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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. errata to I pelure, Dn d D 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ; ■Rw ERGREE N Lea /? VES : BEING Itotcs from mg Crabd ^ooh. BY 1'OOFIE. TORONTO : BELFORD BROTHERS MDCCCLXXV/I. Enterelacccr.linff to the Actof the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hunilrod and seventy-seven, by Rvlford Bhothbrh, in the office of the Minister of Aipricultur <. PKlNTEn AND B()INI> BV Hunter, Ko5E & (;<•.» TORONTO. OONTENl^S. CHAPTER I. ''^'*''' Before Startiko a CHAPTER n. Sue la Mer .„ CHAPTER TIL Liverpool— The Irish Sea— The Solway 33 . CHAPTER IV. At the Sea-side 3g CHAPTER V. The Borders— Carlisle '. 4^ CHAPTER VI. The Borders— Corby Castle 53 CHAPTER VII. The Borders— Naworth Castlb-Gilslaih) 60 CHAPTER VIIL Rambles in the Bordbe-Moors 70 "^nip^nPlfPfWVBMIBBPH f^ ■" Vi CONTENTS. PAOB. CHAPTER IX. Hkrhitaoe Castle 81 CHAPTER X. Mblbose — Abbotsford — Dryburoh 88 CHAPTER XI. Ramblinos in axd about Edinburgh 106 CHAPTER XII. Glasgow — The Land of Burns — Ruins 136 CHAPTER XIII. Pleasant Rambles 143 CHAPTER XIV. A Week to be Remembered .* 166 CHAPTER XV. Fountains Abbey— Bolton Priory : 178 CHPTER XVI. Skifton Castle — Haworth 188 CHAPTER XVII. Chatsworth — Haddon Hall 194 CHAPTER XVIII. Rbxtnion — Cathedrals — Colleges 202 CONTENTS. ^j CHAPTER XIX. ^^°'' Leamington .. . 216 CHAPTER XX. Catueoiuls— Ruins 223 CHAPTER XXI. A Month in Wales— Chester 236 CHAPTER XXII. In Sussex 246 CHAPTER XXIII. Two Months in the Isle of Wight .... ot^ *77 CHAPTER XXIV. Visits to, and a Winter in, London ggo CHAPTER XXV. Dover and its Neighbourhood-Canterbury Cathedral.. 373 EVERGREEN LEAVES CHAPTER I. BEFORE STARTING. SHALL not play another note this morning ! " ex- claimed Elise Hopeton, as she struck the last chords of Beethoven's Mondschein Sonata. " I must leave music for Fred, he interprets those dear old German masters as only a truly musical soul can ; but I have enjoyed this morning's music so much ! What a wild, rich beauty there is in Schumann and Weber. What tenderness, pathos, in Mozart and Mendelssohn ; one never wearies of their society." " Pray, Flo ! what are you in so deep a study about ? " she asked, addressing a young girl of her own age, who sat reading near an open window. " Theology again I Ben, ma rtiie ! have you answered yet satisfactorily to yourself the questions you and Fred discu.ssed so earnestly last night, why all living beings must suffer, or whether we are fallen through our own fault, or Eve's unhappy blunder on the banks of the Euphrates ? You see, ma, ft "^^ 10 BEFORE STARTING. mie, your author in regarded by correct theologians as dreadfully heterodox." " That may be," said Flo. " But nevertheless, I find him very clear, on some points absolutely unanswerable. I am just reading on the government of God. My author says : * That being has the most right to govern, who can, and will secure the greatest good to the universe.' He argues that God has the right to govern because He is perfect in goodness and benevolence, and because the aim of His empire is to elevate man to his state of primeval purity." How deep the two maiden theologians would have plunged into the sea of theology it is impossible for me to say. Possibly, like the German pantheists and their disciples, far beyond their depth, had not a voice sudden- ly exclaimed : " £lise, look here ! how had I better paint this sunset sky ? Would you make the colouring as brilliant as my model ? " " Ah ! Artist Annie ! You appeal to me out of the blindest affection," said Elise. " A genius like yours must go to Raffaello Sanzio, Poussin, Claude, or other great lights of the different schools. I love art ; beauty in all her forms, but you know dear, I am not artist enough to advise you." " I paint in colours, you in words, that is all the differ- ence. Your word-pictures are very graphic, making what you describe like a reality." " Gu-ls ! Do you think this wUl do ? " This question was addressed to the other three by a HEPORE STARTING. 11 maiden of blue eyes, spun gold hair, and that delicate peach complexion so seldom seen, who was altering the shape of a rich lace collar for her friend Flo, whom she declared she loved " better than any husband ever loved his wife." " Oh, how beautifully you have done it ! " cried the three girls, approaching the table, where all the delicate paraphernalia of a lady's work-basket lay scattered about. " You are a perfect love, Fannie ! Your magic touch, like a fairy's wand, lends a new grace to everything. How do you manage it ? " This scene took place in the morning-room at Idyl- wood, situated on the banks of the beautiful inland water, Lake Ontario. The fragrance of roses and violets ^oated in at the window, which opened on a balcony leading to a grass terrace, from which one descended by steps to the bright sparkling waters of the lake, where lay boats ready for use. The sound of the waves stole pleasantly on the ear, and mingled with the bird-songs which filled the air this sunny June morning. The four maidens in that pleasant sunny room, so different in form, character, talents, tastes, were in no wise related to each other ; but still they were boimd to- gether by the strongest sympathy and affection, — that sympathy which is ever begotten of congeniality of spirit, and literary pursuit shared in common. They had studied together for years, had botanized and painted, " read the constellations " and the classics, played and sung together, and had forgotten that they could not always be together, m. 12 BEPOTfE STARTING. iil M ! ! ' ( Mil — ^nay, could not even dwell in the same country. Alas, ye early, happy days, ye sweet friends, like the remem- bered music of a friendly voice, existing only as the memories of a by-gone time ! I seem to see those dear faces and hear those voices, so full of the sun of joy and hope, but 'tis but a fond fancy. Hin are ye for this world ? Annie wj^ the artist, and hence was always called by her comij^ rions " Artist Annie." She would fall into the wildest inptures over a noble tree or a fine sunset, and it was the dream of her girlhood to see the great works of painting and sculpture in the old world. Elise was the linguist, with a marvellous memory, so that she was playfully called the "labendiges Worterhuch" a passion for the natural sciences and theology. The fair Saxon, Fannie, delighted, too, in nature, and had a large collection of " bugs " and butterflies, plants and stones. Flo, like Elise, would have been a clergyman " had she been a man." She was the only Braut of the party, and the friends had promised to visit her in her English home, which was to be under the protecting shadow of an old cathedral. The friends had left school, and were on a visit to Elise at Idylwood before their long separation. Mr. Hopeton, the owner of Idylwood, was a bachelor of some fifty years, who had remained faithful to the memory of the affianced bride of his youth. His sister, the widow of an officer who had died in India, and the two orphan L^ BEFORE STARTING. 