-houses are named "yirds" by the shepherds. They are especially numerous on the Hill of Glenhead, at a place caUed Tart- ness, which overlooks Loch Valley. And indeed it is difficult anywhere to see a more leg-breaking place. It will compare even with that paragon of desolation, the Back Hill o' Buchan. It IS understood in the district that when the Great Architect looked upon His handicraft and found it very good. He made a mental reservation in the case of the " Back Hill o' Buchan." But our eyes are upwards. Loch Enoch is the goal of our desire. For nights past we have dreamed c^ 5>s lonely fastnesses. Now they are immediately before us. Enoch is literally a lake in cloudland. Over- head frowns what might be the mural fortifica- tion of some titanic Mount Valerien or Ehrenbreitstein. The solemn battlemented lines rise above us so high that they are only dominated by the great mass of the Merrick. It is hard to believe that a cliiT so abrupt and stately has a lake on its summit. Yet it is so. The fortress-Uke breastwork falls away m a huge embrasure on either side, and it is into the trough which Ues nearest the Merrick that we direct our steps. As Utmost Enoch. » m ? I 64 RAIDERLAND i 11 we go we fall talking of strange sights seen on the hills. Our guide, striding before, stalwart and strong, flings pearliof information over his shoulder as he goes, and to the stekdy Srr^K u^^ ^^' "°^^' "«*^*" °^" the heather. Beneath us we have now a strange sight-in a nanner the most wonderful thing we have yet seen. On the edge of Loch Neldncken lies a mass of green and matted reeds- bnlhantly emerald, with the deceitful brilliancy of a "quakin' qua, or shaking bog, of bottomless black mud. In the centre of this green bed is a perfectly-defined circle of intensely black water, as exact as though cut with a compass. It is the Murder Hole, of gloomy memory. Here, says the man of the hill, is a very strong spring which does not freeze in the hardest winters, yet is avoided by man and beast. It is certain that rf this gloomy Avemus were given the gift of narration it would tell of lost men on the hills, forwandered and drowned in Its dark depths. The Merrick begins to tower above us with its solemn h^ as we thread our way upward towards the plateau on which Loch Enoch lies. We are so high now that we can see backward over the whole region of Trool and the Loch Valley basin. Behind us, on the extreme south, connected with the ndge of the Merrick, is Buchan Hill, the farmhouse of which hes low down by the side of Loch Trool. Across a wilder- ness of tangled ridge-boulder and morass is the Long Hill of the Dungeon, depressed to the south into the "Wolfs Slock" -or throat. Now our Loch Enoch fortress is almost stormed. Step by step we have been rising above the rugged desoUtions of the spurs of the Merrick. .'l^/'^lf ^^" ^^^ °"' ^'^^ "*"<* I '^Jl show you a new world. He stndes on, a very sturdy Columbus. The new world comes upon us, and one of great marvel it is. At first the haze somewhat hides it-so high are we that we seem to be on the roof of the Southern Creation-riding on the "^"f^f '^} ^^^^' ^ '"^^^ ''^ *^^- Half-a-dozen steps and There s Loch Enoch!" says Columbus, with a prettv taste m clunax. ^ ' ili THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 6S Strangest sight in all this Galloway of strange sights is Loch Enoch — so truly another world that we cannot wonder if the trout* of this uncanny water high among the hills decline to wear tails in the ordinary fashion of common and undistinguished trouts in lowland lakes, but carry them docked and rounded after a mode of their own. Th . still evening Enoch glows like a glittering silver- rimmed pearl looking out of the tangled grey and purple of its surrounding with the strength, tenderness, and meaning of a human eye. The Merrick soars away above in two great precipices, whereon Thomas Grierson, writing in 1846, tells us that he found marks showing that the Ordnance surveyors had occupied their hours of leisure in hurling great boulders down into the loch- There were fewer sheep on the Merrick side in those days, or else the tenant of that farm might with reason have objected. It seems, however, something of a jest to suppose that this heathery desolation is really a farm, for the possession of which actual money is paid. Yet our guide tells of an old shepherd, many a year the herd of the Merrick, who, when removed by his master to the care of an easier and lower hill, grew positively homesick for the stem majesty of the monarch of South Country mountains, and related tales of the Brocken spectres he had often seen when the sun was at his back and the great chasm of Enoch lay beneath him swimming with mist. Loch Enoch spreads out beneath us in an intricate tangle of bays and promontories. As we sit above the loch, the large island with the small loch within it is very prominent The " Loch-in-Loch " is of a deeper and more distinct blue than the general surface of Loch Enoch, perhaps owing to its green and white setting upon the grassy boulder-strewn island. Another island to the east also breaks tue surface of the loch, and the bold jutting granite piers, deeply embayed, the gleaming silver sands, the far-reaching capes so bewilder the eye that it becomes difficult to distinguish island from mainland. It increases our pleasure when the guide says of the stray sheep, which look over the Loch'lii' Loch. H \\ 66 RAIDERLAND 4i i boulders with a ,hy and startled expression- "These .h*^n do not often get sight of a man " P^ ki , ^ Highlands is I fre! from thHesencT of 1^^^^ ^'k''' Southern uplands of Galloway wS^h" eri T" ^ '^"^ jndjortress of the WestUnd ^vhll^t r «t e^^the' On the east side of Loch Enoch the Dungeon Hill ri,- grandly, a thunder-spUntered ridge of boulde^^d pfnllel on whose slopes we see strewn the very bones of crS ^»Tc^n^\tr '"' ^° ''' P-tine^lements.ldroTd LTf^^^^l we seem to see the whole turmoil of " tops and tourocks '-very much as they were when the last of t£ Galloway glaciers melted slowly away and left tL il! • ve^ed^land at rest under the blL of^hrwiLt l^d Ih^^o^' Right in front of us the Star Hill, called also Mulwharchar hfts Itself up mto the clear depths of the eveninglky-T^^; cone rounded hke a hayrick. At its foot we can sle^e^wo exits of Loch Enoch-the true and the false. Our L'de pomtsouttous that the Ordnance Survey map m^es a m^ Uke w,th regard to the outlet of Loch EncJdi. sho^bg a^TxU by the Pulscraig Bum at the north-east corner towl^s L^h Doon-when as a matter of fact there is not a droj^fw^er issuing m that direction, all the water passing byThe north west comer towards Loch Macaterick. Iv«.hT"\'r* ^''*'' <>fd«olate. granite-bound, silver-sanded L^h Enoch hes a tumbled wilderness of hills. To the lef? of the Stor IS the pUteau of the Rig of Millmore, a wide and tht^Hi T r o^ *«^'" "*^ *^^ ^^^^ hills, and the pale blue ridges of Shalloch-on-Minnoch. Every name IS interesting here every local appellation has some r^n though the official nomenclature enshrines many mis^I!! IS weighted with much suggestion. But no name or descrip- tion can give an idea of Loch Enoch itself, Ufted up (as k were) close agamst the sky-nearly 1700 feet above the sea i«pr3i ^7r^^.?--? •I *ll s s ;» THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY ^ —with the giant Merrick nx one side, the weird Dungeon on the other, and beyond only the grey wildernes, stretching mysteriously out into the twilight of the north. It If with feelings of regret that we Uke leave of Loch *.noch, and, skirting its edge, make our way eastward to the Dungeon Hill, in order that we may peer down for a moment into the misty depths of the Dungeon of Buchan. A scmmble among the screes, a climb among the boulders, and we are wL th'^f °^ 'k' u""^'' ^'"^^-'^^ appropriately named wide throat up which so many marauding expeditions have come and gone. We crouch behind a rock and look downward, glad for a moment to get into shelter. For even in the clear warm August night the wind has a shrewd edge to blue with misty vapour. We can see two of the three lochs of the Dungeon. It seems as if we could almost dive into the whJ^J: Tk r"""" *r"''^ downwards to that level plain, across which the Cooran Une, the Sauch Bnm, and the Shiel Bum a^e mndmg through "fozy" mosses and dangerous sandT It IS not for any man to venture lightly at nightfall, or even in broad daylight, among the links of the Coofan. as it saunte« Its way through the silver flow of Buchan. The old roval fastness keeps its secret well. ^ f i"^fT!". '^^ ^^''^^^'^^ '^^ ^^ »«e the lonely steading green whalebacks of Corscrine and others of the featurdess Kells range, deepening into grey purple with a bloom upon them where the heather grows thickest, like the skin ^^ dusky peach. Now at last the sun is dipping beyond the Merrick, and all the valley to the south, or rather the maze of valleys, g^ow dim m the shadow. Loch Enoch has turned from gleaming pearl to dusky lead, or, more accurately '^*'* ^^k still, to the dull shimmer that one may see on so **" Enoch, unpoetical a thing as cooling gravy. So great are the straits of comparison to which the conscientious artist in words is driven in the description of scenery. But we must turn home- ,i; ;r 68 RAIDERLAND «; 1, h^mJS'^^^"^ ''""'^^ " ^"''^°«- Enoch falls behind it, cover of the famous "sixteen driftv dav-s " tK-.« u J sheep— the current coin of the hills. H^i'^*"*i^ r ^'^ ''^'^^"^ *^^ "«J^« sand" of Loch Nel A^cken. which, as our guide says, would be gooT scy^^e Enoch. For from these uplands the " straikes " of tul 7 i ^ ^rT" E^^t I ^' '^' ""' '^' ^^y ^^ ^" the golden corn Emery straikes are used for easy corn by some new Z^. P«°Pj7^o "e ill to satisfy with the goc^Tfts by Nature provided. But the stalwart men who mow in the water meadows know well that nothing can put the strWen/^J • edge upon their blade like the tL l^l!^^''^^^^ .h. H". *^^'? '"'° ^"^ ^ '^^ °^t«r the final^pTa^ to the barking of dogs, and the cheerful voices of kindTfolk ^e N THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 69 TT'l ?,' I"' ^'" ^^^^' *"^ ^"*^^ the sheltering home- stead of Glenhead. which looks so charmmgly out over its S *° '^^ precipice-circled depths of Loch Ere we came over the hill, however, we entered the sheep buchts, a very fortress of immense granite blocks, set upon a still more adamantine foundation of solid rock— a monument of stem and determined workman- The Buchts ship. Indeed, something more than sheep bars Sf*^****** are needed to restrain the breed of sheep that is ^°* to be found hereabouts-animals that by no means conduct themselves like slow-going and respectable Southdowns or aldermanic Cheviots, but fight like Turks, climb like goats ported Englishman over a Galloway hill. We were cHmbing Zfu!" .^^^!' ^h'^'* J'J^denly, with a rush, a fearsome animal! with twisted horns half a yard long, and a black and threatening face, rose behind us. leapt a wide watercourse and disappeared up the precipice, amid a rattle of stones scattering dommard irom Its hoofs. "A Galloway tip," we replied. '• And what might a ' tip ' be, when he's at home ? " Only a sheep," we replied calmly. The Englishman, accustomed to the breed of Leicester, looked at us with a curious expression in his eyes. one far from home " he said. "We English may be verdant, but at least we do know a sheep when we see on And to this day he does not believe it was " nly a sheen" that he saw on our slopes of granite and heathc As we lay asleep that night, the sound of the wind diawing ightly up and down the valleys breathed in upon us^ Uie subtle smeU of honey came to us in the eariy mo;ning from the nuiged beehives under the wall. Around nTl great and sweet peace-pure air refined by heather and the wild l! i . •'i r • a 1 1 t I, .^t.;uw- 70 RAIDERLAND of writing and ,he rat of S,g. ^ '*"'"" ** "»«» But It is morning oyer Glen Trool Tk. r u. .. over from tl,e ei„„, fl«^ ,J^^ ^^^ "■ght has poured coming and going unon r„Z ^' , "' ""™ « « "nut he«I. Only the ^ta^'^"oS,"J^, Jf«»«h» hides hi. We are out amid tht stiTrfJh^ ^ *" '='•''• familiar noises. °' *' "^^"l "* it. pleasuit skyf'^k.re M^oru,: Ms™ ""^ ""' "-«" " »" "» eheul^'teridgS""'" '""^' "■"^'^ <»« *r« knob, upon g»g'r';:M'telS ■- '~' '" '^'' "^^ "- yo--'! hae to .be^'Jit''^?; -■^Stri-^'- •'« '^ »- watch^Hn JeVcrSt'tS: tf ^4,1^'^™"""' i-nite b«l of :^, 'C Jr« dZ'f*" \°'" '"^ """« of Cr^glee. Following i « r^T. r>,*'i"»^ ""« side of the hill, and follow LTl *'' """ P'wipilou. htll» •!,« .L '0"OW tfte bum up to the "lirlr «f 41. MI where the streamlet takes it. risl -n^ u "" come, over the white rocks inTj. • "" ''™°' "Wch the Trostan. l^Ti^t^^^'" T T*"' " "»"«' high up among the c^ "S^^^ed SX? T "k""" "^"^ •lark, and impreKive. fL,T~J!^ " ^^^ """''re, the Snibe, which lo^ks Zrt .if '"« T"' "' '^^ called chasm of the Dungeon f^rttuAV; '" *' «™' ghnt of the Dungeon Loch, f^ ,TT' \ "" ""='' *« *em-while nellfer the C^rl" ^ '"anS"!^!; ""« "" their ways through treachem,,. o JT ? ^^^ ^"™s seek to Loch Dee. Xhl^^^^Zu t "l^ ""^""^^'« ^*»ees» the Snibe. L;,ch D J oot 7^^'^^^^ If, -"Z^,- Seen fro. remarkable or distinctive cC.^\, le^'S''^ "° ^"^^ wacier as the splendid series of THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY '^mJ^Z"J'^'^ f ^"'^ I' -""W be but'! Keu of a towel Tn > c™ • 5 i *""" '""d » -^ ,„.,•• ''" °"""«es the steep sides of Curlev «e are bnnpng out a brisk reaction of perspitation I. iSl' been our thought that from Curieywee it milhlT ^ .0 obUin a general view of «>e c^uj^o 't^G a^,."^"' very striking gKmXTStX'gZy^Xrr r o^ini^ht-r j£tS S the whaup are crvina fh*. «««.- r *u ^""eywee, where of , 1 T^ "^ '^"® °^ *e mountain, like nort*.^. come pounng over the side of the WU somewhat firtler Iw they are certainly genuine acrobats-the^ercendTtJ n^^ prehistoric freshwater flying-fishes. ^*^^^^»«^^ of some «4; aTr:; r.eij:?rh^tai:,e''G£n' worM^tothi^^r^r-raf^s-j^^^^i k 1 *l !f 72 RAIDERLAND happjy thus remote from the world, with the Merrick and the Dungeon hfting their heads up into the clouds above them, and over all Loch Enoch looking up to God, with a face sternly sweet, only less lonely than Himself. w< t r'l h III— WHAT WE SAY THERE, AND HOW WE SAY IT No one can pass even a short space of time among the people of our Galloway countryside without being made aware, Galloway "* "^^^^ pleasant and the reverse, of the great Humour. amount of popular humour ever bubbling up from the heart of the common people. It is to them the 1^. mTT"!' '^* ^"^ °" *^" ^"«P"8 '"^^ of their life Not often does ,t reach the stage of being expressed m literary form It is lost in the stir of farm-byres, in the cheerful Ulk of ingle-nooks. You can hear it being windSy exchanged m the greetings of shepherds crying the one to the other across the valleys. It finds way in the observations of passmg ploughmen as they meet on the way to the mill and kirk, and market. For example, an artist is busy at his easel by the wayside.^ A rtstic IS lookmg over His shoulder in the manner of the free and independent Scot. A orother rustic is in a field near by with h,s hands m pockets. He is not sure whether it is worth while to tu. ae trouble to mount the dyke, for the uncertain pleasure of looking at a mere picture. « What is he domg, Jock? » asks he in the field of his better-situated mate. Dramn wi pent!" returns Jock, over his shoulder. "Is't bonny? again asks the son of toil in the field. "Qcht BUT BoNNv!" comes back the prompt and decided answer ot the cntic. Of consideration for the artist's feelings there IS not a tmce Yet both of these rustics ^ill appreciatively relate the incident on coming in from the field and washing ■^ ,1 1/ MJ X- THE RAIDERS' CX)UNTRY 7, themsdves, concluding with this rider- "An' K. a;^ . .. ^'^^i;T-^P'--iI-tcll,el ^dhcJc:L.''''^'~^°°' th. J^ *T ^^ °^ P^P"'" h"«0" finit found its w.v into exni»«,v>« k!- ^ . ▼wy free m taste and broad in •« ciUW by U«i, com,»o„ na^""* "^ """"^ '"««• »n,eori^;.'^^ ««'-"*' P«-.. Of Li„d«,. i„ So thaf t^ -II ^- t "' *"** Pc up near to it stock!^?K7" '*"* ^^ «"** ^«'«^ of o"' old national Stock of humour, and right widely he gathered, as tho^3 •Cybook but he ha. been through, harclTl Sco«a g«n«afaon of our national history that he has not ^*"»^ touched and adorned. Yet. beLuse ScodSd L ""^^- S^:. nf K '«*°;^«hmg is the belief that the Scot is d«titute of humour. Other delusions may be dissioa^ h^ L^h r .k'^*; *°^ **^^ '^"^' of ^n Ne'v^l^Xallha J north of the Tweed, we dress solely in theka^whth • ^o, at least during the day; tJt .eZ^n7i^tZl «Pon hagg« and the product of the national &^;^^ I . I I I .1 ■| t- I I 1,1 : in 74 RAIDERLAND ^professors of Edinburgh University, beiog "panged fu' o' l^inm".?' 'll' "'"^ *° *^^^' students in «^^S:I toS ?on^?H J^°"«^ T *^*^«^^^^ unprecedented. Lri.m told considered somewhat informal by the Senatus BiacKie used to remark vigorously, thai "every Der».n _K» a »Z.!^°"^'' ""''"" tamour proves hiS ^T.^^ There is a claskical passage in the works of Mr R L Stevenson, wh,ch, wi* the metrical psalm,, ^.^™ of R. I. Bum,, and the Catechism, ought to be required S««a«n of even- Scotti,h man or woman before th« te G^Ui "2 "■'"", of ««''"« -arried. It isTd ^ "There is no special loveliness in that grey country with If ^«ny. sea-beat archipelago; its fields of'SlT^oSlal^ Its unsightly places, black with coal- its t^U..^* '^:^uT^7rt^- '""-'■'^v'.s^ci^ih:: the bells clash of a Sunday, and the wind squalls, and the «Jt showers fly and beat. I do not know if I dLe oTve the^! but let me hear m some far land, a kindred voice Ibg out' Oh why left I my hame?' and it seems at once ^ ifTo beauty under the kind heavens, and no society of th^ 1^ Ti T' ^ ''^^ "^^ ^°^ '"y absence from my couS^ hearts I long to be buned among good Scots clods. I will say It fairly, it grows upon me with every year; there are"" THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 75 stars so lovely as Edinburgh street-lamps. The happiest lot on earth is to be bom a Scotsman. You must pay for it m many ways, as for all other advantages on earth. You have to learn the Paraphrases and the Shorter Catechism : you generally take to drink ; your youth, so far as I can make out, 18 a time of louder war against society, of more outcry, and tears, and turmoil, than if you were bom, for instance, m EngUnd. But, somehow, life is warmer and closer, the hearth bums more redly; the lights of home shine softer on the ramy street, the very names, endeared in verse and music, clmg nearer round our hearts. An Englishman may meet an Englishman to-morrow, upon Chimborazo, and neither of them care; but when the Scotch wine-grower told me of Mons Meg, it was like magic. From the dim shieling on the misty island, Mountains divide us and a world of seas ; Yet still our h-arts are true, our hearts are Highland, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.'" ■ • Our humour lies so near our feeling for our country that I would almost say, if we do not feel this quotation-aye^ and feel It m our bones-we may take it for granted that both the humour and the pathos of Scotland are to be hid from us during the term of our natural lives. However, as Mr. Whistler said when a friend pointed out to him a certain suggestion of the landscape Whistlerian m an actual sunset-" Ah, yes, nature is creeping up!" So we may say, with reference to its appreciation of Scottish humour, EngUnd is certainly "creeping up." The numbers of editions of Scott, edited, illustrated, and annotated, plain axid coloured, prove it. It is always a good brick to throw at a literary pessimist, to tell him the number of editions of bcott that have appeared during the last half-dozen years I do not know how many there are-I have no idea -but I always say fifty-three and four more coming, for that sounds exact, and as if one had all the statistics up one's ill it] Hi ■ I 76 RAIDERLAND m "^t " « habit wonT.™ ' ■ ' ? ""' '"'°'" '")' •'■"•"oit. It from li,t.„i„« ,0 ,h^ ."^'' ""^ ?'?" I '""«' "« "rick Our "l"" '° ou' kings and queens. Yet, so lonit « king over the w«e?^' ^,' "^^ "''"'*'"«'<' """e kirk,.lwirdid!!b"t!S^ on the subject, as our Scottish Which rnTti^yb^^^^^"^ "' *' "•^'y of <""^«'« ■"ck. and a^^n'^^^^on ^Z^'Z'^Z'" *™ a tight rein. Then we iebell«i JLT ""*• firm seat and aware of themselv« Tl«?. •■"°"' '"" '" ■=««? *«™ Or again we had our family feud* !».«-*♦ j worship, like" e^^^'^ "^ *' "^'^ "* "-ad famii; Auch«d«^^e ^JST^r' "" ;T"""' *•'■ J"" »•"«= of .oco„vi„r^me X b^t'ero? k™!" 'T """ P'«<"«- do so. I came u^^ ^ul "" "" ""* •" ■""« not ^ater theTerTr itti m ch""^ fT"" " "'" "™"^ reflection, but it hid fti. I^i. ^ """^ °P ""> ^'Wous ■, out nad this tnflmg memorandum interpohited THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 77 to break the placid flow of the spiritual mediution : " This day and date oor Jock stickit to deid Wat Maxwell in Traquair I Glory be to the Father and to the Son ! " This also is a part of our national humour of history. A ceruin Master Adam Blackadder was an apprentice boy in Stirling in the troublous times of the Covenant. The military were coming, and the whole Whiggish town took flight " ' I would have been for running too,' says young Adam, being a merchant's loon. ' I would have been for the running too, but my master discharged me from leaving the shop. For,' said he, 'they w' ; not have the confidence to take the like of you, a silly ,ung lad.' However, a few days there- after I was gripper by two messengers early in the morning, who, for haste, would not suffer me to tie up mj kings, or put about my cravat, but hurried me away to Prov t Russel's lodgings— a violent persecutor and ignorant wretch! The first word he spak to me (putting on his breeches) was, • Is not this braw wark, sirr, that we maun be troubled wi' the like o' you ? ' I answered (brave loon, Adam !), • Ye hae gotten a braw prize, my lord, that has claucht a poor 'prentice 1 ' He answered, • We canna help it, sirr ; we must obey the king's Uwes!' 'King's lawes, my lord,' I says, 'there is no such lawes under the sun ! ' For I had heard that, by the bond, heritors were bound for their tenants and masters for their servants — a«rj" ■•no. «n,pp^,i„ ^ ,^., m-Mrr. P^;;«^ut of the record, oi the Grea" SJT^ -o^rsfte'^:' h*^ *'^ Of Tu^tL after many wrestliiurs with -n .k • " '^^ ^"^^ exorcised in Presbyte^ 3ied r " '""'"*'" °^ ^^*^ country-aide » *^*"> < % \S: ft \t Hi' $ i I THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY *. »imal spW« Z ^,}"^ of *'^ "Wch. mixed wi.h class-rooms in a til« mr,*^ 'T: *° *~' "' philosophy when it was a mistake ^L^- I ** ^ood old times, "ict Bu, stfj the htS ""^T,"^""^ "" '"™ l^hind one's lately «>e'humo:Vri,SS' fubT °' '"r" '^ dangerous weaDons as swn,rf. j ^ . ' P'*'"* '"* such lac^ and blaXg ' '"" '"'"'""'^ i™"^ "f hoot- Si. Tztsi: p^rL": •""" ^ r "^ »" « f-^-s- «» king-, ^r^Tl^'^-r^^lV^^i ^o-""- - ratncli, who might have known better sits h.J «<» »« the down. The Black Douglas moves hTs ta"d Z "^•°"»- h;mrz.?s:tta7„'Cd ""= r -«-"" '» --'-.^ had out to thett, r„d^i,:^':s "'^rt'^'f r"" '' wipes his five-pronged forksinT. „ .■ ^",^"™'' toshes, and hi, doublet. H?fa reZtot^t K "^ '""'"'' underneath most welcome to him,-sayri SugL "ntT? "t" he wants the head ! " This thn.,.i, /T,' ' ' P"'' "»' by the historian, is a goS ;:^e\tSXt H~'' ««*"-«« undergraduate pUyL with the hL?""" ■nst»d of the harmless necesLy ^d^d '"^•^' "« This IS a primitive kind of humour of savMre r,ri' ^""^ Scottish) humour II T Til ^T/°u^'''"'"^^'" ^^ ^^^^' f°^ ^^^ of a better name, I shall call the Humour of Irony It is a quieter variety of the last. Of this sort, and to ^°°y- me an exquisite example, is the advice Donald Cargill offered to Claverhouse as he was riding from the field of DrumcTog after h« defeat, as hard as his horse could gallop "wul ye no bide for the afternoon diet of worship?"' A j'est which that he had°J'' ^'"? °1' "'^''^^^ -tender," considering G^h*^ K ?r T° ^^'^^^ " P"^°"" ^" '^^ hands of John Graham himself. I am sure that Claverhouse appreciated the ironical edge of the observation, even if he did not forget '.e fom" "' "^'^ """"'^^ ^°"'' ^^ ---^ h--l^ wit" a. i*.'v jfe- w:-^^.;'./iv ■'''■• '^^iiiAi^.v:r.^l£-.^'iM'v-M 82 RAIDERLAND I ! If] \ r.mn7T nf^'^. "P^"^** * '^"*^^^« '^^eew t^o ■ I '■'"'^W^ 'i>j^-^-yimmwMM^ THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 83 himself " 'hIh T ». » I. ' *^' ^''^^edingly pleased with "•uelsawlluicdtaneinllunl" Jrs in ymr Hwe the nationality of the ironical humour consists in ,h, tfTohnT'"" "'''°'" "' *' ■^"'- " « ""^ o?W bu Let £^r:^=^n:[-ji,rfn:r;; -t 2^9r:?h~!sf''i^4"rnr"S r„H if ' :"'""'^' ''^^^ ^'^^ '^'"i had fared homeJlrS And that, perhaps, is as well. nomeward. This, the Method Ironical, with an additional soice r.f kmdhness. .s also Sir Walter's favourite mo^Tof h^our It IS for instance, the basis of Caleb Balderston especLTlv in ^ut'ar^:^^!" ''' ^-- ^^ ^"^^^ oirde;,rrr z iJv ^^ ^u' T°*^" ^"*^ grandmother, and scoured awav retnemet r " k''^ "^"^' '"^^ ^^'"^ remote cornJof the tenemen^ where the young hero of the evening was de posited When Caleb saw the coast fairly clear^hf t^k t umgora^ng pmch of snuff to sharpen and 'confirm hisTesoi" W or? H ^ "^ u"^*"' *^°"8ht he, «if either BidX ^ent or Girder taste that broche of wild fowl this eveninT^ yea« old, and putting a penny into bis hand, he sa.J, « Here ^^hTrS "' """ '' "^"^ '^^' ^''^^ *° Mistress S^a^ash for ve ? ?be m T'" ^^-«-^-'. -^ I'll turn the bSS.e f^yer'plll^r"'"^-"^ ^'^"^^ ^^ '^ ^ ^^'^^-^-d -P thaii'^rrT-^^u'*'" ^^^'' boy departed on his mission n^. ft ' ^°°^'^ /^^ ^-"^^^g turnspit gravely and steadiS m the face, removed from the fire the spit containing the w^W '€mm%%^m^''-^.^T is^si (' 'I i i If I ' f ;* n 1 84 RAIDERLAND o?i°^'''!i*'** ^! ***** undertaken the charge, cUpped hi, hat on his head, and fairly marched off with it " »Kj/* !!3J' "o» »»T>ri»e you to hear that in Scott's own time this modeof humour was thought to be both rude I^d ^ Com'ot 3l'^; '"^ '"•"y ''"e the criUcisms of bad 'o' taste and the accusaUons of literary borrowimr Authors. that were made, both against this great scene, and books ThTT °'^'' '^*P*"» ""^ W* ""»t famous wT find frr ^ '"T' P''°"*°*^ *« "«« °^ ^^e envious. We find, fcr mstance, the magazines of the time full of the ^ Ill-natured notices, which, in view of the mXl ed editions of the great Wizard, read somewhat stnmgely a th^ day. Let me take one at random :— s.Jf'"".!!-^"'' ?°'"« °" '" ^^'^ «"e blindfold way. and r !^^ uf ^ ^"^ Providence-the task of employing the hundred buck men of Mr. James Ballantyne's priS office Coul's Close. Canongate-for I suspect that this is the oiSJ real purpose of the Author of 'WaverleyV existencl" ^ w J. ! °T "J^" "^^ ^"*^" P^°^« ""kind. For these words "e only the begimiing of as satisfactory a "slatin!^ as ever fell to the lot of mortal writer. ^ But nothing tells us more surely of the essential greatness ^ ennoT. h^" '"' T ^" "^^^'' ^^ * '^^ ^ouchef, he cTn so ennoble a humorous figure that he passes at a bound from t^ humorous to the pathetic, and touches the springs of oTr tea« the more readily that up to that point he hL chiefly moved our laughter. ^»"cuy Ciri?!? '^^ ""^""^ f ^'°"'' ^"^^ ^^"'"^'O"* conception of Caleb Balderston, we have a few words which like a beacon br^inV Lr""'' '" "l"' ^^ humours-his foraging, hi^^" th!^n •' **" ""P^^^edented readiness to lie for the sake of Kr:;:::,™re"^- ^*^-^«— ein«The ' wwil^r i ^■^''% o"^'^''' '"^ ^^"^' ^t^" holding him fast. while the heir of Ravenswood breathes. I am but a servant but I was bom your father's-your grandfather's servant-f THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 85 S't^«/°V.*'"?'^'^7' *^"* ""*^ f°' »»'«»-I would die ««»K- K • ^?°''.^«"'' "^d Ravcn.wood. 'vain old man- nothing hereafter in life will be well with me. and Cpi^t i.' the hour that shall soonest close it ! ' n*Pptest is hniA^ '*^"*' ^r ««*^«t«m«elf from the old man's hod, threw himself on his hor«s, and rode out at the X but. mstanUy turning back, he threw toward, QUeb 2^ hastened to meet him. a heavy purse of gold ' e Jlin^*'*^' ^"^ "^"^ ''"*' ' 8*^*'y """«• • I ">»ke you my So:^ S:; m. *""" "^"""^ '•' '"''^' ^« --«» ^^'-ourse' «», t7.^K ^""^^ ^f "nl^eeded on the pavement, for the old man «« to observe the course which had been taken by his master Caleb hastened to the eastern battlement, which commanded of WOW'S Hope. He could easily see his master riding h that direction, as fast as his horse could carry him. The propheq. at once rushed on Balderston's mbd, that the i^^hf ^rr"?^ "°"^^ P*"^^ °° »»^« Kelpie's Flow! which lay halfway between the tower and the links, or sa^J knolls to the northward of Wolfs Hope. He saw Wm accordingly, reach the fatal spot, but he never saw him plS ". . .Only one vestige of his fate appeared. A lanre waves of the nsmg tide wafted it to Caleb's feet " The old man took it. dried it. and placed k in his bosom." Scott is the most unquotable of authors, yet I should be prepared to stake his genius on a few paTsa^es like th S ^ ^ell Lr Z *"' "^' ^°"^^^' ^'^^"^ kindly^nS ZJ^J^ '"f? ' ''^-^^^^ '"*° «>™«»»>in« rich and me--the irony of the gods and of insatiable and SppeasaWe Fate. Then, indeed, one actually sees the straw and^bl*, the wood and stone of his ordinary building being Zl muted before our eyes mto fairv nold at the touch of him wh^ fl n^:. ■^^.^WFii^'^T^^^s^^mm- 86 ) ) ' H i^ |M h RAIDERLAND Golden Lie. °^ '^^ ''^^^ ''"v* the I now come to a humour which i« Im. — .~ ^ . *e inhentnce of our tumaltuou, „d „„~!^ "^ "^ -Abo«t.th.. stranger within his «tear- ^^' i^ '**' I>«»«-'' r#.n.,S fJu i ' ^ Concerning the Scot's repijte for haughtiness, Tohn Mainr^^^- • with w^g'tf"' jli:™. r "7 j'?'"™- '"-^ «-• Scot. • • ■ A ni« th.t i. puffed up ^'J, fr! f *"^ "»«hMe. .n,ong hU fellow,, „S w"™ he^h« ^°" P«-«n.inence to him, or bu. litUe inferi "h '^W ' ?*" """ T '^"^ out into iealouw I do noVn-n.^ «"«'.'"* rtge ud braUts whether they .uffer more tZ. *,^ • i,!^ •"*" "P* •»" ««...,, I h.4 „o. ^7"^Xmt^'"^Zr'' "i'" «s.rt, that the Scot, delight in ly^Tbut to ^^ "" clear that lie, like these flourish wiA™„» • ""'"» »« Scots thu, «nong other p«,^^ °'' "«'""' *°«>°« *« Swanston by the Pen nd tde^thelTv! T^"""*' *^*^ cix na cage, their Yarrow and Tweedside, 11 n li 'Wf^^'WfY ^«KB«feP!tfv;.":-^ at ie le e. ir e r w M s Ifl id s o Qt u. 7. is o u M td at u I t il i 1 i 1 n; Ij t ^H It ' ^l&^^-'i^i Mf*:^"rri»^."'^-Pirr?5L"«:3Bri •fe^r^^-;<^;^.sy;. THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 87 jjjjjijrju. b^ e.l.l«Ung U,e tUh „f ,h. ri,« of ^An!i?' . *'»''"<''"8 "> «'n>on, turbot, ud trout fHow •"•B'CT.J Ana near the sea is pentv of ant^r, .. -.11 c«b.. and polypods of marvellou J si,!' OnT«Ib oTi^fi!; " >«•• »han thirty crab, such as are foundt the S^nf^ .hells of the jointed polypods that you see in plri. ^" clinging to the ropes of the pilenlriving engines **«!»• <*wn are a sufficient proof of this. In Unt and in ^^'^^o'^^" summer, at the winter and summer solstice Deoole an in fK. S: 'paTo^fhlT "T ^'^ ^'^^'^-ie'^d^^erneTg^^^^^^^ "^parts of the shore, drag out the polypods and crab, with hook|, and return at noon with well-filled ^ks.» fhe poor French nation! One native polvDod fmm "« inc acme l And how much nobler 'tis to th^ Z^}»Z^^ " «ie summer and winter tolstice than to dine to Z. „ S.^otu.r.frr^^;?''*'''''^''"'''--."''''"-' w '^"** u*^ ''" '^ ^^'' ""^ *°' P'««e the pigs, shall it be. «. *i»i^d^..«c wo^ ,;:;j^.^« r.as:r.^v"« °-^ So, deep m the owland nature. h«ff»n fh- « About.th^ nr^r^^ T* • ^^ , '"^*» °^^ the HuHiour of own k«I.,«rd._which «e the be.t kaa-«wl-the ^ . 1 ^■n^ growing the beat eurl, ,rj^ m«. «L^' 88 rt.'- RAIDERLAND ing leeks and syboes. lymg fairest to the noontide heat and bhnked upon, as John Major says, by the kindliest s^n th. sun of "mine own Gleghomie." " ^ "^ *'°°'''*'* *""• **»« It appears to me that John Gait, with all his poverty of imagination, is yet the most excellent, as he was the fir.?2^ n these students of '• my ain hoose," a^d " my afn fok/' Gait's names, his characters, the description of the p a^s dSfih tlttthVS'rf ""^""^ '^ ^ bonny'sc^nL-^d^ Jor H ! '^^,^'* ^"^ °^ ""«^« there is. I care not so greatly for his plots. I can make my own as I eo I am rZ !, interested in what happens to the character; Cw\F^'^^ Of About-the-Doors ^Lests r::^^'^^^^ ^^^^ f^^ Gait arching my back by the fireside, like a^issy bawd^ when she is stroked the right wav I shn„w i f * edidon or GaU .pHntedli.' .Z, L' tVt ^ SIJ for earned comment would spoil it. I ,m persu^ed iS I of Oa^t" !!?,?"'"'• '''" *""""*• 'o P"" d""" 'he first volume of Cal. ,h« c„m« to hand, is the following de4tion John Git ° ,' f.fK°'"^ °' "■ ""' S™'"* """ion, nu.:°Lr;;f Sn^iritar^TtT :™" rn""^ with all the appurtenance, properlvTeSu^; ^ '^ ""^ as peat-st«:k. dung-heap, ^^«d.h^ "■f.'*'?^"^' ««* m^Med utensils, fuch t ttt^res'^^^^^^^^-'^-f and brushes maimed of their handle J „ "«"^ess oarrels, body Of the cat which the Z.^S^^.^^t::f--l the more worthy works ofTohn'Sj? Zil^T^'' P""'"^ «'' "^^ ^^ Edinburgh. '' ^"' P""""**! by Messrs. Black .v^ of ^MT^ *:'^..^riLi >^ J>^ . U--.^:';^, t-.' .-■.41 §i .m .. THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 89 on Saturday se'enight. The garden was suitable to the offices and mansion. It was surrounded, but not enclosed, by an undressed heug % '^luch in more than fifty places offered temptmg ar aussion to thu cows. The luxuriant grass-walks were never ,-.c.ed but , -st before hay-time, and every stock of kale anu .:ahba>..> stood in its garmentry of curled blades, f^^ \I^TT^^ ^^^^'^ ^^"^^'^ ""'^^ o" the first Sunday her^fl^nceT"'"^'' ^'^''^^ ^°' *^^ ^^^ '" *^^ many-plies of Now there are people who do not care for this sort of thing, just as there are folk who prefer the latest concocted perfume to the old-fashioned southernwood that our grand- rnothers used doucely to take to the kirk with them folded in JhIk"^ ?• ^u "'"' ^ "°"'^ "°^ 'P^'^ the stave of a single barrel, nor the ragged remains of a single boyn. I take tZrTA f r"'^ "^^ ^ ^l™«-dish; and, like the most celebrated of chanty boys. I ask for more. I need not point the moral or enter into the history of the Humour of About-the-Doors in recent fiction. Mr. Stevenson, n Portraits and Memories," Mr. Barrie and Dr. Watson in all their books, have chronicled how the world grew for them when they were growing and how the young thoughts moved briskly within' them. Mr Stevenson, being more subjective, was interested mainly in these things as an extension and explanation of his own per- sonality. He saw the child he was, the lad he grew to be move among these surroundings, and they took substance and cotour fr.m the very keenness and zest of his reminiscence. rn.?nH tr' "' "^t ^''' '^^^ *° ^ '^^ ^°^ld's friend, waits In K / ^°T ' """^ ^"P' everything as it passes him. But aU his life Mr. Stevenson adventured out to seek strange lands Already, as a child on the shores of an unseen Samo^ he had built him a lordly pleasure-house to the music of the five water- falls. For he was the eternal Argonaut, the undying treasure- seeker. Each morning he woke and went out with the hope that to-day he would find a new world. To him the sun never R.L. Stevenson. 1 41 i i ! ■; 1 Ill 90 RAIDERLAND grew old. and verily the hunter hunted the hUl to tlie day's ending ere he came to "lay him down with a will." Rare, very .are, but almost heartbreaking when they do occur, are Mr. Stevenson's tendernesses about his native land— " Be it granted me to behold you again in dying. Hills of home J And to hear again the call- Hear about the graves of the martyrs the pee-wees crying- And hear no more at all ! " on tK '".^'u ^r ^^'*' '''*^°"* ^''''' '""^y^"^ ^° f"' yet carry him on the track of many a romance, woven of tears and laughter J. M. Barrle. ^^^^^ J^^e world was young for us all. The skies may be unkindly, the seasons dour, the steps steep and the bread bitter-in Angus and in Thnlms. HaTd the lot and heavy the sorrow there ! Up the steps the bowed woman goes to wnte a letter, in which the only cry of affecUon. My d^r son, Queery," is never uttered by her lips. The bent-backed weaver wheels his web up the brae with creaking wheelbarrow, and lo, in r moment Thrums melts away-we see before us the Eden door, at which stands the angel with the sword of flame, and Adam, bending to his mattocr^ earning the first bairn's bread in the sweat of his brow. TThere sits Jess by her window, and there Leeby Ues in her quiet grave, while never any more comes a « registrardy " letter from London^ when the bUthe postman's knock b^ scaiS nme o fall before flying feet were at the door to weSme Jamie's letter For Jess is Eve. the ancient mother, b*^ her h^vier burden. Because the secret of Eve iT^ woman s sorrow only begins with the bringing forth. Then deepest and dreadest of all. there is Cainl^ out upon the wa^e-a bloodless if not a guiltless cl,^ho hTonly broken those three hearts that loved him~and with them his own. I never want to read any more what I once read of Jamie fleemg hot-foot over the commonty-yet, like a hunted thmg, ever and anon looking back through the dark- rr;n T 'Z ^° "P***^" ""^ ^°°^ « ^^^ bairns that lie asleep, each m his cot— to make sure [ "^WMiM^il "5^ >fi;vi,. l^. .'■A- -1- 8. I ',«* ■ -1 s .^: ^^S%W THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 9, peo^^LTto'?r ^T""'' ""^^^ "^ '^ '° «"^ Galloway S^ foTtimtwo mT-,*'^"'- ^'^^^^ ' «^°* P«»«n«y deal D^'rsT h!. r K "'*^ '° *'" °^ *^^ Humour of the Out-of- ti^K^l^r L°^ ^^'^ ^^ stable-the humour of " Whtn «dfhe H^r? '"J^' °' *'^ l-^ng-time. of Hallowe'e^ ,?now » ?!^ • ^ ''"°'' "°* ''^^ther there is as much of onlvln^ ?r r' "^^^ '^''•'^y ^''■>' t»^t there is^ot I tTme tZy """V^ '"^"^'^ ^'^ '° ^P»^« •" n,y young 7Z^A *^"* ^^"''^ J°^""^ *'""^°"r'» to our grave and reverend semors. And now when we are growing suThHke ourselves. I think analogy will help us to belie^eZf the e ^ some rfun Z '"' ""^ °' °"^ ^""^°^^ - -"<^«nt J g J whTch ^e „ol'"T'' "^^^ ^ ^'°^^ °^ ^'^^ departed days wh|ch we now endeavour, generally so unsuccSsfuUy, to thJetZl '^^^u^^' ^^ °"' '^" ^"^^^^ •" netting down these thmgs-the humours of his country, his lost vSr, f^ ost loves, without finding the tears come^i often ' ' to his eyes as the smile to his lips. But he will The Novel not succeed only because he sets himself to do it **' '^P***** with what is klwn i "'a pur^^' ThTn' "" '"^ "T " emenre but it m.^f f ^"'^Pf^ The purpose may mdeed emerge, t)ut it must not be thrust before the read#.r'« n««« else he will know that he has strayed into a dr^! " ^Z ask^ you L bread!!:rr iS ^^^^ Xe-^d ^^ ye have given me Gregory's Mixture I » save^when" h/'^'' T'' tJl^ "°* ^^ ^^ ""^^ ^^ ^h^t shop, ave when he wants medicine-for some other persoh A kdyonce sent me a book, and she wrote upo^ Hhat' sht hoped It would do me good. Now. I did ^" warn * t for m^etf particularly, but I had a friend, a ^IkTu™ and I mstantly recognised that this goo? booT^theT^ 92 i RAIDERLAND So I sent it to him ; and he has never even thing for him thanked me. Thus is it true what the poet sings— " Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn." tive^slcj^n °/ ir^'' "'^^^ ""^ P"^''^' ^^« '^^ primi- tive mstmct to tell an entrancing story. And in spite of Gervinus and cartloads of commentators, chiefly xStonic I do not beheve Shakespeare did either On thTrpS' however, I am open to conviction; but, like tha^^^t errU siast, the late Dr. Begg, "I wad like tn iJ/if ^!^ ^' convince me I " *° '^^ *^^ "*" *^*t <^0"ld SrotrisT"d;alL?''''"'. K ''' ' ^'" "^"-^^ "P°" *« ''o-^Ued .^/t^S h . ', " ^^ ^"^ ""^^ ^ °"« ^ho speaks ex cathedrd, but only m order to express my own feelbgs and beliefs as a dialect-speaking and writing Gailovidiar! ^ We are not of those who look upon Scottish dialect as t" e ': LTthlt'^'j' ^"1"^': '' ^'^'^ »-' indeed mue" For the old Scottish language has had a history both long and distinguished^ In it the first of Scottish ^romance^! John Barbour, wrote his saga-tales of Wallace and h3' J' .^"°*'" ^ ^^"«»> Robert Ram^- BunTTT^^"™" ^^ '"*^^' ^»W«d; while Kamsa; Bums, Scott, Hogg, and Gait carried down to this generation its roll of noble names. ther?hir"' y^' '^•'h the increasing localisation of fiction there has ansen a danger that this old literary language mS be broken up into dialects, each one of whicrjhaSess Is mterpreters. accurate and intelligent, no doubt, but ^ of the true and legitimate line of the succession apostolic Now, what I understand to be the duty of the Scottish mmancer is. that he shall not attempt to represent phon^ti ^lly the peculiarities of pronunciation of his chosen dis^rS but that he shall content himself with giving the l^:;,!!;^ Scots Dialect .-^"^ '«, "*' '■■'','■ T- ' ^ 1.1' f ■ ■ -^A THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 93 incident, character, in the noble, historical, well-authenticated Knox. o'J'S; "'';' rJ°""' ^"«^-"* ^- the ne^^f fo^amusemem m your hours of ease. As Mr. Stevenson o^ce sa.4 Jamieson ,s not Scots, but mere Angus-awa' - " A pre^ nant saymg. and one containing much solid sense ^ ^ gibly t"'LS'HM"^^'^- J^ ""*^ correctly and intelli- there is no need to n^e of *= C'^ ulTr ^T^:: C^ 1^. u7,^? «reat.gr«,dn,o.her, to ,hi, our own GaUo- ray. Let us try to keep their speech equally free from An»K T i^- • "«"«■"»"» of the boarding-school-in fact frZ ^1 «ld.t,o„,, subfacHons. multiplications, and di.tSm ^ whomsoever introduced or advocated Th.„ • ^-^ ' abra«. that in order to write SS dS^A^ '"t .0 leave out aU final g-s and to write I'^ol^hihTaf^ ^^. i If:. » 94 RAIDERLAND stondtrd of manners and speech rank at least as high as that of her suter of the South. The result may not show in the reports of the Board of Trade; neither will it make Glasgow flourish yet more abundantly, nor the ships crowd thicker about the Tail of the Bank. But it will give broad Scotland a right to speak orit more of a Scottish language, and not merely EngHsh with a Dundee a Gallowa', or a " Doon-the-watter '' aS^nt ^li .r • •* T*" ^'' ^'' "«*'" * "**"»«'« frankly national, wntten m her ancient language, according to the finest and most uncorrupted models. IV.-THE DOLE OF THE THIRTEEN HERRINGS A Talk of the Sea-Board Parishes n,,^', ''^f f ""^""^ ^ T"^ ^*"°^*y '^« «^«" down to the middle of last century (and for aught I know it may extend to The Peat- . ^'^^''^ ^ay) that the tenants were bound to leading. P^« ^"e laird so many days' "peat-leading," for the stacking of what was till recently not only the chief but the only "fewal" of Galloway. The conditio^ of that contract were often curiously minute-the laird on his part undertaking to give the horses such and such feeds of bear bread (the barley loaves of Scripture) or oat-cakes so many "farles" of a regulation size, with so manr^of home-brewed beer to wash it down, the same that Mr. Cuning- I^T^mlid I ^*'""*^ """^^ *' ^^"^ ^^ '^"^ ^"«^» m»„^T.K°"^ sea-board Galloway estate the laird, a shrewd man of the snell and grippy sort, had limited his bounty AGrlppy f^^'^'fy ^° 0"e can of beer, one farle of oat- Laird, bread, and one large herring. It can be imagined how popular the service of "peat-leading" was among the dwellers upon that estate, who could very well » See the chapter entitled. " An Eighteenth-Century Galloway Laird." ''■ciii2;W'':^fm^m THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 95 J?fl*"^*» V' *'°'"^' *"** " ""^y *^«'^-n8« " they liked for kitchen ' thereto. The laird, a man with a hump shoulder and one hand ever in the small of his back, hopped about in a lively manner upon his stick to see that all did their part of the work-and that none had too much to eat. The lady of the hou.- was a proud dame, who considered that tenants -well, should be kept in their places. So one year it was intimateo that the refreshment would be served at the back- door, and that instead of the fash of tables spread upon the green m front of the house, each man should go in person to Imall°b^er ' ^""^ ^"''' ^" '"*^*°" °^ °**"''^^' ''^'""«' *"^ Only those who know Scotland, and the intense Scottish pnde about small personal affronts, can understand the aneer and contempt which this regulation caused among the farmers' sons and even among the cottagers. Only a few availed them- selves of the refection, preferring to go hungry rather than suffer the ignommy of the back-door and the housekeeper's dole. ^^ Henceforward only the men on the estate and a few , • ? u???. *■*'' ^^^^ '^^'°"'' ^° *»^a* the little hopping laird rubbed his meagre miserly hands at the saving. AJl the bold farmers sons and sonsy ploughmen brought their own dinners wrapped in a clean cloth, together with their flasks n T ^\'^'^!' somewhat ostentatiously, standing each man by his horse's head in front of the mansion. But after this had gone on for many years, one day there ^JJTt^!;; ^^A^'^" ^ ^'°''' °^ '^^ ^°"^^ ^ t>eggar woman with a brood of hungry children. She had heard of the "peat-leading," which in Galloway is usually '^^^ ^W" the scene of merrymaking and rude plenty. So ^"** being "fremifand not knowing her man. she had come as a gleaner, sure of taking up at least one basket full of the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table. Uixmherand her little skirt-clutching swarm descended the laird, as it had been a hawk-beaked bird of prey stoop- mg from a perch. With one pounce, as it were, he was upon the pitiful brood. *^ '■■r.'^mmMmS'y^^^'^mwi^m^^mmfM^mimwisE's^mm f ' ! ] ^ :| 9© RAIDERLAND '• Gang awa' oot o' this, ye pushionous run-theKrountries ! " Such was his salutation. •' Do ye no ken that I am a Justice o the Peace, and can commit ye for va-a-grants and thieves I Hungry, are ye? Weel. gang to the Relieving Offisher! Gang to the kirk^ession I What for am I cessed in a great sum every year, if it be na to relieve the like o' you? No t single bite nor sup shall ye get here. Aff wi' ye I Oot o this I Faith, I will set the dowgs on ye I " This he mingled with many oaths and cursings (for he was a wild man of his tongue) till the blush of shame mounted to the cheeks of his very servants, and as for the young farmers' sons and cottiers within hearing, a bUck fierce anger burned in their hearts. But action comes slowly and unreadily to the true Gallo- vidian. So It was not tiU the laird had "shooed" the poor woman and her flock off the gravel, and was following them volubly dcwn the road, that one Alexander Barbour left the ranks, flmgn.g tlie reins of his team to his nearest neigh- bour. * "Here, honest woman," he cried after the beggar wife. " loup into my cairt ! " oo » And with that he began to pile the astonished bairns one by one over the "shilbins" tiU all were seated in a confused To the heap in the cart-bottom. The mother was soon Baek-doorl beside them. The laird, too astonished by young Barbour's action even to curse, glowered blackly at him as he strode away to the back-door of the mansion, where he presently demanded thirteen herrings, thirteen farles of oat-cake, and thirteen glasses of small ale. The laird, who, almost unconsciously, had followed, asked if he had gone mad, while the housekeeper held up her hands in horror at the mere words. Then upon these two turned young Alexander Barbour, a man slow to anger but white hot when he got there— of that dour, sober Scottish temper which, once roused, is the most terrible of all. THE RAIDERS' COUNTRY 97 I J'^J'^r" ^^ ^''^ ^ '«** yo"' P«*t8, laird," he said loud and dear that all might hear, "and bite nor ,up of y^™ have I not t«ted. But every year it i^ been fright to WeTi tL": ^^"^^r ''"' °' ^^' -"^^ °- i"8 of bier Tihlt^l^rofter r"-"^"^^ '^"-^ ^^^'^^ ^-»-' sJJlZ:^^^^^,}^'- "It i. ran. wastry. comet'oiUVenV""'" ''""^'^^ *'** ^^^' ^ '^n>ly Then the Uird. struck with a sudden pang of coming trouble, could only bow his head. Of a su^yh ZZ nommated in the bond. Every man knew It ' k^rJr!:^ '*!^^^«Jf d*"- Barbour, turning upon the house- keeper "be quick. There are others waiting. Bring out the provender according to count and tale I » And they brought it out. i.rJi'^7' K V'" "■"' °' >'"'" *="«d Alexander Barbour, jerbng h.s head upwards as a signal, for his arms werehal And leaving only one or two for a guard upon the horses, all who had refused the back-door N«*»ln*ted and the housekeeper's bounty for themselves *"*^«Bond. flocked about the porch to demand it for the ^r despised dLln'tJ*^"* "!;^^^ *'^ "^^ '^PP^^ about "^oreSea demented crow than ever. But for him there was no reprieve. For at each objection tiT^.T'^ "^"^ '^^^ *^^ ^-^-" " " i« « so pTdt::„" "Wi- THAN!" they cried, with a kind of solemn joy "hoosekeeper. bring oot the bannocks!" ^ ^' And they brought them out, some drawing four-some seven, and some twenty supplies, till the it-cakes Z conesT/lir.T' !r'J'^^ '^"^ ^^^ «- -h^*t-m"j tW t' H J^'^ ^'''^' '^^ " ^*0" h»™' and for beer ^semw" ""'• ''^ ' "^^ «^^"-^ ^"'^d t^e whoL Then in the midst of plenty the beggar wife was driven t'lmm^ssk sfwrn Mimpw^^^msm PPPfP '^if^mmr^ 9« RAIDERLAND ■ I Ml |:( out Of the Uird'i poUcies upon the king'i highway. A place waa kept for her in a friendly barn, where she had peace •nd plenty for many weeks, with her brood and her provender about her. Also there was no loud scoffing or merriment among that crowd of farmers' sons and peat-leaders, though they had kept the wine and the small beer for themselves. Solemnly they chnked the cannikin and drank the laird's good health in front of his own windows, wishing him, with the fine Scots irony, dry and stem, many returns of the present happy occasion, and, above all, the contented mind of the cheer- ful giver. "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord," quoted Alexander Barbour as he lifted the reins, and "clicked" to his horse. But the Uird looked after him with things in his heart which It IS fittest not io write. Nor dared he even speak them, for Alexander Barbour was the son of his best tenant, and the value of land was falling. Which is the story of the Dole of the Thirteen Herrings, and a very true tale. M^':^i(^ i i ) ^j| i Vf.: . -/i0Tui' SWi^'Bff" If it '' X s < X :^^?^!!ereip^ir^ .WT'-'^- CHAPTER IV SWEETHEART ABBEY " In the ancient Abbey of Dnlce Cor, The pleasant Solway near, Two passionate hearts they laid of yore And a love that cast out fear." So on the title-page of a little book of verses, caUed by the proper name of the ancient monastic foundation, I wrote twenty years ago. The only remark which a certain metropolitan journal, then at the head of literary ^^" ^'■* criticism, made upon the work was conveyed in these to me, memorable words, "The caninity of the Latin title of this book wiU prevent every educated reader from venturing further." ** Nevertheless, had the educated critic so much as turned the page, he would have found that the little CoUect of boyish verse was called after a real Abbey of Duke Cor, otherwise Douce Cceur— a 'Dulce Cor,' too, where certain memorable thmgs came to pass, where many men Uved and died in the odour of sanctity, and whose last abbot continued, long after the Reformation had swept away all his Scottish peers, to dis- charge his functions, both hospitable and spiritual. Further, the critic might have read in the same place these excellent words, "Ufted" from the ScoH Monasticon, and even through the clouds of anonymous stupidity a light might have dawned upon him. "When John Baliol died in 1269, Devorgilla, his wife, had his dear heart embalmed and enshrined in a coffer of ivory, enamelled and bound with silver bright, which was pUced before her daUy in her haU as her sweet silent com- ■ be laid Sweethew Abbey." ""* " "^"^ "» ■««»« of These monks of old alwav« ^k/>«- j • that they would have ^ iZ'tim^^n I^ «tes knowing surrounding scenery, but nfve 7id J^ onl^^^ ''^ beautiful thaj, that of Devorgilla's Abb^y^f 'he Heart "°'' Under the lee of great jrreen CriffJ •/ ,• , spying distance of LocHn^r Thf; ""' ^^^'^ "^'^^ up to carry the holy brethr«. [hermit /r^''^^'" ^°"«** say? Yet it is far LoughTway 1^^^^ T? T'^'^'^^ ^^ with its wintry blasts. ThereTs „n?J- T '^'" '*^^™"^»» than to wander through the iirW^^^^^ °°" down the side bf a ZoJ^TJu/' T' *^^ cornfields, white cottages up aT^L v ^"^ f ^^ ""'^ ^°^d« »nd andpuxpkbtheriStse^ .-,1 "^ '^^ be-brambled is (take it foT ail i^^« mT ' *'" ^°" ^^^"^ ^^'^ <>" what in Scotlalld "^'^ "^^ ""^^ *^"'"^^y situated ruin stone.t:iio:L^r;::e'rsr *',? ^°^^-^- °^^- gold and blue. k^entZt ''f "°^ i»uminated in and more harmom'ous ^^1 ^""^ T^^ '^"""^''^ »' ^^'^ wrought togetherTrakeltl'd^^kroi"' "^"^ '^^^ even in ruin, like the breathin«rT? .^ °"* "^ '^"»' While ik New AbS^?^ *° ?'P°^^ P~y«^- is the Sabbath ry.N^riid^'thLK '"^ *^' ^' Rather the hush of a sw^t nL^ ^^^ '° *^ ^-^«1- cottages of the wind4 s'^.^lh'^"' *° "' °" *^^ '^'^'^^ its tr^es-and y«^d^loiTh.?J. ."^ "^^^ ^'"^"gst road lifts his Cdli sJh o?°°^ ^^^-^ *^°"^« ^^^ the benediction I ^'' °^ """ ""'^ '^"^^'^^ of kindly always beside th:X'i;:^rLr S:%^^^^^^^^^^ however, was the impression of a wandet. whrwHl'k^j; I' ^ 1 -"?frj,^«»> i,^^r,^.«^«^_ m ^ ;:::. ^^■mLm m i ,^m rwH^ >-^j«t..^W:r|j • SWEETHEART ABBEY lOI in »u» heart a memory of feir days and quiet m'Khts. of cornfields w,th the dew on the st^k.. ofV momhl of children stamed purple with blackbenying-and over aU, constant as the everlasting hiUe (aid- The World r ^\ "i^*' ^'*'""* ^y») *e «>sy towers *?"«* of Dulce Cor, refreshing the heart at every "^'^ "** S^viH /°^ ""^ '^''^'^ K^^P** <^"«ht of them from t\T^" street-a God's city set on a hill which cJZ knd w^kf' M I *''/°' '"*'*"*=*' ^^^ <^«««ht^l 'wood- land walks. Never have I seen such a choic^of trees all about-great trunks of ash and beech, the rusSe of ^en d^ I>^ • ^°u"«f ^'''^^' P*"^^ ^t fresh greenery overloaded fohage of oaks, leaning a little to the earth Z if weary of ancestral dignity. "ic eann as heather pushmg up among the roots of the trees, or a yZ suver water m midchannel, or the grey and dun stretches t^'JT"^ «**t ^°"'*'' ^°" *« '°»<*' - historic Si" Uverodc far over the estuary, b^^ty on its green shoreTA turn of the path and Loch Kii. i Hes bef^ tu blue a hammer m the granite quarries above or the crv of a ^bwS the short chppmg clatter of the wavelets on its Above all rises Criffel, simple, restful, hardly beautiful ye^ somehow harmonious too-a molehiu'made l^X\ There is one demon in this Paradise, and aeainst him T pronounce the Greater Excommunicatio^ HeT^putTer up of barbed-wire fences. However, his fate is ^ZTj at^ J 102 RAIDERLAND ^Zr^^u '"''"/T' *"^ ^ ^*^ ^'^'^ »»'8»»««t local ecclci- ^t.cal authonty (that of a fellow-sufferer) for «iyi„g that hi. Barbed »".*"« jnll be as uncomfortable as his own barbed Wire. 'I'^^ heated seven times in the furnace, can make It— be he landlord who permits, factor who ordera. M«i»ii»th»l Thu M pronounced for Doom. I 'I ''' m H' ii ■s 'fOfi. * •s^? CHAPTER V DOUGLAS HALL Treri are muiy and charming apt and downi. >>h.i.k. . j howes"on the .hore ro«J-Zt whi" fSth,^ ^• of the Solway out of Kirkbe«, into C^tad At rt-r^l,*^ ^KiAbean it»>f. d«n.,. white. cUmS ot^th '^° pma creeps «,d the staall white Ayrshire ro«,C Z turn sharp down to Carsethorn-a hamlet on TZZJ^, «a ato on and take your meaU-such as yon ha« bronrtt »«h yon-m„ uncomfortable boarded shdterBu,^ thorn u «t™d from the utterly commonplace by ^^^ 104 RAIDERLAND \i< 1 f I t sence of an old-fashioned coastguards' station, recalling the ancient days when, on every such little whitewashed watch tower along the coast, there was a nan on the look-out, his spyglass directed towards the dim haze which was the Isle of Man, out of which he expected to see emerge the dark hull and huge sail of Captain Yawkins' famous lugger. Leaving Kirkbean and going westward, you have Souther- ness or in common speech " Sattemess " to the left — ^just a white cottage or two and a little fairy lighthouse, gleaming tremulous through the moisture which the sun is raising from the wet sands. So by a road abhorred of charioteers, but a Paradise for artists, camera-folk, and blackberry-questing bairns, you now approach the true Solway, and the cliffs and beaches of Douglas Hall. There are villas and houses about, which doubtless I should like well enough if I lived in any of them. But they look out of keeping, somehow — a little Englishy and pretentious, to one who can never think of Douglas Hall save as one or two thatched cottages, mixed with casual stables and cowsheds, and all arranged as if sprinkled from a pepper-caster. But now is the time and here is the place for a confession. Those who have seen Isle Rathan know well enough that, though there is a cave upon it, there is not room Isle Rathan, ^ ^^^ ^^^^j cavern for all the wonderful things which happened to Patrick Heron and his May Mischief. But then a romancer has powers. He can contract a coast- line. He can enable a herd of " nowt beasts " to march thirty or forty rough miles in a couple of days. He can even regulate astronomy and have two new moons in one month — if he only disguises the facts somewhat, spices them with adventure, and, above all, sugar-coats them with a little love- making. So then — I confess it — there is part of the coast of Douglas Hall in the Isle Rathan of "The Raiders"; while as for the Dry Cave and its double entrance, the author went s of : as i ^ Hi*' DOUGLAS HALL ro«TOWARR«N «»«itud. of d«cri^iJ^ ' " """ "P~' '«' ""-ch ,^r:^.■^^ ^ , ■ -Jesr-. "9^jk .s^mp T06 I f ■ 1 RAIDERLAND ^le in the main PaSfo^fr"' ''* ^I^. Cove. Herons descnption holds good THE NEEDLB's B'b under no pwticuir obtoli™ , . ff" v""" *« ™«~ ™ •"■'N and nothing butSftiSh *' '"*' •*« ""ole *«r"iSd uX%it^,t: r -"" *"- '--'>. •^'^y into .b. mou* „rSr„;^ « "««^ °»' -ay me cave, we passed through •-flr-^ '^f'^'^^m'^ DOUGLAS HALL wind come, in off thiUaT" '*°' """"^ *' *ore w,™ ,ul t-nsy .ISO far .CTeK/fcl^'^A'^''''''^'^- '»" ■ngs, there was some Darch«l «. '"^' '""^ <^'- of mme. Then out of the d«n,K.^ .? '^~* farounte plant clamorous cloud of rock oitZ °'. *' «"»* °"" ">«« a hear their voices Xi^iJ^d'h' ™ •"'"«' « ""'" fome of the old «ik.bw" me^^ *"""!™«. '" *eir young, 'edges with a sound wo^deS ,^'Jlf T °" """«'«' "ere also at the entrance a fe. ^ *• '''°°^'- There ^"ing the clefts sllg ^LtlvJ "tf. """'. '»'''"°" l.ke bam-door hens in the dus" W ™P'"« "^^^ feathers, the sheen on their nTt. . '"""'"''e preening their 'hat moment the ,»»« rfsLg ^""^ "« «"<'«• because at .Ra.han«„u, th^S 'e'.!*?" '^™« <»« no. 'berikJ^or't'So'l!: 2." " ■""" "^ (a» the word me«,s in Z ^,TT ^^ " "' <>' «««>" "hich ha. its entran^^^ramrtf '"r''^''<'«y). no opportunity for the brich2 ^f .btsT^ "^ «"<"" going to ,he place it is easy to pL^ ,^ """'■ ^ ^^ this hBtory. This I sav at I.LkT. '^' ""'h of *a. the ca« is some ZderKln^"' Che™,'" • '"'"^ the common people has m,c«^ ^' *"® glosing of cave by the Blacnmu^le^'^:/^;^^^^ '" *^« space of three or four S ' H ^"^ '"'*"^ '"^ ^^e The Raiders." p. ,03. (T. Fwher Unwin.) io8 RAIDERLAND tmii ground passage at the Old Picf s Tower of Orchardton, with other stories that have no truth in them. Indeed, the whole cavern, as it was known to us, did not extend more than two hundred yards in all its turns and windings, entrances and passages." ith >le an :es ^^^^^^Wm I I ^li fcLL. ifi w- J, 1: ! \. , 1 1 1 1 f m 1 f (5 ■Ji '••^ jp^ ^^J^/^" THE HAKBODR, KIPPFOM CHAPTER VI COLVEND "THE RIDDLINGS OF CREATION" The Hint^land of this Paradise of cave and arch and zrottr s the pansh of Colvend. or as the GaUoway folk liJ^ tf^; ovmgly softenmg their voices to the sound of a dove ^T^i H« J?!?.! °'' "^""" ^^'^^^^'^S *^« big wild parish ^ ich wK,- K f ^ ""^ ^ '^^^ ^^^ °" C°^^«°d (this seaboard parish wluch looks across to Cumberland) was Uen. dre^fnJTver the wntmg of "The Raiders." I stood alone on ^ the hoary scalp of Criffel. The whaups circled hi.k hrs^th^eJ^r^^^--^^^^--^^^^^ ^^ "Troquurr they cried, "Troquta^l Trimarr Wr. -^i^. Hen, Han Her.." And yef? ™ „« ^TiL ^ k:sM, ■ -F*^ :iE il.il' no RAIDERLAND deep m bt pMture-Unds. "' ''""■ twent Ij^Jt^,."^'^ "■>' '»»'•'' ■xen'orie. of iwemy years before, the phrue which stuids at the h~rf cJz.^^ ™' '"- "^ "■""-'•-n.e'^dtg!;':? "Th.f3it,»«uriRa4£^Y' COLVEND „j "Sic a laddie for eatin' as I never «.• tu ... sh.ii ««* r *"** ^ ''** ""der the same ban T "Aye." "Then rise." jt^. cautioning ^^e ^'-.'sil^ra; rST^t'l'^T' n^e« see ,. She di™ Uke thing, u'en ^ "°J,*: IJ: Then, it is sad to have to relate if k„ wh.t««,er. no, excluding JL b^ ^f "Z ""^ comn^ndma,,, we could obtain . "^ ,^„e** •f* ^ "n^be^^„"L:"j « ;::pp." ?s cug^r^'iiSh^ijd'^'^ir- *' """''" "' ^-"^ «"" »it need or <«>^Z'^,^ZZ ^,^f ^r;;j "r fate he w., MnductiL^ i, ^'.S' I! ^ °°' '° "■»• v««r«6. or even tihe ro»', * d ^ S/Tt" "^ " promijed us. ™ ropes end he h«l so frequently . .. h' "" 'J-'i'' f ""'" *«» op™ W« cott«e door with • Hey, guidwife, here's twa lads that hae ^t^.^u Bourtree Buss ower a,e Heachs. lUe ye o^l ™ *' them to fin their kytes?" ^ ™' P* tE "^ I .( IH il!! COLVEND «d throw open „ fri«diy '. jj, ^^"^ Wulih. •"njomdr welcome rou in «, ett™,! i^,, ^ _ confined ourtelvei An/l u r . ^ °^ ^°^'«« ^^^ we every turn and twi.f «f ♦!: ,. ^ '" ""^ mind's eye « Se ^"™ «s;':^:^-::ru: tr^:^'^ ':7-'>-i'" .^p •«" of dulse between P-,T:. II, *^ "^ »"<* I«"P'« And if the« be to^; J ";°'*"^ "" °°"«'" »•"• ;o-n. of *e English No«h ^lr^.n.^m^' Hi"" ing out over the Ooi— *u " "^ '"^" ^^^"^ smoke blow- mn^S. <^""^-"' «». »t lew., „ , auio«diu, ««i i from Bou^bS^":,^^ X"^"^ "" '• """«'"« never be. It was all «,.« ^ ^' ^« ''©"W there. Ghoil 1" „« rsr^^eto^ H '^t '^ "^ meddled us. **"^^ '^*»'' t^e™ »f they Otutiously, and hand in hand, we advanced. heard a noi^. "^ '*"''* **^ '^ *^' ^^^ thought he ;; Only the water," said I to reassure him. "it Jc'S'Tti:^.''^ ^°"" in in a hurry l« he suggested, ill ! i fii e.ll I ml 1 If I 114 RAIDERLAND twelve houn, half-an-hour later each time. It uid u> in the geography, or at leut •omething like that mu.S.u^r^l5* T** *^.' "?"' • '^""**— ^''^ heart^hilling .dv«^ "^ ^"^^'^'^ «^"'^°« '<>"^ " we •' Strike a match I •» cried Rob. cav,rL^n*T ^'^•P*"* !»»««' ^°' the inner depth, of the cjiv^^but all plan. mu.t give way in the lace of imminent The fir«t one sputtered and went out of Z^T"****'''''^ f . *~ P'^"*^ *»^* ^*"t»»>»« lineament, bL!^ «d ^ry"* ''^ """^ '^^^ ^^- -<* '"->-. h- ^t the ,ight of the light wmething flew at u, with a hoar,e dn J^fk"*^*'** ''*"' °"*' *"** "y companion rushed past me sill mv !. i T^ '^'' '^""' " »"*' »» d«»»» "1 never steal my granny's sody-«:ones again." •K;\f\*i*^' *'^ ** ''" "° ""^^ '*^ » black-faced "tip- which had wandered down from the heuchs and had got tangled and bemazed in the cave-mouth. I allied my com- rade bravely on h,, tcrror-though. Heaven know,, I was as frightened as ever he could have been • tiJ' ^^I^ *^r^ ^ "^ ^**'^'" ^^ '^^^ in i^^ indigna- Uon. Man, I was jmst leadin' him oot to get a whack at him in the open." * It wiU be no astonishment to those who read this story U«t my early fnend of the Piper's Cove succeeded in business ihere is nothing like having an excuse ready It was long after this day, when I was a lad of fifteen, fi^K Tl '""^ ,°^ ?^ ^^^^^'' "^°"**>* °^ °»y ^^ " Rough ' firth with the only thorough comrade I have ever had. Our paOis have diverged very wide and far, but I doubt not at the days endmg we shall meet again at the bmefoot, and stroll II) ■■s^PSP'lr*. ^: •i^^mmmmmm^mm^ in .' risfi^A-f-'aj ^ $£*: f • i I f 1 ■ i isms^'o^-f^-^^^'^iimmm. p^M^sm-mmsim^min :*!._* COLVEND „5 liv h.H ^ *'?'~':f' ^""'^ open-hearted Andrew-not r^ny had such a fnend. and what he was then he is to- mJ^^^'^'^.u^ T ***^«t"^es (with some additions) you may read ,n the island chapters of "The Raiders." Even thus we hved and fought and "dooked." and made incursions and e.cur.,ons m search of provisions-being .' .t>nically "o^ ifthTst:;;:fi^:'^ ''- ^^-^^^ °^ -- -^ - - ^ ^^y -pp'" " With additions," say I. Yes. and with « substractions " oo. as we used to call them at school. For I have anoX con- fess^to make. In the interests of art I deliberately iLZ: a good and kmd friend. It was not May Mischief wh^ ^OtV"' "°^ ""'-'^^ P^^ »° '^'^ LhiL- hough ^d Jr,. °'" '^'"' ^' '=°"*'"* "°* ^" off' " mischievous ^othf^ f f r"^ *" ^*y- <^ ''O"^*' if <^ertain staid mother of famihes remember how they and we used to race Jl ^\ ^'" *^^'°^ '^' ««'« ^^-nJet of Rough^h It JLT r J^^'T i^"'^^*^' ^ '^y' '^^o ^^' *^«ht us the pie. one sad Saturday when our credit was completely exhausted at the " shop," brought us the deJight of her bonny face and comfortable figure, and— what I regret to say seemed even better-the noblest pie that hungry teeth ever crumped the paste of ^ ^TJh Tk ^J' '^^^ ~°*'*'^' '^^ «^t down on a chair and said, with her hands on her knees— ••Oh, that waggonette ! I declare, I'm a' shooken sindry! Noo hoo muckle siller can ye laddies be doin' wi' ? " ••dune'''!!th'm ^"H""^. *' ~'^ °*^"- ^« ^^o"''! »^*ve for^r. KM,^"' * ^""^^ P**""^^' *>"* we compromised for thirty shillmgs. Even this was a stretch. A Friend In Need. 1 ^ I i ii6 RAIDERLAND a^ 'h!^^i djnna ken what ITl say to your faither when I get hame ! she said as she handed over the doUars even Sr^«h*!!n»*'''' J''/"' '*^"""' *«^"' "^ «>»W look even the "shop " in the face ! Your other son" has not forgotten you, and hereby send, his love to you, and makes his all too bela ed apolo^ '^ Hi 11 N r c i ■m ^^MLa't ±.% #.Mr' Qi^w^^'i:' CHAPTER VII DALBEATTIE ixivcr craii could not carry awav the " ^tte » r«e* enough to pave the streets of LiverpSl. HouLs ZJT "d the. in .h. haIM«.r..d poSg ^Jr^' ™"«'-"' tombstones n>«ie on "spec," waiting for the d« Th. Town when some notabiUty would die, and a fulsome °'°'»'X'«- .nscnption be cut upon that smooth tablet Now in .k- ^P^.rThe*t" ,^ ' ""--' -^-wi^ "d-^'eTn ^f P«T«nty. the "neither poverty nor riches" so desir^ of *. Psalm.s, however unwelcome to the stirring tZ^ There is not much to see in DalbM^Ho .fo-tf of the cleanest and most pleasTnt Httttwi l^^Xl"' najngable river, very like a Dutch canal, a SThffll mJ!^ " ^.'^■..w-rt'iir ^"^ v"^- "' -' ^-^ Castle-DougJ^ ^ nu,f JT"' '""li"* ''"'■"^'' "-««'■ Castle-Doufu^ SewL^ F "**!. '"*"' "" """ "' *<= ». " ^'^ occasion did "7 I ! '•' I I ii8 RAIDERLAND I quite escape their vigilance. The best way i, to run for the railway Ime, get over the fence and make faces at th/^ If the ,u.^en,en inquire who you are. r^m^Mott tui aupenntendent. These very practical points are added in W.U 7r%^ ""^ " *« ^- ^'^tl MMweU, of the Glasgoir Satsmm office, wiU bew me witnen Be sure, however, that you can run faster than the keener This IS most important. Keeper. Northward again, you have the Urr, a ooolv troufv npphng. unexpected sort of a stream, half'a bC^^^ half a nver grown small. If you care for fishirTasTd^ Z therein. They run small, or rather did thirty years ago. But you can generally catch them with the fat stubbhTo^S wWch you find under flat stones at the back of the cow hou« tl tiCi^^^ »lon« your line, getting home before breS obtamed from my fnend Andrew Clark Penman of Dumfri^ not night poaching, and you get off with a reprii^d 1 I unnecessary to carry a fishing-basket. A pafrTf^L s de P^^ets to your coat- inside ^u be found^ be mu^' .1^ ^hes whlth . ' "*"• "^"^y' ^* °"* *»»« li"»« thorn Dushes which the keepere put in the bottoms of the dooIs This shows carefulness on your part, and gives the C; labounng man something to do the next day ^ T A ..T " *^*^ * 'P^"^ ^"«* fly-fishing, but Penman and I don't know anything about that. All^r offenis^ l^f smce covered by the Statute of Limitations ^ Then withm a morning's walk of Dalbeattie there is the I' « for that m us IS IS is 5 i Ootk Mos., a famous pkce DALBEATTIE for wild birds' ri9 «ttle ca« you ne^^^never bTh, u T'' W- With a of March in a gS ,1^1^^^^*'^ *^*7 ^''^^ *»»« "'ddK' ofcookeryisriS^^Tj^lufinr**'^""^ The method -nipe, according to yoi^^idt Th ^ "««-P»over, curlew, whether the e« i, fi^ Th* ^ ''^ '^'**^ (»>y t^*!) «>• ~der muTaL^t for w7r'"L"*^* ^^*» *^- that Wi grandmother "^'"^ "** afterwards teach it to ^o^'Zrl^,.^-' '-^ ^- Off the Al^the^ea hilliie^oflSllJljH';'^,^^^^^^^ wild benty the Knock Bum, to s^ " whr^^K ^"**^ «^ *>08» ^^ even though no^mL'^oes Sie ^,* ^JT? ""i'^'^*"^" or whiskey-stUL steal UDth^ f. 7 f^^ «nhcensed "kiln." ^tly b^e wii IhTL^lJ'anrbe^i;** ''^''^ "^""^ «»d one pleas^t LTL^!^ ^k*^ °" '^* ^»^«"d shore were bu-y'atT thdraSr:5dtu 1'!!^^*'^ ^°^ «»ted below. It i. a M^iS-K^ ^^ "^ '«*«^t «<3i- h" been found to lLh^\tn. *^° ^ '^'^^ P«»y. «d n«t be«. indeed, to SetuL^jr" r',^»<'«'^y~ the making of bve. ^ "^ or (so I am informed) Here is the incident as related in «Tk tn . Moon"»:_. "° *" The Dark o' the "•Settie it, MtxweU Heron.' h#. rrJ-^j I>««.ge «d champ the bk^t ^^ '?^"« ^" P*»y w« practiring to show off b^« t^ JS* ?"*^ ''^ <*<>• (He as tricksome a minx as «Lr^ c^°°'™**^" ^oinette, Heron, you nev^tStS^^^P^'?^*") 'MaxwS -n. Here are t^ ^^^,^^^'-^^, » X^ «- Thereyeare. Now, whafeTfli^the il^. ^^ ' Macmillan A Co. f ""I i : 130 RAIDERLAND MiUWood? "The .hilfy- (chaffinch). Mty. you. T^ cojinter you, and bring the wi«er to the touch-I'm great r w* , ,«**»-"' «'«» risk my «ller on the ciaw.i He's the Mess John amang a' the birds o' the airl' "So we rode along in keen emuLtion, and as we went I made a hst of the birds we encountered. When there was no doubt, and we both agreed, I pricked a mark after the name of each we saw. At the Faulds of the Nitwood the mavis led by a neck from my friend the 'shilfy.' But there, as iU-luck would have it, we encountered a cloud of rooks making merry about a craw-bogle which had been set up to scare them off some newly-wwn land. Jasper shouted loud and long. The mier, be mamtained, was already hu. I had as lief hand it Oft*. I told him to bide a wee— all was not over yet "Now, I began to remark, that while the chaffinch and the sparrpw, the robin, and his swarthy rookship occurred in packs and Imots and dusters, there was one bird which had to be packed off regularly and frequently. This was the swift (or black swallow). Whether it was that his long elastic wings and smooth swoopings brought the same bird more than once across our vision, or simply because every bam and ouAouse sheltered a couple, it was not long before it was evident that both Jasper and I had smaU chance of heading Ae poU with our favourites. By the time we had gotten to the Mo« of the Little Cloak, and left the woodlands behind us for thattime, the prickings of my pencil had totaUed as Ti'J""?*': '7^ ^°' **^ »'^°'')' 74 ticks ; the chaffinch L^:^ fi^S' ^l ^•^^.^°** " ""^ P«~»' 38 ticks; Ae oaw or field rook. 37 ticks; the magpie, aj ticks; the mavM^ipdcks. And this, though mightily uninteresting to most folk that read or hear tales, is yet of value. For it tells whatbir.i5 rere most plentiful in our Galloway woodlands on a certain Wvay mommg in the year of grace 17— " And so, having settled this matter, the traveUers went on by the wild benty hillside of Barolosh, and over the trembling » Cr«w : uaed in tbe south of Scotland of the ro cany him on •o mum to at his ,^fT^^ ""' "» l^' »' S«>d cheer "..'"^p^z'^f^^wLrr ""^ '-^™ '- •uppUe, itself. Its position t.v "' P^ °' G^lowav •"veller. I. has O^^t^JlT'^ ■=""« '" *« of prosperity. I, i, ^^^ " "«» " *« disadvantage^ »««• The houses wear a snZ7./'°'*' '°™' » ««y they are well built anrable^ brin^P"'' ^""^ '"""' *" fortunate owners. The sho,« T^ ^ ^"^ """"'y ^ the «h. lodt of s.eady.^jLg'S *°"«'' r~^ S"*-!^ •»« '«■»• . The churih^'Z^?"'" "^ "«1>«« «"»«- advancing, zealous in aU \^t f *"«* "«« ""nned, able to speak out th«r o^^ij^ oT^^h Z " °' "'"-'^ .fVT' •w.'