13 children of a brother, Elise and Fred, shared his home, and he had named them heirs to his wealth. They were on the eve of entering upon a long European tour, and a residence in Germany, France, and Italy, of sufficient length to master the languages of those countries. Artist Annie was an orphan, without brother or sister, and being the most intimate friend of Elise for many years. Aunt Jessie had invited the gifted girl to travel and study with her niece. While the friends were discussing the merits of Fannie's skill in lace collars, a clattering of horse-hoofs was heard, and Elise, going to the window, announced the arrival of Fred, who came galloping up the drive full of life and hilarity from his morning ride. "Well, Aunt Jessie," said Fred, as he came into luncheon, " have you been able to keep the girls straight for me while I was out ? Do you think Elise has got her things anywhere near ready? We cannot miss the steamer for her to buy a new hat, you know." " You foolish boy," said his sister laughing, ""do not be anxious or uneasy about my things. I am ready, to the last pair of gloves ; but do come, just for one minute and look at Artist Annie's last picture, she has but finished it; see how perfectly she has given the dense foliage of that sycamore, and the old ruin looks as if it had just stepped out of a Ruy8dael,or some other great master, ii'es^-ce pas?" " Yes, it is nice," said Fred enthusiastically ; " 1 am awfully glad you are to travel and study with us abroad, Mademoiselle Artiste ; in La belle France and Germany, f 14 BEFORE STARTING, and all over where we are to go, you will see more Saints, Madonnas and Holy Families, than you can count: Elise is alway raving about them, for she went with Aunt Jessie, you know ; — ^and then on the Rhine, Moselle, Neckar, and in every Wald in Germany, you can gratify your passion for ruins. I have been reading up, and I shall ask you to sketch the Alhambra — for I think we shall end up with Spain — and its only rival of the mediae- val ruins, Heidelberg Schloss. Elise is to be chroni- chrin, walking-history, and translator-general; I announce myself critic ! " That last evening was spent in boating, amid a solemn, holy, silent beauty of water, land, sky — with its number- less stars, the crescent moon with Venus in her train, — and after they had said their last good-night, perhaps for years, Elise wrote the following lines : FAREWELL. Farewell ! and must I see thee go, And far a stranger roam ? Chide not these tender tears that flow. For our deserted home. If e'er upon this shore you stand, Where we have stood of yore, Oh ! think of one in foreign land, Whom you may meet no more. When on the crescent moon you gaze, Or holy Evening Star, May they, sweet friend, fond mem'ries raise, Of one who wanders far. BEFORE STARTING. 15 Remember she will think of thee, Though oceans roll between ; Her dearest friend will ever be, As she hath ever been. Then fare thee well ! 'Tis sad ! Farewell ! Yet hope again to meet ; No absence can break Friendship's spell : Be-union, how sweet ! " There ! the last trunk and bag are on board!" exclaimed Mr. Hope ton, with a sigh of relief ; "now let me get you all to your own state-rooms at once, and we shall begin to feel a little settled for the voyage." " Yes," said Fred, " and I suggest that everybody set his house in order. Artist Annie will get all her sketch- ing materials to the top of her trunk. Elise, you did not forget your Denkbuch, did you, and pen- cils ! You must begin to take notes almost directly, you know. I intend to study human nature well this voyage; an ocean steamer is a splendid place to find out what people are really made of." Ft i I CHAPTER II. 8UR LA MEB. , HE sea ! The wild, grand, fearless billows ! How suggestive of Infinity ! of Omnipotence ! and how one's soul goes out in sympathy with its mighty forces, ungovemed by human potency, and in strange yeanlings to fathom its mysteries ! Our friend Elise, official " Chro- niolerin " to our party, stood in profound thought upon deck ; the " Sea Gull " was out at sea ; the good byes and frantic waving of hats and handkerchiefs were over , there had been the normal amount of bustle, confusion; excitement, incident to such occasions ; the most heroic resolutions had been formed, and it may be safely assert- ed, that the introduction to the state-room regions, had suffered from sundry drawbacks not the most reassuring in the world. " Well," said Fred, as he and Artist Annie came on deck, " I fancy Aunt Jessie's prediction that our next meal will be in the Mersey ! will not prove true ; how quiet and lovely the sea is ; we shall have a delightful voyage." I suspect," said Elise, " that old Neptune, with his Mermaids, the minxes, must have laughed at our com- SUR LA MER. 17 posure at luncheon, when they pictured to themselves coming events. Depend upon it they are brewing mis- chief in those quiet depths ; this calm is unreliable." And so it proved. The wind rose as they lost sight of land, — in honour of that event ; the passengers, finding themselves in a somewhat unsettled condition, gradually disappeared into the regions below, and Fred, who com- plained of a " suspicious giddiness in the head," was no more seen, for a period I decline to mention. It is seri- ously to be feared his study of human nature was sadly neglected, and "Steward" was summoned rather more fre- quently than that martyred individual, laden with basins, brandy, and broth, found quite convenient. Old Neptune's prescriptions, aided by the amiable suggestions of Proserpine and her suite, had brought about the final catastrophe. Sea-sickness is utterly unlike any other doideiir in the whole catalogue of human miseries and woes that ever fell from the over-inquisitive Pandora's box. Do not take fright ; I am not going to describe it — it's in- describable ! I advise you, ma chere, if you desire to be- come au fait in this disorder, to get yourself presented at Neptune's court. If you have already enjoyed that honour, you remember those nights at sea ! — n'est-ce pas ? There you lie in your berth, very much like an Egyptian mummy laid up on a shelf, or rather, you stand, first on your head, then on your heels,, or, at every roll of the vessel from " starboard" to " port," you feel sure to roll somewhere — lying still is a feat not to be thought of. The dim lamp vanishes into fearful dark- 18 SUR LA MER. i n ness at midnight, and, amid the most unearthly sounds, you helplessly wait till morning comes. With our party Sunday chanced to be the first morn- ing, but there were not many responses at prayers ; the stewardess intimated that the passengers were on their " beam ends ! " It must be granted that a sea- voyage, to say the least of it, is somewhat monotonous. True, one has the "bells" to learn, if one would always know the time for one's self ; then comes the grand ceremony of " throwing the log," at which tout le monde who have quarrelled with mal-de-mer, " assists ; " — the taking of the solar observa- tion, by which the time is determined, so soon as the lati- tude and longitude are found. Sometimes a distant sail, looking wonderfully pictur- esque, awakens a thousand conjectures, which, however, usually come to nothing, as it is almost sure to approach no nearer than the horizon. I always think a noble vessel, her white sails spread like the wings of an alba- tross, and filled with the breeze, is a beautiful type of the soul of the Christian on its heavenward journey ; and as the top of her mast vanishes under the horizon, these words, in a criticism on Bunyan, come back to memory : " The last glimpse you catch of her, she is gloriously entering the harbour, the haven of eternal rest, yea, you see her, that like a star, in the morning