-fri";: iH il \i 134 RAIDERLAND But in spite of all I love the village that was, even more than the prosperity that is. Still, however, there are links with the past— my old minister, my old Sunday The Village gchool teacher (neither yet old in years), a com- panion or two locking out from shop-doors at which I used to see their .athers and uncles. But once outside the clean bright little town, always busked like a bride — there the world is as I knew it. The Loch, indeed, can never have the charm for others it has for me. For I left it in time. I had no need to grow weary of the quiet glades of the Lovers' Walk, and the firry solitudes of the Isle Wood. The Fair Isle (my " Belle-Ile-en-Mer ") remains fair as ever for me. On the blackest night of stars I could push a borrowed canoe (what an optimist was the lender!) through the lily -studded lanes and backwaters between the Fair Isle and Gelston Bum. Perhaps the lanes and paths we clove with hatchet and gardening knife, through the tangled brushwood of the small Isles, exist to this day — perhaps not. Still woodland glades, peeps of the little town across glassy stretches of water, a haunting murmur of birds, and the most perfect solitude to dream and work in — that was the Lovers' Walk. And is, I believe, unto this day. Carlinvrark is hardly a loch. I have heard it called a duck-pond. Well, if so, blessed be the ducks that swim in that pearl of ponds. I have crossed Ladoga, and seen less of beauty than you may see by walking open-eyed from the foot of the Lovers' Walk to the Clachan of Buchan. Open-eyed, I say. For all depends on that. There was a tree, a silver-birch, which grew upon a point near the little grassy islet which fronts the Fair Island on its eastern side. We, the boys of twenty-five years ago, loved it. We sketched it after the maimer of MacWhirter. We wrote odes to it Mine I even printed. It was " Our Lady of the Woods." One day it chanced that the wandering trio who did all these things, came on a fourth youth also regarding the beautiful white birch. There was a kind «f reverent joy CASTLE-DOUGLAS "5 126 RAIDERLAND » 'i A . i i !'.^ m ii I 'K'. on his face. Our hearts warmed to the fellow. Hithefto we had not thought highly of his mental powers. Perhaps, after all, we were mistaken. *' That's a bonny tree," he said, seeing us also gazing up at it. "Yes," we cried, rejoicing as the angels do over a soul saved, " we think it is the loveliest thing all about the loch." "Aye," he said, "I was just thinkin' the same— iV wad make grand clog-botioms I " He was a dogger! And, alas, he cast the evil eye cm " Our Lady of the Woods." To clog-bottoms she came at long and last. She was laid low in the great windstorm of December 1883, just at the time when the dust from the Krakatoa outburst was reddening the skies of the world. Then I wrote anottier ode upon her. Hardly from anywhere about the streets of Castle-Douglas, and from nowhere that I know of about Carlinwark Loch, can Carlln k. '^^'^® Castle be seen. Yet though forgotten by the new, Thrieve was once the centre of all the south — one might almost say of all Scotland. Go out by the foot of King Street, and ascending Carlin- wark hill, you will soon be able to look across the bogs and marshy meadows to the grey keep rising out of the river a couple of miles away. Once on a time the gallantest hearts in Scotland came riding over these wastes. Across the drawbridge of yonder castle, and so over this very hill of Carlinwark, they came daily to the forge of Malise M'Kim, the mighty smith of the Three Thorns. It is written of William,* the splendid young sixth Earl of Douglas and third Duke of Touraine, how "upon his horse Black Damaway he rode right into the saffron eye of the sun- set. On his left hand Carlinwark and its many islets burned rich with spring-green foliage, all splashed with the golden sunset light. Damaway's well-shod hoofs sent the diamond drops flying, as, with obvious pleasure, he trampled through the shallows. Ben Gaim and Screel, boldly ridged against > "The Black Douglas," p. 15. (Smith, Elder & Co.) CASTLE-DOUGLAS 127 bl<»»o« CW ^iVo^^-S X.?^ »"<'■» "- whin, with their green ~. . „J^ °T?*' ?'"'«"> h™. gamsoning l»w«t voices of '■«. "geU. I JL^^^ee^rJ::*' ' '^', *•? "■« «^ them.' '^ ' weethetit Magdalen ii amongst (, I 138 RAIDERLAND " And he lat still littenin^ patting Black Damaway mean- while on the neck. ^ « • What did the robbert do to you, do to you, do to you. What did the robben do to you, MyfttirUufyV " The first two lines rang out bold and clear. Then again the wistfulness of the refrain played upon his heart as if it had been an instrument of strings, till the tears came into his eyes at the wondrous sorrow and yearning with which one voice, the sweetest and purest of all, replied, singing quite alone : ** * They broke my lock and atole my gold, Stole my gold, stole my gold, Myfatrlatfyr " But the young earl, recovering himself, soon found what he had come to seek. Malise Kim, who by the common voice was well named * The Brawny,' sat in the wicker chair before his door, overlooking the island-studded, fairy-like loch of Carlinwark. In the smithy across the green btu^trodden road, two of his elder sons were still hammering at some armour of choice. But it was a ploy of their own, which they desired to finish that they might go trig and point-device to the earl's weapon-showing to-morrow on the braes of Bal- maghie. Sholto and Laurence were the names of the two who clanged the ringing steel and blew the smooth-handled bellows of rotigh-tanned hide, which wheezed and pufied as the fire roared up deep and red, before sinking to the right welding-heat, in a little flame round the buckle-tache of the girdle-brace they were working on." A little farther along the Carlinwark road, and you will come to the outlet of the canal, which was constructed to convey Sheriff Gordon's marie to the sea (v. chap, xxxii., "An Eighteenth Century Galloway Laird"). You would never imagine that it was made to carry field manure. Clear % CASTLE-DOUGLAS «nd slumberous under its great trees it ^xa "^ lights upon it dancing thromA tvT^^ ^^^ ^"^^^ *^y upon the wide mo^of SS^^ 'Z^!^ '' ^"*^*« congested and stagnant SriM T!?' ^'** ..*»«»««• •* once ^y ^ upon soTly T^rr^' ? '^^^ °»« th*t peaceful canal pour a r*^ .„? m •«»«« the river Dee. '•i-ing it in /^'^o^ '^ '"^ "^W' ^«™t into the loch^ half the islands under 7atS. «d S:^' i'' T^ P«^^ nature. I rememh*M. ««- • "tenng the whole face of thirty ,«« i^^htLr.in^""^'^-*^- •o™ •^ of the I.|e Wooi^ '^„""^''' ■» ""^ •«»«« the content generally Cni«)e.ing it lo our hewts' the hter riaio „««i i^o^ '^l"^"?' •"> •■»•" boy. i, cold Thawing «»„ into "e^^to iJSt .T^ '*" •gwetble youthful partis, o! ^ r_™ the ice wm „ r?"^ while fte o*r:o«^p~4';;? ^,'!" r .'^ *' l>e threw. But on going b«i Aefl« ~ ' >"•> him « entire day", milk of I «Sle ftS ""'^'^ "* ""« One-i fitther had nasiS^i. •'^~"" «°" ' dumber «n home -ith hSTl.'L^J^Sri.r'r™' '**'" *« 0» lud certain experi.roS'^J^ ^ ^^ *« "umber -iltl.™ in hi. an.;^^ "^ a iJST^ r'="'~ "" "»«ife.ted a curiou. p,^«L f" ! ^.^« •"«"~d. he '>«tewuobyioudy,m«S?^!f°*^'»"^ »"' been quit. clear^J „J '^^ """ewhens which ha. nem 'f i If f f "^t SAINT NINIAN's CHAPTER IX SCHOOL AND A KIRK To the Boy-that-Was there is nothing within the Borough of Castle-Douglas so reaf and memorable as "John Cowper's School," an it were m t the old Cameronian Kirk. John Cowper was i true man and a great teacher. It is a common thing for his boys to say, when they forgather after a quarter of a century of the world's bustle and Mn change, "Well, /never learned much after I left ^^*""^* JchnCowper's!" " Let it be thorough," he would say. " A little knowledge is all right — if you know it," he repeated over and over ; "it's in the great lot of things that you think you know, but don't know, that the danger lies I " " Build on a good foundation, and the house will last your time ! " was another of his sayings. «3«> I, M A SCHOOL AND A KIRK ln». Md «■»«,„. "• "^""^ •»! quiet, tpulr, but deep, "' loved Quile-DouglM." h. „^ . "•"-t ran. "1 would ne*rh.»r JT^ v . ^ '» ■»« '» h" to do my wort u work owh. I^ '^ '«. -f I l»d been iUlow«l •'i . fin. cU«ic Kho^^S If""" "•-•bove thoroughlMt home in the Tawi, ru """ *"' *'"«'' "here hi. work w„ that „fT«S, **' "' ■"" ■•'" "'«• J«d for hi. f..h„, but jl Co.yr i,f ^".T "»' C"lrl. X^^pShrr:^?--"" -po^,rtvt.?;to^'!;:,hrho°'--s.r.e. humble «:hoo|.hou«, J„ta ^Cr T *! ""'" """ "' "»> •">« old Om.r^Siiwrri^l'???,'''^'. J*" ■!«*«*• ^ t»«. . phce both bieldy .^d h»; ^ *"" " """"""led *" .he old-dme Ome^S. ^rfJ^SI';. ^ °"'^ '«"« hurymg^und round .bout it A kTrl • ""' "f' "" • d»u. Md cheery mthout monument .1' "T """"^ «"»»»■ upon which to «t „d -w^n ^l "^ ""* "««» .h«d be«, added to the fi^t ISl of .K. •"'""• "'«"' «» green with iv^ ,11 ,h7«J?l / "^ Nevenhele« •he liUc bloom, righ, Jp to' wh.^"*: "S " *' "■■»■»" Pl»te. " t" ^ """re »e elder, stand at the But "Caim Edward" r.™ ■ . ««teofhea«„. To^y^horT""""^ "»« >««, . ««1. heard there uT^ l^ZT^ *"" «"««d it. .;: i i I ti! I ♦ « 132 RAIDERLAND And to this daf the Boy-that-Was has a general idea that the mansions of the New Jerusalem are of the bam class of architecture and whitewashed mside — which will not show so much upon the white robes when it rubs off as it usec^. to do on plain earthly " blacks." Few now living can remember the coming to Castle- Douglas of the Reverend William Symington, the first minister of the Kirk on the Hill whom I knew. He had come as a stripling, and was look^ upon as the futiure high-priest of the sect in succession to his father, at that time minister of the largest city church in the denominatioa Tall, erect, with flowing black hair that swept his shoulders, and the exquisitely chiselled face of some marble Apollo, William Symington was an ideal minister of the hilF folk. His splendid dark eyes glowed with still and chastened fire, as he walked with his hands behind him and his head thrown back up the long aisle from the vestry. His successor was a much smaller man, well set and dapper, who always wore black gloves when preaching, and who seemed to dance a benignant minuet under hia spectacles as he walked. Alas I to him also came in due time the sore heart and bitter draught They say in ** Cairn Edward " that no man ever left that white church on the wooded knoll south of the town and was happier for the change. The leafy garden where many ministers have written their sermons has seemed tc them a very paradise of peace in after years, and their cry has been, " Oh 1 why left I my hame ? " Concerning the present minister, because he is still with us, I have natu^illy no liberty of utterance. He and his have made that kirk and manse a place of J?*""* memories gracious and grateful — of kindnesses of which no man "an count the number, and of hospitality, bright, sweet, simple, and boundless. Theirs be the blessing of those whose life has been lived ftn- others. One da^ they may find that they have entertained many angels xmawares ! Yet if this be a place for enshrin- ing old gratitudes, I must of necesaty put my thankfulness '^'i^'V\ A SCHOOL AND A KIRK "o mj old minister Cnr.^ i • "'"'* '^^ « the foremost pll^e^^ ,t^"^ ^^ *^ ''' ^^ »»» -fc. repeat, that very fact rest^s uTe,!„^,° *'" ^'^ ^^^' B"t, i w most full and willing ""trance, even when the hwt •"^y as ever he wJ a T„?? • " *' "^ """red Wend long Ufe well „d wortt^ty'r^ °' *' '""■« ^P-V of • of memo^ .trri ^^, -'"''■ ■»'»« *e .own a city Paterson, of tte A^^ °?'|i~7. |:t» "r .luee-Jos^;^ d«ed. diligent in bu£«rt^^,'' *'?'*" *'«' " "oil .Jd h«d taow What his le^hS^l'- """'"^ "" "«"' BaiUe John Payne-whrwhm . , . ?' """ *<"" <"■» ™» p's.TS::s^-£5^-^-renr:rs «»<^ oW shop isTt fiie^* j^i *?'""'■ ^y t^e window of the bookseller will „°;'i^i'j;2j»-\the hearty hand of enter. "^ stretched out to me when next I n^" rcr^ti:::r?ot'":r;sf '"^ ?"■-" <"«"« John Nivison, who first l^Z ™ '" ""^ of Dr ■aWr d««l in' u,e a„^J'^ "f • ""Plete edition of Cii: -^ kindly. «,d hum^L^,,?;:^'" f • '^•"" '^'^ 7^ out ; of ProvT^^t::.*' °'«r°'y "-" "« of Dunjaig; and of Andrew Dd^h^^I' °*°^ M'Kie fo' US the world was y„^ Dobb-e-aU men of nurk when PleaslTthLtre '^li^' CLh"r.'^ '" " *» - y«a"ago. Aaai.,w«Ttiu'^j"C'«"-Dough.arirty """aged aemi-patemaay, and on 134 RAIDERLAND the whole things went very well in the council of the fathers. No one knows the town, its history, or its quaint old-time characters half so well as Mr. Malcolm Harper, and I tell him once again that he owes it to his own literary skill, and also to his native land, to put t(^ether such a book of Galloway portraits and memories such as only he could write. i I :-^-;^^r^-'i,'S^4 irs. [ne im to ray :;/] i'i- « It > •' in ■lit .1 X u ea Q u Hi ,4'^:^m CHAPTER X KIRKCUDBRIGHT A Scottish village is a «tran„-i • -,'-^^^nr.ccZ^^lT^:?'^f^ Within «. everything i, known Mib pho^t " ™«''"' '""<• »>»•« -nnot ge, slaved without i,I^^^,Kr ?»«'°''"'V. A mm "orfs c« express ti,e a.inuten«,Tift "v^kT"^ »<' "» women .re studied. But o^ ™t o,*,"""'^. "» """e'er, of who come ,o the smiddy trgT'll l'^'"'°f P"^"-" •heir horses shod, out of the iL T u^""*" *atpen P«nshes - Wmakin, .s if it ^^^^l^^:;;^ H I •\ I li s ft, :'i: I i'- t \ \ tU ! : 136 RAIDERLAND hostile countries. A mountain range or a stretch of wild heathery hills is a watershed of news not to be passed over. do one's inva«ons of ttenS. whTSin^l**^r!? "? *'^ ^'^"^^^ -d^exceUent Selkirk Ir^l^ Mrartt;'?Jet: c"e, 1 wrote some part of ««tk« t i -„'-*""* Postering *«, i. . g^eftl ^uX.1 q'S^ ^^ ^™^'' And about the bridge and thm n,« u '"** **** very soul dribbling «>„e,h., 1i«V 1^^^ "^ ,' •»" «"^ "y big worn leather patche. on mI .? . " «™*'™'n. w* «he luxl been sketchiii!^ ' ' """"^ «»'' "''•d ">« if I blushe, „ eve,^"'^ "'"""» F" « fift«n one " What are ther about ?" rnutl,. . "P«ul lone*- JaidT "k !TJ^ *" question. -?^«nh! s-^s'ih'"^;- "^^ ' smiled good-humouredly. ^^'^ °^** gentleman "O^t rf.li'^ fSr" **' ^^'^ information?" said he -i„g;^.^HeJe:::yt^^j!f ^- ^ ^^V'he said. I told him. It was at a farm in the neighbourhood. 138 RAIDERLAND " Well, wait here a UtUe," he said. " 1 wiU see what I on And." He disappeared into the wood, and after twenty minutes or so he came back without his gun, but with two books under " Here they are," he said ; " you can keep them. I find I have another copy." I declare that I was so much astonished that I forgot to thank him. But he understood, patted me on the shoulder, nodded, and said, smUing, " Good day to you." •' Who was that ? " I asked of a gamekeeper who had been hovering in the offing during our second interview. " • Who is that ' ? " he repeated after me in astonishment ; " do you mean to teli me that ye diima ken ! " "No, I don't," I said, "but anyway he is very kind.^ He gave me these two volumes of * The Life of Paul Jones.' " The man stood open-mouthed. " The Yerl gied you thae twa books I— The Yerl " He could say no more, and I left him standing still with dropped jaw, unable to digest his astonishment. I have the bocks still, and they bear the arms and auto- graph of the last Earl of Selkirk. 1, t\ ON THE DM. ABOVl KUKcUDBItlCHT CHAPTER XI AUCHENCAIRN Of B.lc«y. lUKi A. U«Ie^te%SLij"o/'j^^? T* coming and going. ^^*^ Auchencaim kept If any traveller wants to see Auchencaim .. t my dayKiream and as I h,A .IT r*"'^°*°*=*™ " I saw it in 140 RAIDERLAND will remember ttuu it was c(mceming this place that that hardy adventurer wrote: "It was upon Rathan Head that I ftrtt heard their bridle-reins jingling clear. It was ever my custom to walk in the full of the moon at all times of the year. Now the moons of the months are wondrously different : the moon of January, serene among the stars ; that of February, wading among chill cloud-banks of snow ; of March, dun with the mist of muirbum among the heather ; of early April, clean washen by the rains. This was now May, and the moon of May is the loveliest in all the year, for with itt brightness comes the scent of flower-buds, and of young green leaves breaking from the quick and breathing earth. •* Rathan is but » little isle— indeed, only an isle when the tide is flowing. Except in the very slackest of the neaps there is always twice a day a long track of shells and shingle out from the tail of ite bank. This track is, moreover, occasionally somewhat dangerous, for Solway tide flows swift, and the sands are shifting and treacherous. So we went and came for the most part by boat from the Scaur, save when I or some of the lads were venturesome, as afterwards when I got well acquaint with Mary Maxwell, whom I have already called May Mischief, in the days of a lad's first mid-summer madness. ♦• Here on the Isle of Rathan my father uught me English and Latin, Euclid's science of lines, and how to reason with them for oneself. He ever loved the mathematic, IsU Rathan. y^^^^^ he said even God Almighty works by geometry. He taught me also surveying and land measuring. • It's a good trade, and will be in more request,' he used to say, 'when the lairds begin to parcel out the commonties and hUl pastures, as they surely will. IfU be a better trade to your hand than keepin' the black-faced yowes aff the heuchs (cliffs) o' Rathan.' " It was a black day for me, Patrick Heron, when my father lay a-dying. I remember it was a bask morning in early spring. The tide was coming up with a strong drive of east wind wrestling against it, and making a clattering jabble all about the rocks of Rathan. •% -•' u < f - r.i'' " :' (- ■1...- -1 AUCHENCAIRN .. ' "*^ " " tappers ainunst thx^ a.iM « ** "fi^n the there mony and mony a ^VZ I"^- ^' '^'« ^PPer of . staty blue that ; Whiles I hae golte, ,^ 1" ""T^ <« " «B«-irindy J""!* • rive o- d»S,d 4r "Z^ ^ "'y P^. Md desperate few, man, despemtefe^...'"' "^ *« -le henin'- Here, then, it was that all m. k. ■ ,. ™ wrought out I ^1 "l ^ «"»»«« of the sea ^- The Channeind^' J J *« *^' -^ "n-Uni ^^wsea. By.n..an.d^t^Thl\t--^« But the sea as ft wa«h "ndy be«*e. or ck^Z^ ,?'^ "^ «^ "oWng «. ■^S^ chiT, .ouohes'SJ.JfZa^^r m/"" "^ """'^ «e south? k«p. for ever chafing' ^rif'"*,."*" "" " down. Isle of Rathan. ^ ^ ' *' "**'' "d of our Uttle wiU, the Boreland J^hTC^^- "' Cnugda,™*,. the way in Galloway. TO«1?T "'""' "' "''''='' » «lw.j; be ,u« that there I, an hSn t« f" "f^"^" '™ ™^ of that i^ as my f.^^ useS tos^ »« &r fion it The way to settle in their -tonit^H K '^' ^"" ** ^«M»h «n.e with them. SoSJ^^ "e E^?*k' **" ■'^"•' <" '^ found the boorland,r^^*^;,'»'™ « f»rs to 1^ « at any rate «,ffiaenUy curioii. TJf^^ """ "« ""t pU»^.e™Hrifl£^'--otX^ : 't .1. u-'n %■ 0i%^-' ' jiffiii .,..ll( 144 RAIDERLAND Yawkins' band, with whom, as my father used to say quaintly, no honest smuggler hath company." It was on these wide sands also that, at the turn of the tide, flounders were to be fished — and are, indeed, unto this day. Though oftener I myself have done it on the flats over about the Scaur and Rough Island I Here is how Patrick Heron did his work in the grey of the morning :— "This morning of which I speak there was not a great deal to complain of, save that I left the others snoring in their hammocks and box-beds round the chambers of dark oak where they were lodged. The thought of this azmoyed me as I went. ' "It was still dark when I went out with only my boots over my bare feet, and the chill wind whipping about my shanks. What of the sea one could observe was Fl^^ders! °^ ^^ ^^°^' ®^ **** ^^*** °^ "* ^^^ **^^ ?^^ ^""^ grey and changeful. The land loomed mistily dark, and there were fitful lights coming and going about the farm-steadings. " It was cold and imkindly out on the flats, and there was nothing except lythe and saithe in the nets — save some small red trout, wMch I cast over on the other side, that they might grow large and run up the rivers in August So with exceed- ii^ly cold feet, and not in the best of tempers, I must proceed to the flats and tramp flounders for our breakfast. Right sorely did I grieve now that I had not awaked two of the others. For Andrew Allison's feet were manifestly intended by nature for tramping flounders, being broad and flat as the palm of my hand. Moreover, John his brother was quick and biddable at the job — though I think chiefly because he desired much to get back to his play about the caves and on the sand with his ancient crony, Bob NicoU. " But I was all my lone on the flats, and it was sufficiently dreary work. Nevertheless, I soon had my .ets full of the flapping, slippery fish— though it w?y5 ?iQt too pi^e a |ob to •i k\ lill ^ i %-1" a.r-'-crak'fW-' MMMtaHBdUib » 2: y-' I »i ( I l' M p if 1 ! ! ! 1 1) .! 1 I fa*- V V.ira ^sr; AUCHENCAIRN »«i for the gods, and an. rZ "" ™" » indeed .boueit" *^^°"«""'PP«ite;mlhonlythink^ •bove, often menwing the liw! ? *" '^•™ 'O'er high "bich gather «> c^yV^.t^rt^.'r ""^ *' "™* " IS by no means time thm— ^" •* P-.-Ple side of Scn»l w,"h ZZ^^' "• "« « ««>« "P .he ■f " be not the travelled 1„T o I^^f '"'" t- {Pl-n'o^et-^d-t t^: ^t<" -^ ■•" b.. race S«»n,Ie took ad«„4™? ."f!""* «* .u,p™i„g ^ deep Up of a peat mT ^m^l^i.Tr- ,"f '"""'«' ">« »«/ for a htmdted yards „ ™"* *« ftel had been cut Maundering herd^ft a Z^T^ '^'"•^ « •»"«" off the Sky-line. Neverthetof^!'!!/ '?!°™« <'<«« l»Med utmost circumspection th. he IZJ^''^^^ '^* *« fool long heather «hich concis AeT^ "* •*' ""^'^ <" ^■ of Ben Tudor. ""' "" *»«« mto the Cauldron " The afternoon had earl. k~.i. procession of white cirrus do„S,f" ''°™ '""> » 'hrongin. »« of haughtier builds ^me t ' '^'^ <««ionally by 'he lift with his bulk, «eMS\^rT*."*"""'« ""'"ode 8ta.s of 'bunder-shower rtott™"'™."^ i^'^P- Sh'mng a-d once Sammle felt on his (^^.T'""^'^ *°"' *«^ once arrived at the shagf^ vlSe f' "^ °' '^'- Haring ■"'ersl.ces of whin, brooT.^?^™" '!""*. "■"-ugh 'he rock-chmbuig ivy he could V < i« "JFk-.-«i^ , _v ■^.>»ii'?--'?E^---«iijr» - 146 RAIDERLAND look into the untracked and untravelled wilderness, Sammle lay down on his breast and studied the landscape. Far out to sea, towards the open water of the firth, a schooner hung off and on, waiting for night or tide. But Sammle was no smuggler, though possibly he might have been indicted for conspiracy." Or, again, it is delightful to ride to call upon Silver Sand in the old Tower of Orchardton. There are excellent roads nowadays, so there is no need to founder your beast on the lairy Kirkmirren flats, as did young Mr. Maxwell Heron in the time of the Levellers. "We clattered over the hard sand and shingle on the Orraland shore, went more slowly over the rugged foothills of Screel, and presently bore away to the east across the lairy Kirkmirren flats. After a long breathing gallop through lands covered with short sea-grass, and bloomed over even now by the stone-crop and blue maritime holly, my father dismounted in a little wood, and tied his beast to a tree in a place very retired and secret. " • Let them have their nosebags for a little here while we go forward,' he said. ' Our good Silver Sand does not love overly many horse tracks about his abode.' "Then, having thus arranged matters with satisfaction to himself and the beasts, my father took along the first of the broken dykes (for we were now off his lands), and, ** Orchard- making a detour to the right, suddenly emerged ton Attld ^^^ ^ ancient grey tower, apparently ruinous '* and wholly desolate. On three sides it was sur- rounded by hills, for the most part thick'y wooded with natural scrub, but on the other, towards the east, the ground was more open. The tower looked upon a green valley, through which a little lane ran, or, rather, loitered and lingered with a temperate gladness. Beyond that again a high hill rose up abruptly and sheltered the tower from the sea. There were the ruins of a considerable farm-town t <, I ' ,-- -i":wT. «» y y i^: " 1^ ■•***:: If ^iayb^_ I- 'is<^^:^ ^^ .Ct"*^ AUCHENCAIRN netr by But all •fcient tower ^LTu^i^t^'^-'^l » *« •"•dl « U,e Round Tower of S^^i" ^J;"!- «- told «e. I had seen it on a bovt.h ^Lt '•"•m-^-red now that »^ alone, I hld^L^f ^,TV"". "^^ ^"^ '^^ •ome fancied noi«e whicT t\ I **'* ""^ "»» *'^y *t kn^i«g upon w::d Xh upi;?";! r' - °^ »'^"- nuking wme one's coffin „ I d^iw^ to'^er-the pixies full tpced, lest the coffiS' .^cn.M *^" ^ ' "^ ^'^"cat Mttle Pechts should c^ne^^r'* '" *^ ■»'"«' *"^ ^« "* me and fit me into it forthwith.- Of the villaire of »rw4a» t clambering abom its .un"^?'!^?" ^"^ d«%htful to view. I have little to say. ^^^1 ?' " * ^"^'°" *^' '*« "'^ »h*t it Ucks the L-f]ont L " *°°' *"^ ^ •" «'*5 "excellent bathing aTcommoH^- "^'^ "•"»*"='»• «ven the .Quiet it is, and qtHet t is S to^r """"^ '°' '"P"'*"^- » the best fortune of a^l-to L .^Tk ^"' "^^^^P *»^*' constantly, mher than to LiJT ^ * ^^^ greatly and diately forgotten by the mLiy ^ *PPl»uded and imme- villie'lTa Xr:^TJ;Z^^ ^. ^ «tUe shoreward •ncet thirty yeam ago nSh r^ ''^"t "'"*»' °' "»«1 to .•••middy" throughr(SSol'""^,"'f T- « --y »• 'f not of, the viUagT A^d ?'' '^!*'^ ^« ^tten Auchencaim best and Wcst^^, '*^T ''^^^ ^^« '^"^'^ h" been printed i„ thrX'"" ""*"** ^ "^^^ ^' i( I m^m^-'y^-^^^ ^•"iF^'^Sr;.. ".fes^''='%T»^ il CARDONRSS CA8TLE CHAPTER XII THE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT Pahliameht was in session. It met in the smiddy. «id the frit^ Ac Speaker. He differed from the other Speaker ^Westminster inThis. that he reaUy did most of the spejt i„« Rob Affleck of the Craig, was the only man who dis- Z^ the floor with him. But then to listen to Rob was generally held to be as good as a play. . . . . „ f.^. ^There were a dozer, of men from the neighbouring fam« who had come in with their plough gear to get sorted, and a Tprinkling of the village folk who found no place so bright aSd heartsome in the long winter nights as the smithy by the Wiri^ The very door was blocked up with boys who dared ^Tc^me any farther. At these Whaupneb Jock, the smith's apprentice. iii*m d' S"TJ ft lii'l" i THE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT ,49 But upo^ a,, t;:«^:::sV'p^vtTer^/^^^^^ over AJUhe Z'o ^1 ' ^P'' '°^^ "^^^^^^^ admiration and awe To bl ab le to7o";? "^^'^^^.^^^^ -«»» «»«. Each of them wouW ^th« k I* ''" *° »>« » ««»t coal with B«K. ™*"*' '^^^c been able to lift • cow with Rob's unconcern than set a aonH o«« J^ 1 • school. Which wa., only iVwlThiu ^^ . **"*^ P"** *' But in the meantime it^*7oHh"!•,^^"- '^^ '*»«• distinction.. tST mas erTf T.^ n^''" *'^"« ^^' »»»»» Duncanson. w^derS "hy^'j'Li:^^*, J^'"*^ ^^ blisters on their thumbs an^T ^l I ^" P^P'"* bad came to write. O^X he founT?^ ^'" '''*" ^''^^ whom he caught prac^^ i/S a "pipe JnT H^ll ^ way. After this blisters weln?. ^ ? *°^ Affleck's and thumb of t^o«j^uirhT ^th i 'T^*^ '° ***« «««" upon their handT ^ '''*' '^" *"»°^ °^ Tubal cLn "As easy as suppin' your porridee man!" k« known u "Ac White" *'"">n'»y'micht».y, un^^r ^^ou-age Monday °S ^r jt'^':: ^ '^'"'^ "i^ "•d SIC a throughaiun .if. ,' ." "^d be tellin' you irin v. "^ VoF 5*?'"°^«s:or'""' '" *' '"^ •'o^'" «'f-s«.e reason •S^.^^',;^"^]' ■»» Ac, juist for U,e -because I like wl«t I JS^eTJ^u ^' "^ "" »« BeU ^y- Gin I dinn. gan/te hrm ^?''* ' ^ *e com^ God to Aani forthat^'^^f^j"' ^"'.I ^ 1.. g^ce" *" !>« peat mercies I » Rob co^l hTI"" "^^ !'■» « ■»« " We a- hae muckle tohttTl^^ """ '''»«»«• •l«. h«, a Wife at hot '° ^^ t^^;;^"" -^ »U who T^ was, indeed, clearh thTZ! T "* °'^" O""- ™;"".^rr:t^s:?^^^°"-rt^ -en. --ra";r.r,-^:- -. s ! 1*. h (U vvv J 15a RAIDERLAND on the palm of his other hand judicially; "a man may hae been sellin' his sheep, an' we'll say it has been a wat day— weel, it may hae been a positeeve needcessity for him to bide a kennin' late aboot the Commercial." " What wad yer Cameronian minister say to that, Rob ? " asked the smith, who was a Free. "Hoot, hoot, nane o' yer lowse Free Kirk doctrine, smith," said Rob Affleck; "what's the like o' that to ony man's minister? Gin there's nae hairm dune, that is! If a man can settle it wi' his ain mistress, I uphaud that it's nae minister's business, sae lang as he disna mak' a practice o't — as the QuAker lass said when her lad kissed her." "But ye maun admit, Rob," said the smith, after an interval of active hammering, "that there's a prejudice again drinkin' in an elder fimang ither denominations as weel as you Cameronians ? " " Dod, noo, smith, I'm no sae sure o' that ! " said Rob argumentatively. " Tak', for example, the pairish kirk o' Kirk- mawhurr — gin ye can caa' siclike a denomination " — (here spoke Rob the Cameronian). "Weel do I mind when for twenty year there wasna an elder in a' Kirkmawhurr. First Rabin Tamson flittit, an' syne Nether Patie gaed ower to the Seceder folk, smith, juist because the Kirkmawhurr minister spoke to Nether Patie's mistress aboot copyin' his wife's bonnets. " Noo," continued Rob Affleck, "what I'm gaun to teU ye is neither • he said ' nor • she said,' but what I, Rob Affleck, saw wi' my ain e'en. The minister o' Kirkmawhurr was a man that was weel kenned to be fond o' a bit glass " " Like a' the rest o' them ! " said Ac White, from the scoffer's platform of superiority. " Smell that ! " shouted the smith, instantly reaching over and taking Ac's nose between his finger and thumb. " Be thankfu', Ac," he said, slowly waggling the freethinker's head backwards and forwards between his fingers, as it were testing the way that it was jointed on to the neck, with a view to improvements in the mechanism, "be thankfu', my man, '^^»K?^:"V - -^iv-t;: M I .in *^:»j ' A 4.i'»'.' # *HE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT 'S3 ' f sH m W 1 I^^^HI' ''^^^■f AUCHENCAIRN. LOojj^j, OOWN THE STREBT m f ,y ;; -'■' i r„ ^.rA ftfty^'A iji 154 RAIDERLAND ft' u 1 \ . that ye hae a nose ava'. The next time ye say a word again ministers in my smiddy," (here an emphatic shake) "ye'll no hae eneuch nose to tak' haud o' wi' a pair o' pliers ! " The scomer's chair was decidedly an uncomfortable seat in the smiddy of Whinnyliggate. But Rob Affleck had some- thing also to say to Ac White, when the smith had done fingering his nose. The scoffer tried an unhappy laugh, as though these indignities were the merest jests to him. "Ye needna nicher an' laugh, Alexander White — I saw you comin' hame frae the Blue Bell on Saturday nicht And what's mair, I heard what Jean said till ye when ye got hame. O man, ye were but the sma' man that nicht." Clank-cling f Clank-cling! C ling-clang— yieni the smith and his foreman, shutting down discussion with a riot of melodious din. When the showef of sparks was abated, "Tell us about your seein' a Session," said some one who had heard Rob's tale before, and had a respect for it. Rob Affleck performed his usual sleight-of-hand with the live coal in a leisurely manner, to the admiration of the assembled boys, who again realised what it was to be a great man. It was to put a coal in your pipe like Rob Affleck. When he had it half-way up, he stopped to say a word to the smith upon the price of wool, all the while twirl- ing the red coal between his finger and thumb. That pause nearly canonised him. Even the juvenile Ac White of the party (aged ten) believed in miracles from that time forth. There were more olisters than ever on their writing fingers when Duncan Duncanson bade them "show hands" next morning. After the cause had been made suftciently clear, several of these experimental philosophers sat down with difficulty and circumspection for about the space of a week. '• As I was sayin'," began Rob, while the audience in the smiddy settled itself to listen with unfeigned pleasure to the recital, " as I was sayin', the minister o' Kirkmawhurr was con- sidered to be fond o' a glass himself." Here Rob paused, and the smith gazed with a stem severity THE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT tm l»k^ LI ... •t Ac White, who rubberf hi- — "^''^^-^^ ^ 155 be n,oved to s^y somethiL „*« n^ ^°^ '^' ^c might duty, besides being a pi^ to* n T '"^~** * ChristL interests of the faith. ^ '* '° P"''" ^^ White's nose in Te " Noo," continued Rob « .» -. l never did bin, ony h«,m that lev k*'"' ^'^ «'««' *«' it inawhurr f,ae the Sat^d^y ^ J* th" m' "^ '*'" ^*"»« <>' Kirk- ^«r wull o' meal^k an' dj^^t if °"^*^' ^'' « ^^ey had difficulty in borrowin' elde«^h?n u —'"' ^""^^ ^ad «n,a' Ac White gave a kind o^J^^^^k " T denomination." an eye so glad and terSble f^d l^^'''^ '"^"' *"™«* <« Wm ously mth desire, that Ac cCii >'" ^'^''^^ «> °bvi- cough. <^^ged the grunt instantly into a .anjtr oTr^^yrtht^^T^ ^^<^- -e to an' on Tuesday in a caS-!lhL ,r "^ ^^^ ^ '^'V «>uH capacitated for foot-travel" ^^ '^' " « '"icht be, in " Tell us nae lees I " saiH tu^ It's fac- „ (1^,1, ,, ~™ •• " ne had «n II-, 1) ., :, « weei. I .« ,^-Vmp o^XrT ^^^^ """^d three scrubbers, as ye 4Jtl^ w ^ *^^^~*^« '^ a Tuesday, I n,i„d, because wftt^^:^ ^ ' ^^'^ ^^^ (»^ ^'^ ^P in the dairy). my1Sth^L'J;^,th'^' ^' "^' ^ ^«* ^o ^^« queer. I thocht it was the ^bSTth :hrr' "t'^ ^^^^ Saw ye ever the Session «» - • ^ . ^ ^^ ^^ ^ce. ^^trampit on a taed. ° ° * P*^ ? ' «ys he. as if he "/Na, faither, I never saw « c • . -e yrn^rne thinkin' that it'L^omS "'^ '' '^" ^^^ ^- ^ome doon to the loanin- «. .1 ** ° "nenagerie. «how ye a Session.' says hL " ^^ '^^"^ ^°b' ™y lad, an' 111 He took me by the hand, an' we ^^ ' " ''^ «*«^ oor ways doon the ! 'fill 156 RAIDERLAND loanin' an' lookit ower a dyke. I wad brawly hae likit to hae asked him some quastions, but by the way the comers o' his mooth was workin', I judged I had better no. " When we first lookit ower the dyke, there was nocht to be seen but a red cart gaun by middlin' slow. ' Castor-oil Geordie,' the miller's boy, was drivin' it, wi' his feet hingin' ower the edge, and whustlin' as weel as he could for a strae atween hii tev.:h. In the c .mer o' the cairt there was twa or three men lyin' tangled up in a knot, legs an' airms a' through-ither. It was the DuUarg borrowed Session gaun hame on the Tuesday frae the Kirkmawhurr sacrament. " My faither pointit wi' his finger. ♦ Noo, mind, Rob,' he says, verra slow, ♦ ye hae seen a pairish-kirk session ! ' " " Was that what made ye a Cameronian, Rob ? " said the smith, anxious in his interest for the common good to keep Rob Affleck going, l^'or to hear him in good fettle was better than a Fast Day preaching. " Na," said Rob cautiously, " I'll tell ye what made me a Cameronian, when thae bairns hae been cried hame to their beds." The smith turned to the dark semicircle of Peris at the gates of Paradise, each glowering in with all his might and all desiring to hear every word. "Gae hame wi' ye," he said, "yer mithers are wantin' you. They'll pay ye weel for bidin' sae late fiae hame." Not a boy moved : there was no power in a mere threat. The smith drew out of the forge a bar of iron hissing hot, vicious white sparks spitting off it. This he waved in the direction of the door, and the white shower pelting like shoot- ing stars, beat back the circle of boys for a moment; but they soon closed in again, however, as thick as before, like wolves around a camp-fire. " But what's this aboot the election for precentor, Rob ? " said the smith, to keep the saga- man going. The smith claimed the right to ask leading questions, and any man who usurped his privilege generally got a spark in his eye that you. ^ U i ; ' -III k I J ■i-T^-^* 1^ S'^C ■^ v. >ip«SJfc.* .V THE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT ,„ «ept him rubbiiw for loni* ♦;-. ^' «« /"y M to find a .econd X C^k ^° «'* »" ^'^er i, tion-though deaf. „d j .^k u , ^"" ■" *« conimM. « he actually proposed his hri,k. • , '''*' '"^ Ws cradle ™-: -^^ ..e ^^ heMin.-lHe'^ ^^' ^^ "W«il, «, exactly Si-^dTLT'"^'"'" -V for him in . mi^orl^t .^?"* """ •«« ■nner secrets of his creed '"^ conceming the .>■ , *^» ***' *hts way. Th*M'. K.tk for a Sabhtth or L YT' T "^ ^ •»• '•« "« »«»d C.me«»ia,„, «• 2L L^J^f" ' ■»" *'y^ «' •««* no a hair the «" " *' "»*«»• by. theyll'co™, "I -'S^Ssr„v;r^'r*.-'»<^hi.he«,,. 'he fiut'lTS I**™ r^, " ^' r""*"^ l-^ *« 'iither in »^er Dugnid nu/^" hi, S^^^» "« f- <>' J'-. -^ Th»con6den.ly. Rob Affleck. What faut hae ve hii *k '"eye.dlthenewnun.RobP-s.idu,. '5« RAIDERLAND i m ft •railh. " I hear that he's a graund reader o* the rouiic, an' that he writet the wordi o' the tune in the air afore him as he gangs alang." There was a general expression of wonderment and admiration at this from the comers of the smiddy where the young fellows sat, attentive and silent in the face of the privileged wisdom of their seniors. The smith was pleased. He took it as a compliment to his powers of descrip- tion. " Noo, smith," continued Rob, " that's juist whaur the faut comes in. It was for that verra reason that Betty Carmichael, the grieve's wife at Staneybyres, a member o' forty years' guid standin', thocht him baith gesturin' and feckless. She says —an' faith there's some sense in't— that he canna baith hae his mind on the words o'King Dawvid, an* on his whigmaleeries an' ingrydoories.