of eternity, dies into the light of heaven." Thanks too, to the beautiful sea-mews, that come in flocks to be regaled with ships' delicacies, and so grace- SUR LA MfiR. 19 3r ones fully pick out of the green-blue-waves what is thrown to them. The saloon often musters a happy circle, some, with brain steady enough, writing, others reading — here and there a group at some game, or a meditative individual gazing quietly on the never-resting billows. The " Sea-gull " was far out of sight of land ; Elise sat in a cosy comer, lost in that very pleasant, comforting poem for the sea, " Sir Patrick Spens," who succeeds in getting himself wrecked off the Hebrides on his return from Scandinavia with the " Maid of Norway," who is to become Queen of Scotland ; Artist Annie was engaged on a marine sketch, when Fred, rushing into the saloon, upset all composure there by exclaiming : " Icebergs ! icebergs ! " In the wildest excitement everybody rushed on deck. Grandly sublime was the spectacle that presented itself. A number of these wonderful ice-mountains, in varied fantastic forms, grouped themselves, here a castle, there an imposing cathedral, with lofty towers, slender pinnacles and minarets, white as snow, fretted with the golden tints of a cloudless sun. Another, a vast Norman arch, the interior emerald green, the top glittering like burnished silver, mingled with the delicate tints of aqua marine, seemed to the lively imagination a fit entrance to the palace of Oceanus or Queen Mab's Grotto, the halls of Walhalla, or the Calypso of mystic fairies and goddesses, who seclude their forms from the vulgar scenes with which humanity is familiar. It was amusing enough to observe the stocial indiffer- !i ; ,,m 20 SUR LA MER. ence of the captain and one or two officers, in contrast with the enthusiasm of the passengers — they knew better ! Shoals of whales and porpoises frolicked and made mimic water falls in the ice-cold waters. It was after a cold, rainy day, that our friends stood shivering on deck, in a darkness so intense as to render it impossible to distinguish sea from sky, to observe the phosphorescent light which can only be seen to advan- tage when it is very dark. Looking from the " taffrail," the vessel seemed to plough a silver sea, while the most brilliant gems, like stars of varied-tinted lights, rose from the surface, blazed and disappeared in the dark distance, only to be succeeded by others of surpassing splendour* It would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of this unique scene — this Atlantic illumination, so brilliant and gorgeous, ever increasing in splendour as one goes south- ward. In the middle of Mr. Hopeton's scientific explana- tions of the Rhizopoda, the Tunicata, and other animals possessing the power of emitting light, especially in the tropical seas, a pelting shower somewhat damped their ardour, and the cosy supper which had been ordered by Fred in the well-lighted saloon, seemed doubly cheering. Rat-tat ! at tlie state-room door, "Girls ! are you not coming on deck to see the sunrise?" said a gay voice outside. " Yes, yes, we'll be ready in a minute," and Fred went whistling up and down waiting. How slowly, and with what indescribable majesty the jiionarch of light rose above, or, rather, out of the sea SUR LA M£R. 21 spreading his rosy halo over the heavens and the waters ! The seamen were spreading the sails, and the boatswain with his shrill whistle, gave meanwhile various mysterious orders to some sailors up the mast. Below them they could see the philosophic-looking cook, busy with prepar- ations for breakfast, coffee-pot or casserole in hand, the very image of resigned despair — if you can imagine such a thing. Poor fellow ! Many a toothsome, fragrant dish, has the treacherous sea spoiled for him. " Your * minute' has been twenty," said Fred, as the " girls" joined him ; " would you like to hear what I have been doing, keeping time with that unwearied engine ? " Just listen and see what a formidable rival Elise has got, but pray do not criticise too fiercely — remember the circumstances : ** *0n we go over the wave, Swiftly on our vessel brave ; Sea-gulls float and shadows play Over the shimmering spray. " 'Voices of Mermaids at eve, Soft floating like Zephyrs, leave Mystic music, mingling still With moonlight on sea and hill. " 'Further from land evermore ; Water and sky — nothing more ! Wild voices of wind and sea. Make one noble harmony. " ' Sweet are these evening sea-scenes, That wake sunny, youthful dreams ; ! f i ! 22 I ii SUR LA M£R. Dreams Ihat haunt our fancy still, Like music of woodland rill ; Like sounds from a distant shore, We loved in days of yore ; Like voices forever hushed. It was once our pride to trust. " 'Gently the billows murmur, Softly the balmy winds whisper Of youth and beauty, at rest Beneath the billowy crest ; And the bright, phosphoric light, Most brilliant in darkest night. Shines out like glittering gems. That deck princely diadems. " ' 'Tis sunrise on the ocean ! Bright is the golden vision. As the cloudy gates unfold To glories beyond, untold. In realms of infinite space, That angel forms ever grace — Where darkness finds not a place. And the billows laugh and sing, As their sunny spray they fling. And tell of mountain and cave. And many a sea-weed grave. Below in those awful depths. All unknown and fathomless. " * Now 'tis wind, rain and thunder ! The storm-god's thirst for plunder ; The waves their foam-heads toss high, Comme les chsvaux de bataiUe ; Spirits of the blast ride forth, K SUR LA M£R. Fierce in their terrible mirth, And those once full of gladness, Shall yield to bitter sadness ; And fire-sides lone and dreary, And broken hearts — and weary. Shall tell the tempest's power. In the dark and troubled hour, When mem'ries of friends and home, Were lost in the white sea-foam. " ' 'And there shall be no more sea' ' ! Let the words ring loud to thee Ocean ; play with wreck and woe, In thy haughty, lordly flow ! * 'Thus far, no further shalt go,' ' Are words of Eternal Love To thee from the heights above, And thy storms and waves are still, Before that infinite will.' " " That is very nice, my dear boy," said Mr. Hopeton, joining the little group, " but see ! I fear the fog is com- ing down on us, and there go * eight bells,' suppose we have some hot coffee, and you can interlard your salmon with poetry if you like — the girls look cold." " We are not through ! It's jolly coming on deck so early — and gives one such an appetite ! " " And the result will be, I shall get charged extra on our return ! " " Fred, when are you going to read us your ' Notes of a Boy's Voyage across the Atlantic ? ' " asked Ai-tist Annie as they went on deck after breakfast, the fickle-minded 24 SUR LA MER. i:ii ;i lij Fog having changed his mind, and left them for parts unknown. " Now, if you like." ** Do then," said Elise, " while we have the deck so quiet — they'll be beginning quoits soon, and there will be no chance." " 'Saturday. — It was an awfully hot day when we sailed from New York, and I thought there were more people to say gc-^d-bye, than passengers. The sea was very quiet, but the next day was rough, and a great, many of the most noisy people were missing ! "* Tuesday. — At luncheon time, tiie steward came on deck to ask me if I would have a roll ! I begged to decline, since for the last three days I had had nothing hut roll ! " 'Friday. — Bumped my head getting