* "Then there's the guid man o* Carsewall says that he's no gaun back to the kirk ony mair, because the new precentor hasna sung ' Coleshill ' for a maitter o' three Sabbaths an' mair. An' even for mysel', I canna say that I like the way he has wi' the names o' the psalm tunes. It was bonny to watch oor auld yin shiftin' them like playin' cairds frae hand to hand when the minister was geein' oot the psalm, an' then juist afore he raise to sing, stickin' the right yin in the wee clip afore him, an' tumin' it aboot so that a' fowk could see him. It showed maist amaiin' presence o' mind. A man what could do that was fit to be a precentor in a Cameronian Kirk." "An' what else does the new precentor do? "asked the smith, though he knew very well. " He has the names o' the tunes a' strung up on a board at the side o' the pulpit, for a' the world like saut herrin' that has been steepit an' hung up to dreep." "But, Rob," said the smith, pausing argumentatively to lean on his forehammer, "is't no unco weak-like to mak' a' this disturbance aboot a precentor? You Hill Folk are awfu' » Rings and pictures which children make in the dark with the red end of a burnt stick. fnflift li ^J THE SMIDDV PARUAMENT )Ut fnr •' *W.. . . cUnnish, but for a' that v/f "'"'""* *'*'^'^ 159 wheen herds' tykes.- ^ ^^* *"*•"« y'n anithcr like a "Ah, smith/' said R«h am l -^" that ye're nocht but a Frt" '"'"^r"***'^' "•''» ^mv Vou Frees wadna care ginyJ^V ^"^ "•^"* Waiver like that yer steeple gaed ' ^an.,an,cZ,f^'J " ^^'^^ »><^" on the Cameronian persuasion wf^- u '''*'"' ' ' «"» « o' . ^oh lifted his hat as h*. •,^«l, •. ^ Pow4 tui:"*T'"" °-"<'« ">« .".idd, door h.d h^ng quite diffe«„. .wai4 .het '^o f ''°"'<' ""« "■»- " old .l,pp.,, of ,^, "'"*"». beanng i„ he, hmd MichMl re««d humedly fCh !" "*" «™c«ibte "'7't of hi, mother-rl^ft '5* 7'<'<''' door, .^j .i', on the more sohd porZ^of L "'P'*' "•«' fp-Uppine Ho^ooTe/:'^ ol^hr, 'X "Zr ^ • ^-e-i".- !^":r^.:rr^-'£r---"in"^^^^^^^^^ 'hough all p^„, fo„ro7^,i.'""''? connection. Bu" *d not do i, when ei.herThe ^L u"*,"""' '*' h«,es, the ' -ements of society were"X ""'"' " *" over-you.h,^I """'"*°"'' '"—•'.. »on^..u.^. i| I 'II ,ii'S."4f;iL'r^*#- x6o RAIDERLAND '?/^ " Aye, it was a lass," said Rob Affleck. He spoke thoughtfully, and all the company respected his musing mood. " I took a notion o' a bit lass that gaed up to the U.P.'s. Dod, but she was a snod bit daisy — for a U.P.," added Rob guardedly. "Well say that her name was Katie Semple." " No yin o' the Semples o' Milnthird ? " asked the smith. "Na, no yin o' fh^m," replied Rob drily. "I dinna think ony o' ye kens the Semples that I'm speakin' aboot the noo. Weel, Katie was a bonny lass— feat an' trig as a denty white birk by the water-side." The young men nodded at one another all round the smiddy in approbation of the excellence of the comparison. "I trysted wi' hir ae fair-day an' spent my last shillin' buyin' her a fairin'. I saw her hame ; an' when I came hame to the Craig the door was lockit, so I sleepit in the bam a' that nicht, or raither what was left o't." Again the circle looked intelligent. Their experience squared with Rob's on this point. He was an enticing speaker, Rob Afflack. He awakened memories and quickened anticipations. "Sae I trysted to meet her at the kirk on the Sabbath— her being as she was— a U.P." Rob's hearers quite appreciated the extent of the sacrifice he thus made of his principles to the tender passion. A treatise could not better have expressed the depth of the impression made that fatal fair-night upon his heart. " Sae on the Sabbath morning I gat oot a' my best ties, an' it was maybe half-an-'oor afore I could mak' up my mind whatna yin to pit on. But at the hinder end, I took a plain scarlet yin wi' green spots that had been considered by some raither eflFective — ye mind o't, smith?" The smith nodded. "That was a tie! "he said impressively. Evidently he had in his mind a great many ties of which as much could not be said. s, ^ j; ii J ,' Mi . V ? ■i i ■ t 1 ^ i- '' ti %" f* ' 14. b^ THE SMIDDY PARLIAMENT s^idd,. '^"^"^—o^^y^paeC throughout the I had gotten me reJylS^Zl^u ^ ^°^ ^O'^- awa quaitely, so a, no to li o w ' ^' ^ '^^^ *^"nerin' micht say. At the wat^.st^n' "^ "^ ^^^°*»ons. as ye ^^'ther. He had a look^me^" "^^ "'"^^ ^ ™^t bu^m; b>g whup in his hand. """^'"^'^on on his face, an' a b«w *Ye are gaun to the Hrta* feckless bodies, were ave ,„„. "^'" "»' Hie Fkm. >«-ee, e„e„,k on L;^""^^'' "' '"" ' ^-^^ -^ ,h» .har,."^ '*'"^' -^ -)' «*", .,e,, ^ . <,^, ^^ Then I fle^ nn P»»ionate man afore I fdl L^'^' ^°' I "Kd to be . "Jus. liie m^l^Z^'.^" ' 'o «« if Ac White feUtactoedTo ^- '""^ """" "opefu,,. "as empty. ""^^xi to dispute it. But Ac's pS l'^Z^t^^y.r "f^^' r » on, man. tbo„,b to be dictatit to.' ^ J" *«» "^at I'm no a w^ 8f"^'^eX°'Le"XtM'in^? ""««• "r iegs «,- o y^ neck-as yin might s^y.*"*" '^ ''"^■»<»' "n thrback -^fai^eT-t'^rr,^- Lti: - Ko, mym.,- ^as been ymce or twice mendit aJ^- * ""^"P' *^0"gh it "- to Maister Giichnst at aim^Kd^XX^^i i^' ^M ii I.I 1 63 RAIDERLAND mentals soondly laid doon, as behoves the son o' a Cameronian. We are frail creatures, but I maun see that ye get the gospel o' {jace properly preached as lang as it's in my poo'er,' says he. • Man's life is but in his lip ! ' says he." Here there was a long pause in the smiddy. Even the stolid journeyman did not blow upon his bellows. " An' that's the way I became a Cameronian 1 " said Rob, with a very significant hiatus in his argument "And the lass?" queried one from the back parts of the smiddy. Bob Affleck was silent for a long moment "The lass gaed awa' to America," he said, "and I heard nae mair o' her ! "But," he added with a sigh, rising to take his leave, " whiles I think on her yet." " I'se warrant ye do that," said the smith, who had a poef s heart deep down under that rough husk of his; "mony a nicht ye will be thinkin' on her, when your ain guidwife lies soond by you." '* \ i(« ' >.f »w 'i'mm'w^' CHAPTER XIII BORGUE nothing like herb the soiS^ ^^'f^ '^^ '°^^'' ''^^^ « are genenUly wi.^ the Tols wdlST ''J^^^^^-B^^ their own. Gardens peep out heretd .k ^"^ ^°""^^ ^^ with an easel under his arm r!^ ^'^- ^ ""^^ !«««» that he is going to woJk Th. " P«*«»ding down hv tho i!;! ^^^"^^ *'e also men TheCoanty aown by the httle quay who look as if thev ht^ ^^^ gone there to labour. It is all a pretence rt , and watch the tide covering thf k ^^^ ""^y «"oke banks. There are. howev^iit ^"^ ""^ °" *^^ "^er and a busy schooim"r:^rup aL^Tfh '^"^^ l!"'^ P^^P^e schoolhouse. It hums pre emly iS^e ' hivl f 'iT^^ ^'"«^^"^ •t a sound of singing is wafted LL ^^^^u^' ^^J' ^' '^""^ cudbnght river-front is a pleasanTpkce to dr ^ ^"^ "'''^■ world's hum is far awav tCT • , *^^" °n. he in the school dol by the KriX" "IV""' ^^^^^'^ ^^^ cattle-market. ^ ^ ^"*^«^^ A*^^« a^^ there is no back upon the anci^t to^^t^^.''*^ * ^'■^'"^*^ ^^^ a foreground of bedi^es JS ^ ^ ^^^^"^ *°^ ^o^. over that ^rfect fairytd^We tn^^^^^^^^ ^^- « also away past the lifeboat station %!. f'^^^^^^ck's Cave, the Borgue shore, all s^dy "ove ' ^ ^' P^^^^ps. there is thorns throwing ihern^ylsZT^J^i'^ ''°'^' "^*^ ^^^ outstretched Zd gnarled a^!? t^^ *" '^' *^«^ arms beavenWea.sake,!etufgetloffh?w:;d!''^^"^' "For 163 4 1 ill '11: m di' 164 RAIDERLAND Behind this again, in bieldy hollows, are fine old square- built farmhouses, with vast outbuildings, in what is the brightest and most English part of Galloway. In one of these once on a time two little boys played together in a large garden dur- ing the long-continued heats of the dry summer 1868. The garden was cut up into squares by walks which ran at right angles to each other. There were square plots of gooseberry bushes, square wildernesses of pea-sticks, and square straw- berry beds in that comer where it was forbidden for small, sweet-toothed boys to go. At the upper end an orchard ran right across, every tree in which was climbable, and a wall, with a flight of steps over into a field, bounded all. Great trees, generations old, surrounded the garden and orchard, and cast here and there throughout it circular plots of pleasant shade amid the garden squares. It was, said the wiseacres, too much buried in foliage to make the best of gardens. But I can vouch that it suited two small boys that summer-tide very well. j Borgue is the metropolis of bee-land. Everywhere indeed there is a vague hum in the air. The clear, pale, aquamarine- coloured honey is sold even in the marts of London, and at the proper season in Borgue itself every housekeeper's and good-wife's cupboard is a sight to see. There are first the products of orchard and garden— the neat white pots of red currant jelly, the larger dishes of gooseberry preserve, and marmalade with long amber straws lying across it, accurately cut into lengths, and in the more plastic parts deep and rich like cairngorms. After a while these get shoved a little farther back upon the ample shelves, as the autumnal days creep in shorter, and the honey- comb b^ins to arrive. There were no "sections" in my day— no hives scientifically contrived. The poor bees had perforce to be content with their straw-built tenement, labouring late and early to fill it to the utmost peak. This would have pleased them well enough, but alas ! one autumn night when the winds were still, or only blew up the strath with a kind of sucking breath, there came a reek of burning sulphur. And the Honey land. '^^''^'irr ■<. ■II y p_^„ ieb?3» BORGUE hige piled toaAtooU. •^. 't!, ■"." "P"" •"h other like ^"'^i'^-ot,n,bJt^^'^ "• '«»'«' with between tlie bade, oto^^"'^.'^ »' 8«i«. .wung ^ ^. ^.t t:^tV^>Zit."7z-£ «««i. •» if the bee. had eM»^ 7 'P™«"n>e-delicatel, -ood breath of c,ocu7T^L'"ii'"'™'' Z"*'"^' "" IxadsofLemiiKei The nea^JfT' /"^ *« ""o^g ^^ with amber and Wf^l"' ? T"-*' ««" fields, over which the soft ^'JT l '.'""" "' P"'""- •he .hort and men:if„, l^ °1^ ^ "o™ through PooU where the salmon sTtutS^' *:L"T''""™ " ">« ™y leap upwani, arrives the ZTJ? ""! *°°* *«' t"y the purple u^, ^^.^ dotteX ■SS","?"'' P™""" "f gleams afiir upon Ben (jJm iL? ? ^f *' ^™™« ""1 -«»- smote, ye, with a^' ,„^' °' «"• keen«ented as •orld, most precious cons«J.f . ' "°*^ else in the -tae-d and glorious.^^'^." »' *' -"-e heather? "hich the knife cutrcleM^TT BORGUE 167 ll ■f' * I " ! s : 1^ THK BOKCUE SHORB ROAD i68 RAIDERLAND gentle, mild, and iMinuating, no roisteroui fUme, but a 'griesoch' rather, mellow and mellowing all about it ** The same pretty hands, the flour being touched away with the comer of snowy apron, now take the oaten cakes and turn them at the side of the fire, setting each at the proper angle to get the best of the heat, so that it may come forth a worthy cake, light in the mouth, crisp to the tooth, and much to be denred as fare fit for the gods I After this, such knitting of brows — such poisings of head to decide whether the fortur" •• well a. «y one, md she w„ t«^K « ^ '"' '""■«» who kept so quiet before folk A,^ . """"^ '"^ door, Jess Wd her switeh .1-, * ""' ""' '')' *« byre to the loss of d-i^f *.t s^^'' •^i *^"'' '""^ ■»•** 'tep, slipped on"?^ It hoU I'dT"- '"'°' "'"« " '""^ ^"^with a Slow r^^^rt^ttX-^, .- . f^ste, '^^^ rrK-r-H"^^ f 9T .-46i>4^«r,- / ir^^B, ' M ,'1111 : '(iHI r Hi \ A , 170 RAIDERLAND pass along a short home-made road, and over a low parapet- less bridge constructed simply of four tree-trunks laid pi.rallel and covered with turf. Then the bars of the gate into the hill pasture dropped with a clatter, which came cheerfully to Winsome's ears as she stood at her window looking out into the night." » » " The Lilac Sonbonnet," p. 152. (T. Fisher Unwin.) '-' r*r--'9%'^" r'--a«Mt-.': CASSLU :i CASTLR CHAPTER XIV TWO GALLOWAY SHRINES I.~RUTHERFORD'S KIRK Th. howe of Anwoth-Anwoth by the Solw»„ • . n>any to whom the name of Samurf R„.t r'?y~« ^^ to A certain warmth of tem^^y^T^'^'''^ """^^''^ ««'«^ devoted to temple ser^T™"!!' SI „^*"*«^ "^«> '^^^^ understood of ^me.^^„o .^tdl v"'" V° ^ °^ his time than the " little fl man^h? ^^ """"^ ^^P^ «» remembered in GallowaHfter Lrn '^ »»«trations are still Even when exiled to Al^SeTt^^^^^"^*^^ hundred years. Scotland than the whole bInrofKK ™°'^ '"«"«"^^ « Jamie of the Baggy-Br^fa, ^ '^"^^P' ^"^^^^ by King ^e M and the hymn ^^i^^^Zl^^^^^^^ I 172 RAIDERLAND i\ It I by the SolwayJ personal aspirings has gone deeper into the hearts of men and women than Zex Rex or twenty volumes of controversy. It is well to go to Rutherford's kirk alone, or, as did the writer of " Sweetheart Travellers," accompanied only by a child : — " Soon," so is it written in that book, " we glided into the clean, French-looking village of Gatehouse, where the kindest of baker's wives insisted on giving us, in addition to rolls and biscuits, ' some milk for the bairn.' "Again we were up and in the saddle. In a moment the shouting throng fell behind. Barking and racing curs were passed as we skimmed with swallow flight down Anwoth tijg iQjjg village street. Then we turned sharp to the right at the ,bottom, along the pleasant road which leads to Anwoth Kirk. Here, in Ruther- ford's Valley of Well Content, the hazy sunshine always sleeps. Hardly a bird chirped. Silence covered us like a garment. We rode silently along, stealing through the shadows and gliding through the sunshine, only our speed making a pleasant stir of air about us in the midday heats. "We dismounted, and entered into the ivy-clad walls of Rutherford's kirk. It is so small that we realised what he was wont to say when asked to leave it : — " * Anwoth is not a large charge, but it is my charge. And all the people in it have not yet turned their hearts to the Lord ! ' " So here we took hands, my Sweetheart and I, and went in. We were all alone. We stood in God's House, consecrated by the worship of generations of the wise and loving, under the roof of God's sky. We uncovered our heads, my little maid standing with wide blue eyes of reverence on a high fiat tombstone, while I told her of Samuel Rutherford, who carried the innocence of a child's love through a long and stormy life. Perhaps the little head of suimy curls did not take it all in. What matter ? The instinct of a child's love does not make any mistake, but looks through scarcely under- stood words to the true inwardness with unfailing intuition — it is the Spirit that maketh alive. Wl ji' ^ i-K^nSB^W I If ■'"Ai'-t k«iM r!F<^^?"i TWO GALLOWAY SHRINES ,73 that'll yt^ '^ ^^ «-' -^*'V.' we sang. I can hear -d^ripS^ Another, halt The big bees hum^d aloft an,nu"°!''"'^^^^^^^^d°'^- wood-dove moan^ 1 thi v? "^ ^'^ ^"^^^ ^^^ °ff a feu silent to ^et tuy thHrUT"* ^^^ "^^. '^^^^ ^^ ^ strengthening and growingL^:/:S,'^°Xr ""' °"' " ^'^*'. i^* *^* *^ '^ '•^y*'. /^dayspHnguatkand, And ghry-glory dwlUth ^** IfntnoHuePslandl •« . t«r in hi, cheTSr^Fo^ T !? *" '^'^ There ways thai are now almL eX,!^ i"™" °' *" P"'- . There waa. f„, in^^t^^T^r^T"'"'- How^-Setr^- ^"' ^^^^ »^«SLit! T*. S««. H^w he fared is not on record, but it is relaS C*t«chi.lng. like this.— °^- "'«*»• scene was something the minUter-s «SSL°' nTlJ^VT '^"^ *« ""■« f" his wife beside hiSr^e th^ . °^ f, ^ "°^ «' "* -«. on nr^t.^^,^. '^^ J-e^ "d Rob his grandmother's lap. ' "^ ''^' "^ '»"d on '"'""'"" ■^"'^•>'»- («"«.G«d^.D.™..co., ii lami TT'Tr -i mrt 174 RAIDERLAND j-KSesJ k-i ;i|i m.- _ f,^ «ii^^ i'k>fti # M ^i 1 " Question and answer from the Shorter Catechism passed from lip to lip, like a well-played game in which no one let the ball drop. It would have been thought as shameful if the minister had not acquitted himself at *speerin ' the questions deftly and instantaneously, as for one of those who were an- swering to fail in his replies. When Rob momentarily mis- laid the ' Reasons Annexed ' to the fifth commandment, and his very soul reeled in the sudden terror that they had gone from him for ever, his father looked at him as one who should say, 'Woe is me that I have been the responsible means of bringing a fool into the world ! ' Even his mother gazed at him wistfully, in a way that was like cold water running down his back, while the minister said kindly, 'Take your time, Robert!' " However, Rob recovered himself gallantly, and reeled off the Reasons Annexed with vigour. Then he promised, under his breath, a sound thrashing to his model brother, James, who, having known the Catechism perfectly from his youth up, had yet refused to give a leading hint to his brother in his extremity." » On Sundajrs the church collection was not taken up on plates at the door of the kirk, but the elders gathering the offer- ings went slowly and leisurely along the pews, from Collectloii. ^^** '*** Bibles had been removed. The plain deal collection-boxes, each at the end of a pole and of an age coeval with the kirk itself, slid along the book-boards with a gentle equable noise, as the coppers and the silver severally rattled and dripped into them. It was the ancient solid members of the Kirk of the Hill who gave these last, while strangers, dibbled somewhat thickly and obviously among the true sheep, dropped in the clattering pennies. " William Kelly, sometime betheral to the Kirk of the Hill, looked censoriously at the collection when it was emptied out on the table of the little vestry. " ' I wonder that man ower at the Kirk o' Keltonhill canna » " Bog-Myrtle and Peat," p. 368. (Sands & Co.) T-^vWJ' TWO GALLOWAY SHRINES „, keep his folk ^t ham- tk • w. . iji OK TH. W„ „o.. „.„„„„. „ „.|„»„» homeward. "*""««», as it were, turned bis team "Indeed the whole congregation w«. ^ "8reg«aon was good at that, and i n\\ li Hi I >;, «^-. iliFj^ .5 176 RAIDERLAND hearers began to relax themselves from their standing postmet as the minister's shrill pipe rounded the comer and tacked for the harbour; but the Boy was always down before them. Once, however, after he had seated himself he was put to shame by the minister suddenly darting off on a new excur- sion, having remembered some other needful supplication which he had omitted. The Boy never quite regained his confidence in the minister after that. He had always thought him a good and Christian man, but thereafter he was not so sure. " Once, also, when the minister visited the farm of Drum- quhat, the Boy, being caught by his granny in the very act of escaping, was haled to instant execution with the shine of the soap on his cheeks and hair. But the minister proved kind, and did not ask for anything ^more abstruse than * Man's Chief End.' He inquired, however, if the boy had ever seen him before. " ' Ow ay,' came the answer confidently ; « ye're the man that sat at the back window i ' " This was the position of the manse seat, and at the Fast Day service the minister usuaUy sat there when a stranger preached. Not the least of Walter's treasures, now in his library, is a dusky little squat book caUed 'The Peep of Day,' with an inscription on it in Mr. Kay's minute and beautifu'l back-hand: 'To the Boy who Remembered, from the Man at the Back Window.' "The minister was grand. In feet, he usually was grand. On Sunday he preached his two discourses with or'y the in- terval of a psalm and a prayer; and his first sermon was often on the spiritual rights of a Covenanted kirk, as distinguished from the worldly emoluments of an Erastian estabUshment Nothing is so popular as to prove to people what they already believe, and that sermon was long remembered among the Cameronians. It redd up their position so clearly, and settled their precedence with such finaUty, that the Boy, hearing how the Frees had done far wrong in not joining the Cameronians in the year 1843, resolved to have his school-bag TWO GALLOWAY SHRINES .„ Mlofgoodrotd-mettlonthefollowin. „ ■ bnng the Copl«d bow (,ho wT?^ T"™"*' " ""^t to poiition. ^ * ° "^ •'«") to • seiue of their "hen, « the cL of ^It^^ "' «« P««cher. And ^ the sighing^ thr^J? ?!' ■" • '<»«. ""iled breath -Wch he had be^pSiS^our '""'^ "' ""^ S«n»el, i™g"2;^^'^Gi;rd""!:r "• '^■" ""^ *«« «c.»i»n.lly with . st^L"' t!!"'*'^ "■'^ •"O "*"«» husbu.d happen«, to^k wf™/ «~»'' """^ hi" » her *. 'X' r -h^-'i^^ir^ trar "-' "" -^^ «<• a-e S««,uhar Decla«ti« trump of And he™h«. it wo^", tt at ' T/^ "j* '"''^• l»v.ng slept apparently about ."eeT'h^ despenuion, upon the seat, md in Ws llL^ K-.i'."*" "** "^ '«« W-« still SL tith .tp, 1%v?;t '"'"^'" °^«'' II— SHALLOCH-ON-MINNOCH counsellors and^ ll'^sh^S SlLT ^ ^'^ lies for afield and wUl be IJ^r -^^ . Shalloch-on-Minnoch border line which ^'d^ Kt^^f' I «^« ^'^ ^ the aU intents and purp^^l hS^^?'!? ^^^^^^^^^ ^"t *<> it from Newton-SteTm bv ^^n °^£?"r*3'' ^nd you reach instead of turn^ to^e ^i^J^ '"T^' °" "P ^'^^ ^ley. •nanifold beaS^ofltaTllS.^ ^^" ^^"^ "^^ ^^ ' ^-"tt'T^-aisitf W" 178 RAIDERLAND Shalloch-on-Minnoch was the most famous of all the Cameronkn meeting-places, not even making an exception m ^.^^ of Friarminion near Caimtable in the Upper Ward. SodetJefc* '^^*'* *■ "ot much to be seen at Shalloch-on- Mmnoch, but all the air is sacred, pregnant with hutory, and to stand on the Session Stone with the ranged s«its opposite and the white stones of the parched bum beneath, brings the times that were in Scotland wondrously near to us. ' Here is William Gordon of Earlstoun's description of the famous gathering : — "Soon we left the strange, unsmiUng face of Loch Maca- tenck behind, and took our way towards the rocky clint, up which we had to climb. We went by the rocks that are called the Rig of Carclach, where there is a pass less steep than m other places, up to the long wild moor of Shalloch-on- Mmnoch. It was a weary job getting my mother up the steep face of the gairy, for she had so many knick-knacks to cany, and so many observes to make upon the way. " But when we got to the broad plain top of the Shalloch Hill It was easier to get forward, though at first the ground was boggy, so that we took off our stockings and walked on the driest part. We left the bum of KnockUch on our left— playmg at keek-bogle among the heather and bent— now standing stagnant in pools, now rindling clear over slaty stones, and again disappearing altogether underground like a hunted Covenanter. "As soon as we came over the brow of the hill, we could see the folk gathering. It was wonderful to watch them. Groups of Uttle black dots moved across the green meadows in which the farm-steading of the Shalloch-on-Minnoch was set— a cheery Uttle house, well thatched, and with a pew of blue smoke blowing from its chimney, telling of warm hearts within. Over the short brown heather of the tops the groups of wanderers came, even as we were doing ourselves— past the lonely copse at the Rowantree, over by the hillside track from Straiton, up the little runlet banks where the heather was T-r*^. ^ m^'^^. -*fj I ii? rill 'Slje'WWf. '^m -^^ms, m '•iii: M\^ .^se^ ■•^' TWO GALLOWAY SHRINES ,„ cloud of folk under .he I^TfT"' "f '"'^ ' •"«* whi« in .hegta^'o" Sut r„' rntJert^"* "T- for the heighn about m iroorf fo^ .1 " •-«"•''««. great Societiet' Meeting. ^ ' ^ '^ '^''> ""^ '"*' "Upon the Session Stone the eld - wo ^ i Z^' T?"' """"^'^ white-headed m.n ihi dmted and furrowed faces, bowed and brcke; by bng^ sojourning among the .oss-hags'^^r •• When we came to the place we founrf »k« e m. for comfort. OpJ^IeThe w" "^"^ *" ""^ "^^ fo""! hu^vith *c f ^^rtxtsto" rhj,r ^r M is qmte usual upon the moor« tu^ • . '°'' »d on the delegat«^SfoTfhet.'?^' *! *=^-" ^'O"'- for such a trafhl.r.„^ r . ^' ^as a fitting pUu» aboveluCS «': o7?^ '""" •";' '"""^ ""^ '>«i^ the lap of the h 1 ,SS I *^°"T''<='« >« «en. nestling in .oing round andX^^S ^ ZirJr"« o^ the head of that clan. Then km! ^^"^^* ^'^^^ co"«n. Douglases of the HcnLt^eTT ^^^"^ f '^^ ^°«*". Every third man in that gSt ^™ *''^ °^ ^ouglasdale. caracoled through the fordf^ V^S^''^ ''^'''^ «PJ«hed and or an Archibald DouglSxL^^K'^ */'"'*™' » J*""-^ Scotland have raised such a follo^„ ""'5 ~"^^ "°* ^^ all if the heart of the youn« «^ri J^Tj *°^ " ^ »™»" 'bonder "Presently. so^n^T he^tl? ^^^ '^• great wappenshaw was set in ar^T^^H r ^* cavalcade, the by company the long double line i^ V^i""* "P company could reach from north to ,n^K T''^'^ as far as the eye and sluggish-moving ^ver ^ *^°"« *^* «^« ^^ *he broJd '"^he great muster was at last ovpr tu' been dotted thickly athwart t^e ds ie L ^'^ "^'^'"^ ^^^ mosUy struck, and the ground ««« r.! J ^"^ ''^'"^ »>r«^ady d^Hs. soon to be c^^T^ilZ^^l' :^^ rniscll^eoZ bodies set on boughs of trees anTfl *" *^""^ ^°od«n earl's varlets andTtablemen ' ^"^ "^*° ^'^'^ "^« by the " ^^ -^^'^"f four provinces which owned the sway of the mighty house- Galloway, Annandale, Lanark, and the Marches, while from the centre, on a flagstaff" taller than any, flew their standard royal, for so it might truly be called, the heart and stars of the Douglases' more than royal house. " While the outer walls thus blazed with colour, the woods around gave back the constant reverberation of cannon, as with hand-guns and artillery of weight the garrison greeted the return of the earl and his guests. The green castle island was planted from end to end thick with tents and gay with pavilions of many hues and various design, their walls covered with intricate devices, and each flying the colours of its owner ; while on poles without dangled shields and harness of various A GLIMPSE OF BALMAGHIE ,85 one and anotheHoined ^ T f**^ *' *'^'^''' ''°*. «d as tbe Douglas Sri!:;!,^:!!!""* ^'^^^ '^^^ "P '»^« chorus of 'fasten ye, kasimyel Come to ih, ridimz "• The Black Dougl^." p. ,53. (Sn.i.h. Elder ft Co.) I r GATEHOUSB-OF-PtBBT CHAPTER XVI THE KIRK KNOWE OF BALMAGHIE But such sights have long been strange to the valley of the I)ee. It is now rich with trees, pasture lands, waving crops, with here and there, peeping out, the mansions of the great. Caimsmuir and Ben Gaim stand out south and north like blue broad-shouldered sentinels. But Castle Thrieve, tall and stark among its water meadows, though massive as of yore, is now only four walls of crumbling stone, and the Maid's bridal chamber but a ruin wherein the clamorous jackdaw may build his nest. Leaving Glenlochar and Knockcannon on the right there is a beautiful woodland mile, passing that awkward double turn of road by Balmaghie High Lodge, the dangers of which suggested the chapter called "The Green Dook" in "The 186 THE KIRK KNOWE OF BALMAGHIE ,87 "eiyrMionforhehV^.,^?-^ iuelf. ^°^ "" ""^ "o "» door, of the houM his sermon All wkrT -«. , ,'\™™'^" qu»et when preparng Ap«.le" au,„„. be ,ecomme„d«^ ^%^ ^^hTT .^p. or «,."^'Li:ri«i:s. AiiT^^sfi' d" speak. I wiU return to plunder Dr R«H'. k^u the Black W«„ of C^ '"""«' """"'"" ™"-»« «f »i:.r r ^Jr t^-^ ^?°^"'' ""^•'^ - "^^^^ x88 RAIDERLAND U-. iH pleasant stone house, which sat in the bieldy hollow beneath the Kirk Knowe of Balmaghie. Snug and sheltered it Uy, an encampment of great beeches altering it from the northerly blasts, and the green-bosomed hills looking down upon it with kindly tolerant silence. "The broad Dec Water floated silently by, murmuring a little after the rains ; mostly silently, however— the water The Broad ^PP'"8 ««""« the reeds and fretting the low De« Water, cavernous banks when the wind blew hard, but on * the whole slipping past me with a certain large peace and attentive suteliness. "The kirk of Crossmichael sits, like that of Balmaghie, on a little green hill above Dee Water. One house of prayer fronts the other, and the white kirkyard stones greet each other across the river, telliiw one common story of earth to earth. And every Sabbath day across the sluggish stream two songs of praise go up to heaven in united aspiration towards one Eternal Father." • " The Sabbath came— a day of infinite stiltaess, so that from beside the tombs of the martyr Hallidays in the kirkyard of Balmaghie you could hear the sheep bleating on the hills of Crossmichael a full mile away, the sound breaking mellow and fine upon the ear over the broad and azure river. " To me it was like the calm of the New Jerusalem. And, indeed, no place that ever I have seen can be so blessedly quiet as the bonny kirk-knowe of Balmaghie, mirrored on a windless day in the encircling stillness of the Water of Dee. "So, the service being ended for the day, I walked quietly over to the farm-town of Drumglass. There I found a house well furnished, oxen and k'-ie : uee-deep in the rich grass of water-meadows, hill pastures, crofts of oat and bear in the hollows about the door, and over all such an air of bien and hospitable comfort that the place fairiy beckoned me to abide there."! » " The Standerd-Bearer," pp. loa, 141, M7. sji, 318. (Metbaen.) I- v~ 'J^MM If Moocorr risoiution tbt chart (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) u 2^ 2.2 1.8 ^ APPLIED IIS/HGE 1653 East Main SIrMi ^ochnttr. Nm York U609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phon. (716) 288 -5989 -Fox inc '^!ik« m s,, 'W^»' ''^^m^:'^ THE KIRK KNOWE OF BALMAGHIE .89 of his exDulsion hA 1^1/^ kirk— as when, on the night Crossn^X "Kirk iL^^^^^^^^^^ ? ^'^'^ !'«»^^^d -ndows'of to make an end of him '^'''^^^ ^^ «^^«»bled 3ot:iij rnigtte^r itnteXf rk^ r nver. where the sedges rustled Z^Xdl^l^ °' '^' whispering and chuckling to each othTr K ^ ^ ^^ '""«^' broken man was passing by A « smn ' r "^T ^ ^°'"'°™' fall at the hour of dusk anH tK ,T ' °^''^'" ^^^ ^g"" ^o long since broken u" tL watif il'r ' T Kr"« "^^ wind of winter laoned af .k f ^ ** *""* "^^^^ « the of Scotland." "^^ "° "°'^ '""^^^^er of the Kirk Maclmrheld^Li'lnrmf '' ^ ^^""^^^'^ '^'^ ^^^' remain. "^ "'""'^ '° '°"« ^« it pleased him to From another place I hav<» *.vfra«f^j in the little kirkvard t If ^ -.^'^ * "^"'•"g scene ordinary Z^^ytL^^^''^^ ""^''^ ^°^^ "°^ g^^^ its «"/ every oay impression, but rather on^ «f fk moods in which the sense of th« tt ? *^® ^^^'^ lowtoUr w™ cl^^::ll"" ,t^'=. ' ««:f "^ 'oof and it wa.s thaf k against the cnmson dawn. So red leave or ,£? ... '""adowing trees waved their dead beneaS:.rl*:,tTlet«'.'"o7th"d '"h" ^'""«^" upwards from their .„mlll Tk ■ ''"'' """ ™«™« ■»oa„ing.s,he*w^,°"""' *""^""« ""' «'-J' '™'1» -d N 1^ ^ u ■1 f (I i Ml » W: I.-. 190 RAIDERLAND " There are, indeed, moods of morning far more terrible than those of the blankest midnight — perhaps premonitory of A Mfwi t *^^ shuddering rigours which shall take us when Morn^. *^^ P*^^ °^ *^® future is removed and That Day shall dawn upon us — remote, awful, glimmering with the infiniteness and possibilities that are only revealed to us in moments of mortal sickness. " As I thus watched the dawn and my soul was disturbed within me, my feet turned of their own accord in the direc- tion of the little hill-set kirk of Balmaghie. I turned about its eastern side that I might find the gravestones of the two martyr Hallidays, of which the mistress of the manse had told me the night before. " By this time the red colour in the sky had mounted to the zenith. The ; sun was transmuting the lower cloud-bars to fantastic islands of purest gold. The whole pageant of the dawn stood on tiptoe, and then, all at once calming my harassed and fearful soul, I was aware of the broad Dee Water slipping along, a sea of glass mingled with fire, as it seemed, straight from the throne of God itself." ^ To some among us Balmaghie Church appeals more nearly still. Dear dust lies in that kirkyard, and as the years pass by, for many of us, more and more of it gathers under the kirk on the hill. The tides of the world, its compulsions, its needs, and its must he's, lead me up the loaning but seldom. Indeed I am not often there, save when the beat of the passing bell calls another to the long quiet rest. But when the years are over, many or few, and our Gallo- way requiem, " Sae he's won awa'," is said of me — that is the bell I should like rung. And there, in the high comer, I should like to lie, if so the fates allot it, among the dear and simple folk I knew and loved in youth. Let them lay me not far from the martyrs, where one can hear the birds crying in the minister's lilac-bushes, and Dee kissing the river grasses, as he lingers a little wistfully about the bormy green kirk- knowe of Balmaghie. » " The Dark o' the Moon," p. 140. (Macmillan & Co.) ^JP^-t:^ if ^^^J ^ y^y/ji! >y. ^^ ^^ "^^ THE HEAD END OF LAURIESTON CHAPTER XVII SOME BALMAGHIE WORTHIES 'n the parish of Balmaghie o7m,n ' T''"' °^ ""' '^"^^"^ though they too were heW of th^ T" ^ """^ "^^ "°*^'"& Crockett, i lately of gL^Jk """"v "'"' "^^^ °^ ™iam fever caught in the d^chS^e S h"' T'''' ^^^ ^^ ^y a honoured grave by the si!^^ ' ^"'^' *"^ ^°"o^«l to an side, leavinfa n^e tf aTend"'""""« °' " ^^°^^ <^°"ntiy- truth, justic!, andToX "^ '"''' """""^ '°' """P^^ ^^^^^^ouC^^ notably in the As charactPr, * entitled Four Galloway Farms. no, tnem t me and again. The "Pto^th^^^t^^:-^^^^^^^^ ^'^- *"' ^^'Ir''^' ^ho, leaving a Free Kirk Ml ■my 193 RAIDERLAND ''(:, 5 1 t 'mi * ; Ij. ' , I iHt i ■ ^ i !: liO at their very door, and an Established one over the hill, made their way seven long miles to the true Kirk of the Persecutions. It had always, I think, been a grief to them that there was no Lag to make them testify up to the chin in Sol way tide, or with a great fiery match between their fingers to bum them to the bons. But what they could, they did. They trudged four- teen iiiiles every Sabbath day, with their dresses "feat and snod " and their linen like the very snow, to listen to the gospel preached according to their consciences. They were all the smallest of women, but their hearts were great, and those who knew them held them far more worthy of honour than all the lairds of the parish. Of them all only one remains.^ But their name and honour shall not be forgotten on Deeside while fire bums and water runs, if this biographer can help it. The M'Haffies were all distinguished by their sturdy independence, but Jen M'Haffie was ever the cleverest with her head. A former parish minister had once mistaken Jen for a person of limited intelligence ; but he altered his opinion after Jen had taken him through-hands upon the Settlement of " Aughty-nine " (1689), when the Cair.eronians refused to enter into the Church of Scotland as reconstmcted by the Revolution Settlement. The three sisters kept a little shop which the two less active tended ; while Mary, the business woman of the family, resorted to Cairn Edward every Monday and Thursday with and for a miscellaneous cargo. As she plodded the weary way, she divided herself between conning the sermons of the previous Sabbath, arranging her packages, and anathematis- ing the cuddy. "Ye person— ye awfii' person!" was her severest denunciation. Billy was a donkey of parts. He knew what houses to call at. It is said that he always brayed when he had to pass the Established manse, in order to express his feelings. But in spite of this Billy was not a true Cameronian. It was always suspected that he could not be much more than ' Alas, no more even one I A '-:',- ^ 1 ^fj 'i lit SOME BALMAGHIE WORTHIES ,93 " IhoK of one sound h. 7hX".K T '" '"^^(onfud r^ w'hjir '"f K^'-' - 1 wd^ irr "°"* *' otner wheel-marks, but meandered hither »^ Ti. •sk™ up on the cart h^ 1^ *^ '° *"'= *« M'Haffies ;^ .he tLe, and' ^A^\^^ ': ^TZ'!'" "^ temper against next Tuesday '^ '° ' ^"^ |.e ".et her, ^^t^ 'iSThif^vr' "^^ to spend at Marv's can k« V, ^ ^ °"® P^n^X church time, and S'hrih.^,C:tr''--P-'' T* °' u> deriding what he would b^ ^'' " *"" "^^o™. "P his mtad M to aI I^ T "''' "" '»'x'ri°'«ily making biscuitM^e^y That "^I?'"™^' ""'"'^ °f four farthinf mouth kr„«Z;!L"him'^:S'^.tl™'«'4" "S "t*^ really too mTch for C iZ T'' ff"""^"^" "" charms of a penny " Ws rolf" ^m k- f ^"^ ""^ '""""""K .p hrmin?"^ rrmredirp:^^' rt.^'T '° ■^' 5. .Jat «me neither BiUy nor M^yTul^ ^^^^ a:?:^ .^n^ N i ' I, ; ■r^^: .sp^"--- l^«^: 194 RAIDERLAND a, It was important, therefore, on Sabbaths, to propitiate Mary as much as possible, so that she might not cut him short and proceed on her way without supplying his wants, as she had done more than once before. On that occasion her words were these — "D'ye think Mary M'Haffie has naething else in the world to do, but stan' still as lang as it pleases you to gawp there ! Gin ye canna tell us what ye want, ye can e'en do withoot! Gee up, Billy! Come oot o' the roadside— ye're aye eat-eatin', ye bursen craitur ye ! " Professor Reid will, I know, pardon me for " lifting " what I wrote long ago in the preface of his " Kirk Above Dee Water," concerning the M'Haffies, and about another Galloway worthy, equally widely known, David M'Quhae. " Who that remembers the Crossmichael road as it goes over the knowes by Sandfield, or the long Glenlochar ' straight mile ' where it turns off by the thirteen lums of the ' lang raw ' (it is thirteen, is it not ?) can drive along these far- reaching vistas on Monday nights, without expecting to come upori Mary's erratic cart, with Mary herself tug-tugging at Billy's obstinate head, hauling him behind her by main force up the brae ? Do we not still hear, midway up the Balmaghie woods, the clip of her emphatic tongue, * O Billy, ye awesome person I Ye are no worth a preen— ye feckless, greedy, menseless seefer, ye! Stand up there 'frae that bank! Did onybody ever see the like o' ye?' Or can we not recall seeing Mary pat- pattering in and out of the Castle-Douglas shops upon the day of the Monday market ? With what invincible accuracy did she not rap out her commands over the counter, always concluding with, ' And 111 be back for the parcels at three o'clock /receese—s&e see an' hae them ready to lift, and dinna keep me an' Billy waitin'.' " Then again in the little shop on the long whitewashed Laurieston street, do we not remember how Jean and Jennie (I think in later years Jean alone) sat at the receipt of custom ? No light thing to go in there for a quarter of tea I It was an enterprise over which an hour might be very profit- SOME BALMAGHIE WORTHIES ,95 'deevewion,' of Mr Svmi^? ^ ' f-ndamenub ■ and the •- a word of cnny a^ticf ,^h!"r"- .°' " '"«'" 'Uddie, dinna ■ be „.,ri, ? ""« ""'' '"nocem- lasses tHey „e% ttr^teV'^tatlh' "^ ''^' ^''^ noo-a-days. Noo. in my youLg da"—.' ' '^' ^°""« y>"» Whereupon would follow a full o«^ the immense superiority o ' my youL H '^"l' '''°""* °^ very unfavourable comparLrof th ^ T' ^^ ''P^^''^ * of the 'lasses langsyne^S If '"°^"'^ *"^ '^"'"'"^y of'thaedaftyoung'hLL'oftX "'^^^^ "' ^^""' Then but-and-ben with th« vr.u n: David M«Quhae. a ve^ /ne tyt o^Gaf '"' °"' '"'^^^ «"^ fisher of fish, a trustworthy sauir^of^?^ *"*"' ^ "^'Kl^ty courtesy and Ir.nHr ^ ^ ® of dames, full of wanH^Wn ^'"^^"»es'. ^ perfect God-send to a ^^'^Id buslfTflroV™'"' "T^- None like David could ^^'Q"^- Dusk a fly, or give advice as to soft bait Ho ■ . , with h,m. besides, much of the savour oT'^n m ""^"^ ^^°"' the relations of life were simDL?nH n °''^^'" *""^' ^^«" one another. David hid h^f *" "^^ ^^^^^^ 'Closer to all his life, yet he wt^abnth ' T""^ "^^^ °^ '^^ old sort to the ori^Ll deC^y'r Edtl^ ^^"^'f ^^"^'^^ ^'^- to say of him-' He waTLe m^f r I ^ "^^^ "'^^ ^^^^^ely or the minister .ha: ronTithTr w^^ ^d^f *° ^'^ ^^ house on the brae what ...LJi r . ™*' ''°^ ""t Utile Urk-going we„t7o«r ^07?°"""!.'™' '™8 ^-^ 8°«1 ■"aids, six long mfe to &a|ln "^ '"" """ *' *'« <>'d and her neatl'-foIdS &btoh l^nt^.'^f "** '"=' BiWe hear 'the Word of fl. „ . '^'"'reh.ef. They went to Hill Folk, wh ch h^l^e" wLT'.'^r ■•" *« »"= of *e Establishment I • ^ '^ '" ''^"''' ""i" 'an Erastian and equally walking in tL Si J''^ *'" °™ f^'* and Cameronian /welt 4r b^XH thf J^^^ ■ ! i a 196 RAIDERLAND But on the Sabbath coined raoney would not have made them sit down and worship in each other** sanctuaries. All Scottish history is in the fact. Wet or dry, hail or shine, plashing Lammas flood or wreathed snow, David M'Quhae went his good four miles over the wild moor to his leloved Kirk of Balmaghie, the history of which has been written by one whose knowledge is infinitely greater than mine. My friend. Dr. Reid, has much to tell of faithful ministers, of worthy elders, and of silent, attentive flocks. But I am sure he can speak of none more loyal, more conscientious, than David M'Quhae of Laurieston." » > From the Foreword to Dr. H. M. B. Reid's " The Kirk Above Dee Water." -) LAURIESTON To/aie />. ,g6 i 1 If \ 1 'Hi . -JHtt [:li ims'^wimm^^T'^T^w' ^tft-fti^^^-i THB AULD ABBEY " CHAPTER XVIII WOODHALL LOCH l,^h K ^ ">« fommonplace Woodhall. Later the B"'"'""* FartheJ afield we hive ^!^ "f the parish, W. ha- Loch). .ke-of whieh that mo,, ti l^^Tr^*" "? '""=" -he a-cen. „a.e of the Du,^^^' tZT.^^ Mi Wmin u RAIDERLAND mansion-house of Hensol, a word which has no historical connection with Galloway, but merely preserves a souvenir of the early youth of a late proprietor. But Woodhall Loch (after you have become accustomed to the barbarism) smells as sweet, and its water ripples as freshly as ever did that of Loch Grenoch— which at least is some comfort. Setting out northward away from Laurieston, there lie before you five miles of the most changefuUy beautiful road in Scotland, every turn a picture, and in the season every bank a wonder of flowers. If the journey is prolonged to the borough of New Galloway itself, the marvel becomes only the more marvellous, the changes only the more frequent. I have heard an artist say that a lifetime might be judiciously spent in painting those ten miles of road without once leaving the highway, and yet the painter need never repeat his effect. The first mile to the beginning of the loch itself is through scenery curiously reminiscent of some parts of central France— the valley of the Creuse, for instance, George Sand's country — or some of the lower tributaries of the Tarn. The tall poplars in front of the ruined smithy, the little bum that trips and ambles for a few hundred paces beside the traveller and then is lost, hurrying off into the unknown again as if tired of being overlooked — all these are more French than Scottish. Myriads of wild flowers throng on every side, at all seasons of the year when wild flowers can be found in Scotland — indeed many even in winter. But as I write I am reminded that remarkable and his- torical events happened close to this place where now we pause to look about us. The house to the right among the trees is Greystone, which in the days of my youth boasted a genuine ghost— a Lady in White who walked up and down among Greystone. ^j^^ j^.^^^^ chiefly by moonlight, when I took care not to be in the neighbourhood. Besides which, the owner and builder of the beautifully fitted mills, bams, outhouses, ponds— a certain General J , much held in awe by all il WOODHALL LOCH j^ schoolboys, used to come on Sundays with a gay company believed) with a forked tail hid under his coat, and leaving m his Sabbath-breaking wake a faint but unmistakable odour ot onmstone. fu ^7f°f^; o^North Quintainespie, was never finished in the builder s lifetime. The exquisite machinery rusted in the mills and bams. Not a wheel ever turned. Not a sheaf of com was ever thrashed. The byres and stables stood locked arid silent till a later and better day arose, when ghosts were ^d and Greystone became no more a marvel, but only one home among many. But at the time the place feared us more than the minister's sermons, or even the crack of the schoolmaster's dog-whip. Here too, at the beginning of these better days, came a certain small Sweetheart of mine to do her messages, deliver her orders, drmk her drink of milk, and retum in haste to her own. And on that dusty road a certain « Heart of Gold " was abased-abased in order to be exalted, tried, and proven, all which is written in the book called "Sweetheart Travellers » and need not be repeated here. ' T iT^r' *^°°^ ^' ^^*^ ^"^' ^^^""^ (so they teU me) one Leeb M'Lurg put up her remarkable notice conceming eggs, and held her siege against her weazel-faced uncle Tim, ere the bull did its ultimate justice upon him. Yet a little farther on, its branches bent by the furious blasts from the loch, stands at an angle of the road, the famous Bogle Thom. It seems somehow to have shrunk and grown commonplace since I used to pass it at a run, with averted eyes m the wmter gloamings on my way home from school. Then It had for me the most tragic suggestions. A man. so they said, had hanged himself upon it at some unknown period. He was to be seen, evident against the drear dusk, a-swing from the topmost branches, J*** ^«*« blowmg out in the blast like a pair of trousers °"** hung up to dry, or Dante's empty souls in the winds of Hades. Hi 200 RAIDERLAND Recently, however, I was glad to notice that Sweetheart had not forgotten the old thrill of fear as we passed it on cycle-back, its limbs black and spidery against a waning moon. "In an incautious moment, once upon a time, I had informed Sweetheart that- on the branches of that tree, in years long past, when I used to trudge past it on foot, there used to be seen little green men, moping and mowing. So every time we pass that way Sweetheart requires the story without variations. Not a single fairy must be added or sub- tracted. Now, it happens that the road goes uphill at the Bogle Thorn, and to remember a fairy tale which one has made up the year before last, and at the same time to drive a tricycle with a great girt of five thereon, is not so easy as sleeping. So, most unfortunately, I omit the curi of a green monkey's tail in my recital, which a year ago had made an impression upon a small giri's accurate memory. And her reproachful accent as she says, *0h, father, you are telling it a// different,' carries its own condemnation with it." » Woodhall Loch is like many another. Half its beauty is in the seeing eye. Yet not only the educated or the intellec- tual may see. At the close of this chapter, I will quote what feelings were excited in the breast of a country lout by the solemnities of night as viewed from the Crae Bridge. But for others who think more of themselves than did Ebie Farrish the ploughman, the art of admiring nature is chiefly a matter of habit and leisure. The scytheman, the ploughman, the lowland hind, even the ordinary farmer, see little of the mysteries ti at Nature in the midst of which they work, dull-eye<' « the browsmg bullocks. The man of th. . hills is vastly different. There are few shepherds insensible to the glamour of the mountains and the strange wild poetry of their occupation. But to the lover, the poet, to the intelligent townsman all things seem to speak. Ralph Peden, the city divinity student, lying well content under a thorn-bush above the loch, drew in that heather-scent which makes the bees tipsy and sets the grass- » " Sweetheart TraveUers," p. 224. (Wells Gardner, Darton. ft Co.) 4 :m^¥^^-www^-^w^W^^^'- ■^ ■'^^-IJfWj! r! <} 9 I 'u { ■i 1 f" [ ^H K i If M ■ ' ' Vi 1 1 * 1 |: i 1 1 1 WOODHALL LOCH 201 phUosophies. ^^^'^ *'*°' '" spite of all the past the Bogle Thorn' just whe^"th^1"P^^ ^^'" ""'"' when, standing on tipt;e at the Jde of tl? T"' °"'' "^^ far away, set on the selvaee of th. tl ' ^°" "^ '^^ chimneys of the Duchme "^^'^ "°°'^"^' t^e wJrbit^,tLf^?oTrhr ?r^^^ '-- of flowers anywhere else k. Ga^^^ The.'h' V^*' white and blue according « fhl v^ ^ ^°*'^' alternate it. stretches awa^ for ^i^ lenl f 1°' *^^ ^'^«^ "^'^^^ firwood mirrorin'g iremtlX it ^1. bf t"' ^^^ f' broad rush of the ling will alre^rfv K r L ^""^' *^^ ^'«* the Crae Hill oppos^^^vou ^ 1, ,'^"^'^ '^^ ^'°P^^ °f side, deepening Vcrim^Jn^^u^^''^''**^'" °^^ ^^^ loch- heath-bellfgro"^ Ir ^d Td'^H ^ Sh ^'T V^^ upper end of the loch, scarcely^ i„ X " ^^ ';. ^* ^^^ of Duchrae glides a^ayTdiscreeUv W ^'T^^^^^^ "^^ as if it were eloping and^fStf^T ' '^^^'""^ ^^ The whole range of hill In ^ ?*^^ ^'^ *°8^ Pa^ent. sunlight. YetTve^whLr , '''^ ^"^ "^"'"^ ^^ ^««^hed in wild free scent of the moor^ ^^^' "" '''^^^ ^^^ the hope^?fi^d^^T--^h:H^'° "*^.°^^ ^^^^ ^^^^-^ -ne may TkT . ? nere— I had almost said, at all timec nf fi,^ ^ «?rLT V ' «°"'" '^'''"' -"^^ *^ bn« *' >""• of all the year-that and il i . 't was the head-time 202 RAIDERLAND bare white feet felt the cool thresh of the close-set herbage, soft and moist and velvety^ It is true that merely to have bought and to have read so much of " Raiderland "—a book wholly given up to the seeing of the eye, argues an intelligence in the reader wholly different from that of Ebie Farrish, the ploughman. But still it will do no harm to remember that, with such beauties ready to her hand, Nature does work its mysterious work on the dullest and most animal of human beings. Ebie has been " night-raking," as it is expressly called in Galloway, and now is on his way back to his own proper couch. "But returning home in the coolness of this night, the ploughman was, for the time being, purged of the grosser humours which come naturally to strong, coarse natures, with physical frames ramping with youth and good feeding. He stood long looking into the Lane water, which glided beneath the bridge and away down to the Dee without a sound. " He noted where, on the broad bosom of the loch, the still- ness lay grey and smooth like glimmering steel, with little puffs of night wind purling across it, and disappearing like breath from a new knife-blade. He saw also where the smooth satin plain rippled to the first water-break, as ihe stream collected .'tself, deep and black, with the force of the current behind it, to flow beneath the arch. When Ebie Farrish came to the bridge he was no more than a material Galloway ploughman, satisfied with his night's conquests and chewing the cud of their memory. " He looked over. He saw the stars, which were perfectly reflected a hundred yards away on the smooth expanse, first waver, then tremble, and lastly break into a myriad delicate shafts of light, as the water quickened and gathered. He spat in the water, and thought of trout for breakfast. But the long roar of the rapids of the Dee came to him over the hill, and brought a feeling of stillness with it, weird and remote. Un- certain lights shot hither and thither under the bridge, in strange gleams and reflections. The ploughman was awed. WOODHALL LOCH 203 He continued to gaze. The .tillness closed in upon him r^morh r ''~k' °' *'^ P'"" '^'^^^ to cooJ Wm Id remove him from himself. He had a sense that it Z ^e Sabbath mommg, and that he had just washed his face to ro known Such moments come to the most material and are their theology. Far off a solitary bird whooped1r^;hTnniS It ounded mysterious and unknown, the ^ oTa TosH^' Ebie Famsh wondered where he would go to when he d^ed uJln ?h''V^" ^''' '°^ * ""^^' ^d then he concLed tat upon the whole it were better not to dwell on that subject But the cr^ng on the lonely hills awed him. It was onlTa Jack snipe, from whose belated nest an owl had stole^wo ^s Nevertheless it was Ebie Farrish's good angel Of a S here was that in the world which had „ot"':i th^e before for him. And it is to his sweetheart's credit, that when Eb^ was most impressed by the stillness and mos under the fpeU ofthe nigh . he thought of her. He was only an gnol godless duU-iutured man. who was no more moral CTe Xn such'a m^aL'^h-'^'. ^ ^^^^^'"^"^^^ ^"^ ^ ^-P^-n ina nf^.h'""* ^^^^ ^" ^^^ "^^ Water, and Ebie stopped think- F^r off T"' '° '''"'™^^^ ""^''^ ^^ had baitS a iSe S.t he had^tr^^' ''^ "^"■'^"°"^ ^-"^ --"ed Ebfe that he had better be drawing near his bed. He raised him ^^f rom the copestone of the parapet, and solemnTy t^m^" his steady way up to the 'onstead' of Craie Ronald whirh took shape before him on the height as hTadvanc d' Hke a low, grey-bastioned castle." 1 "vancea ujte a » " The Lilac Sunbonnet." p. 168. (T. Fisher Unvvin. ) i* I 1! '* 1 1 1 THB TINKLKK'S LOUP CHAPTER XIX THE LEVELLERS' COUNTRY If we leave Laurieston on some still summer evening in the slack between hay and harvest, the Galloway moors will rise before us in long purple ridges to the west The sun has set, and in the hollows pools of mist are gathering, islanded with clumps of willow. The "maister" has made his nightly rounds, and is now meditatively taking his smoke, leaning on the gate at the head of the loaning, and looking over a green cornfield, through the raw colour of which the first yellow is beginning to glimmer. " From the village half a mile away he can hear the clink of the smith's anvil. A little farther on, past a well of delicious water, we come to the mill. M'Lurg's Mill, where the children lived, was a tumbledown erection, beautiful for situation, set on the side of the long loch of Kenick. The house had once been a little farmhouse, its windows brilliant with geraniums and verbenas ; but in the latter days of the forlorn M'Lurgs it had become betrampled as to its doorsteps by lean swine, and bespattered as to its broken floor by intrusive hens. " The mill has now recovered its attractiveness, and shines 904 THE LEVELLERS- COUNTRY ,05 Few movements we»> m™™ f ,T *' I^wllera' country. KwM theupri'iCf TLm w""'' »'"»'»">«!<= •>>« thi,. •nd tho„gh'^Strf^d''^r^T*«»'"' *"'«>"« F". road, before mm!™" ^^ '" " "" •""> ng of the StatiotL th^ ,^T* ■" "^* "' "« G»llo«y tofind^-S.eRjl'^r"""' '-"t-P^-'eepl-nk "Tl.. camn h,,, ,t ■ ^"'P -'''"'^'' » no Roman "«■" wide m3. an'Jrg.p .'J„?h wS "■"'" °^'^™- ' w«er, of Ae ditch «« 1« Z. m , ' r '"'' °™ '^J'' "» the Duchrae bull I J«^ hL^n '""'"?'' *« «"»P« of water, therefore not at all thiray B„T^ .? i° *' *"■«? "Mves of the trees within reX^,i ' *** '*'"> •« *« bmmble on the nea^ s"^' ■"" ""> '"«' «>' ««« «d notiS' Abo':."f;ro°4^s:;7.,tr -r "-" • --^ Lowlands which l»pp«^"Tual?„f *"'*"'"« " *« Highlands. The co^™ folk ^ ,f " ""'"^ I"" » "» •hat the Und bewSTn JT °'*^*"°w«y recognised, indeed, "0. go. rid Of *ere: sr,r irwt'hS^b ",:' *\'? -'^ the Sep, or clan, in trust for h s -^pTf ^^- ^ "■"*' "' ^ng^und . r^t&t-an'StSaTe^i i/./i* 306 RAIDERLAND i I 1 IP little valley and green gusset of meadow-land sheltered iu croft or holding where in times gone by a family had squatted, and by centuries of labour had won a few scanty "grass parks " from the surrounding wilderness of bog and heather. But all was now changed. The lairds were no more of the people. They had taken the side of what all Galloway con- sidered as an alien and persecuting sect, during the reigns of the second Charles and James his brother. Thus in most cases they had been divorced in sympathy from the chm or sept with which they were lineally connected. Add to this that many of the original landlords had either been dispossessed as disloyal to one party or the other during the long troubles, or had been driven to sell their lands to strangers from a distance. Hardly ever had this property re- tumml into the hands of a Ga^oway man of aboriginal stock. The new-comers, of course, considered these settlers and hillside crofters simply as so many encumbrances. They set their lawyers to work, and, soon discovering that the poor folk possessed no claims to their little holdings (save that of having entirely created them, built up every stone and sod of offices and dwelling-house, and cultivated in peace their two or three scanty parks and meadows of rough grass for centuries), pro- ceeded to clear their borders of them and all their works. A few of the more kindly disposed— having human hearts within them — gave sites whereon the dispossessed were per- mitted to erect other cottages, huddled more closely together. And th's was the origin of several of our most notable Gallo- way villages of to-day. But the greater landlords did not desire any such settlements near their borders, regarding them solely as refuges for the disaffected, or at least as nurseries of poaching, smuggling, and general unprofitableness. So the edict *' To be Banished Furth of Scotland " began to figure at every court of justice, at which the least resistance to enclosure was reported. And poor families, expelled from their little cottages, had to wander into England or endeavour to find some ship's captain, who, in return for the right to dispose of their services in the colonies for a period of five THE LEVELLERS' COUNTRY ,07 NBA* THE tinkler's LOOP ■Ji f ■ ' 208 RAIDERLAND Convention of '89 against the troopers of Clavers and the more dangerous parchment bonds of the Bluidy Mackenzie. But there was little chance, unless a true leader chanced to appear, to draw the Levellers into some kind of cohesion, that they could make any head against regular soldiers. And in the meantime there were many searchings of heart and waggings of head throughout the wilds of Galloway, when the "hated red -coats" were again seen crossing the moors to visit a solitary cothouse, or beating the heather-bushes and searching the moss-hags for some cele- brated fugitive. As an old Cameronian meditated, looking down from his herding on the side of the Bennan Hill, and watching the scarlet jackets of the dragoons filing up the side of the Loch of Ken, he might say, " yerily do I remember what guid Maister Alexander Peden, that remarkable seer of things to come, prophesied, as I myself heard him by the thorn-buss o' Friarminion, * A bluidy Sword for Thee, O Scotland, that shall pierce to the hearts of many ! Many miles shall ye travel, and see nothing but desolation and ruinous wastes. Mony a conventicle has God weared on thee, puir Scotland, but now God will make a covenant with thee that will make the world tremble!'"! For the credit of Galloway be it said that the chief of these oppressors were incomers and Englishmen. Now these gentle- men, eager for progress and diligent to lay field to field, forgot in their haste that measures which had succeeded well enough with the more obedient and servile peasantry of the southern English shires, were foredoomed to failure' with a population so fierce and turbu- lent as that of Galloway — the natural wildness of whose nature had received a stem and solemn twist in the direction of fanaticism from the ill-judged severity of the second Charles and his brother James. In these religious struggles the local lairds had, with but few exceptions, separated themselves from the common folk, and, » " The Dark o' the Moon," chapter xxix. (Macmillan & Co.) ** In- comers." .•••i;i. THE LEVELLERS' COUNTRY 209 of King Charle, the SSi^T"""^ *" the interests the flock of God fa IcoS ^ "•''""" '"'^'"'P' <>«' payi^'thrp^f^^rtht^rS'tr ^t^ ^ -- pa.d on the night of ,h. Muster oflt^" ™'-™' ■» >» -nalsorrholTdti.^t'"-' """* ""--'>'• " *• -;2^;c;;rgifs"th:::i-"'.r."- *• an.ong the heather, b, daT a fele ^IT ^ ? ""* ""«'"=" either side, and in th. mW.. *^^ """^ smoother on *eep; but by nigM iZ^^'T? '"""*'" «^™« 'eagues of circunZbir^rer *«-^''«' '«- "he of • the Standing sS.« l.^ ig^f ""^ ■■> "«-»«" -■»« douds scudded across h« fT^il, '"""' " "« «o«y before the mstJTwt^u!^, ""»«'«'- "'"' Pl-J^ •A huge poke-bonnet covered features wh.VK were carefully blackened, and the wSl! ''' "°'~^^^' a ludicrous parody of fei^iSne a^^f j^' ?' "^^^^^ '" or the bags in which meTl wi <^!; f '^'? "^ ^^^^^^^^^ Witch of Endor high nb^l J kT^ u *° '""^^^- ^^ this smirked as mth in^L Hh of ' '^' '^''''^^ '^^^^^ ^"d Celtic pipe, si::'xX'Tir:^^^^^^^ ^r ^^^ needles an' a', ' The^roo. ^-^ c!:^idtrwe?^ ^^ o 'll 2IO RAIDERLAND Levellers at Work. Wind that shakes the Barley,' and other fast-running, jigging tunes. " Thereafter the chosen leader of the Levellers, one Captain Dick, initiated the remaining divisions of his forces into the secret and mystery of the *ox poles.' Two or three of these were to be lashed firmly together. A company of twenty or thirty able-bodied rebels was told off, ten to each pole. Then at a given word the whole of these were to put forth their strength as one man, and the hated fences would be levelled with the ground. This they pledged themselves to do as often as the landlord continued to rebuild them. ** At last they stood at the place where the campaign was to begin. The laird's new drystone dyke stretched away east and west, looming up under the clouded moon vast as the Great Wall of China — though, indeed, it was in no place much more than six or seven feet high. " In silence the Levellers took their places, swank young herds and homy-fisted working-women of the fields, all attired in the same absurd and outlandish costume. They manifested the utmost confidence in their leader, and obeyed his orders without scruple. Probably this would not have been the case had the men concerned in the affairs been the elders of the cause. But as most were young, and the element of adventure entered largely into their motives, they w6re ready without question to follow so gallant a captain wherever he wished to lead them. " • Order out the bars ! ' cried Dick of the Isle. "The huge poles were placed in position behind the dykes. " * Man the bars I ' " Thirty of the Levellers set themselves in position to push simultaneously. " ' When I say three— let go, all !— One, Two, Three ! ' " * And over she goes ! ' chorussed the Levellers hoarsely at the word. "The huge, sky-mounting ridge of newly-built dyke, not THE LEVELLERS' COUNTRY 2,, . baling „,^ , furlonron "^0^"!'''"'^ '''' ""' °' fron. honzon .„ hori«>„ unb^ken^^^er ttr^.'""'''"' tbeSle^he'jSftr^Zr' ^T' '"'^ ^^ •«« Leveller, agkimt the k^tf, °°' °' "" '^' <'»f"« of the by the M'adl4 who wl«^,r™. '° •"" '*«' ""d Wm So ti t there is MrLTof t" ^r"? "' ** ^"^>- possibly in sixty years some M, ^f"' '"""»'=y' ""ough -««ve. Abo'ul t^oT „tt t«ve^- ^n »dded .0 tSe agreement. First, the ptace of fiMTTf ' " * "'"'''« Moat Wood. And, secondl. ,h ™" ™ ** ^''^hrae HiU opposite^ " ^ ""^ "''<' "«"«> it from the Crae f^J .^s^a^'^rdrthe str ^ ""^ o^-^-" O^™ orerlooking the Cave andTe hJT^ u*""' "^ " ""e ton, B«>eath he could L^t t c^if *' ^^ <" Grenoch ■"-d. The situation Z ZSrlT" "" '""P » *« as was most likely, it had t^^ZlT^. r^'"" '»• ''• " -^g"^ fo,^ ope^ting witho^a^ue^'' '' "™"^ " '"'' '»«om"on^;t>^;^" ^; ™^ «."^ »« deep, with a *.e behind there^r'a gLT^.e^rb:^ '' '" '"^ """"^ •» -".<. oV^hVTeTty^hSr r„:rj£ T 1:J' m !. i' 212 RAIDERLAND of the Levellers, the whole position was further covered (and defended) by a perfect jungle of bramble, whin, thorn, sloe, and hazel, through which paths had been opened in all direc- tions to the best positions of defence. " Here and there, out on the opener country towards the east, where tlie camp was not defended by the river and marshes, the king's officer could see that trenches had been made and earthworks raised, with loopholes regularly con- structed of wood and stone for the defenders to fire upon any assailant. The main camp itself was encircled with & fosse very wide and deep, but even from his elevated station on the side of the opposite hill Austin Tredeimis could see nothing of the immediate defences of the position. " The eminence on which the main fortifications had been erected rose high above his: head, and he could only look up the steep slope and observe that it had been carefully levelled to form a glacis, and furnished with earthen bastions at the comer to provide stances for cross-fire in case of direct assault. " Down on a little smooth piece of meadow within the outer lines, yet convenient to the water-edge, several great fires were burning. Sometimes Austin could almost feel the warmth of the blaze as great quantities of fresh brushwood were con- tinually thrown on. It was, after all, a kind of play to many of these lads, and scores of them laboured incessantly, joking and laughing as they did so, at bringing dried wood, branches, heather roots, and other light fuel to add to the flames — often- times even embarrassing the cooks by their endeavours, and in one case actually setting fire to the tripod upon which the stewpot was swinging. " Upon a felled tree which formed part of the defence on the land side a group of older men was seated, talking soberly together, evidently discussing plans, and, in the intervals of speech, cleaning such arms as they possessed. " Tredermis was astonished to see how many excellent pieces there were in the hands of the Levellers. He did not know that the folk of Scotland, like the Spaniaids, were naturally an armed people, security having c of late come into these ■^K^f^ THE LEVELLERS- COUNTRY ^j at a horseman's wrist sn »« ««♦ ""«"re article made to swmg break his^rd^oke iiTa .K "^*"'^-^«' ^^»» ^he reins^ pistol with its it momh tl'T"" '° f' -ighty horse- blunderbuss HrL^ 1 u ^^"^^ °^ P°^^^ Hke a brought b a r^::^^ZonZ't':t\r '^^^ p*- tional weapon of offence m^heTads* h^ "" "" f"^' prongs of a pitchfork upon the mu^lL of^h^^ "°"°**** **^" a way as not to interfere^th thr^^ r . "^ ^'^' '" S"<=h rude but highly eff:ct: :^:t' In^/ ''' P-«' ^^-^ a Uvell^^'^XnerTu"^^^^ ^'^-^ .^om the and therefore out of sight^? TredenT At Ih' ^"^^P' ensued a great running to and f^ ^d cr^l V"""*^ '^"^" numbers aU which diVerterhim e^eedS ^'tT" ""^ tnce, and with an alacrity which thr^w ,5- ^^^"^ "* * admire, the men feU S metf of Lbo"^^^^^^^ were served out. "* **"' *"<* nations •livision, which could h^.l.Tt'l^/'r8« °f "^ all about the Duchrae B^v .»7 , *'"'* •bound Umits of the c^p Sli?^ "^ *=^ "■" P»«" "Ain the duirion of the matter ,-sd^h°i vt "°°" —""» *e con- «ve in that whT^^^ct^X IT k*™*.""" '^'^• ■ •• Th, Dark ,■ «„ M,^,.. ,j.p. ^„ ,„^._^ ^ __^^ *! LOOKING DP THE LOCH KEN CHAPTER XX LOCH KEN If it had not been my fate to be bom upon Loch Grenoch, I would have desired to be bom on Loch Ken-side — in some herd's house up towards the Tinkler's Loup, past Mossdale, and looking across to the Shirmers. Here, however, are the impressions of one actually bom to this heritage of loch and moor and wide blowing air. " So, during my father's absence, my brothers and I had the work of the farm to attend to. No dawn of day, sifting from the east through the greenery of the great soughing beeches and firs about the door, ever found any of the three of us in our beds. For me, as soon as it was light, I was up and away to the hills — where sometimes in the mil lambing-time I would spend all night on the heathery fells or among the lirks and hidden dells of the mountain fastnesses. S14 aI immMPi's^wssmm ^ ■.i'J'i?' ••■iT <' imr-i^h iUr&*< w LOCH KEN wh» nigh. h^?™;. tr^^'j.rtewT ' '""■«' "" '»"'• tiv. fro™ «.,yCet^ct:::^wrm ^.T •"^- young lad's K,ul, .hough indeed « IT.- ''""■?'«« '<" » fton. guessing i. .han L For^ I I^".Tt"°™ "" ''""'" pondered on nching excen. Arfin, T ? """ "•'"■"• ' »nd tte glorious draug^Uof whe, .„hT' "" ■""'' «"™ ">«. would serve ou. .o Jon ^y re.l'lu'i^fr"' "".■"'"'■" creates, and sillies, of her ll'^ ^nl T^ T"""^ "" « the n,ilk.house door, if sheTouU « eh ^'^.'"' '^ bare legs .winkling down U,e loantag " l "^ "« ' »« -7 Vend" trUs^'tao;; rMs^cir""'?'"'^'='"""«- dwelt „^y g„.e„t^ o the b;^"'::,"f"''«> ""- "-ve barons, stout Lords of iZl- ■ ? "" «"«rou»-bold ^ee^dan^es ^:L'Z:Z.'^^^ ^^^^ mystenes of the faith Fmm *u * j ^° *" the forth on his quLs"^ .C ke^^he H. •^''™*°"* '""^ Colvin hi, right-hand ZlemW " af J" '^"- "'"' «.d »ndry, while on a stonftyL "ll^T^ 'T "' of Earlstoun sat writinir !,« ™. ™«e«ide Jean Gordon .0 ..heeas, " Kenrr^is'^pC"^ J^o^ th^^'n?' ""»■ najng Of his which ended unL tte^hlds^antLe";^?,:^ Of Beni,\r:hthVetaiLr'^ "^ ^"■» *' "»« -O' I re^e^ber onl/the^^rw^i^^^rfi? ^^r ""."' do« making moan under .he deni brTh^ "'""'• Anon :UudZwrru''ffl:l''r "" ""' '^'' " "«'- *r. -™awr.h.a£rg£rd-.-^f„,t^:i The Sundard-Bearer." p. a. (Methuen.) « '■ ?^i!; 2l6 RAIDERLAND ^: I ^ stretches and unexpected inlets, sanded and pebbled. All this, too, though strictly speaking Loch Ken is no loch at all, but only the extension of a sluggard river, dreaming along between reedy solitudes and bays where the water-lilies grow in hundreds, white and yellow after their kind. It ./as by the Loch of Ken that a certain pair of imagined lovers looked (for a time) their last into each other's eyes. I have been required by many correspondents to include the scene in " Raiderland." But I halt at the most interesting part in accordance with custom, so ihnX those interested may go to them that sell and buy for themselves. " ' There, that will keep you in mind of Galloway ! ' she said, thrusting a bunch of bog-myrtle into his breast pocket And indeed bog-myrtle is the characteristic smell ^*'"* of the great world of hill and moss we call by that Parting. ^^^^^^ j^ f„ jj^^jg j^e mere thought of it has brought tears to the eyes unaccustomed, so close do the scents and sights of the old Free Province — the lordship of the Pict — wind themselves about the hearts of its sons. " Loch Ken lay like a dream in the clear dispersed light of the morning, the sun shimmering upon it as through trans- lucent ground-glass. Teal and moor-hen squattered away from the shore as Winsome and Ralph climbed the brae, and stood looking northward over the superb levels of the loch. On the horizon Caimsmuir showed golden tints through his steadfast blue. "Whaups swirled and wailed about the rugged side of Bennan above their heads. Across the loch there was a solitary farm— beautifully set. Then beyond, the whole land leaped skyward in great heathery sweeps, save only here and there, where about some hill farm the little emerald crofts and blue-green springing oatlands clustered closest. The loch spread far to the north, sleeping in the sunshine. Burnished like a mirror it was, with no breath upon it In the south, the Dee Water came down from the hills peaty and brown. The roaring of its rapida could faintly be heard. To the east, LOCH KEN , THI STREET, NEW GALLOWAY * ' 'itj !i I T'""^ '.-^1^!^ 3l8 RAIDERLAND m mounuin, though a little one, from which wu once leen all the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of them. For there are no finer glories on the earth than red heather and blue loch, except only love and youth. And these four go well together. " Yet here love and youth had come to part, between the heather that glowed on the Bennan Hill and the sapphire pavement of Loch Ken. "For a long time Winsome and Ralph were sileat — the empty interior sadness, mixed of great fear and great hunger, beginning to grip them as they stood. Lives only just twined and unified were again to twain. Love lately knit was to be torn asunder. " ' I must go,' said Ralph, looking down into his betrothed's face. " ' Stay only a little,' said Winsome. ' It is the last time.' «Soh stayed."^ But they parted at last, and Ralph set out alone. In a little while he struck the beautiful road which runs north and south along the side of the Loch of Ken. Now there are fairer bowers in the south sun-lands. There are High-Uu. 218 ^ywmmM^^m^imMmmm ► ♦ mm s:% ¥'M ' r :d- LOCH KEN «r :^z z ift:^^zr 'r, r ""^ ^-"- abo„, bin, stole sor^^^^ ^'^^"'y ^^ hope of life if/ b-eathe the g,^,, ,,j„ ^^ Tra v^T'' "=,""» «'«' 'o Its creamy riot of I „n VKiren. >- . 1?? ''°"»y™ckle running «..nging danng ,e..„ J^^^''^^^^" *» hedges, ani birclies by the wayside *° ""P" °' ">« dwarf .'.e"^„?etrt?r'e^t T ^^ "«'-" ^ '» moment when Winsome threw h, , . '"^ "^'-^ 'he -««> pain, upon her bw wto, K T ' '^'' "<< "''.ded chamber overtoehiU a, CratRo^H p .'"^ ««'« "arkened even though with the g^w o/em,^ ' "^P"" "'"^ ™« ""'e. 'coking forward to the futu e an/'l' ""^ '"'^ " "'' '''"' -d bring to him u;K.n ^l^ HTl^r^^^^^ «>e day -;fe° ^Z rh::'.t»re^™ P^'ed pa;. Of *'»■ 'i-P'e 'c be found in Gallow It ?h!; *^' *"' " "<" "-ly Ker^y 'o be wounded andXve wler^u ,""" """ ""'"^'^ hemT 0-, a. least, I haJt^ttald""'™'' "■^"• 1^ 'm.'^^^i wm^m h -'it r I 1?« ;t CROCKETFORD VILLAGE CHAPTER XXI THE RAIDERS' BRIDGE But I must not forget the Raiders' Bridge— the " Bridge of the Cattle," as I have heard it called. I have often been asked where it was, if it really existed, if the driving of the cattle happened thus and thus. Now, no criminal is bound to commit himself out of his own mouth, and I will only say that there can only be one true Raiders' Bridge— that across the Black Water a short half-mile south of the New Galloway Station— not, indeed, the modem bridge, but a much narrower one, the spring of whose arch can still be seen on both sides of the river, a few yards farther down. The road by which the cattle came, left the modem highway at Park Hill, and can still be followed quite easily over the Duchrae Moor— the tracing of it out making a very interesting variation to a trip upon the highway. Of the scene itself I will say nothing, save that I take the liberty of introducing it, that the story may be read on the spot. Ht. u \ fit I .