up ; the most touching event of the day ! At dinner I thought I would take a piece of peach tart ; one stood before the captain, decked with a large ' P,' which any body might suppose stood for peach — it was plum ! The steward pitched upon another ' P,' it was pear ! Meditated on the proper use of the letter P ! Went to bed early. Meant to lie down quietly, but missed the mark, my feet making acquaint- ance with the upper shelf — I beg pardon, I meant to say berth. Intended to get up next morning for 7 o'clock porridge ; woke in time to hear the last breakfast bell ! Very cold — felt it most in the nose. "I can only say I shall be glad enough to get a bed-room again, where a fellow is not obliged to stand on his head half the night ! SUK LA MER. " ' Saturday. — The steamer stopped suddenly ! They were ' sounding,' but we di h< aven>, careless of the earth and what she might have left there behind her, filled the thoughts of our friends with the most delicious fancies. Nature rejoiced in the fulness of her joy and beauty. I wish I could lead you, Ttia chere, fully to feel how exquisitely lovely this bright spring morning was. The drive lay along the soft banks of the Eden, that seemed to linger as she indulged in her graceful windings, as if turning back again, unwilling to leave the scene of so much sweet solitude, to launch her meadow-and-wild- flower-nurtured fair form, into the wild, uncertain billows of the ocean. Corby Wood is separated from the pretty Village of Wetheral by the Eden, and one crosses by ii stone bridge, or with a row boat. 54 THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. mt ! ' " Do see ! " exclaimed Artist Annie. " Every cottage is as white as snow, and every window full of flowers ! Let us cross by the boat ; see that dear little Swiss cottage on the other side, under the steep, wooded banks ! " " We leave the boat there," said Aunt Jessie, " and climb the precipitous bank, when we shall find ourselves close behind the castle." Corby stands high above the river, on a formation of red sandstone, from which one descends to the Eden partly by stone steps in front of the house. At the front are two or ti ree caves hewn out of the rock, which are used in summer for study and meditation — here were Greek, Latin, Italian and other classics — what an Arcadian retreat ! The house has a red front, decorated with a Doric portico, on the parapet above, the cognizance of the Howards, the red lion statant-gardant, and looks down a long grassy avenue, like an emerald ribbon, flanked by the most mag- nificent trees, to a gentle rising hill at some distance, crowned by a Grecian " Temple of Peace." They walked down this glorious avenue^ — the river at the right — to the temple, which is used as a summer-house. " Look ! " said Mr. Hopeton, pointing across the Eden, " there are the famous Wetheral Caves on the other side, just opposite this stone figure of St. Constantine, who seems to point sadly across to his old retreat, as if long- ing to return there ; we will visit them later." By the " Temple of Peace" they sat down, opened the luncheon-basket, and discussed its contents and the beau- ties of the landscape together. THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. 55 •ttage is rs ! Let ;tage on id climb es close ation of a partly rent are : used in t, Latin, retreat ! portico, irds, the r grassy st mag- istance, walked to the e Eden, er side, le, who f long- aed the e beau- " Do you not think it a pity, Fred, we have no Temple of Truth here as well ?" asked Elise. " It is my opinion that would be a hideous dwelling for most people. I wish our historians and biographers would use it for a study — the world would gain by it. Do you know anything of the history of Corby, Elise ?" " Oh yes, the first owner we read about, was the Hubert de Vaux — or Vallibus — who built Lanercost Priory ; in the Wetheral church we shall see a well-battered altar- tomb to the memory of a De Salkeld and his wife, which family also held the manor awhile. * Belted Will/ of Naworth, purchased the estate for his second son, Sir Francis Howard, and since then, it has been in possession of the Howards." Shall I tell you how they wandered from one delicious wood-path to another, through Corby Wood, indulging in the wildest fancies ? No, you too have been in the " En- chanted Wood," and I leave your imagination to fill up the hiatus. In the Howard chapel of the Wetheral church, is one of the immortal works of genius ; I mean the divine marble group by Nollekins, the memorial of the late Mr. Howard's young bride- wife. Religion, an exquisite figure at the head, supports the agonized frame of the dying, whose face is turned toward heaven, in the expression of which are wonderfully commingled the death-agony — Grief for the motherless babe, and Faith striving to grasp the Infinite, and the offered hand of Eternal Love. The poor little babe rests on the mother's knee, but the clasp of her hand is unloosed ! The Finite 56 THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. ill I'll 1 3;! exchanged for the Infinite. The Bible lies open on the couch. The power of this majestic, sublime group upon the mind is indescribable. As Elise letumed the third time to gaze upon it, the old verger, who had been in the service of the family half a century, and, too old to work, had the key of this chapel for his support, said, " Ah, Madam, I have seen my late master kneel there many a time, and weep like a child ; he always said it was such a good likeness of my mistress — and so it is — so it is." " What ruin is this V asked Artist Annie, as they walked to the caves. " That is Wetheral Priory," replied Mr. Hopeton; " it was a monastery founded by Ranulph de Meschines about eight hundred years ago. The unfortunate monks were sent adrift by the first devout Defender of the Faith, and where the saintly brotherhood drank wine and ale, and ate venison and capons, the hens, with their rising fami- lies, cluck and cackle undisturbed." "Here we are at the Caves!" exclaimed Elise. " Who made them? When were they made ?" " Nobody knows the least thing about it," said Fred, laughing ; " tout le monde gropes in a most benighted state of mind respecting their origin and object." " Tradition has assigned their origin to St, Constantine, son of a Scottish king," said Aunt Jessie, " and says he died a hermit in them; the probability is they were hiding- places." By a flight of modern steps one climbs forty feet above the Eden to enter these romantic caves. In the old III '} THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. 57 fi ibove le old times, one must have entered by means of a ladder. These mysterious caves are three in number, hewn out of the red sandstone ; they are irregular in shape, and unequal in size. Fred and Mr. Hopeton measured them, and found they were all about eight feet in height, the largest cave being twenty-two, and the smallest twenty feet long. There is no separate doorway to each, but a common entrance to them all at the end of a gallery on the rock. This gallery is formed on one side by the caves, on the river-side by a parapet of ashlar work, hidden in the old time by the dense foliage. In the centre of this parapet is a chimney, which must have been common property. There were three windows in this parapet, one for each cave, one, evidently the state-window, — a handsome double- mullioned, still tolerably well preserved. From these caves our friends took leave of Corby Wood, which they had just left; — the whole scene was most romantic and fascinating. Their drives and walks around Carlisle lay — "By many a cairn and trenched mound, Where chiefs of yore sleep lone a ' sound, And Springs, where gray-hair'd shepherds tell. That still the fairies love to dwell." There was a morning ramble, though green holmes, past simple cottages, and bright, rosy children, to old Lin- stock, now a farm-house, formerly the residence of the Bishops of Carlisle. " We know very little of what has transpired in this old gloomy-looking house," said Elise, " but we may safely £ 58 THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. I ii ! [ H W assume that in the furious, fiery Border-days, when a Bishop could brandish a sword and wear a helmet, or read a paternoster with equal readiness, it has had its share of drama." " Bishop Hilton was the chief light of the old house," said Fred; "he played a very prominent part in the his- tory of his times ; — he settled the claims of the numerous claimants for the Crown of Scotland, was present when John Baliol did homage for his kingdom to Edward, ex- communicated, by 'bell, book and candle,' Robert de Bruce for the murder of the Red Comyn in the Sanctuary of Grey Friars Monastery in Dumfries, and was present at the coronation of Edward II — in fact he was a small king himself." " I see from the chart," said Artist Annie, " that the Roman wall went close by here ! " ** Yes," said Mr. Hopeton, " here is a small remnant used as a garden wall — as one says here — ' dyke.' " Pleasant visions come back to me now of the pretty valley of the Caldew, of the many quiet walks and hedge- paths, where the Muses love to dwell, especially of a crimson-purple sunset, as the back-ground of a return- drive from Rose Castle, on every hand pictures of beauty. " One thinks in such places," said Artist Annie, " of bright mornings and calm evenings, of loves and lovers, beneath soft moons, with the cuckoo's mellow notes, and the triumphant trill and tremble of the nightingale's song, that, while filling one's heart with an untold peace and calm, seems an echo of the eternal plains — and how do I 111 , THE BORDERS — CORBY CASTLE. 69 we know they are not a very faint echo of heaven's music ? " Oh, yes, my hazel-eye friend, it is pleasant to recall those delicious hours — those delightful rambles — those chats, when we, so long fellow-students, !iad so much in common ; the broken thread of our intercourse shall be taken up again, and nothing will be lost or forgotten. I subscribe heartily that sentiment of our great Carlyle : — " The true past departs not, nothing that was worthy in the Past departs ; no Truth or Goodness realized by man ever dies, or can die ; but all is still here, and recognised or not, lives and works through endless changes." CHAPTER VII. THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. ^1 ** But louder still the clamour grew, And louder still the minstrels blew, When from beneath the greenwood tree, Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry. " LONG-to-be-remembered drive was that from Car- lisle to Naworth, the best-preserved of all the old Border keeps, and thence to the pretty, retired Gilsland, nestling so cosily among the solemn moor-hills. The Roman wall once ran in many places near the high road, and in several instances high mounds of earth still mark where castelli and turres have stood. Once the road lay on the foundations of the wall ; at the left the ditch that defended the rampart, was distinctly marked — again they drove in what had been the ditch " It seems like some enchanted land, full as it is of the relics of the mighty past," said Artist Annie, as they drove along. " Now the rich vale of the Irthing, winding through fields of yellow corn and the greenest meadows, the cattle and sheep regaling themselves under the shadows of clumps of trees along its banks, comes full in view from the uplands where our road lies ; what a pic- ture of quiet contentment and happiness one has in those THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. 61 snow-white farm-houses ! how richly all the hills and meadows of this sweet valley are wooded ! " That is Walton Wood in the distance, far to our left there," said Aunt Jessie, " in whose deep shade the stately Walton Abbey once stood." " Tell us something of the history of Naworth and the Gilsland barony, as we go along, Elise," said Fred ; " see ! there yonder is Lanercost Priory ! how lovely the ruins look with that massive tapestry of the dark green ivy ! " " These fair domains," said Elise, " of which Naworth is the baronial seat, have been in the possession of four Bor- der families, and have descended three times by female inheritance. Henry II. bestowed the Gilsland barony upon Hubert de Vallibus, or de Vaux, of Tryermain. Maud de Vaux, heiress of her familj^ married Thomas de Multon, of Askerton, thus uniting the estates of the two families. Maud de Multon brought the estates to the Dacres, whose seat was Dacre Castle, now used as a fann- house. "This once powerful family had their name from exploits of an ancestor at the siege of Acre, during the Crusades in the time of Coeur de Lion ; the name was originally written D'Acre. The last Lord Dacre was killed when a boy, leaving three sisters joint heiresses, and the estates and titles again descended by female inheritance. The second sister died ; Anne, the eldest, married Philip, Earl of Arundel, and Elizabeth, his brother, Lord William Howard, ' Belted Will,' the sons of that Duke of Norfolk, who was beheaded by Queen Elizabeth for the attempt 62 THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. II ; •i lihj Oi ■ 1 to release and marry Mary Stuart. The estates were many years forfeited to the crown ; after long delay they were restored — the baronies of Burgh and of Greystock, were given to Arundel, and the barony of Gilsland to Lord William Howard ; but, even after this judgment was given in favour of the heiresses, possession was withheld for several years, and poor Arundel never enjoyed his posi- tion ; he was imprisoned eight years, and finally died by poison. The younger brother escaped from the Tower, but the Howards were in disgrace, and though Lord Wil- liam and the Dowager-Countess instituted a suit, it was utterly fruitless. In the end a friend came to the rescue, and purchased the estates, that the title might not be damaged, and ' Belted Will,' with his wife Lady Elizabeth D'Acre, and their fifteen children, retired to Naworth, in whose delicious ^quiet and beauty he devoted his leisure to writing, adorning his estate, and filling the castle with works of art. The Howards have given two queens to England." " Both of whom might better have been washerwomen ! ' interrupted Fred. " The Earl of Surrey's uncle. Lord Thomas Howard, was privately affianced to the Lady Margaret Douglas, niece of Henry VIII., with the King's consent, but the fickle monarch, after the cruel murder of Anna Boleyn, committed both hapless lovers to the tower, where Lord Thomas died, and the Lady Margaret was not restored to court favour until after the death of Edward VI. As Countess of Lennox, she afterward got into dreadful dis- THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — QILSLAND. 