\sm iW m 1 'iH 1 : H #' ^^^1 : in a WMM.. IW THE RAIDERS' BRIDGE "Two h»?r V^'f ^** "* *°rt"^«i for ever. Arew m great Mlefcl, on the b^fa of the MckS ' «ide like duff. " " *' '""''«'• «"<» »«P' us .-, ^who^tm^: °i^:^''iSi„ T 'thfLrhT It was a dance of demons. Between ml «n^ ^"dge-head. that waved a toreh ^,h h^h^Ln "^ * '""'' ""'""^ over the furio^ " The*"™* ' oT'tS" 1S"'^T "^^ swept „s off the bridge as ch!:^* It ^S^'t ^^ Watet. l/eZ-'sot^e^/'.h^'^eS^^-'rt^^r bdieve in wha Ve ^Z X^hrLTIT'" f? ■"" '"^ *■ so It was. I who write t down was th«.r*. tk the tossing, fiery waves of n.«H J Z ^"® ^y^** ^a'' seetincr ^Ziu. Of maddened creatures that ran forward seeking death to escape from torture, while the reek ofT^ bummg went up to heaven. "^"^ ^V 222 RAIDERLAND " I looked again. Beneath at the ford I saw a thousand wild cattle with their thick hair blazing with fire, their tails in the air. tossing wide-arched horns. I saw the steam of their nostrils going up like smoke as they surged through the """" » <="^ hotas and wining vZ2^:Z7 l^l'T '^^ "«' where, to my thinkiW is (h. „„ >T^ Duchrae. No- For (write, the he.) "[h^pt^^-^ht ^ISTJ^ZT ""^ biMk, now silver, beneath uT Thl. j ^'" ^''P'- ""w 'he feathers of the bSL k„ J k '/I" ""' =*' >>»•" »i* h«ve.y,ike -n-a 'a^7 o^ev^^ XtLr?.*^ ''""^^ o^ed ou, and we saw Kerfl^w"^;SV S" "' '""' ".hf-side"^: 'w^^^X r r ^ ™ °- """ heather. And the s^t Ln^ """"« °' "^f ^^fs - Hdge behind rid^'f q;'wS%^-'^„-'^i"^ ^ V ki • 1 224 RAIDERLAND storm of music— Millyea, Milldown, Millfire, Corscrinc, and the haunted fastnesses of the Meaull of Garryhom in the head end of Carsphairn. The reapers were out in the high fields about Gordonston by daybreak, with their crooked reaping- hooks in their hands, busily grasping the handfuls of grain and cutting them through with a pleasant 'risp' of sound. Cocks crowed early that morning, for they knew it was gomg to be a day of 1 rvent heat. It would be as well, therefore, to have the pursuit of slippery worm and rampant caterpillar over be- times in the dawning. Then each chanticleer could stand in the shade and scratch himself applausively with alternate foot all the hot noontide, while the wives clucked and nestled in the dusty holes along the banks, interchanging intimate re- flections upon the moral character of the giddier and more skittish young puUets of the farmyard." Furthermore, I have another reason for remembering the Glenkens. It was a favourite cycling route of Sweetheart's and mine— in the good years when cats were kittens, and dogs were puppies, and sheep were lambs, and Sweethearts had not yet grown up ! "We skimmed under the imminent side of the Bennan Hill, now purple and golden-brown with the heather and the dying bracken. On our right, by the lochside of Ken, we passed the little cottage which thirty years ago was known to all in the neighbourhood as Snuffy Point, from an occupant who was said to use so much snuff" that the lake was coloured for half a mile round of a deep brown tint whenever he sneezed. A little farther on is a deep tuimel of green leaves, down which we looked. It leads to Kenmure Castle. Sweetheart and I always stop just here to dream. It seems as if we could stretch our arms and float down into the wavering infinitude of stirring leaves. " In another minute we had come to the summit of the hill, and were sliding smoothly down the long, cleanly-kept street of New Galloway. Not a cur barked in our track — a fact so very remarkable that Sweetheart asked why. •} ^ -mt-e «' I -J'tVtt t^-'-rfl '^^ '^^'Jkv- ii^i \*i I I ■ h 1 1' I' l|! <• THE GLENKENS ^inP^'^ef ''^ ^*'''*''*' " • "'"' ^"^'»'' I -^d for a bc reached by wheel, m thTwuth «?«^1 ."^'"*^ '*»•* «« •teering northward alon. tL^ o^ Scotland. Soon we were we looked to ^^TV^L'^^'''''' "^^ K*"* •»«"«•»»». The fi.h .ulked «d w.t Claclun oi ^^ **»^^ anchored in the water-«wirl« below t t^ uie iSe '^^ "^ ""* "''•" " *^* "*«^ " TTie green of summer w«. yet untouched by autumn fro. hZ Ik'.* '^'^ ^' '^o on the outmo.t plum« oMi birks that wept above the .tream." i ^ ' The dismantling of EarUtoun i. of quite recent date a, 86r™eTl'2'.'""T.^ ''''^ '^"^ '-'y c^plet a^: ^:;^"atr ^etri,-^ 4 ^° '^^' ^'^« -^' "^^ opp^r InheXth'r^" '""^ ^'^"^'^ * «""- ^f th »K. " ^»"* "°'* *"** "°'*^ ^^'^ **"^« fo' tbe sweet weU water r the gateway tower came to me as I kv Darched wL i and more than »k- t. "^ «» * wy parcfted with thirsi s^mS tL^ ?'''' ^'*™*"« ^°^ ^^"'e things. ] s^med that no wme of sunny France, no golden juice c > " The Standard-Bearer." p. ,87. (Methuen.) Hf^ -:^' .i^-^'-**i^»} Ui' ^4^ . Il ^ '^■"r-^ THE GLENKENf l^rrr*:' °°"' "^ "-' - e"v« w«w K« .0 Z Al«. it look, iu Cn^u "?"'",'"'•" 'h«K«W.,„ "«• on the pl«». 1 do „«,^ir,Jf„ ."■«•>««' of God wry much to .urp.M Ewto^m c Tf"" "' "««» June, when the bS. „et n- * '"* """»'"« " <•4"^t"lrr.hrco^r'''^^ c-^don, ^n., William Gordon, the elder .^T ^"^ ■"" "igniSed Brig, though he h.5 no tie™ Jr„°" 'l!' '" °' ^*'«" AleMnder and hi> voZl T' f" '" "" "»«■«• 'o prison. Jean H.lCnTle^H''':'"" '"•'«' f™"" Pri«.n to suffer for the faith th.° ..^ IT?':^' '"'\'«" "»«i upon _ But the popuUr mindTwdl, ^'n 1? """' "^ »""''"• doe, about the memory of S7thoiT T" ^^f-" " men who are yet, like S.m»n fulT^r h^ '^ "'""«• "o'"' Most famooa of all Si',, f """ »e«knesses. King', Priv, Council fortSf^i"^"""" "^'^' "' *« ru>i'«r^Krwi-BB'--^^ boUing over, Sandy ^^h^d'Z"""™ •""""' """"•'' Wmutd bent hi, ,treZh ,o1, .? .*^' "°° "^^ "^fore ™ rouMd, wa, like ,hl ., "-"'"'^h, when he o«rivehtreftf*'TT'""^^^°'""- W"h «*«"'"'' *«-hilewith"Lt,lm'^,"' ^'"y^'' "»™K«" ?' ""'"^ '0 «t the cattte wid .^K?'" of "',, which used *=«"«"• - tr^S^-- t^e se^edtem oJett^ ^ -M,p...^.,,t.^l---wa,^^^^^^^^^ 1 he Men of the Moss-Hag, " n ao. / 1 k *«K». p. ao4. (Isbjster&Co.) i' 228 RAIDERLAND to see. But though there was blood enough, there were ' brains to speak of. " Then very hastily some of the Council rose to their f to call the guard, but the door had been locked during I meeting, and none for a moment could open it. It was fe some to see Sandy. His form seemed to tower to the ceilii A yellow foam, like spume of the sea, dropped from his li He roared at the Council with open mouth, and twirled 1 bar over his head. With one leap he sprang over the barri and at this all the coundllnrs drew their cloaks about thi and rushed pell-mell for the door, with Sandy thundering at th heels miii his iron bar. It was all vronderfully fine to wat< For Sandy, with more sense than might have been expect of him, being so raised, lundered them about the broadest their cloaks with the b^, till the building was filled with t cries of the mighty Privy Council of Scotland. I declare laughed heartily, though under sentence of death, and f that, well as I thought I had borne myself, Sandy the B had done a thousand times better. " Then from several doors the soldiery came rushing in, ai in short space Sandy, after levelling a good file with his gai of iron, was overpowered by numbers. Nevertheless, he cc tinued to struggle till they twined him helpless in coils of roj In spite of all, it furnished work for the best part of a coi pany to take him to the Castle, whither, ' for a change of ai and to relieve his madness, he was remanded, by order of tl Council when next they met. But there was no more hea of examining Sandy by torture. " And it was a tale in the city for many a day how Sani Gordon cleared the chamber of the Privy Council." ^ At this time it was that Alexander Grordon's wife w turned out of house and home, and I have thought it wor while to reprint a letter telling of her expulsion and h troubles, as well as a more extended narrative of her hu band's adventures. The one is genuinely hers, copied wo for word, the other true in substance and fact, but written 1 •■ The Men of the Moss-Hags," p. 376. (Ifbtster & Co.) mfL^~^' M-rT: '•''■ e were no ' '] their feet luring the ; was fear- hie ceiling, a his lips, wirled the le barrier, )out them ng at their to watch. expected roadest of 1 with the declare I and felt the Bull ig in, and 1 his gaud 5, he con- ,s of rope. )f a com- ge of air,' er of the ore heard 3w Sandy wife was t it worth and her her hus- hed word irrittenin .) AT DALRY To /ace /. 228 17 1 ^jf' ll 1 (^^i t 1 1 % 1= M': 6V , ^.^ ,;- .™^^ THE GLENKENS . . 229 mutation of Jean HamUton's stvU t* -i, ^ cue ^ , ..,^TJc r iTut."' y^ ■"» Lord i. doirtr^W„S.7 *~^ ""^"O"" we know not where to ^. ™' '* ''*"• «> "Mt -«. >' ".Snt ^^emt^vr*""*- O-^ ""-d co.- "^« even mine ^«5rto&!„*'"^""''P«- «• kindly welcome .0 thi! cSLgt ™" '"•' "" »« «>« ■>» ligh7'" ■""' -^ «>« His j^ke i. e«y „d Hi, burden •n tiia^ve^SSTo^^P-S" "C^ ""r '«'-"• "" «- "isc-rr under Hi, kwLd™ ""' '*'^- ''««*« I Ho:.^°:«^e,,l:2 Brhe^^JIn^.-SL*'"-"* '«" He gave me leave to take ou, all th« ?k ^, "^ "> °»- ""ffoingafteralll bTc^\^^,^^ What man«, I c«mot give a m ac^lfof SL ^*""'^ °' ""» ' J^t. to Knd me your ad^Xf tT^ * •^'"~- 1 "treat "otheirkirk. *^ '"'"" <^°™y gif I went not -o«;d^l"me\*S;"re:5"r'^r ^«"<'- "« *er "o «o to their chu^^'it ^L""' ' """"" •« f«™d "»nyf.milie,th«aregoi~S^.!J "f"'- "^e" "» of the land. Gif yoTK 'f i"! f ''°"«» "^ «<> out now go. but «nd "hi^.: ""'jS" ""' '<™«- '««" '« it not •"*' n»y not venture^^^ ^ ^^ '^ ^- -n write that to him and S ^?„-i •"'~' *« ^ "oo cioK mme withm youn i have 230 RAIDERLAND allfiiends. I desire to be reminded to them. " I rest, in haste, your loving friend and servant, "Jban Hamiltom." Now, I decide that this letter made me think better th pnate and rehgious reflections in the writing of letters myse H^Ju"" ^^' ^° ^ '^'^^^ '^' accomplishment Je self but in the time of extrusion and suffering her narrc «t^ ?T '"*• Notwithstanding the stmnge^.ting-desk stone by the waterside, the letter is well writfen, but the g« their spellmg, reveal the turmoil and anxiety of the writer CHAPTER XXIII THE ADVENTURES OF ALEXANDER GORDON FOOLISHLY CALLED "THE BUT t r.^ r. HTriuen ^ . z- ^^ EARLSTOUN" """ ^- h ^ ^Ife in .^ Lor^,,, H.MaroK. This cDronicle records the sad n.Cw- save her husband, and so w ,i ^'°""-''°'' «*« ««! ^«hren ITL^? I^^^^^o"*. even to But Sandy has ever stood forT ^°*"'« °^ the battle, out best according to w^dlv n ^ '°""* "^* would w^k hallowed conceit tW if "uf J P?**^^^. thinking in his ^ 2^ drive through by th':^;ro7'?f ^° ^"^^^"^ ^-ouTd sturdy sword-arm. For thereof. ' ^'^ «^eat body and -r -ti. t£i -^s.- i„tH 'fd fit „. better to l«i T ""f'. "^i^ "delj, OmI >"f' Will had never .de^,'??"'' ,^' de.dingifo7lL^t "S^haste «d turmoa '^ "*"*»»» "* bU unW Well, as I Mid, my mm WM ,ii h„ . :::.'t^?"/^^'^n:rr.t *^- ^-X -■^^i^^e^rfe',^^^^'": Li: Gordon to do. but like his o^ k 't ^ "«^« ^^ Sandy atye-defendyourselvZ. • »u ^"^""^ father to cry «H^„ A»d I somed,nea think it m"S L,,"? "^ *' *«'• i, ^ him going to and {.ZL "" '^ Sandy, when Gn«„d Lidd«dale" ,t W.r'"' '""»'« "* Ro" «» "'ocd or the Saint,) hiS^hi'^e^r^./" *«i^ "«*' » wus at the charge with ^i 234 RAIDERLAND upon the bridge-Ld tiU IhT^ " "*" ^'' ^"^ -jthou, godli„e«, who ZmTis tuTt^^-ylT" *'° and comer. Hear ye not the clamour of them ? " ^ tugging^hrho^e's^^^^^^ »y husband, weaHl about" sir "°Ik*° ^' ^" ^^"" " ^« «™Ping steed wen about, Sandy saw the gate through which he hil comeln 'h a'^t ist a;:r^' ^^ '^ ^-^'^ ^^^ ^« - ^^n, ev^t iodgi:;^"Jrat::::L"::?r>^^^^^^^ '•^^wis^'t HeTsT r^^ HrssiVhtLTdit;^^ J^k!' !^ ?f ^'"' "*^^ boaing water, quick I" . So the goodwife brought him some scalding hot in an iron ^. of eve, hSr^LtrCwts: r i^':„^'r ttjmdermg „„ u,e door, of ,he ho««, a, ehe h^ofZ IICT-^ ;<'^^ V' •^i>^»l■'"'» ^ile Trooper Scarlett and my iTer^S ' " "°"« ^"^ ^X m«!' «« "> Hamilton, some of ,1,.^^ ^' "° '•W had been »" lus Mm about Sandy-, waia L ?^ " """^ chanced to ft"5«i, white and ruddy "^i" " '^' "">' he w„ wel° ^ ;He« i, an ar^uY oS?" '** ^°""8 ^a'^". Whereat Sandy let out his ari f^ i "^ "" '"«»' >o clip .» ">» Pata on the ear , ha, .^, Tt ''"" •"'"> » buffet *' ^^^^ gw ouMiy oti in the m,d„ t .«*»«» cook, .Shi.^tfTMt;!""^*"'"^ ""mly hidden fiom obKnXr LT-k ?f "^ '" *« ■mlmweoiu, ttudi in ih. .hTi. T^ "'' " 8«« "<1 very "te I^Ttform' orSrt W . 2? •"" °' "" ''°«^"''. "d ordinuy run '" '"'" " ""ffl"™' «> '-m My " night, or in the Lrirn? -^T? ""'">"«ne.t rode out lightly liie the unthMiJ '""'"', '>«d«. and all breathing ■^in';h«.S,;! file's """*/" "» ^-« "«• ■ny«lf on n,y hu.S^^ tn ,?^ "^•' "o"'" *">- ■"T ihame I om ^i ""^ "? ""P >*« « bairn. Yes, to "ho wood diridinTrilht frni Hamilton, the .i.ter of hin. ^ Which, theyt?. T^::z^TcZ z r "^r ■ Sandy Gordon not to 10 am.TnH 1 "^ *'*=''«' °n Wm.apOn-knoJ^/^.S'^.'^f '"•«"'« and "" ^""g »P«dily. But I deciL tl,,,T J^ ^"'"' "" «o and that m the hill, and I wot well that he would bid me leave the minister's trade to ministers bred and ordained, and devote me to looking after my spinning maidens in the kitchen. Well, at the time I tell of, among these maidens there was one, Jess Gowans by name, a comely lass enorgh, but one with a tongue exceedingly unruly, ever going cKp^p about the doors with the lads, and heard above all others in the byre and at the winning of the hay. Aye, and a wench mightily forward in her ways too, so that I have more than once had to check her for throwing herself h. my great silly Sandy's way — ^who (to his shame as an elder be it spoken) upon occasion would not disdain to stand and talk with Jess about other subjects, I opine, than the text at the last field-preaching in the Linn of Garple. But though I have ever held Jess Gowans to be a light- headed and flighty quean, yet I must set it on record here that it was her woman's quickness which saved my husband's life. And that, little as I like the lass, I would be the last to deny. It was at the back of six of the clock and the goodman was sitting quiet by the window talking to me, a bairn clambering on each knee, when a herd lad came running white-faced from the field to tell us that the house was closely invested, and that Comet Graham, the new officer of the garrison at Kenmure, had watchers posted at all the doors, and a cordon drawn to catch my hustMmd as he came forth — all for the price that the government had put on his head in the matter of the Rye House Plot — with which, God be my Judge, he had as little to do as the babe that can but smile at the bright light of a candle. Sandy started to his feet in a moment, and drew his broad- sword, which there was not a man in all Galloway could wield a ADVENTURES OP ALEX4vnr.„ »« Wn«,f B„. .„ '''^'"''°=« GORDON ,4. a-mb on s.bbMh aftenioonf.fc u '**'«" I"" «^' and Mp fte pride of fte .y., ^^,, Jf« &' -y life I could no • .p«e S«dy stood W.U S"wL K «'2"""'- S» ft«« for »d . .ho„ gown fo, Z o?te W™ " ' ""'«^« kta^ ''^ " fcr canny I '^ ' "'"'«'' •». for six in four »d':„":?A-'^;;;..jn.d; "do. ..« .on,.^,^ T'in*".T'^ '^*^''^^"''^" "' "^ """^ yard, «a I ^etwo^bX°« " *« >>ack door of tte dni-n low upon his bro„ a! ^ °"' » "aMd on hi, h«H "d «!t hin, at a,e h^X ,?^^" *» «» "to hi, h^ "d uncu, piece .b^*^ aJu^''^ *^'-i ^ >>» fim ,m>ke when «,. nSe oll^? "" S^-d/d^" ^ They c«„e buaW^^ta " "^ "» h«rd « ,hf teller n»de stnugh. for u,f ^^^ '"""y*"!. and their ">« courtywd. wnuigiuig pair in the middle of "I ten ye what, sUIy Tor*» i„ y» anna sp|i, u,e kiJii^TZjT "" "^ '"^y. "if ;^ •boo. it too, AwT^^^*" -b". .^ be' '**^*- "^ *"™y across your lazy -Cot;;;! Kts i^zi? ■"'' - «« i-th .he P^vok«i Uie las^ .ha, wta, jST " "'J'""'* ^ach « «« «P the shank of the ™rf il! ""P""*"' >««». do but ^- »»«.r-s ^ouldeZ!:?'-^^!"'' ''^■■"-■"i'yacr^ «opidi.y of men. "° """ ay>»g out upon the I (I 242 RAIDERLAND ^S The capt&in of the toldiere, a man of some humoui stayed his men with a movement of his hand that h might observe the scene, and when Jess had given Sand a good warm jacket she paused and looked about her Then suddenly becoming conscious of the presence o observers, as it seemed, she dropped the broomstick an( screamed. "O kind sirs," she cried, "dinna shoot me— I was onlj correctin' this silly Jock for no cuttin' the firewood cleverlj eneuch. The like o' him wad try the patience o' Job ! " The soldiers laughed, like the jolly sons of Belial thai many of them are. "Well done, lass— you were in the right to keep yon loul m subjectioa He seems a sorry knave and you drew many a good stroke across his lazy back. E'en warm his jacket at your pleasure. But we come here to look once more for your master, lass— hast seen him ? " "Nay," said Jess, "he does not often come this way. I think he is over the moors looking the sheep between Knock- man and Lochinvar." " Like enough ! " said the captain, "and a clever wench he has for a maid. We want some one to point out the various rooms of the house, and the lofts of the out-buildings. We are well advised that your master is within, and we have sentinels all round, so that he cannot escape from our hands this time." " I will come and show you all the hiding-places I " cried Jess eagerly— so eagerly that I trembled, for the reprobate deceiver seemed in earnest. "No, no, my pretty," the soldier returned her answer, smiling, "I thank you, but I think not. You are somewhat too clever, my lass, and had better just bide here where you are. We will take this country Jock. Hey 1" he cried, turning to Sandy, who had gone on sturdily splitting the kindling roots, "drop that axe and come show us the rooms of the castle, and miss not a nook or comer on your life. Sergeant, set your pistol to his head, and if he flinch or hesitate, let him 41 ADVENTURES OF ALEXANDER GORDON ,,, have the fuU dose it »ii ^ ^. wonch's bewm «»«, 4 tack^ •»»•"»« tl»n thi. good of Whig, «„, .U fte M^r™'*^ " if "» '■unUng l™ ftom g«ret to celtar, white ^h. , 1'!;*°" '■°'''""'' cence. ^^^ "' » with sulky acquies- done myselt *^^ " " '»°"«' ti^e I might have warl''l•!i^K^*^' "*"^ "^e that at least a nri^n r war! cned the cantain tn..»k' ^l * pnsoner of sworA ^"^^ *°""^ the swinging meat with his builX.*' "^'^^'^^'^ h« took them round the out- «ptll?^:t'f^?^7:^t'^^^^^^ - the "would it please yo^'sn^'nf^?^^ 'l ^ "°^''^^ tt not hiding there P ^ *** t^t my master ij^^„ mi swore that we had nipped him clewilythi. - *. wood., Tea Z^.r^TuTIZ^^'Z''^ J I ft ij f 344 RAIDERLAND " My master," quoth he, "has no hiding-place that I know of. I ken well he can always find me when he wants to set me a piece of work— and that is often enough. And I am sure if be thought you kind gentlemen wanted to speak with him, he would immediately show himself to you. For such is ever his way." The soldiers laughed again, and the officer clapped Sandy on the back as he marched his men away. "You are a kindly enough nowt, man," he said; "take care you come to no harm in such a rebel service. Better enlist in his Majesty's dragoons, where they might make something of you, and where at any rate the drill-sergeant would straighten those bent shoulders of yours." " I wad rather hae Jess Gowans' besom across them than the drum-major's cat-o'-nine-tails ! " said Sandy, looking up cunningly. ^ "There I grant you show your good taste," smiled the officer, "for your Jess is both a blythe and a heartsome lassi" For in some things men are all alike. Then when all was clear, I would somewhat have repri- manded Jess for her freedoms with her master. But the daft quean had the assurance to tell me, her mistress, that unbonny as the master looked with Jock Wt i. iter's leathern jerkin on him and the besom shank across his back, he would have looked infinitely worse lying at the dykeback with his brains scattered here and there, like a bowl of porridge spilt on the grass. And when I would have answered the forward minx as she deserved, Sandy cried, "Goodwife, baud your tongue, for let me tell ye that ye owe your man and the bairns their father to that lass's ready wit 1" And indeed so true it was, that I thanked Jess that very day with kind words when we were by ourselves in the byre. I only did not wish to cocker her up with conceit in the pre- sence of Sandy, who indeed is ever more careful of the interests of well-looking maids than becomes a man in his position. \l i ADVENTURES OF ALEXANDER GORDON 245 conraence though I be and humbly Z,L ?/^ ' " "^ .potted ftom the world. «„ bueTrlr^l, ^ ""' ""■ wonder if such u we fcH ■„,„ ,k ^ ™? """"^ ^^' .o.H.dourse.v^ortht:is *%r;„i/r^ '" "^ stumble «d fall I Woei. ^ re , ** "■*■" ' *°^<' «d frilen very low , °* """• *» Scotland » poor indeed do^^^'irrmi.^^-f-' ^dr^r f*^ ' ™ (mat well-ketmed place), and espedaUy within rt,. ki_ j weaiyprijon of Blackness wh,».^!iA '""""*« "••"ed contort «, long taTSk v,^ t ■")' ■»« SKidy I was l«P of the li^ilVe ^ "^ "*'"" ' ^''P'"^ ~ -y d«ps of oppression, when CUve^ „" ^ had mS^" coum carry him. For the thought of his bairns was upon k RAIDERLAND him— and especially of another, the youngest, by his father yet all unseen. My Sandy had grown tired on the long way betwixt New- castle and the fair vale of the Glenkens. So on the sides of the Water of Crichope he had laid him down to sleep a while. And so behind a whin bush he lay, drowned in sleep and slack with weariness, when it chanced that a noted King's man— Dalyell is the name that God will one day damn him by— passed that way riding to a meet of the men-hunters. As he rode h-s horse started and reared, for almost had he stumbled over the body of a sleeping man. Sandy leaped up, and ere he could draw his sword, Dalyell called upon him to surrender. For the look of a Wanderer was stamped upon Sandy. And indeed, man to man there upon the wild moor, to give Alexander Gordon his due, little was it in his thbught to deny it Then began a fight, which, but for the fear of the lust of the eye and the pride of life taking possession of me, I had been glad and proud to see. For the man on the black horse fought with the man with his bare feet on the heather, the cuirassed soldier with the man without armour defensive, save his ragged coat, or weapon offensive, except the long-bladed Andrea in his right hand. And oft it seemed that Sandy Gordon must be overborne, for Dalyell rode well and fought furiously. But ever Sandy leaped lightly aside, and ever he kept on the side furthest fit)m his enemy's sword arm, and cut at his left hand when DalyeU would have drawn his pistols out of the holster to shoot him down. For, though often weak as other men in the things that are highest, few there be that can touch my man at the play with the steel blade (saving Wat Gordon of Lochinvar alone). I am, I trust, not over proud of this excelling in woridly warfare. But I set it down here because the tale must be told, and if I tell it not, none else will. So Sandy's sword, after they had fought a long while, appeared to wrap itself about the blade of the King's man, ADVENTURES OF ALEXANDER GORDON 247 «d St'^^'i^K'^^^K'" ''^^P^" "" J*^'^^ «"» of h« hand togger. Dalyell was lying beside his sword, and a fi^t ZI^ hi. br^t and the shining steel at his thrSt * '°°' '^ °" Quarter I " he cried with what breath was left him. -.11 J T *^' ^^y o"8^' to ^ve remembered the wellHconsidered motto of our Covenant battle^T" N^ua.^ for the active enemies of the Covenant ! » BuThe w^\Tl Zn^ ' 'r^ " "^'^ «^°"« -"^»e men ail ^he "AndwhatforthyUfe?" he asked of his prisoner. said D^eir"'"" '^"^ *"«^* '^^^ ^^°y*^^ to the King!" Then Sandy made a pact with hhe man ere he wouW L,h'1';J!'*'''^"'*'- "^"''^deWm swear ^twh«^^ he should be m command of a party sent to dis^rlT venticle or field meeting, if he shS^^a whS^VoiT^- permit the worshippers to retire in safety. Because he woijd hen know that the man who had spar J his Ufe w« lo^ those that worshipped the Lord in Zt place ^ his Hfl" ''c J^mf "1? "^""^ ^"* ^^' *^ P«»»i«^ " against «w ll of .H I '"'^''c * ^^'^^ °**^- And for a wK saw httle of the bamier, Sandy being gone to Holland aJn on a mission. But soon the promise became kno^Ti SSlJ?r ":;' k- "*'*' °" Solway.side or Edbbur^r^'w'J DalyeU and his troop were confronted with the wWt« W half-mast high on its double staves, till in hi, %• ^ cried. "Surely this Whig must ClZ dL himL^Tr evt: goin^^to and fro upon the earth, and walking^andT^^ But though doubtless many lives were saved by this means, to me It IS a thmg passing grievous that these maiyn^ preachers and men of God should have set »n iZ ^ • standard which proclaimed as clllv ^ a Zlr^ ^ "Ale^nder Gordon is here." insteTlff Se USS^S^bll^'t il: 248 RAIDERLAND of all true Mints, "No quarter for open enemies of tb< Covenants." But I am well aware that most are against me in this Indeed I fear me much that poor Jean Hamilton, and perhan (I do not know) her brother Sir Robert, are all that are left faithful to the true faith in all this weary realm of Scotland. And that is as much as to say in the world. Alas, how few there be that shall be saved ! The End of the MSS. written by Jean HamUton. ON THE DVMrniKS KOA0 CHAPTER XXIV J THE GARPEL LVm ™« to Jean's Waa's Wi, r!»u "' ^^^^ ''ho had fost written dfj^ ^*' ''*' *« «»« "**«•'' bjated tn«iition of Jea^,"^^,'"! Published the now cele- ^- n^ost delightful wJ;;tf"*>^- The son. Ill "f cut ofTj-^repeated the sto^l' Tr'j:-"^' '^^^7 y h>gh summer. The vouna k ?^^ Garpel-side. It ^veo^ side, and the bum wiS 1 °^ '^"'^ «^«ering on "^^^led. I think we ^ """""« °« beneath J w^ J°';nger,whoin the time oTS^.T ^'"'^"^ cS,n the ^Jean's Waa's was ind J'^^trdr ^^ ^^ ^^- °'a« m on a summer's dav tk ^^ heartsome place tn •»^. *e pu.h Of s,f4 Jtr:.ir ^'.r*' t"*^^ -49 P*^' beneath the Holy , , i ;f h 350 RAIDERLAND Linn, where the ministers held their great baptizing of bairns, when the bonny bum water dropped of its own accord on their brows as their fathers held them up. There were the leaves rubbing against one another with a pleasant soughing noise. These (says William Gordon) kept my heart stirring and content as long as I abode in the Glen of the Garpel. "There is in particular one little hill with a flat top, from which one may spy both up and down the glen, yet remain hidden under the leaves. Here I often frequented to go, though Sandy warned me that this would one day be my death. Yet I liked it best of all places in the daytime, and lay there prone on my belly for many hours together, very content, only chewing sorrel, clacking my heels together, and letting on that I was meditating. But, indeed, I never could look at water slipping away beneath me without letting it bear my thoughts with it, and' leave me to the dreaming. And the Garpel is an especially pleasant bum to watch thus running away from you. I have often had the same feelings in church when the sermon ran rippleless and even over my head. *• The only thing that annoyed me was when on the Sabbath days the Garpel became a great place for lovers to convene. And above all, at one angle behind Jean Gordon's cot, there is a bower planted with wild flowers- pleasant and retired doubtless, for them that are equipped with a lass." ^ Not only cosy but safe was the abode of Jean Gordon in these perilous times, and it was sitting on a stone, near that very Lovers' Bower, that Mr. Barbour told me over again the Tale of Jean's Waa's and of the faithless wooer who gaed up the lang glen of the Ken — alas, never to retum ! "The cottage sat bonnily on the brink of a glen, and ahnost from my very window b^^ the steep and precipitous descent. So that if the alarm were suddenly given, there was at least a chance of flinging myself out of the window and dropping into the tangled sides of the Linn of Garpel. The > " The Men of be Moss-Hags," p. 337. (Isbister & Co.) Jean's Waa's. I' "" "=>":» »«>D, „M0 TO „,^„. To /act . 350 .y^!f^:i .l^'MJi i , "rt HLft- THE CARPEL LYNN thought of the comfort of Jean's cm n,.^ . '^' willing to take the risk vi^t "^* "* **»« «»o'« ventZ the d.«^* .J? chiurof thH. "'"■ ?'* '' ' '^ ^'^ that night I lay and li.t..nJJ !>"» Poorly vnth me. So all beneath, daahW ^l^u h^ **"" """""'• °^ »»»« ^^^r channel * ^"' '''*' «''*' upstanding rock, in the te J!;:ttrnrnr^^^';; r ^-^ ^°^^*- -- •^- parties more thantS' ^'l^' ^^^ -;',;-'' ''^r' approached near the fastness „r iV^T.h. ,. m' f "?'" The Lord has taken «wav ih. . r ■ "■inking my hew broC yfa« ,t 'J""! '° *•■ °"P«'' •0 look upo„-^d h°l^«J „" „ T "* ; ''"'' ^- '»"V •^ H. .ligh.2 1 ^^r«"'""^"'"°">"'"n biggi. me this bh ^el .rtSni Tv""°"" "^- *> ' We; »a e'en ca.X™.*'.„''S ht^"™ "<"■ »"- " • Til ^-* •' I bidden i^«:Zt^Tcrxj°"^""'"' uiue out the mavis smg and the I 4 f ' v.Jaje^Atfi. iiwtr 1 m n 252 RAIDERLAND cushie complain. Think weel o' yersel', Willie lad, for ye a the first man body that has ever bidden the nicht within Jeai Waa's. Sandy, great as he thinks himsel', can tak' the Lin side for it. He is weather-seasoned like the red tod o' tl hills; but ye are shilpit and silly, boy William, so ye b best bide wi' auld Jean when ye can." * » •• The Men of the Mou-Hags." p. aja (Iibister ft Co.) ■^■.]fc' m m if I ■ri ,, - ij. \n*\ . S i': CHAPTER XXV LOCHINVAR LOCH Wild, grey, plain moorland tn tu^ ^ with purple streaks^rol W^ ^'' ''^'^^ *«d ^ed midsMhe brown p<^,X"iSf1'rr'"r^'"' *"^ « »»»« at some recent P^^i^n^Z^r^'^^'^^^^^-'has signs of such a wSc^viW b^Ttl "*''^'*"J'- ^here are most end, but it in innZ? f • "^^^""P^ at the western- er I^hinV^hrd^el^nrT^^^ '''' ''^ ^-^- "land which remain, in t^ th To^h '°T °" **^^ ""'« Edie OchOtree's famous nJZ:* ^* °'**'"*^ °*>«™ •Wn lads and tiathTeerr-'^af"' T'" '^^^ "''"^« ances warrant. ^ "* " ""<=^ « the ^ppear- But the eye of faith and romance can .fn sUence cincturing the ancient hZ" r r f '" *«« P«ace and ^cle of the vault orh^Je^ Jh ^^"""^ '^' '^' ^^"« Wat Gordon waltinor *k u ^~~*"*^ ^^« and a narrn- ^ **** battlements. "It was Th« Eye ^ S^e pe^m^^rif :,r "?r ^^^^ *»-- them, monument" "^ "** o^ » Peat fire went up straight as a pur^ThVixrte'::oircorH? ^'^ ^^^'^ --««^ unbeUef But one mayTt U 7^ Tf" ''^^^^^'^ P^^^^^^ the water in the hush of I • ** °" ^'^^ P^^^X brows above the young ij^hint^, ImTo" fh^h *''" /t-**^^ ^^'^^'^^ «' Je spoke " that word in h™ ^ '' w^T ^^ '"'''" *^^°'« for ever famous in song and lo^nce ""''"" »"' "«»« •S3 |i xti:^ '^'M^J: \Wi^^^^\ 'Ty^^Mi^d^K r. ^i 254 RAIDERLAND rf«v K '''"^*^«"'"« Of a great, solemn, serene Septembei ritV?' T^^'tr" »o ^™oJ^e going up from its chimneys, mth peat The midges danced and balanced; the moor- s'!:^' SJ, ' f °:' ""T^ '^^'^ ^'^^ «*^'- ^ -^^^ hJn."^*''' ^i"^^ ^*^ .''^P °" '^ '°"«'y i»J«t towering above ^ L J ''^'' '°°' ^*^ ^'^'^ ^'"^Jl" to his tmveUed eye-probably was so, mdeed, for the water had for many IZr "TL^Z^"^ °" ^'^ ^"^'^ ^-^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^ k'Zu"1*° *"" right was the granite ' snibbing-post' to ^'^iLtt'rr'^^^'^'- The pillar had,?e^mem^ o^!?;fK ! f '^''^^^^ '^^ ^^ °f ^t ^th a chip knocked out of the side-for makmg which with a hammer he had been r"?,.'"^"^ '^ "^ '"'^^- ^<^ there was the^ch^:^ ^usehold boat itself, nodding and rocking under the northern a«tle wall, where ,t descends abruptly into the deeps of the Hnnr ^!J.'*°^ under the carved archway and clattered on the bZ r ^ ''°u' P?*^ ^'■°'" '^^ water-side. For the great brass knocker which he remembered so weU had been tor^ off. no doubt dunng the recent troubles. "It was long indeed ere any one came to answer the summon^ and meanwhile Wat stood, dripping and shaking consumed wuh deadly weakness, yet consdous of a stTmoS he"?!!?"*'- u """^ "°"^' °"^^ ^^'P ^- -- - hTl" he thought-would grant him but one night's quiet rest, he ^ctlpt h'° ^" ^'" ""'''' '^ ^ -- - ^- -^ ^- - cametV^*, ''^ liT*! ? ''^ '" '^* ^^'^^'^ ^^ove. A footstep Z^nf ^ ^ M-^''^^^'^ ^'°"« ^^" ^^°"« P^««««- The thin gleam of a rushlight penetrated beneath the door, and shed a m w y I ' l> 1 ! * i"^' LOCH INVAR LOCH ^ss solid ray through the great worn key-hole The bolt, orn-i^ ^t .iti^? T ir""^' ""^ ">"' ^(0" w.t «ood ; ^ the w*"?":? °"i '""' '" ■»=«* "P "Hi s.o.n«.her- even tne jean Gordon of ancient days." i > " Lochinvar." p. 409. (Methuen & Co.) mm If: '&\ THE MUIR ROAD, NEAyTON-STEWART TO NEW GALLOWAY ". I CHAPTER XXVI PURPLE GALLOWAY Ti. ^E are many purple patches in Galloway. One cannot m .otumn get out of sight of the heather-Le. "rhaps ,n nonh Itt '1 ^": ^^^'f °^ «°'^^- But;to':arrt Thir; it '^,7 ^'•^^^Pl'P'r province which stretches from Moors" Tn'IcTrkf HK ''I T" "'•'^ °' '^^^^^^ ^"^ -"^^ the Moors. In Kirkcudbrightshire it is the country of the Lochs IS a place of flocks and herds, with here and there a lonelv farmhouse set white on the waste Rnt fU ^ ever rar*»r n= ,»,« ^ ^"* ^^^^^ ^re gromng rarer, as more and more of the holdings become "led" 2j6 -.. I PURPLE GALLOWAY stray shepherd or two XulS:"" '"'''' *"^ ""'^'^ ^^^^ ^^ a are many travelled waysl«rtfel ,r ^'^ '"*^' '"^^ '^^rc -nd. and a stout h^rt t^^J he ,^r 7 *^ ^'"^ P^ R«ders themselves, part oTi^^h 'i'^ °^ '^^ ^'^^'-J f«^ I^or here the CpTtrick r-/*^ ^ '"" '^"^h* 'nto a moss^overed era^itf l7w ^*^ P'""«" » moor, where there is^!™,? ^''^*^™"« of bog and 5|« "«» - the hair^J;:;^ l^^trinH^^^^^^^^^^^ "'^• •netals gives him liS/'wtj »"rf«=eman', section of raiLy zeroise. The ewes breaL^td^"' "J"^ **^ °^ »»«^thy on the line-side, or the ^J^ ' ^""'^* *"d ^t«yi«« gullies, foaming ^^H: ^^TZ^sZ^ 'T ^'^ ^'^"^ his embankments, undermining hL^r.' ""^ *'*""« '"^o the mo« pressing troubles o?h^ u^T"^' '^"^ ^^^P^rs. are be recVmmeS T^'thT^l'^r'^ '"•''^^"^ - Pleasure can Glenkens into the f^«s anH? T*^' '°""^ «"' of the quarters can usually Hbe^^ti,^^^^^^^^^ t' "t^^^^^^- ^ood he southern end of Lo^h D^^fjl^,'?^ shepherd's cottage at to putting up fishers. Those' Jhn^J l*"' ''"" accustomed diverge from the New GaS^waT^i v t' ^'^^^^ ""^ "^^^ Clatteringshaws. There fhe^wL^ ^hThT'* '""^ " straight before them andl'in »\4 • L ^^^'^ °^ ^h Dee uot difficult. The Sn^ of 'L r '^'^ '^°"> '^' «°ing is ^uchan. to the nortl^d '.^t S^co" '"' *'^ ^"''^^^ ^^ ^ho are not prepared to^LhU i^ the""'' ^ ^"^^ '°' ^f ;,^te of the upper waters of The Dee ^k-^^^^^^ "''' *"' ^'^^ Clattenngshaws before starting out on .h. ' ^^^^^d at tramp. '"""^^ out on the long cross-country The bucki. Minister." p. 3,. (T. F.sher Unwin.) a llll 358 RAIDERLAND i^:: f moorland, you will be able to review the whole of the laiK backwards, with its lochs and lochans, dints and mosses "- if not quite to the little white house of Mossdale itself, a least to Cairn Edward and the Bennan which look dowi upon it. From the " Great Corry which lies to the west of tb Black Craig of Dee, between the Hill o' the Hope and th Rig o' Craig Gilbert," you may also be able to see "tb reeking chimneys of the Laggan of Dee, and the Links of th Black Water itself, shining amid the dull yellows and greys c the grim mosses through which, very slowly, it makes its way. But I question much if even the sharpest eyes will be abl to trace the ancient "drove road " which used to wimple acros heather and morass, southward in the direction of the Wate of Cree. In the wild and lawless times of good two hundred year ago, smuggling and tottle-raiding went hand in hand Smugglers were, of course, not all outlaws like the hill-raider and " cairds." They were generally either seafaring men wh( looked upon smuggling as a profession, or the sons of respect able shore folk prepared to do a little "cross-work," half fo the guineas and half for the adventure. But at any rati raiders and smugglers worked mto each others' hands, an( made a combination very difficult to break up in that wil< time and coimtry. " In the palmy days of the traffic with the Isle of Man that tight little island supplied the best French brandy foi ^j^ «p the drouthy lairds of half Scotland— also lace foi Traders.* *^* 'keps' and stomachers of their dames, noi to speak of the Sabbath silks of the farmer's good wife, wherewith she showed that she had as proper a respeci for herself in the house of God as my lady herself in her braws " Take it how you like. Solway shore was a lively place ir those days, and it was worth something to be in the swim of the traffic. Aye, or even to have a snug farmhouse, with perhaps a hidden cellar or two, on the main trade-routes to Glasgow and Edinburgh. Much of the better stuff was run PURPLE GALLOWAY "dered that the revenurUw. oHhr . i*' "^^^ *«<» S^ ^Iv K*''^^'"-*" opinion bwhi^'Jr" '''^* '^""P'^ «»<*« «^'y by the people of the !k i ^ **'^ "P^'eW gcne- except^thoj:?