63 grace with her queen-cousin Elizabeth, because of the mar- riage of her son, Lord Darnley, with Mary of Scotland ! Poor woman ! she had a thorny path to tread." " What a wonderful memory you have, dear Elise," said Artist Annie ; " you talk on like a history, and as if you saw the whole thing before your eyes." " I have told you very little indeed ; the history of the Howards is for a long time interwoven with that of their country." " One of the Dukes of Norfolk married a daughter of Edward IV.," remarked Fred," but how many fell into disgrace, and were executed ! ' Belted Will ' witnessed the execution of his father when only nine years of age ! Poor little boy!" " Our sympathies are, I think," said Aunt Jessie, " more especially awakened when we read the sad fate of the sweet, melodious poet, the Earl of Surrey, beheaded on Tower Hill, the day before the death of Henry VIII. ; and the life of his father, the Duke of Norfolk, was only saved by the monarch's unexpected death. To him we owe the sonnet and blank verse in English poesie. Poor Surrey learned at last, the soundness of that inspired counsel : * Put not your trust in princes ; ' his touching lines written in Windsor, where he had been educated, as playmate and friend of the young prince, shortly before his cruel death,are full of a melancholy pathos and beauty: ** * Echo, alas ! that doth my sorrow rue, Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint ; Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew, Jn prison pine with bondage and restraint. ' I 64 THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. \ " Poor Surrey ! his experience of earthly friendships has been often enough repeated since those lines were penned." Now the carriage enters the park, the drive winding among the most magnificent trees. " There is Naworth Castle ! " cried Mr. Hopeton ; " do you not see its old towers through the dense masses of foliage ? 'Tis but a glimpse, though, we get until we come suddenly in full view of its noble entrance." How memory rushes back over centuries in sight of the home of " Belted Will ! " We recall those feudal days, now happily gone by, not to return, when the horse stood always in saddle, and the Borderer never went unarmed, and this delicious Irthing Valley resounded to the wild music of : ** Noblo Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border," and the contemporary Border Keeps were in all the pride of their strength and power. " Who built Naworth ?" asked Artist Annie. " It is not known," replied Mr. Hopeton ; " the first notice we have of it is, when the first Lord Dacre of Gils- land obtained permission of Edward III. to castellate his mansion. The entrance is on the sputh side, which is strengthened by a curtain wall, a lofty square tower at the east and west corners, with a watch-turret above. Over the embrasured gateway are the Dacre arms, quar- tering those of de Vaux and de Multon, and the family motto : " Fort en loialtie." The castle is a quadrangle ; the north side is protected by being built on high cliffs overlooking the Irthing. From the outer court one THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. 65 first Uls- his |h is at love. Lar- iiy :le; iiffs lone enters by an archway, with the Howard arms above, into the inner court, a grassy square, from which are the various entrances to the castle. " How desolate, yet how lovely ! " said Elise. " See that beautiful jasmine climbing over the baronial hall window, and there, to the right of the entrance into it, is a mulberry tree ! " This great hall is of feudal dimensions — eighty feet long — the huge lire-place is over five yards wide, and the log is laid ready, as if for "Belted Will's" return. One seems transplanted to the days of Border frays ; the echo of the bold defiance from " Branksome " seems to linger here yet : — " St. Mary, but we'll light a brand, Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland." This noble hall contains portraits of Dacres, Sir Thomas de Multon — grim enough looking — grifiins, the bear and ragged staff, suits of armour and emblazoned shields. Under each of these shields is a chair, worked by ladies of ^tho family, with corresponding ones. At the end of this baronial hall is a small room, separated from it by Gobelin tapestry ; in it is a head of the un- lucky Ann of Cleves, and a full length portrait of Lady Elizabeth Dacre, in the stiffest and primmest of toilettes. The extensive suite of apartments was en. deshabille ! except the picture galleiy, which also contains armour. In the fire which occurred here some years ago, the oak- work of the chapel, and many objects of priceless value, 06 THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — QILSLAND. II I -I 1 since they cannot be replaced, were destroyed. The oratory, library and bedroom of " Belted Will" are pre- served, as he left them. The bedroom contains many articles used by him, and from this room is the secret stairs to the dungeons underneath. Let us hope both he and his prisoners slept a refreshing, dreamless sleep, after those nightly visits. " Here is the famous manuscript I told you about," cried Aunt Jessie, from the adjoining library ; " it was il- luminated by the monks, centuries ago, and is a history of Joseph of Arimathea and twelve of his followers, who, the monks say, built Glastonbury Abbey. There was another manuscript similarly illuminated, here formerly, which has been removed to Castle Howard, in Yorkshire, where we shall see it later." The beautiful lantern stair-case of highly polished oak, leads up to the watch-towers, where one looks far over wood and meadow. What a walk that was through Naworth Wood, along the blustering Irthing to Lanercost Priory, a beautiful, solemn majestic ruin. The nave of the Priory church has been restored, and is used as a church ; the tower, choir, transept and aisles, and the monastic build- ings are unroofed, grass-and-lichen-grown, desolate, but wondrously lovely with those rich masses of ivy. In the nave one finds the brass tablet to the memory its founder : — "Robertus de Vallibus filius Hubert. Dux de Gilsland, fundator Priorat de Lanercost A° : dni. 1116. ^Edargan Uxor ejus sine Prole." THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. r>7 land, rgkn "Do you know," said Eliso, " it was to expiate his crime, the murder of Gilles Bueth, that De Vallibus built this monastery ? " " Who was Gilles Bueth V asked Artist Annie. " He was the Saxon Lord whose ancestors' lands had been given to De Vaux by De Meschines. De Vaux, not being able to dislodge him, invited Bueth to a tiyste, ex- pressing a wish to settle the dispute amicably, but, at this meeting De Vaux basely murdered the unsuspecting Saxon." " He was justly punished," said Fred, "for his memorial tablet tells us he died * sine prole ! ' " From the triforium one looks down upon the whole ruin, and the lichen-grown tombs of the Dacres and " Belted Will." The choir was lighted toward the east by nine lancet windows, three above three ; now, their beau- tiful propoi'tions frame bits of blue sky, or the passing clouds — the effect is enchanting. The Priory was cruci- form, and for Augustinians. " To me," said Aunt Jessie, " there is something pecu- liarly sad in the cold beauty of this long-deserted monas- tery ; is it that the shadow of the crime for which 't was destined as an atonement, falls upon its ivy-mantled ruins? Si€ transit gloria mundi ! " " There, Mademoiselle Artiste ! " cried Fred, " that's the ' Popping Stone ! ' I beg you will sketch it for my