^.!^ jStvrj-^''^^^ not U These smuggler, and RyosiM li^r^^'"* •^'^"' th^' conveyed their smugglS^l^ff^ ?f^ ^°"t«» by which •nd to Ghwgow or Pais]^„ thlt *° ^«»>"'8b on the east, »>«em. and so great thdr d^XTL «<> .«>»Piete was their there was not a farmer's greyb^' t^ " '* "^^ ^ «iy that the Solway fiUed with spSt^^'7^'' *^« ^thian. «S or queen, and not a b^Z^Jll **°"" «^»«"<« ^ J^g h«r Sabhath mutch. The^^'J^^ ''°'« ^^yi^id lace^ '<«. contenting thtmscwlTtSy" '''^ ^'^ «nd har^ round public-houses iT town. u "°** P*'^ '^tb Mngerinir «»uging.stick abo^t^e mLkets^l^.* "easure-cu^"^ were entirely suited. ""^^^-^^Pations for which th^ Can^Cb gIuX Td thf JJ^'' °^ *^^^ »"«« square in ^rder n,,er e,ciim::'pu'\^^l°^ ^^ «^''^ °^'^o^ red soldiers at his Uil-whkh L ' .""^P' "^'^ » ^rce^ years. Moreover, the flmii 1^"°' ^P^^'' °»oe in tw^^ day were better con^^TLTkt:^^''''^'''''" ^'^^ . So long, therefore, as th«r ^-l °^tbem. bonnet lairds and f^^rs oTClT" '^^ ^*' »^o»e> the '''^re little likely to^^" tn ^^ '^^^ *"^ the Glenkens ;-uggler,indefU:f°otWp^:r',f\ PP^iesTr tt foUowmg was their mode of n^fl "^^^ *"^ ^"d* The „ ■*■ "om the cows b, th, .t '^ ""^ "><> rodiy •»PP«i about with wheat^, ^ 'P'"'> """"n* «,,« -*"« the Hollander Ce -'.«',"«» f«"--th.Ind^ ^ of -ace, .he« „<«. ^"iorraS^r""^"-""^ *9S 360 RAIDERIJ^ND M the hones were able to carry were loaded for the n •' The Raiders," p. 171. (T. FUher Unwin.) is>i; ^ffW'f'-^i'^mi^^mmm.wm THE ROAD TO CARSI'HAIRN 'Jo /luef. a6o / " 1 "«-^'>r. i^: >"«»;»■ ' Loch uee over mto Glen Trool, and, after what has been said anv one who takes the Dungeon of Buchan route, ^^ ? at Z pen! and not unwarned. ^Js and what he found there, can be sought for in itsTro^^ fr^m wh LhT f ^" 'r^'^ '°^ Eggface Aut and the r^sS from which the landshp came down. But though there are a good many of the latter, I have never been abfe to find ^ny trace of the House of the Black Chest. As for the MurSer HoM^t IS quite another matter. It is there to speli fo itself-or, at least, what stands very well for it There IS yet another road for adventurers into the secret things of the hills. Near to the Bridge of Dee Water tte^ ve^:'7 off ;So/he right, the road to Craigencailzie. sl^ "It was a keen autumn morning, about six of the clock the sun just nsing over the top of MUlfore to the east. I wenJ out to observe, as is my custom, the dawn. It was a tZ autumnal sunnse of the moors, rich and smoky, with the pin^s^ and reds of summer aJl deepened to russet and misty gold,!, finitely more lovely withal, like a plain schoolgirl miss who, to ' " The Raiders." p. 233. (T. Fisher Unwin.) 364 RAIDERLAND il her own surprise, grows beautiful at twenty. With a keen sense of enjoyment I stood watching the moorbirds busy about their avocations, the snipe circling and quavering far overhead, the knot and dotterel going twittering down to the shallow pools to wet their legs, the heron standing like statues in the lochs to spear eels and young pike, and, what was as much part of the scheme of nature and life up in these solitud<% the blue smoke-drifts from Hector Faa's Shieling which rose along the rock-scarp of the Dungeon and disengaged themselves impal- pably from the verge, like mist drawn upward by the sun's heat, ere they melted into the bluer blue too fine for human sight to follow them further." Even in the times of the Levellers there seems to have been a farm hereabout:. For we find the hero describing his joumeyings over the world of heather in these words :— " Presently we came tb a little farm-steading, or something as much smaller than that, as my lady's spaniel is less than my lord's hound. The group of buildings, called Craigencailzie, seemed to be castaway, deserted, left forlorn and derelict amid that world of heather. And yet it was evident that folk lived there, and folk, moreover, not ill-provided with the necessities of life. Within some stables close at hand we could hear the sound of horses shifting their iron-shod hoofs in the but-end of the dwelling-house and cattle munching placidly in their stalls. It all sounded to me good and fiiendly, and of the Lowlands — though we had descended upon the place out of the very heart of the wilds, and, indeed, as I afterwards found, the heather grew up to the doors on all sides. " The name of the place was, as I say, Craigencailzie, and there was a well-marked track from it across the waste to the great Irish drove road which runs by the new town of Gallo- way to Dumfries." And so there is still. Note.—\ must not forget Lochenbreck away yonder to the right (reached most directly by Laurieston and Castle- Douglas). The purple brows of its heathery hills overtook the house where I was born. It has seen many regimes as a hotel and PURPLE GALLOWAY "Spa." and I have known it under all M n . '^^ It 18 renewing its youth and in*h u \ P"^"^ ('904) Pnest is the^nly well cond^cteS^ *^' , "".^l "' ^'- »"<* ^^ Set as it is on the br^d f^^ ",°?h /^ ^°''^ i" Galloway, much to do there. tTI 1^7 u I ^'^'^'''' *^«'« » "ot especially in a dry yea, wten th^K^'"^^"=^ " ^"«"«"^ but. charming ph«:e of '^sidlnt Z t''/'' ^'^^^^ "° '"^'^ is about seven and a h^fmT r '^'''"^^' Lochenbreck and nine from Casttoo' gL ^f '"f ^^!,G*"-«y Station able anywhere in the kingdoms thre^TXe""' ^' ''^'"- :t yi If m ON THE ROAD TO CARSPHAIRN P'" fi CHAPTER XXVII CLASH DA AN Clashdaan lies immediately above Loch Dee, and forms th southernmost end of the wild Dungeon ridge which shuts in th country of the lochs. It should certainly be climbed, if nc for the sake of "Mad Sir Uchtred of the Hills," at least fc the sake of the magnificent view, and because it is the mos thunder-battered of all the hills about, Craiglee, Craignavi Curlywee, not even excepting the Dungeon itself. Any stra shepherd, if fairly spoken and with a little time on his hands will show a traveller more of the effects of lightning on thi single hill than an average geologist is apt to see in a lifetime. My friend, Mr. M'Millan of Glenhead, was present witl me at one such scene, which I have done my best to describ( elsewhere. It will be many years before that deeply scorec record is erased from the side of Clashdaan where it looks ou upon Loch Dee. It is of the gipsy Harry Polwart, Hector Faa's lieutenant that the record speaks. " He had his course accurately marked, and after passing Loch Dee he bore away up the side of Curleywee, the peewits scattering and whinnying before him. He followed a66 CLASHDAAN ,5^ in h.lf««ore of shallow S.eter.nd?H^ """"J". "«P and flnall. i„ one nait -^. «nd a deep unruffled am, into the ,ille,Xr bZl *""' °' '°^' *^^i "»". were ju« on the bo4er LTofTl\T'''"r;?'- ^""^ Above them the blur.Z^ 1 ^^f^*^ "d Curleywee. .uniform heigh, .l™gU,t"dr^°r,f' "''™«' '^'"^ « whither thej- were goW but M„d^^„iL"''" "^' ''°'"''™« to keep on d^T^ ^ ^'^ *" '^-"> ^ "yhing, and ^r^dblownL'Tar^r^^^^r-Hn^'""- P-'f of j"^fdt":f^' T"" '""' «« "»'n-ier"!o^4 TI.«d„o. h« f.« sL*r ""«."» '«"« of hail in *=^'"""- n-i^^jow^r; a,tti;^f*rh'.r ■?"'"'• -' « warning c, and m" tuS' .f a '™i *,' ^"""^ """«* ■«*; which gave wa/uider he *hlnd "^^ °« """" "' pulled her ZZ'LZ f T "^ 'P""« '" ■>" 'Me, and » ftr. remaS^p^:^;^^,::^ '^'^' "Wch, after sliding put his ann abourTovce .n^f J^l*' """"""in-side. He ou. « if to snatch them ftom k" rtf^^r Llf Z.""""* Joyce saw a funnel^haped cloud wkh fl^. „ ■ ""r'.""^' a top along the moun^-sTr iT IhM^'"' 'r""« '** ne« moment, with a tr^m. ^ . "P°" ">«">• The Minding palt:^"* it^ Th ',/^'°"°" "^ «'""d and a !>«« of Jol ^3; t' T'1 r""^ '° «°d, and the surely heid^er pra«r ^^TA •Jankfulness. God had bolt h«l smitten S both f ^ """* ' "^^ '"""■>"■ f 11 PI l( *»-f 1 ip p ?= 268 RAIDERLAND "But the next instant, ogainst the rushing vapours of cloud, Joyce saw the figure of Harry the gipsy stand out ^ a certain wild nobility. His hands were outstretched, : as It were, striking palm-forward against tome horror. ' great boulder behind which they stood had disappeared a wild d">•" '" the "■ill of Ae .»^ Si 'Z,^'"* '"«""">' ""X looked abc.. himT^." ""' "^ '•™««" •»<* •( 'I . i ! ;ii h wmrf 1 ^ Id 1 bI' 1 M ti ! £ THB BRIDGi OVER THE BLACK WATER CHAPTER XXVIII THE COUNTRY OF THE LOCHS The Scot has the primitive instinct of nomenclature. When his name does not begin with " Mac," or end in "son," he is Gal Way £'^7"^ ^ ^ "8^*' * ^erd, a Shepherd, a Crock Names. "<^5^ » Smith, a Black, a Brown, a Grey, or a Reid. His houses, when not named imaginatively but obscurely in the aboriginal Gaelic, are Blinkbonnies^ Buss-o-Bields, Hermitages, Glowerower-'ems, and Cuddle- cozies. Beyond the Dungeon o' Buchan, the Black Craig o' Dee looks to the three Caimsmores, and the most northerly of these passes on the regard to th.^ Hill o' the Windy btan(krd. These are picturesque compounds, mostly of Saxon speech; the others, that is. nine out of ten place-names in Galloway, are still more sonorous and imaginative in Erse. Listen ! Ben Gaim and Ben Yelleray, Craigronald, Nel- THE COUNTRY OF THE LOCHS 271 dricken, Mulwharchar. and the Ria n' tu^Cr r . , , « If the gnn, pnmeval spirits had sat up there eaTJ V . ZiT^'t: -nountain-top. and bandfe^lS^s^ubk" ta Ana in this encounter the conntm r^r *u ^ u j than its share. All these last-^uoL7 ^^' "^"^ "°'"*' between T^K vT 7 • , '^^■^"^^ed names are to be found oeiween l^och Macatenck and the Glen nf Tr^i a j dozen more. fuUv as strand, .k u ^'°°^- ^"** * the account gi,e„ i. .. The Raiders "'sr'Jn^reCla'j' upper HS^^ire°?M^.:t' "^^ "^'*^ '"^^ nffK^*k . ^^^ Sheriffdom, on the border* the Covenant (N^lonL ^^d 1^^^^^^^ -<^ ^y an end of the M,n» ■ , J • ^^^ague), rose and made withl^Lld s!^^"''^ '"""« ^^^"^ ^°^^ -^ ^eir country tnoc^^lL'dT^hL'rwn^*"' ''^r^^^ *°*^^-^^^ °^«^e ' CmdereUa." p. 339. (;»„« Clarke & Co.) 4 r f I (' '•M j ■ m 272 RAIDERLAND I warrant was good unless countersigned with a musket. In th< dark days of the KilUng, this country (which seems fitted to U the great sanctuary of the persecuted), was more unsafe foi them than any part in the wilds. For this reason that there were always informers there who, for hire, would bring the troopers on the poor hunted wretches, cowering with their ragged clothes and tender consciences in moss-hags and among the great rocks of granite. "Then in the times which followed, all the land was swiftly pacified, save only the 'cairds" country— the cairds bemg the association of the outlaw clans that had gathered there. It seems strange that, so long as their depredations were withm bounds, no man interfered with their marauding so that they tool: many cattle, and &i many sheep as they had need of. As to heir country itself, no man had the lairdship of It, though my Lord^ Stewart of Garlics have long claimed some rights over it. For centuries the whole of it belonged to the country of the Kennedies, and aU the world knows that they were no better than they should be. As for lifting a drove of cattle from the lowlands, it had been done by every Macaterick for generations, though generally from Carrick or the Machars, where the people are less warlike than in Gal- loway itself."! In making the journey to Enoch, fatiguing enough in any case, the beauty of hill and water is so amazing that the traveller (if he takes my advice) will see as much as he can, draw, photograph, observe, and— read all about it in the next copy of "The Raiders" which comes under his hand. But, since such is my duty, I will say a word about each of the lochs in order. First, there are the twin lochs of Glen- head, picturesque "gowpenfuls" of water hidden among the heather— no more than a foretaste of what is to come. JHigh up on the side of Craiglee, too, lies the Dhu Loch, a kmd of weird, oblong, giant's bath, quite near the summit of the ndge-suUen and black, overhung by grey crags, and deep to the very edge— altogether one of the most impressive sights » '• The Raiders," p. 187. (T. Fisher Unwin.) •^ I THE COUNTRY OF THE LOCHS „, on oil the ace of the moorhnd I. murder might ha« beeT^^j L"^'." ""^ "•»" ' « «one or 80 in the neuk of » n!^^. ■ ^^ """P"^ "' ("'k We look do™ u^wl'^iT""" <^ ^ ««».l>le. ■nonine hiue «nd thick nL _ ^ , """'^ »' «l«»l .a. be ,„.,5„„.„'S:f^^~^*e broken djn. ^ by .hat outburst which ^Sd Mr J^T,^*" *^"«'' wl.«.ce «« GairW Burit^rrj"*' °' '^'' ^•"^■ Pri-ng right There «« . dC^n7h T ' "^^^ "^ ""- sTi^r^XTthTi^-^'^^-- ouUet of the loch were v« f„ IT . °' " '^'' ««»• *< waters. This ^ "tS^f^"" ^""^ ""o 'he rushing able «re, and certaWy Si^nT!!'""' "* ""'<'"'■ ". clean ^fr^. ^iTZmZt^J-''' ""^ •' '^ e™ set their picks ; the power rf Z ^^^ ""^ ^^ So great had been the fo™ of *e ^toSJ^fK °" *' ""• clean cut as with a knife doJn ,„ a k 5i "" P"^" "»» *K>U of sand and ita^tf ? *' ^ '"^ The deep •cros. the n.ou" o/tl'^LhtS-W '^ "" '*» « »«*" "eet-mitt cheese, and h tJita^ «««^ " one cut. from under the arch of ice tZ J 7?^ ''** ■"""=« out cave in some froz^rtZ!^ '^'^ "» 'och as out of a «>»«. it on .,, «dert''wrN"2iSr"*w'''*'"' ''^ have crossed the Mirf KnrT^ ^eioncken. We rees, and it is TucW f "^ '''^ °'^ ^^^^P "'^^« Weltered, are ind^"riillnw" ^"" '^ "^"i '° have « fortres, ha«d up^n .""^1"^^°^^^'.;- ■*« I*: IS' ' 274 RAIDERLAND m\ J. But, strangest of all the strange things about Loch 1 dricken, is that circle of dull, oily-looking water surroun with tall reeds towards its north-western shore, which has b named "The Murder Hole." Patrick Heron had experience of it one winter's ni| when, as he says, " I sallied forth, binding my ice-runners curved iron to my feet at the little inlet where the Mid-b issues — too strong and fierce ever to freeze, save only at edges where the frost and spray hung in fringes, reaching dc cold fingers to clasp the rapid waters. " Away to the left stretched Loch Neldricken, the midm of the three lochs of that wild high region — Valley, h dricken, and topmost Enoch. I set foot gingerly on the smoc black ice, with hardly even a sprinkling of snow upon it. ] the winds had swept away the little feathery fall, and the s face was smooth as glass beneath my feet. • ••..., " I was carried swiftly along, and there, not twenty ya before me, like a hideous black demon's eye looking up at t lay the unplumbed depths of the Murder Hole, in which, the second time, I came nigh to being my own victim. I membered the tales told of it. It never froze ; it was ne whitened with snow. With open mouth it lay ever waiting, t an insatiable beast, for its tribute of human life ; it never gs up a body committed to its depths, or br^ .vc a murderer's tn "The thin ice swayed beneath me, but did not crack which was the worse sign, for it was brittle and weakened the reeds. The lip of the horrid place seemed to shoot out me, and the reeds opened to show me the way I had myself down on all fours as I came among the rushes ; nov laid hold of them as I swept along, and so came to a stands! but a little way from that black verge." * Somebody (I do not remember who) once remarked me that there was more bad weather in " The Raiders " th; in any half-dozen books he had ever read. And going ov its pages for the purposes of this writing, I have been strui » •' The Raiders." p. 348. (T. Fisber Unwin.) Loch Nel- lurrounded h has been er's night, runners of I Mid-bum nly at the hing down e midmost illey, Nel- le smooth, n it. For id the sur- ety yards up at me, which, for im. I re- was never liting, like lever gave rer's trust, t crack — kened by oot out at I had let is ; now I standstill larked to ers " than oing over en struck ■^ f *1 ; kr 1 '' 1 ■ 1 1 i 1 ' 11 Jl ' 1 fii ]; If IMI 1 m AM THE COUNTRY OF THE LOCHS „, withthejuitneu of therern.* i. • . • good mwy „„„tci kind. o?«il wL^K**^ '•>" « do get -«.b«w«„N.,dricke„^/cJS:»^^ on ft. .Upp.^ -.» «r J^-r ^^. ~-^r P^ i" .h. he.„ ., •o the left. I, i, littiTZ. .tn ■*™'' "* '«"« «»»y remote of GaUoway loch, and tb^ZJl^ °"" *' ""»■ surge, a,rough the dri™,; mot.-S ""u '" '"'"'"8 .^ere'L^thrh^v^ir ^L!''- " "" » -« "P the earth remote. -Zll T' ""',*' '"' *»» «' mi-d of man," ,aith ftfp"* b^! wi '^t."^*" *« ^?^.^.^^r:;Mor^s^?;^-"-- - down 'Z t ^°. t^^; ;tl,^'» "*'. -.d ,e can g.„ "» built the aeUo7^e^;,f^?""^"<='>»- ^ that hi. darter Joyce ..Te^ l^^^T^' Z^^^^" «"» e^' 8round.mi.u mwledl^^s^la^"^' v."^ "" ■"■"« »d now .eveaUng «,. a.r« f^^^iXL-ft^'Ro*"''. /^I'' the Long Loch, and the rw -n. ""eiets— the Round Loch, gulf clo»d-.wiJb, ,hS^S;ed^o'IT,K^ """r "■' '^"««>" liite the boiling of a pot Y« . ^ ^ "" °"^'« »P"nl» Sheii, «, that L tt^sJLofl:^ fmow "'n"" " "» the hearth - ..taigh. „p .hf^r^^rr itt S^^" y ES Urn 376 RAIDERLAND i: 11 the heather and nigged briuhwood above. Down in the cauldron it«lf; however, there was a veering unequal wind, or, rather, -rtrife of windi, teasing the mist into wisps white as Umbs' wool and light as blown gossamer." Indeed, often as I have stood on this spot, I never re- member to have looked into Buchan's Dungeon without seeing somethmg brewing there. As soon as the sun begins to wester on the finest day of summer, with the first shadows, the cloud dnfts and mist spume begin to weave a veil over the huge cauldron. The herds are used to call this phenomenon "the boiling of the pot." This was what Patrick Heron saw when first he came to Enoch upon his fateful quest :— "Presently I found myself on the topmost ledge of all, and crawUng a few paces I looked down upon the desolate waste of Loch Enoch under the pale light of the stars. It is not possible that I should b<{ able to tell what I saw, yet I shall try. " I saw a weird wide world, new and strange, not fairly out of chaos— nor yet approven of God ; but rather such a scene as ^^ there may be on the farther side of the moon, Dungeon of "^^^^^ °° "*" ^^^ *««" "^^ can' see. I thought Biiehan. '^^ *o™e ^o« and pity on the poor souls con- demned, though it were by their own crimes, to sojourn there. I thought also that, had I been a dweller so far from ordinances and the cheerful faces of men, it might be that I had been no better than the outlaw men And I blamed myself that I had been so slack and careless in my attendance on reUgion, promising (for the comfort of my soul as I lay thus breathing and looking) that when I should be back in Rathan, May and I should ride each day to church upon a good horse, she behind me upon a pillion— and the thought put marrow into me. But whether grace or propinquity was in my mind, who shall say? At any rate I bethought me that God could not destroy a youth of such excellent intentions. "But this is what I saw, as clearly as the light permitted— a huge conical hill in front, the Hill of the Star, gUmmering I>: n .. THE COUNTRV OF THE LOCHS ^ PO" weep, of the M«mck fZ??^ ** "«''• "« *• »« iow«, «q, of Ti^^^ S"\hni!^ *T^ «" n«tli, my btack, Kt u, . ,JrT' ^"«" '^•' Enoch )». Ou«.«, „d on i^ n..tho«h,T.ll '""^' "" '"^ "f It U . fM cry to I^h ?' «''?'»""'« light" 1 limb « Uk« who c«^n, •,5r' ?<«»<'» "i"» "P"""' «iU b, the rid. of . bL^S^S,«LT:',.*l'"^ '• " " ■n .<• Al« forft fio„ ftetSid. 7^h S* '™'\°' "^ «»». moftw bum wift cl-~V!l w- M«»tenck ftere in the poou. T^«„Z^tT^.;« ""'•"'* "«•■ "nd ""ling up to fte 4eT, r^'^'S'" ™« "W'" •« by But owing to fte iiught ft •Ha"^,^''"* ?«' -J-^kly- ^'c^rLintrr^ tJS^^/ *« .^-oon hJl, WMe curing .h«Jow. UD^k, f 5?^^' °^ ^•^^^^ j°^" together to play up rot, most of the rtxAs there are rent and shattered ] ^ugl^ag^t had broken them and thrown th^^j "Beneath this wild and rocky place we kept our wav ti ghm^^e of the d.m ountry of hag ana heather thai 1 -K "'^^^l^'t ^^^^ "P *^ ^"^^ that is called the Gadlac where IS the best road over the bum of Palscaig and so v mto the great wide valley through which runs the^Sn L So guidmg ourselves by our marks, we held a straigh^co^. plice ir" °''''^^'* ™ ^^^'^^ S^^ --hich t'he hTd^ for Z ^!^ "°.°^^' '*^^^°" '° the famous Cove Macateric for the plamest reasons, though it is there to this day ^d"h «ow ^'" K, "'"• ^"' "'° ^'^^"^ how soon the tknes ma S?e; Butallti::^?' r '.'* ^°^^ '^^^ 'ts Lfen M^aieri^ W , xT" "^^ "• '^' '^ y°" ^^t to find Cov Macatenck. WUham Howatson. the herd of the Merrick o douce John MacmiUan that dweUs at Bongill in the How^ o Trool. can take you there-that is. if your legs be aWe t^ Kuig-s soldier. And this word also I say. that in the proces" of your long journeying you will find out. that though; ba^^may write a story-book, it takes a man to h^d 2 UP a'ctit^of Ltr* *'r """ ,"""" '° '^^ P^^^^- It is half-way KMi -^ . °^high rocks overlooking Loch Macatenck and the hillside IS bosky all about with bushes, both bS a^d se^ll mount^n-ash^ The mouth of the cavern irqui'hdd^T the summer by the leaves, and in the winter hy the nS of sr;^^;Sk'rc'h" "' 'r- ^^^^' ^^- ^ ^<^^ol Shaped rock, which ever threatens to come down and block; I- ■• .1- o "m mm ^m, v^r ^ If VI 4 \\ .r5^ mP^' ■*,">■ *^* THE COUNTRY OF THE LOCHS 279 Which indeed it is bound to do the entrance to the cave, some day. wiaer part, for the whole place is excpeHinr»i, «— ^ constricted." » exceedingly narrow and .l„,rf T *^^ ''^"'^ "P°" *^^ *^"«d« « not wet and chill as almost all sea caves are. where the water stands on the fl^ 1„^ dnps from every crevice. But it was at ^TfSlv SJv^f no^ J^ and had been roughly laid with bog^^'ug"?;^ Z toprSllThe 'r"' 'S^'- '"* °"^^ «»-^ - -th Ztier tops^^tUUhe floor was elastic like the many-plied carpets of "There was, as I have said, an in-ir and an outer cave . every way, out much higher towards th#» mnf nera ot the Shalloch, the rocks of the gairy face have settli^ more down upon themselves, and so much elected IheTj^Lt But the cave remains to this day on the Back Hill Tthe Starover the waters of Loch Macaterick. And the pkce is tam sheep cry there, even as they did in our hiding times." The which is all very true, and a wonderful wild olace is Loch Macatenck, but the ernes have fled, and &e c^^ h« rrv''*.'Sf ^,!ir '"^ ' ''°"^'* -^ Sire to mis^' ^" unwary. Still because of the wildness of the scene^ ^e strange shores of the loch, and also for the joy of Sb^ m one of the loneliest places in Scotland, there t^^^ pe.ul.ar pleasure in looking back on the days we s^nt I^fhat mldemess. Given l«gth of days and stren^h of UmMni«^ to go that way again before I die. Moreover, one can come back singing to music of his own composition the Rhyme of the Stor Wife, oerhao^ t^ very lady who murdered the herd laddie by^puS:.g*S..^c » •• The Men of the Mo«-Hags." p. ,73. (i,bi.ter ft Co.) u^a .if .' . 28o RAIDERLAND Thet^"!!: " *'^ »^^*^<^» «« keen to relate. This The Slock, MilqiUjtrker, and Craignine, The Breeshie and Craignaw, Are the five best hills for corklit, That ever the Star wife saw." And what corldit is, you find out when you get there ! II ■ f-n tKK P5j-^- 1*' Ir. •€i"h= ^ CHAPTER XXIX GLEN TROOL h " The Raiders," p. 335. (T. Fisher Unwin.) '^'TW -<.\.'. ^■■■^*' ^ f^ 1 y ."■ r <■ rvfti/iT"?":^ •'?«'*•• ■>!y ^1 \ }l I a ^ 3v;.p.~,i:^i ^Vr'v GLEN TROOL ^g •a thoe thinra are o^„?f^ . '" » ™'" *»•" But com. to TraS Z^ .■"**? ""= '■'" "»' "»"y "ho "O""- A«y.hq,l,erdwi,h„„"''^.'^"^,"S;- ^"J"" leut <»>. tell you) tu more ^^i f ° ^'' J""" <" « ■»«« from eZ,1Z a. DuZJ"; 2" V"' " '«'« 0^ the old futnew k«p. i,.^",^^ Lr.^.' ""^ "'"««"■" "d the .,ro„g of Umbr"^J*t'° *".""" »">=«. possession. gnmiea to enter m and uke alo-^wh^'w/rs^^r:!?' ™ "»•'"-'« ^ "-d," Cre^ Bridge iS^f oi^^K '^' Newton-Stewart uid «s. where *t 00^ Ll"^^"^' «™'-«» 'bout gora up yen- friendl^rZ! T- "^ ""' "•" "« '"'" ""k of the^ is stint<^^''.'„':,'r'zrrt''i° """ ■" °" -"erscome dow,, hfmbling whte» ""'*• ""'"' "» -Oh ^.chaifte^' ~r nrz-g^^'^Ss*^ •""' ^« teUectual popuUtions in the south. It was one *™«- :^^^rxrrm^h'SS-r^^.'"l^^ay. and with swLS^ "JZ ' 'w ""'■; / ""f" » "» °« s j i 't il !i I V fir! ^ fl 'ff^^firmwmm^. i '^ J. i 384 RAIDERLAND reaping-machines • gnamng ' and clicking cheerfully on t slope. Past Ravenshall we go, where the latest Scottish n sentative of the Chough or Red-legged Crow were, a few 3 ago, still to be found—a beautiful but unenterprising bird, since shouldered out of his once wide fields and lordship the rusty underbred democracy of the Rook. A little str let 'seeps ' its way down through the ambient granite, sacred to the memory of a good man, who for years cai his drinking-cup in his pocket that he might use it 1 It is the very spot. Ah I no more will Sir James C greatest of agriculturists and most lovable of men, pursue pastoral avocations—' watering his flocks,' as he loved to by taking out his guests to taste 'the best water in Stewartry,' at this favoured well by the wayside. " Refreshed by a draught, we mounted again and the i clean street of the Ferry town sinks behind us. We cl up and up till we find ourselves immediately beneath Creetown railway 'sUtion, where signals in battle array flanked against the skyj then down a long descent to shore levels at Palnure. It is now nearly four in the ai noon, and we pause at the entrance of the long hill roac New Galloway, uncertain whether to attempt it or no. man drives along in a light spring-cart. Of him we inq r^;arding the state of the road. " • Ye're never thinkin' o' takin' that bairn that lang w< road this nicht ? ' he asks. " It seems that the road is fatally cut up with the cartii^ wood, that much is a mere moorland track, and the rest unridable. This might do for a man, but it will not do for little Sweetheart at four o'clock of a September day. Th fore we thank our informant, who races us, unsuccessfi but good-humouredly, along the fine level road toward Newt Stewart, which smokes placidly in its beautiful valley as goodwives put on the kettles for their ' Four-hours' ' tea. " Here we are just in time to wait half-an-hour for the ti --as usual. During this period the Little Maid became exce ingly friendly with every one. She went and interviewee lly on every stttsh repre- A few yean ig bird, long Qrdsbipt by tttle itream- nite. It is Bars carried se it here, mes Caird, pursue his >ved to say, Iter in the id the long We climb eneath the ! array are ;ent to the the after- lill road to (m: no. A we inquire lang weary e carting of ! rest of it do for our y. There- uccessfully d Newton- lley as the tea. >r the train ne exceed- Tviewed a BR.nCK OVER THK M.NNOC,, -ON T,,,.: K-M,. TO ,.,„„ rKOo,, To/aLt fi. 28^ i i \v m "^ ^'■MUl i GLEN TROOL 185 her life.- 1 •» "^ ihe h«l known him intimately all the ^h K^«ri?' ^''T'"^'''"^ • lorely wiUk up co much ttste and feeling for natural fitneo r T ^^^/^^^ l-y. .!■ J-bw^ .T^T"' ""'P™'""- I' WM not Minnigaff i. Z^Jl" ^"'" *',''«'»" '• ~n«med. .h. ™y. «d for ^r^i::Jr.:^^Tji";:^^i;'"'" to the road which Das^HTK u "^ *'"'' ^*** ^*^"' «»Wes ordinary senses, are not pleasant objects for nrni ^ Sweetheart Travellers." p. ,8. (Wells Gardner. Darton & Co.) .-V&fLiL 286 RAIDERLAND middens, also, were set like mountainous islands in a sea ( liquid ^een filth, where ducks dabbled and squattered a day, and m which patient calves stood winking the flies froc their mflamed eyes, or to all appearance enjoying the coolnes and the light aromatic breezes, as much as though they ha< i^L'^^ T? *^^ '^"'^ knee-deep in some rippling river o hly-bordered lake." ff 6 ,yi. A^p WMisMMi^M£M:^LM4^^^ y.k 111- THE HARBOUR, GATEHOUSE CHAPTER XXX WIGTOWN SANDS o„«TJet Wr:^' t '^'°™^ ' '■"°'' -'-°- « 'ook •own (or ratherXrvil a~)rS'' «''"^^'"' -unty "s houses. Its sauare »^m. ^ ''°"" I"'" of an open-air 000,0,^0^ The w^rrT T'^ =" f" once fteir homes, and «, ™„„„^ ^Th ^''^ "« '"oks had l»yond words. If I had S H» • ''"'«'='«• P'^se n.e Wigtown^^,^,';*^ 'oj^ -n any 'own. ,• would be to their ancient dweUings '"^ """' '"^k quid's P^osrcol.r""'"' '° "''' "^^ of »-= anti- - .-en. . .Cir:^ ;^e ^PSl- o^'TL^? 11 ^|! «i! 288 RAIDERLAND " There was Provost Coltran, going home late at night to his town-house, after he and David Graham had taken their *• The Town "^^^tcap together. Very evidently the Provost Cfo^^n was carrying his full load. For in the midst of the ill-kept square of Wigtown, where certain tall trees grow, he paused and looked upward among the leaves to where the crows were chattering late among their young- lings. " ' Crawin' and splartin' deils,' he said, shaking one fist up at them, and holding to a tree with the other. * I'll hae ye brocht afore the Toon Cooncil and fined— aye, an' a' your goods and gear shall be escheat to the Crown. Blood me gin I dinna, or my name is no Provost Cowtran I David Graham will be glad to hear o' this ! He's aye keen on the fines ! ' " As to that drowning of the Martyrs which, once and for ever, made Wigtown famous, there can be no doubt in the mind of any one who, has read Dr. Stewart's reply to Mr. Napier's "Case for the Crown" that " the lasses were indeed pitten doon ! " They may have been reprieved in Edinburgh, but they were certainly murdered in Wigtown. Either the reprieve remained in Edinburgh to be found by Mr. Napier— or, if a copy was received by the executioners in Wigtown, it was quietly put behind the fire. No one who has lived among the descendants of those who saw the sight, or read the records of the local kirk-sessions, drawn up only a few years after the event, can have the least doubt that the crime was actually carried through to the bitter end. Though to argue the con- trary will no doubt always remain a useful intellectual exercise for pushing members of the junior bar. In "The Men of the Moss-Hags" I have tried to write a faithful and so far accurate account of what took place— that is, as faithful and as accurate as may be permitted to a romancer.^ " I will set down that day's doings as I saw them— but briefly, neither altering nor suppressing, because of this matter I cannot bear to write at large. It was but half-an-hour (Isbister&Co.) REMOTK LOCH TROOl. To/ace (•. a88 !l J '■*3v-J;',^^^j^ '^it^*^»^;,;i fl|m|y| Jp Hi < I -jasii \i i W9. ^ r'^yis .5 WIGTOWN SANDS before the bindine of th*. ««« *u , ^ ^ order that I J^f^l Z tl i *^' ^ '*^°* ^^^ «»«-» the word to sJdy ^'d the r^t"of th"'' *""' " ^^ ^'^' «-^ "And this, Jnold hirw^fl, n'""'' "' ^^'"^"'^^ ' veo' fond to da ' '"'*' *" constancy I should be through the sands'of the Uy o, Z^ Th'elJ ^ ^™"« slopes of mud, on which if nn- ?• u* ^^ ^'^^ «'« steep with a slide. Up tWs deeo 2n F!L ^' ^"^ *° *^« bottom day damming Sack t^^, ^i^^^^^^^^^ evety banks at full tide. When Sf ' . i^"* bnmn-ug the water adge, I saw th^^Zf ^ "^" *°°^ "^^ down to the the oo.ff tL^letorCrAu^,^ If '""^^ ^ « within me at once sick ^d hot S ^^^* ""^ ^"*" ^'^^"^ tethered deepest down heTsta^ele^^"^"' ^"^^"^°" ^^ the post rising as high as he'tL "" ^" '^' ^«°'"' ^''='> 'h'J' -^Jd be -^.p.^to^.f^^-r^rrfss ^ -t^, - - ?:rre: ^t ^ - £ T ; i Ks^ 290 RAIDERLAND li ' ^ ^ ment. Yet she was determined to die as she had lived, j honest, peaceable. Christian woman of a good confession— n learned, save in the scholarship of God, but therein of hi| attainment and great experience. And all honour be to h( for even as she determined, so she died. '• Then, when some of the soldiers were for fleeching wi her to take the Test, Lag cried out (for he ever loved li devil's-broth served hot) : " • Bide ye there I 'Tis needless to speak to the old beson Let her go quick to hell ! ' "But Provost Coltran, sober enough this morning, ar with other things to think of than the crows, came to tl bank edge. And standing where his feet were nearly on level with our little Margaret's head, he said to her: " * What see ye down there, Margaret Wilson ? What thir ye? Ca»i you with constancy suffer the choking of the sa water when it comes tp your turn ? ' " Now, though Coltran was a rude man and pang full < oaths, he spoke not so unfeelingly. But to him Margan replied, in a sweet voice that wafted up like the singing of psalm from the sweltering pit of pain : " • I see nought but Christ struggling there in the water i the person of one of His saints ! ' " Then the Provost came nearer still, and bending dow like an elder that gives counsel, said to her, ' Margaret, ye ai young and ken no better. We will give you your life gin y pray for the king. Will ye say aloud, " God save the king " ? " ' I desire the salvation of all men,' Margaret said. • Ma God save him an He will 1 ' " Coltran rose with a flush of triumph in his eye. He wa none so bad a man, only dozened with drink and bad compan) "'She has said itl' he cried, and from far and near th people took up the cry: 'She has said it, she has said it! And some were glad, but many shook their heads for wha they counted the dishonour of submission. "Now, Blednoch sands under Wigtown town were a sigh to behold that day. They were black with folk, all in scatter WIGTOWN SANDS THB MARTYRS' CRAVE, WIGTOWN 291 I *lr 1 1 i ji ^ '^1 »»« ^*ce "Then they beganTdri^X tTtl """"f ' '" ''*^- that they might^ th^ blutl of LT ""-^^^ '"' '"" mad with anger at the sighr * *^^'"« "^^' *°<* «« singi'i^L^rug'S^f 'li,^^^^^^^^ »»-. Hfted her voice to ing, and she leadW the wors^.t^,"'*^"*^.^^^^*^ ">«"»- did very well. ^ ** Glenveroch. as indeed she -^^'Z^ZT^VL^'^V'''^'^^^^^^^^^ And straight to my h^^S ""^ -«« °^ her sins, it went / can. tnmking on my own greater need : •My MM and fkulu of youth Do Thou, O Lord, forget: After ITiy mercy think on me, ^«a for Thy goodneag great.' went farther away, the »^ IfT^ -1' '"'"*"• B"' " « of the floods of gL7w«^hrlvtkt" P'*^'"* G<^ O"' bes-eging the TSote^SitS^S doT^Tf ^'^^ ™en. I saw the »«,. k /"*" oreajcmg down the hearts of cheek. ' *"" ^°PP'"S ^°^'" "^^y ^ rude soldiers \ n [•1 ^gr^R^. •^^^^w'-^smf^mmi^m^MZ i ' 294 RAIDERLAND Nevertheless, aH the more because they were ashame they swore incessantly, cursing Lag and Winram back ar forth, thrwtening to shoot them for devite thus to kill youi maids and weakly won.ea "But once again in the pauses of the drums the words ( Margarets song came clear. Forget them shall I never, ti f^ T ?r "' deathbed, and can remember nothing bi The Lord's my Shepherd,' which eveiy Scot minds 1 h dymg hour. These were the words she sang :— • Turn unto me Thy face, And to me mercy ihow ; Because that I am desolate, And am brought very low. O do Thou keep my aoul, Do Thou deliver me : And let me never be aiham'd. Because I trust in Thee.' " After the last line there was a break and a silence I An( no more-^d no more ! But after the silence had endure< a space, there arose a wailing that wf.rt from the hill o Wigtown to the farthest shore of the Cree-the wailing of i whole countryside for a young lass done to death in the flowei of her youth, m the untouched grace and favour of her vir ginity. * * •• The Men of the Moes-Hags," p. 370. if?--^^ /^■vf; ■^ mil Ut'ili.'C'L**-*'''.*' '''■■ •■TLA::!! * : I ■ c 1 ■ 1 : 1 111 w i*'-'Tr. i^m^'^ww^i^ i'>:- ■^:$M^^^ %■ ^ 'Ci:>:y//li\ THATCHBD COTTAGES, PALNU«E CHAPTER XXXI TWO LAKELANDS GALLOWAY AND CUMBERLAND Of the sheaves looked up through the snow with "*«»« *« an unaccustomed and pathetic chill. ConJrtoo. Now in the last days of Novemh«.r fk^ ^^tl^Jr '"""^""f""""- 'o™,.he Lake, i, tC^j^te. "" *' ^^" ^"« '° fi« *« country belter I 'I ■J II;,. ,1 I \ If-! : W ' ^' 296 RAIDERLAND Yet those who live there aU the year teU me that it is like the srni on the hills of Beulah. when in spring the blue hyacinA haze Ues like peat reek in every hollow. But in ^t wind; and in fiummer-well, there are few places on earth that can woo me from Galloway in summer. "Autumn is Scotcli «ad lingers lovingly among the hills." So says die author of «« Ohig Grange," that gnicious poet- preacher. But, after all. Cumbria is also Stiathclyde,\nd save for the fight on Dunmail Rise we might have made one compact fangdom of it from Clyde to Mersey, and been a thorn m the sides of those intruding Saxons to which the Irish one were but as the tickling of a thistledown. Derwentwater I shall ever remember. It was, I think, in 1889, and on the first day of October in that year, that I saw the splendours of fuU autumn shine from under the veil of white like an arrayed bride on her way to the altar. The long smooth slopes of Helvellyn were smoother than ever-sleeked and pohshed with gUstering snow. The nearer ridges, Walla and the Castle Crag, stood black against the pure new-fallen But most of all I shaU not forget the Vale of St. John on that first of October, and the snow lying heaped and chill among the sheaves-the taU stooks blonde like meadow-sweet, growmg through frozen wreaths. Of course, even in a day the snow melted from oflF the com, and the farmers of the vale led m the gram no whit the worse. The October sun was hot A J^l^ °^ Derwentwater flamed into sudden crimson and gold, hke the sunset of a stormy day. Yet nevertheless Lakeland is "no my ain hoose-I ken by the bipn' o't." But it is a fine « hoose » for aU that, and there is happmess to me in sojourning in it My land is Galloway, and that I love best, even as I love mine own sweetheart better than another's sweetheart Once I said that Galloway was like a plain maid with beautiful eyes-^d not so very plain either when I come to think of it— but with eyes '^mm^mm^m^' ^ I ^m I Mi 1 m I'^'fl^K^ -^^B ^J ' "^K ' ■ li 1 f 1 1 W' u y 'II ! . r fl ^' L.. w^- TWO LAKELANDS ™i yon mil ind » Dhu Loch » lying a few steos T"" !-*« little Mlocb of Si^'r*"." f ^ ■"■»"»'» one of fte moraine," about wffLtS^ 7** ^^ ^.Uey " terminal "^ it appear, to r^d^t^Lf'""'*'""^- How "<*y JarkneM from h^ri^ .^^^^ ™T« '*™»* *« flopes of the anden^Fo^f Bu^Z^f' •*'. r"" '«'='«« ■' there is onl. the d~Z.° ""?»" <:'oang it in I Above Enoch and fte TL^T" "' "« '"'''' '"'' '""rf, drfendthep.^C'.he^"'. """ "' *' «°* "^ ""''"'ie it. lonely Meep and h^, to .ST^'^L"'"" ' '"•» ^°™ under which the shv t^^ S 'J°* '*''"° S"*"!- tonics, ^^ the .hy trout sulk and upon which the bo^-n^ >^^'Z^'Z^ :^.^ » "««'«■«' "ourelle" looked my bouZl ?? •? t* .'"'' °' » '«a"«fi>l '"•^•'e, I •m of meTSe^St'^' T" "" *' """ ■>-* "ter. I saw ttHS rf^ ^ °" ""^ "'^^'^ ^^ of the «l.en^ and a bm^^,^' mormng meal going up from station, where iTth. k^T °" "" "' *« 'ooaUty of the smoking his mo^t^ "ltd?:S"'°"i"* "« "O'" "» " -™;g the world's ffi. ^J^ ^i" "' '^'' ™ by su-p^it^wiZ'h*'" T? '^"^ '"'^ ""« -""^y most loved. As^ SS t « '^™ "'"''* "' '»'' "^^ ' 1"« «• AS I laid a finger upon the cord, of its own ;i ■ 298 RAIDERLAND accord the blind sprang upwards, and lo! there below me were the shining levels of the lake and the dawn red behind the hills to the east. An equal wind, chill but not dank, was blowing, and th^ white houses ot Coniston village looked right friendly at me across the bay. A good land, evte though not mine own! ^^■^s^ssir *'-1? CHAPTER XXXIl THE DIARY OF AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY GALLOWAY LAIRD «nt>»y, from the private not« 1^ tu f ' eighteenth "d worthy XTSgS^tT.S^* wf r"""^ ^"~^' «nt out to Virginia „a,o^^„ ?" T" *"*'"* He and honour as ^AmJriJT' ^ """ ''' ""^ '" Po^fon 0^w.eco„n.e-.--Xrr.rL-- - "mLs'^'sl'r.j "S ^"""''''. " '-'"- and lite a worthy cadet „f. ^ ^"^ "^ "* ">e land, before himfteid^rf . r ^""^ "*"*■ f"" *= «« he sS A. ancient t^^^^ ^ -»'' "-^ «>e restoration of PO«^on""„?Se^a.^rA Jur": """ '"°*" P"' "- » wKichin.j^he^SS^^'^'^PJI^J^ of ^^ghouse, to ^ W8. he bought Kirtwood^ntX^t^'S^;^ d ^ -.*j-^.* . ..Jl'lk^lC-^i^ f 300 RAIDERLAND \'i ■ i\ 1786 the lands of Duchrae in Gallowa|r, to which last the diary and papers in my hands have reference.^ These private memoranda are to me specially interesting, not only as breathing a spirit of kindly shrewdness and clear- eyed observation, in parts also a humorous appreciation of character — but because they give, with all the precision of a business document, the condition of those very moors and braes on which, nearly a century later, it was my own lot to "pu* the gowan," and harry the curlew of his marled eggs- iUready at the time of his first coming to Galloway, Mr. Cuninghame was a considerable laird, as well as a man of wide note and fame. He does not give the exact price at which he purchased the Duchrae estate (" by private bargain immediately after the roup "), but as the reduced upset price *"« ;^io,5oo, we may take it that Mr. Cuninghame's bargain was something well on the under-side of that sum. There is little of the Pepys element about the diary of our business-like laird. On the contrary, his purpose is made clear on the vety first page. "As it will be necessary for me to be here (upon the lands of Duchrae) at times when I shall be at a distance from my books and papers, this Memorandum Book is intended for my government and direction." Not a man to be put upon, this laird of Lain- shaw, but at the same time evidently concerned to do justly and to love mercy. First of all, however, he must understand. Then he will deliberate, judge, and act. He b^ins his record as follows, italics and all : — "Lainshaw, 26th /uiy 1787.— Having last night returned from Duchrae, where for the first time I have been since the » By the kindness of Captain R. D. Barrt Cuninghame of Hensol and Duchrae, I am permitted the use of the prirate diary written by his grand- father, Mr. William Coninghame of Lainshaw, who purchased the estate of Duchrae on the and February 1786, aad who visited it shortly afterwards to make the acc.uaintance of his new tenants. The good, kindly, &r-seeing man of aCEairs speaks on every page. I may add that these memoranda were written " for his own informatioa," and have never before been puUished. **Fof my govcfiuncfit and dlNcUotu* THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LA.RD 3c. exceeding ffood men ir"7"\^«««»^ there are short that ^ aTe a f tT T^ ^^''^-'' •»<* »" J"*- are on any S •„ ^ *u! ^'' ^"^^'' ^^at ??^*« new Tacks. Therefore it i!^ J** ^"'^ additional rents on them upon the ^tS^; ^^ T "^ "*'""* ^ ^^ couragement in my power nr^ . "1 ^^'^ reasonable en- the present tacks/b^a^t T ?"""« '""^ *^«^^ °' continuance on new Tacks even ,f?K •'"^',*° ^^^'^ ^^^^ but small." ^"^^^ '^ t^e "se of Rent should be These "tacks" or Iea».« ,?«♦• '77o-that is. sixteen yZ'^^ m" ^ °'. ^'^^^ ^'°™ «t>out to Galloway-were, as hTsavlt ^."^«^e'« coming The Duchrae pro^l ^Tvi' J'""«' ^V and human^ them comparativeirW The X, ,»r '°" ''^^ *^'^ ^^ mgofDnambreck/muchsliS'"'^^^^ detached hold- hood it is evident that thrl^elW n, "^ ''^^ "^'«^^"'- Part of the centuiy had indLd^i "jovenient of the earlier that is, it had sweTawarthf "i^u^^'P^P'^^^d- driventhecottiers aJd cXsL ^°""«^ »"d either to the status of hired kl^u^S uLTkT'' °' '^"^^ ^^em The wdl-to^o tenant rtrn'/h'^'''"^ themselves to pay "the whL r ^^"* ^**'« ^^ hound Parish-the wh^^mii^tte^^s L^V^.P"^^^^ *^"'d«« of the «^. with kirk andr^™/^»^-n they ^^ acts thereof. ^^pa^S^offir ^he^^^ ''^ ^^ P^ortion of the nSL s for rTbuilS? ^f *° "^ "^'^ to keep in repair aU dykes. («[cht ^fj^H ^ °' ""^ *"d office-houses on their fims ^ '*™°*' ^ '^^^^ «» the But these conditions, hard a.« th«, « il 302 RAIDERLAND opposite side of the Water of Dee, where the patriarchal *' No lease " sTStem of year-to-year tenanqf was still in vogue, inter- preted, however (as it seemed to Mr. Cuninghame), with some considerable personal kindliness. Still the method was Ceital, in that the tenants of the Parton estates had small encourage- ment to improve their farms, but on the contrary every reason to take as much out of them as possible. We canned but admire the shrewdness of our good Laird Cuninghame, who, with an eye at once kindly and alert, proves himself indeed "a chiel amang us takkin' notes" — although the "prenting" of his observations has been deferred for a hundred and twenty years. He goes everywhere and sees everyth; ig. Then, ere he retires to rest, he writes his " observes " down in enduring ink for his own " future government and direction." A wise and much practised man, this laird. Just, also — most just. He will pay to the uttermost farthing. No man shall suffer by him. But he knows the pleasure of making another do by him in like fashion. He will employ no factor or middleman, if he can help it — preferring always to deal directly with prin- cipals, rather than permit any third person to come between himself and his tenants. Iti "While at Duchrae I endeavoured, as it is mostly good grazing ground, but much of it of an uneven surface, to find out for my future government in granting New Tacks, what sheep and black cattle each farm is capable of maintaining through the year, as well as the quantity of croft and arable groimd, as is the method of estimating the value Z~*^^r***^ of £eutns in Peebles-shire. But I found that im- practable [sic] because my Tenants there depends chiefly on grazing bullocks (Irish and Galloway) which they are constantly buying and selling. So often at times some of these do not remain move than two weeks upon the Estate. For instance when I was there, one of the tenants sold a parcel of Galloway Bullocks which had been partly 3 months with him, partly 2 months and partly only a few days, the S--^**^- i IM ;3r:^*" THE DIARY OF A GAUX)WAY LA.rd 303 genenU but few .heeo AnH-.T^ .!^" "^ ^*^ ■«*? « upon them ui p,ring theiTklm ,?. T^ ^'^ """' "°*^ r.i«ng young SS. for tuS ^dt. r**";? ""^ "^^ » •nd chee«_whir.h« r. \r"' <»«'^ ™^« into butter "Hk'^ff :'tji^?,s^H^tKS'tr *"• •"•^"»'-« relations betwMn hsZ . Tl- . "" wmetime friendly sudden edSr H^*^!.^' °"8'"»'» "' Aird, suffer . might be saiTcreel^eettthT Th"'^'' • "^ "*«' " ■' ' Tob«xo Lord comes ^, S^tI T"-' ^"Pna ph„,er «,d need not 'n.^J^l^T^i^'l^r^ •^^TtT?"- "^^l breedmg and the conduct of afeirs. But «^ V" ^""^ is a man and a feUow Scot ^I^ • "P"*"™ "Im right or he h^^'^Ji^rr r^ *» "« « ^d shau fright i>im o'S ^''rp^^';;;^ ^f ^ '"'i^" owa Here is the laird of Aird^lTT " ''«^'' "^ i» Mn WiUijm Cuningha^e'^^^rprr'^ *» -' "John Livimoston of Airds in ic.i. „?^.;T called Airie in Balmaghie liShi fi.ii "^^ <'"' P^^ "dlus children. Thlte'et^htlSy""^ ""^ m .,84 from the Creditors of Ale^d^'M^e TU at the ui»et price of £,s'7. '^s. ^d. st/lren! ''«»»«^ i»herit«l a smaT L^^'ts Ltr' '!'!«'"»"'>°«' »d .o^3oos.g. r«.;T;o'iri> - no doubt feathering his nit^d .k A •"Tl'"'"*"* " stranger might verv wen ho«K ? busmess-hke visiting ^l 7. "" f """i"* «<»d PubUchouse). His Ti, Hm». «!r. k"? "^ *"" «''«"'• l^i-g about by "^'r- ^ ^'ifeT^^t " rr "°"^ '^'^ - "-" around it b ^^'^^"?'" "* <>''=''»• The shruobery uiira, are vprv nu;^ -.« ^- "wur, as wen as the finish- "tic stone. th^V'3S'.^^^rd""of 'r'"^'^ bedchambers with each a lent bedlL „ ?i? ?! "«*" « chambers, one of them Cwi^U^^'Z^n"" '.'«'• other containhw one. TkTv-. w ^' •**• and the of the hou«wfth a .i!L ™* ""=■• "« ^ *= «« end p>«.tinarsubH^ur«r2' ""r "* ^--^ «« rorm Of a ^ ^ ctTportie-^^rrJSf^^^" 3o8 RAIDERLAND f ; ! i the%^?^^K : ^°"''- . ^^« ''^^ «»"ittance into thegarden through some mistake, I viewed it on the outside from some waving ground which surrounds it. I found the waUs mclosed a acres of ground, having two cross brick waUs ZT^oZT '*• °"" ^r« * ^°" ^°"^ '^^ »t°"« fruit and another for grapes ; walls round about 13 or 14 feet high and well covered. This garden may be abouf 500 ^ds frot the house and on the opposite side of the hkh or miUtarv Road. None ofthe family Uvxng there at preset the ^S from which It IS reported he drew last year about ^70 Stg^ His stone fnjit he sells at 3 and 4/- per doz. From this 1 ^ht, to Boat of Cree, a small village, passing Sir Hannahs Estates and intended new house, the foundation of which was only m part cast, the main body of which wiU only be 75 by 50 and each of the wings on a parelel line about 50 feet Many of these granet stones were lying prepared, some of which I found 7 feet long. From the^I foE ^iLT k'I T°^ 'Z ^"'^^^ ^*^"*' * P'«tty considerable village which I reached to Dinner after a pleasant ride of near 40 miles. I past that evening with Mr. Samuel McCaull.1 for the purpose of seeing whom this ride was taken, break- fasted with him next morning, paid him £5 Stg. for his postages and trouble incurred with me about DucSae. Re- turning Aat evening by the military road to Gatehouse of ^eet and from that through the Muirs to WoodhalL distance about as miles in all." Next comes the account of a visit to Captain Laurie of Woodhall, and m a few lines we are made to see this quietly Captain ^'«^^* unaffected soldier, a man of no ceri Uofleof ™ony— somewhat soured indeed by the fact that Woodhall. °® bas no son to succeed him, and that (in so far as he makes outlays on the estate) he is spending boih'^XStT' '" •"'^-^'-^" ^ whon. Mr. Cuningluune THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD 309 ^^™"fiS.'„ "' '^'^," «->• "'^-"»" or bdmi!^^72^ •*"«'™«'"«»<>f'M«'«n>>«. Which 2^««»2^, meM5 tta,. being doubtful whether hV^I be in the interest of tte e^^f !^ ""^ ""^ enteruig „d stocking . new farm. °°™'"'«-«"' "«« -h" of Duch^.h™ """ °'" "•»" *' "Wnny hiowes tow«^ *" " "°- "^' P™^ of bird, Ld wUd -^"Sg^rhi.'-s ^aS^ hirxtir u-l-edi^^on the L^'ZCTvZ 7£^ ftom It pmly by a pritty con«demble loch, ««i nXb^ smaU nvulet of water running thiouith some m™4^^ ^ ! SfeSl,.^ m Ayr M>d who acquired them through to "fe about 30 year, agoe when he left Ayr.) The tSd te Ill iii ii 310 RAIDERLAND acquired lumselfm marriage with hi. wife, a Miss Cutler, to whom he h^ been mamed about 9 years. Her Appearance w debcate, of a sweet comjtenance, a genteel appearance, but ather silent and with little animation. The th^ diftrent Estates go to three different heini of taillie very distantly re- tated to him. excepting the one by his wife. Having had about 15 or 30 yean agoe some littie acquaintance of Captain I took Ae freedom of gomg directly to his house the erSin^ I reached Duchrae. This continued to be my head-quJ^ havmg sleept there 7 out of 10 nights I continued in that country, durmg which time I was generally employed upon ably. They keep a good table, the best I had occason to see m that countiy, but are rather retired. He is very sUent of no ceremome, and otherwise very plain, seemingly steady, resolute, attentive to his interests, quite easy in his circum! stances, laymg by money yearly, but rather soured and dis- couraged from making additions to his house, which was rather small and mconvenient, and improvements upon his estate, from the having no children or even a male nigh relation. This mduces him to take grassums when renting his farms He has a sett of good offices, forming a square about soo J^ south of his house, bmlt lately by himself. His garden betwixt the house and offices contains about one acre of ground mclowKi with a good hedge, and covered with many good old trees. Here they entertain their Tenants, many of whom comes from a distance, while engaged leading in and steckmg tfieu- p^te. Hay, etc—the first a mighty work, being their chief fewal." » -» / -, .-g By such stray allusions we can see into the heart of things down m Galloway during the latter half of the eighteenth cen- tury, and no "State of Agriculture" is so shrewd and com- prehensive as this journal of Mr. Wflliam Cuninghame's. It th«'«2£!^ \'^ °' ^**^'*" emeruin*! his tenants very differently from the iea4>owd laud mentioned in " The Dde of the Thirteen Herrings." THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD 31, of "Mr^c"?^ *? '^"^' T' ^»P'««>°n» left by the perusal 01 Mr. Graham's very admirable but undulv o^i^ ^umes on the «Kial life of Scotland TZ "^"'^ mfn !!? ,f "fy- ^'' ^"h»°» ^ indeed iUu- Social mmated all that he has touched, but upon the l^.^ two subjects-religion and the state of the farm- ^^'**^''- mL't^ ^T 7^°.*° '^^^-^ equally convincing book Swavste^ "* ?M°« J^^ ^ Galloway at least (^ch^ I wiTl'^Lm't'". °^ "^^ ^f""' '^^ °^ *^« ^^'^"^t^ themselves L«l T^ i° ^'T""^^' ^"* *»»« ''hole relation of theS GaUoway lau-ds to their people appears a kindly, a courteo^ 2^ ^T^d^e^'"^^ °"t- ^-^l-e.^^n'mry'S his visits, dwells among his tenantry. He is treated as an honoi^ ^es, but by no means bowed do^^fo" ^ flattered. Man to man they meet him. A son of the rich«»t S^r***^ '' ^'^ "P°" '' ^-^« the wo^" fertam grazmg pnvileges, which will be forfeited if the wood m the Duchrae bank is cut down. The yo^ J^ ^ two days to amve at a decision. We can see WmTnSn^ gravely computmg what his father and he will lose by S^^S arrangement-knit brows, bonnet puUed well d^^ nei^eT anxious to favour the new powers-Lt-be (who maTonT^; have the lettmg of a laiger farmX nor ye wiUing L do W^ thing unjust to the interests of his father H^ \^u ^* «blo^ the laird." Neither will he^u^l^'avo^^JS^lT ^nt% T^ri "^^^^o^ l^e assies the daiLeTt two buUocks of the value of five pounds each. And^!h«t basis, without a word the bargain ifstrudc ' In spite of the business-like sentences of the record we can eTes of'throlH t'''^^"^ ''" '° '° '^^^'^ ^^ *e k^ eyes of the old Tobacco Lord, man of affairs, triple laird watchmg him with a kind of pleasure. * We can almost hear him say, "I wish I had had that young man m Virginia. I could have made somet^ThiT" m imi^ 312 RAIDERLAND i -i Here is his own account of the matter. "Having been applyed to by an English company throueh Mr L.v,n^ton of Airds. whose woods they T'pSy to cutt, I made answer that as my wood of Duchbnw Bank ^of a proper age for cutting I inclined to seU it But as ^am^ must be paid the Tenant, for the Uberty of cutting, bumng carrymg away and haining the woods afterward?, dunng the n^mamder of hisTack(a«^a,/a/^«y,,,^,.^,,^ "o^intT'^ T\ '^ ^'^ ^^vetodo untk, without ^^^^nga third) I aplyed to the Tenant. Wflliam McConochie, feZ!* T* "^^ °^ ^"""^ (McConochie). who is the rich^^ tenant on tiie estate, to know what I must allow, desiring him to thmk of ,t and to inform me. He accordii^gly.^r To tZ r?K'*^'^*^°"' .^°^"«» ^' ^- r«=koned t^ ^omid wa^ equaJ to the mamtamance of two BuUocks through the year. I m^ht proceed to sell. cutt. .tc. when I pleased. Less ^er, with the food therem. was of importance to his and visits his neighbour. Glendimiing of Parton. the descen- dant of a veiy ancient family of Glendonwyns. though making n^^ f^ H«««gainwehaveinafewlinl,aw^ ?^^°^ ^.^"S^'^^-^^ntwry Galloway establishment Mr. Glendmmng, the master, is a CathoUc. but noways The Law 2°""^."^ "^^ »^" ^y» ^^e good Protestant and of Parton. "anovenan lau-d of Duchrae. In spite of his .K -u ^'^^''^^'^^I^d of Parton has recendy fitted tHe parish with a minister-very much to its taste-a fine young man with whom he is on good terms. He has a SJ^^'w '?fT*°LT^*'"'^°^"« "^^ » Presbyterian by buth, but. hke her husband and his CathoUcism, apparently "noways troublesome with it" kf"""*/ That pretty Mistress Glendinning should never have set >yt rwf[ THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LA.RD 3.3 ^h«.h^b^„„4^''^^^^G^w.y^« «.. .in,.) ««l. the Roman Church hu never h«^^. J ""^T "» very .eriou. enemy in XSric^*^ "*«»• PraKheis referred to h^^.'^ ScotUnd Cfeodto- "pon..he.Sev«,.H,-u*"^^ STJ T'' "SK^-ho-riMeA- held tte re.1 ' nL^^- F'^ •« "» been Scotland returning to the Ici^t »,"•'' """' '^"^ ' ■»' be- teenth^tur, £ds of t^a^J^ fl^'^J^'r? "» "^ "»)- co,t them dear «,me 2,) Z Zj' '^^'^ "" """• Mr. Cuninghame i, no hanTZ;!, \' P™*="' "»» «t. him the example,^. Ttb^^ . ^"' " ^^ "«• upon him to do lik.^ ." „™ "»' «>«>P»Won i. laid fi«t whS:if L"„S^^%^^-«ghe headach. ..the country," and he would ^th^lT. . 5°°^ ^^^ «»« hospitality. But he could n^t ^fu^Tlf tV ^ ^"^P^ happen to be the rule at Parton. ^^ • ^/* "^ ^^ should when he finds his host .^e? Jv^^k^'^^^^^ -«^ «« a couple of glasses of wine ^ ° . t °^ *^ **^- retuming in time for tea-Zwck ,?^^l* ""^ *°K«her, that could have been p^scri^ fo t^"l ''^^ ^ t^atmen ache No wonder thTt Ti^,^^' ^-nghame's head- the highest commendation upon hTt . r"^*" *^^ ^' ^^ cidentaUygi.es us anoth^ cTe to h" °^ ^"*°°' *°« I would '^'^ found and then to^t ^T^ "Vth'"* T^"^"* I profeued much aaonishniMt^- u ' "^omiation indeed great mutuJ«S^ .^^ ""' *^ "•°« be •^- 'BOV «id t WW '' ""^ •»«i<»"«'y ttey in some diftiJty in ^Zi^J^ T "" ""^r ^ *s«gree.bleiece«i?^^3*'"' """ """,' "* """« «» *e Sheriff.- He «I^ hTn^^^ "' "I"""' b^ore y^ I l«ft him in the werL^T ^ ^!^°° '° ""o » »«»ying aU night, by^,S*„ ^""^ ''" '""'»^°» °f McClell«,'.(T»L^)Sn?horj ■" f^T"™"' David V ««n.; Doat (whom he .poke highly of). He Mi % If 3i6 RAIDERLAND ( ; had carried me over and continued in waiting for me. I wai wy well pleased with my visit, promising to see Mr. Glen- dinning on being again at Duchrae." Of Gordon of Baltnaghie, though he has had longer acquaintance with him, our diarist has less to record, perhaps Gordon of ^°' .*^' ^^ reason. The laird and patron of the Balmaghlc P*"*? " *^® wealthiest of those who have recently acquired land — with the probable exception, that is, of Mr. Cuninghame himself— who, modest man, makes no comparisons as to his own possessions, but takes all men as he finds them. Mr. Gordon has a house in London, where he gives dinners of the best, and is fitting up the old house of Balmaghie for a summer residence. It is curious to reflect that by far the greater number of those names which the laird of Duchrae found occupying neighbouring estates have now disappeared. They were newcomers in 1786, but still newer comers occupy their places, and of all the Galloway posses- sions of this once wealthy family of the Balmaghie Gordons, all that now remains to them is no more than the burying- ground, a square overgrown clump, with a small mortuary chapel in the centre, through the windows of which the bird-nesting urchins of Glenlochar and Shankfoot used to gaze with awe upon the marble monument of "The Auld Admiral"— or knock on the door and run away, half expecting the inmate to give chase, his traditional cocked hat and pigtail showing above the sheeted graveclothes. " Thomas Gordon, Esq., of Balmaghie, in the parish of Balmaghie ard Patron thereof and Titular of the Teinds, about 50 years old, married to a sister of George Dempster, M.P., has childroi ; a younger son of a family in the Stewartry, purchased this Estate judicially in November 1785 — Rent;^45o yearly, price ;^io,5oo Stg. It is generaUy said by the Gentle- men in the Neighbourhood vhat he made the best purchase of any in the County. This Gentleman, having still a house in Madeira, he has resided for some years with his fiunily in THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD 3,7 s^.o j^;^^'2i:;5^r« •" - » "» so-u, wwd. j «y of SkS^- SZ£ril°'"r V ' '"^ "''""S which he «i»M of the Sh.^-^?*--?" **" *«"' » «k»« b» «^J!r** of GreenUw i. . C,„e„„i„ TUCW oy persuasion, though he attends the oamh •^"•v if^ ? „ '^'' '"' "nwUHng guest off to churrh 1^ It B F«, Day. wh.„ a,e lairf of Itactoe wL" wZjU^"^ impionng his mind and his dicesrio^ Zu '""'''''«''« "» nilly to Usten to a long «d "tTordi '° "^ "P*"' '"' '^"^■ after hi, host tales lui to see^rr?^'?""''- '^««- fiwous nurle dr^n^ ^, , • ? .°' ^arlinwark and his g«« ferdU^l^fes ^"JL'T " '^ '"^^^ "« "Old at so Rood alriTr?k . """ '"ri'»"«'. It b«w.« .he I^d r rive^^T' r "^""^ "«'' fimners throughout the couX ^.T ''■'[ *" •"PP'>' " "o .0 .^"Sn.:^oX^?rot:rt2^»"'^^"^'^ ( r I iii ^ \y 3i8 RAIDERLAND 'r ^r •« anybody, save lome one on the spot who could give alt hit attention to the working-an opinion which time ha* amplv venned. *^ ' But this remarkable Sheriff hat other claims on our atten- hoo. He sets off to Kirkcudbright-good ten milet-K)n foot, holds his court there, walks back to Carlinwark, where he apparently occupies himself with his loch marie tiU it is time to go back home to Greenlaw. He is certainly a man most dUigent m busmess, though his manner of serving the Lord IS not like that of Mr. Cuninghame-who is above all things a modemte man, and likes a neighbour, if he be a Catholic, to be noways troublesome about it, and if he be a Cameronian or high Covenant man to be zealous without ostentation. It is to be remarked that in speaking of the Sheriffs wife he styles her Mrs. Dalrymple, that being her maiden name. Indeed the practice of married women being called or calling themselves by their husband's names was still far from umyersal m Galloway— just as Janet Hamilton, the much- testifymg wife of Alexander Gordon, the " Bull of Earlstoun," staunchly signed herself by her maiden name, and even her husband, editing her " Covenantings " after her death, de- scribes them as those of Janet Hamilton. Here is, therefore, necewanly somewhat abridged, Mr. Cuninghame's account of the Cameronian sheriff of Kirkcudbrightshire :— " Alexander Gordon, Esq., of Greenlaw in the parish of Crossmichael, of which he is Patron— and Sheriff of the Coiinty. Having received a polite invitation by letter from him by one of my Tenants at Dumfries on my way back from London, mvitmg me to stay in his house on my coming to Duchrae, I returned for answer I should certainly do myself the honour of waiting upon him. I accordingly went down there on Wednesday the i8th (being 6 or 7 miles off) and remained until the aoth m the morning, taking that opportunity of callmg upon Mr. Philip Morison, minister of Balmaghie from whom I took an exact minute of the stipends my land presently pays. Thursday the 20th being the fast day of the THE DIARy OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD 3,, the rtemoon Mtvi" ttnT^^^."^"' "^ 1^' '"i-« of MoU„«. w^^.^'i~f: '*"«'' '^""gh «he E«.te choose their own ^Zs I^t of Barony, with pcw.r .., cost hin, about 40 i^nZ Mr r^^H ^ '' '* "*'" '^^'"'^ upon this Estate ab^t 8^' acJlJf«J"^°™^ "^^ ^« ^- with the Loch he wisht to?.n T- ^ ^"""^ 4°° «='es of which ha-g a Urge &.Ty'' T^'i^Sofn""'^"* '" ^^»>* -^ th»t I was obliged to tel! hLTw. m * P"* *° ""^ «> <^Jo8s chase, neither would if „ ^ ^°"^^ °°* ^^''^^ «« ^ pur- one who reside^aforn^r rhrsr^ ^T l!?^ P^"^"^* be only about 36 to ^Ty^ „w xx ' ^"^°" ^ ^« ^ before ao. to a Mi« D^LS! f rL, ^* "'^**^ ^^'J' '^'ly. older thai him He ^^l^^^^ ^^^ ' t*ke to i Fcat fatigue, giving his wholeTtt^do^r h' T^.'^d^'Koing two days of the w4 during Ihe S'? k ^^' **""P^« setts off on foot in the mom;! T\?[ ^" ^"^ ''^en, he miles from his hou^ 5^^^ K*^ Kirkcudbright, 10 or ,x -e evening als^^' ft^' ^r^d ^^^r T^' *^^ -\r.ro^:j-r^3-^^^ sidered the head. Mrs dXLv • , "^ °' ''''°"' >" " «»- •--^inhero^tsts^s^Tp-^r":^: 1! i ii if ■•I ll Vi 3to RAIDERLAND well, having good crops of com and grass. Their house is large and of an elegant appearance, having been built by the Kenmore family, from whom he bought it with the whole lands, by his Mother's advice, before he came of age. Offices numerous and midling good, with a good Kale yard adjoining containing more than an acre of ground enclosed and well sheltered around, with a deal of planting." Let it not be forgotten that when the Laird of Lainshaw and Duchrae came first into the Stewartry, the Sixteenth Louis stiU held his own in France. The affair of the diamond neck- lace was just settled, and the gruesome account of the cruel punishn.ent of Madame de la Motte appeared in the Gentle- maris Magatiru of that very year. Gretna Green was in the height of its fame, the most interesting marriages in every journal being headed •} At Gretna Green," just as a marriage announcement might now begin, "At St George's, Hanover Square." Rafts of highwaymen were hanged at Tyburn every week. Sheepstealers graced the gallows at Kirkcudbright or were sent to Dumfries if the Stewartry practitioner had been taking an alcoholic holiday. Yet in Galloway itself there seems a complete peacefulness. The days of Raiders and Levellers had long passed away. Peace In ^"*>t^e«» '^ere ^iw stiU a great deal of quiet (3,^0^^^^ smuggling along the coast, but inland our laird does not come across any trace of it, or at ieast does not mention it Perhaps the most remarkable part of his narrative, and one which I mean to quote ;n extenso, is that which deals with the farm life of the estate. His farmers, he is informed by aU the neighbouring lairds, are good men— no better or more trustworthy to be met with anywhere. And the new proprietor of Duchrae meets them worthily. He spends nights at their houses. He is there to dinner and tea, and he gives us, not a glimpse merely, but a complete picture of their condition. " From the present very high price of cattle, they would willingly keep more milch cows for the purpose of raising their ^^Mm.^. . THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD ,„ no,o^y„.cLi^?„fJ.^8flho«e^ which indeed U .bout buyi4 the" a„T V» '•• ,""'""• *"" "'" "" "*"8 Mcaell^d'f of Uteh - '^"' **" """^ "' *""«' buying buuikiytf^TwhrchTv iiL,!.?^" " ■"*• St F.i,h', ™„l,et in KngCdT^v A„rf '' ' '".""^ Table grounds (particuUrr.hTuLtriu"?^''" '''''''■ rally in patches or small fiet f^^ Tto a^ll" T'- more. This is partly ommr to T hi- •? ^ *'"'°'" broken rrvlr. ^^T j ^ '" ■*'"« '"'erapereed bv o.r^o^sstsri,^-^i^— - Change there has been. They rear rattle and the W<'"->o.Jo P.I^l.'"!! " ^^"» '" Ireland and even as far as ''"""* ^^Se7or^A^rs^:Ld"llr.°r» fbe ^ctz ''^T^:^^:r^^Ti farmer's w,fe. as we hope they are unto this hS^r^ Bm it is to h.s cattle that the farmer looks to pay his reT Th. ! . !, are to nde twice a year to Uinshaw to pay their rent ioThZ laird m person, at times when they will have thlln ^ to the best advantage and at the best seasons. ^*' dried ham lT*y!'-\ ^^"^"^ °"" ^"^ ^^ ^^^ *nd Mutton dried ham ,n their houses, which they sett down sliced in a 3« ^.AIDERLAND ' I I ("■"ef. with good tet, noit prima of moi fr^h »».«_ vt "nr good o.tmod ca« to B«ito ^^l!^!!'' "^ «ood bwon for dinner or »h«TZ,^t",?^' ^^ ""«»'«" Z^^^l '" I^'»gl«». where there are two Comfertk '*°''»'n?«'»»e description in twotDonwbelow- whiie .bo4":tS;';:er,:^ ^«.r^' ^^ -^ •^• b«d« the »er«nt.-^'into.r*^'^.7^^J aeabova I breakfasted «,d dined oSTly „ SZll r^ii^ho"," ^ I^^—being the one w^S rteep. in (who I understand has a fortune of 3, 4, or vT,™ Stg.. «>d „ dre«ed nekt and de«, « au ««<* and bear during d3r 1 Dreatasted at Unoch, and drank tea one evening at Uloch mA the respective Tenants and their families iZd McCIelknd^ the Tenant in Mains, is particularlTres^^ shoi^'T"?! '^"'■:?^^ '' * ^""°"« circumstance, and shows that Mr. Cumnghame has resolved that he will iTve Sr^X iThe^'it^? "* "^"^^ ^ow'histr^ S^eT^L t on .h" *"^J^ '^ **^ *** **^™' he will ride toL to Z Ik "'^ ^~'-""P- '^*«y have anything CuninaTL . directness and simplicity about all Mr. Sr/ot^le"^*"-^- "^ "*^- r^-». hut he V THE DIARY OF A GALLOWAY LAIRD 323 "Make your proposition. I wiM consider it. Hitisjust I will accept it. If not, not." ^ Our Uird is an honourable gentleman who has iMd large «p>«ience, and knows exactly the value of time. Whm first oLirt'^;i\^ "^^^ '^'^ ^^''^^"' *« ^^ «Hl what ^t mformahon possible to his tenants for their direction an the tnps to Lamshaw-where without doubt, they will find thenwelres both generously and amply entertained. imn^.!? "^l ^^ ^*™' ^'' Cuninghame is evidenUy most «np«ssed with that of Drumglass. It is here that he stays when among his tenantry. The daughter of the house pleases hm. She IS always neat and clean, well educated (of course), mth a fortune large for the time and country-altogether evidently a pr.re m the local marriage market. nf »f V^"*^"" '^ ^"^ four-poster bed, which (like the lady of the house) is also remarked upon as being neat and clean- a^'l^K °^/"^"^ ^'■°'" ^-^"Khts wh the wind blows about the windy emmence on which the house stands. With ^wtn .k'"^. ^"^ ^^ ^'"'^^'^ ^""«8l^« his weary limbs be^^^n the sheets, and draws up to his chin the warm blankets and coverlets with a sense of genial well-being. He flT^ with his purchase, pleased with his tenantry, pleased wi h h« hostess. He reflects that he will not rack-rent them, neither cause them to leave his farms milet on his hands. He knows that the ability to keep good tenants on his land is etter than a few pounds of extra rent. Sound is his sleep, and in the morning he awakes to a ^oway breakfast porridge doubtless, though he does not iiame them of a thicker consistency than those 01 Ayrehire. Vine plural demonstrative is used advisedly.) It may be surmised, however, that the good folk of Drum- glass thought pomdge beneath the dignity of a laird, and took theus early m the morning before the great man got up. At any rate they did not scant him of other provend. B«^f and mutton ham sliced on platters, fresh scones of divers sorts oatmeal cakes m farles crisp from the girdle, and pats of fresh 324 RAIDERLAND butter set out in a lordly dish tk. r at in DrumglaM in tho^ ^aa ^ "^ "^'^y" ^o scoff derk or lay^ '^"^ °'*^ ^y^* 'whether by laird or lout, and the UUioch oT ^I!^ J ^^"^ "^^^^ °fl>"chrae potatoes doubtlewTbreadl^d J!*"k' "^"^ '"^^ ^•"' '^th gl«« or so of 3pir^t oTorthe^n T*^ '^'' ^<* ^^'^ * the comer cupbLrd 1:^1!, ^""^^r«* ^"'^»»»nan from tenting farther gT? ' '"" *°^ °^ * J«« man's con- postl^X^r ^ ^selLr ir '" *'"^ ^- ^^ ^o- looks down on the sW^g't^eronre S™"^^^ "^^- ^' faced a broad view-nouL it "„h ?^T**^^ ^^ »ee, and sons, but "for the ««! V^„ understood) for ^thetic rea- clean." That islo^neTmerh ' °?f ^^ ^^^^^ the slope ! ^' . *"™" ^^^^^ his rubbish down to4/tt^r.:&a;t" '' r'^^ «"'^ ^^--e Authority, to whom wLe 1' ^ "^l'*"^ ^^ '^^ bounty regard to d«inage:::,d7^.:;;:,'^^^^P°^^" - the gate wiS our ^g^^aTd toTer^l^^^rn!!;^ ^^"^ ,^^ ^^.^^ ^^<^^ jolhty were subdued before h m i>^* ^"""^'y "^^^h and doubUe^ many an1,d':^^3 tb w^ dS^'* f ""'^ ^' midden-head abated at the xZl Ti, r^- *"** ""^^ * ^^^ that is the wont of others bSSLrr ''^^'' "°"^^- ««' more recent than the Y^^tZ^f;^' '°"^' ^^ ^ ^-^s a lan'^dTrmfort.'lL'irj"^^^^ ^^^ ^° ^^^oway folk, dwelling in^S Tu^'T:^^^' ""J"^^"^ ^'^ pounds each at a careful estate. ^5 u T '5 *^ ^^^"^^^ >ng firmly upon their riKhte^TIntfif. -^ ^?"°*^ "^^ ^^^^d- their labour in this ^i^e Zi f ^ ^ ^"^°5^« '^^ ^uits of the next. *^' ""^ ^°^^« out not unhopefuUy to INDEX AiLSA Craig, 9 Ajrieland, 36-43 Allangibbon Bridge, aae Anwoth, 171 stq. Auchencaim. 139 jalmelluigton, 10. 16 i'alanangan, 17 Dan's Ford. 38 Darmead. 345 Damaw, a6o ^'^fi ^' '""• '3^' *«• »^' »S7. Dee. Water of. 16. 33. 34 « ^« ^^.i87.x88.x^.ix?'^VaS7': Devorgilla, a, 3, 7. ,00 Donachadee, 8 Doon Water, 10 Druml»Bck.3a«y..4, ^ Drumclog. 8. 9 326 INDEX DrumglaM, i88 °»e^. ao uq., 197. aoi. an. aij. aao,aa3,3oo«f. DjJceC:or.a,99«? Duillfr|«8, I Mq., 47, 54 Eaxlston, aas, aa6. aa/, aia EgUn Lane, a77 Enoch. 44, 70. a6i, a83 Enterkin, 6 Eschonqubam, 57 Eipie. 34 Faik Islb. ia4 Frianninion. 178. ao8 Furbar, 139 Oadlach, 878 Gairland, 373, a8i OairlJes, 6a, 37a Owpel, aas, a4i. 349 stq. GeUton, laa, 124 Oirthon, no, 165 Girvan, 7 Gleghurnie, 87 °'*"£^' "^t^jri" ««' 59. 60, 63. 09, 71, a66, a6i Gfenkena, 333 «y.. 346, 357. 359, ( (lenlee, 17 Glenlochar, 181. 183, 186. 190, 194 Glenluce, 49 -r-' ^ Glentoo, 187 Ooldielea, 4 Gnuinocfa Water, 169 Grenoch, 33, 34, 197, an Orerstone. 198 I Hattskaick's Cavi, 163 Hensol, an Hdlan Isle, aa. 34 Holjrwood, 4 INCUCSTCW, 143 JASKNBSS, 371, 397 Jean's Waa's. 335, 849, 350. 353 Kklls, 67, no, 333, 360, a6i Kelton, 181 Ken. Water of. 17. 187. 333. 335. 337. ^ aSo. 356 Kenmure, 17, 53, 315, 334 Kemoch Hills. 66 Kirkbean. 103, 104 Kirkcudbrigjit. 3, 47, 135 «y„ 318 Ktrkmahoe, 4 Kirkmimn, 146 Knockbum, 119, 131 Knockcannon, 183. 186 Knockkcb, 178 Knockman, 375 v Lamachan, 43, 60, 70 "S**^'*' ''"• ''^' ***• *'■• Lindnoen, a Loch Anon, 371, 375 Loch Doon, 10, 60, 66 Loch^ 44. 60, 70, 71. as7. a«S3. ^^^°°^' **' *"' ^ **•• '^'' "^s Loch Fergus, a Loch Orannocb, aSi Loch-in-Loch, 65 Loch Ken, 308, 314 jw. Loch Kenick, 304 Loch Kinder, 100, loi ^^«*^««»«rick. 66, 178, 371,377. Loch Moan. 34, 180, 371 Loch Neldiicken. 6a, 64. 68, 371, 373. Loch Skerrow, 37 Loch Trool. 69 Loch^alfcy. 61 s^.. 371, 373. 874. Lochenbreck, 364 Lochinvar Loch. 335, 353 uq. Luce Water. 7 ■'*>-* Maxwelltown, 4 Meadow Head, 17 tenick, 6 ' Jwrick, ^ «y„ a6i, 378 *lj!lyea. a6i ''^iinnigair, 100. 345, 385 stg, 4mnoch Valley, ilo M'Lurg's Mill, 304 Mosidale. 3, 358 Murder Hole. a63. 373 i»f. Nether Cbae, 36 Netho-bolm, 4 New Galloway, 17, 33, 38, 198, 330 Ne^^,"J;^'»5^-»«^ NKtTS'''''"'''"'^'^^ OSCHAROTON, 146 Orraland. 146. 147 Palscaio. »jt Pvk UiU, So Parton, 3» Puna, i6 Port o" Wan«n. i,a ,„ QuAssu. Wood, 4 Rascakrel. ao9 Red Haveo, 139 Rhjnutt, 47 Rig of MUniOTe, 66 Ron, 137 Roughflrth. «4, X15. 144 INDEX Shire, 47 m^. 327 Snibe.w. a