especial ben 'fit ; that's where Sir Walter Scott asked the pretty Fr- oh maiden to become Mrs. Scott, and there's the I ' -sing Bush ! ' where the bond was sealed ! " M' 68 THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. They are standing in the wild glen at Gilsland, shut in by its steep perpendicular banks of rock, through which the Irthing chants her eternal Te Deum. A group of barefooted children is crossing the stream on the stepping stones, stopping now and then to paddle in the clear rip- lets. " Do look at that lovely golden-haired child, with her pinafore full of wild flowers ! " cried Artist Annie ; " I shall go and talk to her. I must sketch her. What is your name, little one ? " " Maggie ! " and the child looked up with her sweet Madonna-face into the brown eyes of the questioner. " Have you any brothers and sisters ? " "No; Katie's dead ; mother says she's up there," point- ing towards the sky. " Mother says heaven is prettier than this glen ; what is it like ? do you know ? " " You will never want anything there, Maggi", never be tired, never cry any more." " How, never want anything more ? " " You will be so happy if you go there, that there will be nothing left you would like to have." " And there will be flowers, and birds, and a river as nice as this ? " " Maggie, heaven is a great deal more lovely than any one in this world can understand ; our flowers and birds are not to compare v.'Uh those in heaven, and tlie BibL tells us about the ' River of Life that flov/s from the throne of God.' Where do you find such pretty flowers ? " 8 THE BORDERS — NAWORTH CASTLE — GILSLAND. 69 " Here in the glen," and Maggie held out her little band full to her new friend. " I will put them in water and keep them as long as I can ; do you come here often ? " " Oh yes ! ever;y day," said Maggie triumphantly. " Now see, Maggie, I am going to paint a little picture of you just as you are — flowers and all. I will begin it now ; will you come back to-morrow morning, and let me finish it?" This having been settled satisfactorily, Artist Annie planted herself on a stone, and opened the never-failing portfolio, forgetful of all the world beside except her " study," " I declare," exclaimed poor Fred in dismay, " our artist is going to sketch that child, and we shall all eat a cold dinner. Well, while she is busy with that, let us to the Spa ! " The waters are both chalybeate and sulphuretted, and to judge from the variety of people who come here, they mast have turned out to be the panacea for all human physical ills. Corpulent, red-faced men, beef-steak-and- plum-pudding women, pale consumptives, delicate maid- ens, sickly and chubby children, all drinking from the same fountain! m i 1 . ! CHAPTER VIIL RAMBLES IN THE BORDER-MOORS. " The faithful page he mounts his steed, And soon he cross'd green Irthing's mead, Dash'd o'er Kirkoswald's verdant plain. And Eden barr'd his course in vain." HAT is something what our friends did ! Shall I tell you of all those many rides and drives ? How they saw " Mumps Ha," where you remember " Meg Merrilies " and " Dandy Dinmont " first met, and Meg's grave-stone, with an inscription more truthful than poetic ? The moors ! wild and desolate ! Divinity is stamped upon these sublime hills. Broad and sweeping in outline, they stretch on, and still on, till to the imagination they seem infinite. The silence is almost oppressive, it is " still- ness within stillness, the hushing of a hush ! " Some- times the awful silence is broken by the whistle of a shepherd, the bleating of a lamb, or the inexpressibly plaintive note of the curlew, dying away in the distance. Description gives little idea of these moors ; they must be seen to be understood. They speak a language of their own, sad, but surpassingly sweet ; they are possessed of a hidden infiuence, revealed only while you climb the hills, RAMBLES IN THE BORDER-MOORS. 71 sit in the quiet valleys, among the purple, sweet-scented heather, holding a tSte-d-tete with native birds, breezes and flowers. Oh ! those delicious rides on the moors ! How fresh the breezes ! What a ride that was from (Jilsland to Denton Fell, and what views from the summit ! and then the quiet rest by the dark waters of Takin Tarn, graced by beautiful swans — and that cup of tea, that Fred ordered " on the sly," to surprise everybody. Never, never, did tea seem so refreshing as that cup did ! To Tindall Fell ! what hills ! what valleys ! what pure, fresh breezes ! — and the mystic ripple now and then of a little stream in the wild solitudes. It was all a romance. To say the hills, uplands, and trees, when the way left the moorland, were fresh and green, would be giving a faint notion of the almost numberless tints of gold in the sun- beams, emerald, and the deeper and triste shades of syca- more, yew and cypress. Words cannot paint these won- derful lights. It was riding through a Claude or a Turner, with that misty vapour in the air, so soft, like an Indian Summer day in Beau Canada ! " There are the ' witch and grey geese of ' Mucklestane Moor ! ' " cried Artist Annie, as they cantered through a delicious valley. It was a very old woman driving a flock of geese, which circumstance suggested many scenes in the " Black Dwarf." " Well, I must acknowledge," said Elise, " that, * The Brown Man of the Moor, that stays beneath the heather-bell,' ■IP 72 RAMBLES IN THE BORDER-MOORS. has kept himself dreadfully secluded, nor, thoug^h I have been in some * utico hogilly bits' have I encountered kelpie, spunkie, bogle, brownie, cowie, worricow, fairy, redcap, or any other of the numerous family of sprites, -with which superstition has peopled these lonely re- gions." " A most disgraceful piece of rudeness," cried Fred, laughing. " They might have paid a little attention to strangers. Don't you think so, Aunt Jessie ? " " It is wonderful what a charm rests on this Border- land," said Mr. Hopeton. " History, the old ballads, Scott, and Percy, have rendered it classic ground. The sleuth dog, the beacon fires, the Jedwood axes, the moss- troopers, and the yell of the slogan, have passed away forever ; but they still captivate the imagination. Such names as Cheveychase, Otterbourne, Hermitage, Naworth, Wark, Warkworth, Douglass, Percy, awaken numberless associations of the olden time. These wild m;>ors and mosses, these ruined keeps, are enveloped in a halo of romance, from which neither the hand of cultivation nor the inventions of science can ever strip the charm. These borders will ever be peopled by all those fancies, forms, and memories, that Genius has called forth from the dim- ness of the vanished centuries." " There is a dark side to the v'oture you have drawn,'' said Aunt Jessie, " These borders have been the silent witnesses of countless deeds of barbarity ; but tlie ' Blue Bonnets ' no longer meet with spear and battle-axe as in the ballad-days." RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOOPS. 73 " Ah ! the ' Blue Bonnets! ' " cried Fred, " that's a spirit- ed ballad : " * March, inarch, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order 1 March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border, Many a banner spread, Flutters above your head ; Many a crest that is famous in story j Mount and make ready then, Sons of the mountain glen. Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. " ' Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing. Come from the glen of the buck and the roe ; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing. Come with the buckler, the lance and the bow. Trumpets are sounding. War-steeds are bounding ; Stand to your arms and march in good order, England shall many a day Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.' " " Bravo ! my dear boy," exclaimed Mr. Hopeton, as he regarded, with just pride, the spirited youth. " Here we are at Burdoswald, the best preserved and most distinctly marked of all the stations on the Roman w:all. Many relics, such as personal ornaments, household utensils, altars, coins, have been dug \i\) here. To the north stood Thirlwall Castle. Those hills you see yonder are the F 74 RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. Nine Niches of Thirlwall ; near there the Picts are said to have broken through the Roman rampart." " What a lovely prospect, in this misty air ! " said Artist Annie, " and the Irthing goes babbling on, indifferent to Pict or Scot, Roman or Norman ; what cares nature in her peace for all petty strifes ; and are not these strifes for supremacy not petty ? This pure stream seems to me a fit type of the life of a beautiful soul, that unmoved by earthly tempests, presses steadily on to her exalted goal." With a glorious sunset our friends again reached Gils- land, the centre of these moor-rambles. " I propose to make the excursion to-morrow, if the day be fine, to Cristenbury Crags," said Mr. Hopeton ', " you remember they figure in ' Guy Mannering.' " " Let us go on horseback," said Elise ; " one is so free in the saddle." " We shall be obliged to walk the last half mile ; it will be a hard day's work, and to accomplish all we design, we must be oft" at sunrise ! " This marvellous group of rocks lies on the boundary- line between Cumberland and Northumberland, in the midst of the wildest moors, on the summit of a majestic moor-hill. Nothing can surpass the surrounding desola- tion — not a single tree to be seen ! on every hand the grand puiple hills, covered with wild flowers. Three- fourths of a mile from the crags, the horses were left at a shepherd's cottage, and our friends proceeded on foot through the deep heather, by no means an easy task. Fred suggested when once at the top, one could " roll l|; RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. 75 said Artist iifFerent to 1 nature in hese strifes eems to me nmoved by alted goal." jached Gils- rrow, if the r. Hopeton ', > >> mg. me is so free mile; it will 1 we design, te boundary- hand, in the If a majestic Iding desola- [y hand the lers. Three- lere left at a led on foot easy task, could "roll down ! " The day was cloudless, the atmosphere clear What a view ! one could see a distance of fifty miles, save on the Northumberland side. In the far distance the Solway, like a " Silver plain in shining pride," the misty blue Cumberland Fells, the Cheviotts, made so famous by the old ballads, that tell us how the Douglass and the Percy fought and fell. These huge boulders have fallen together in the most fantastic positions, in some places reminding one of vast blocks of warehouses in some old city. The largest boulder stands twenty or thirty feet in height above all the others. " Another border mystery ! " exclaimed Elise ; " how came these rocks here ? " " And echo answers ' how ? ' " said Fred, laughing. " It is pretty certain they are not natives, and the story of the broken apron-string is somewhat doubtful. They floated here in some flood, most likely, from Norway, say the geologists." " Floated ? Fred," cried Elise, " did you say floated ? " " Qui ma chere soiur, floated ! or what did they do ? Fouvez V0U8 me dire ? " A servant had been sent on in advance with refresh- ments, and an abundance of water, wine and fruit; luncheon was spread on a huge boulder called the " Table," where the Titans might have feasted, and never certainly was a happier pic-nic group. lil 7G RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. " We will return by Bueth's Castle," said Mr. Hopeton, " not that the ruin is in the least interesting as an object of beauty, only bare, gray stone walls, but there is a curious Kunic pillar in the church-yard hard by, which is one of the most celebrated archteological remains. It bears some resemblance to the only Runic monument in Scotland — the Ruthwell Cross near Dumfries, which we saw last summer. My friend, the Rev. Mr. Maughan, has deciphered the Runes, and has published a description of his discoveries. It is the memorial of a petty Saxon King, Alcfrid, who died in Egbert's reign ! This wonder- ful cross is more than 1200 years old, and the inscription is very likely the oldest specimen of Anglo-Saxon poetry in existence. The monk Coedmon only can compete with it — he died in 680. This pillar, one stone, is nearly the frustum of a square pyramid, 14| feet high above its pedestal. There was a cross on the top, which has been lost, hence the pillar is now merely an obelisk. It is of a peculiar species of work, a very hard, gritty, and dur- able white freestone, with a yellow tinge, thickly covered with spots of a gray hue. " The east side bears a vine, winding up with numerous branches, foliage, and clusters of grapes, an eagle, a raven, both similar to those on the Ruthwell Cross, a fox-hound all in alto relievo. The west side is the most important. On the top stands the figure of St. John the Baptist, hold- ino- the Ajjnus Dei — the head has once been surrounded by a nimbus. Below this figure is a cross ; then two luies of RuneSj then the figure of the Redeemer, below RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. 77 nine linos of a Runic inscription, and lastly the figure of a layman bearing a falcon on the arm, which doubtless is meant to represent the royal personage for whom the monument was erected." " What are Runes ? " enquired Artist Annie. Mr. Maughan explained, " Runes are secret letters, be- cause few knew them. They are of Scandinavian origin." " The south and north sides are each divided into five compartments, and contain magical knots, vines, fruit, a sun-dial, and so forth." After the maps and charts of the Roman wall had been duly examined, and the site of the Roman station here pointed out, even to where streets had been, Mrs. Maughan invited our friends to the quiet rectory drawing-room to partake of wine and cake. The good pastor and his wife are gone to their rest, but the recollections of that little visit and chat are still fresh and very pleasant. And thus it is all along life's desert way. Here and there gleams the bright oasis, lighted up by a friendly face, the music of the voice of kindness mingling with the sighing of leaves and breezes, and ripplings of the sunny brooklet. From Carlisle to Newcastleton in the Scottish border^ one enjoys a view of some of the most picturesque portions I of the valleys of the Eden, Esk and Liddel. The rain of the previous day had given the country its Ifre.hest dress; myriads of snowy daisies decked the [meadows, the hedges were radiant, the lark sang her matins, now and then a venerable thorn-tree stood in joleum dignity, crowned with a century or more, the con- 78 RAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. fidante of many a tender meeting and parting — aye, per- haps too, of many an hour of anguish. Who can tell ? " One must not forget we are in the midst of many scenes referred to in ' Guy Mannering,' " said Aunt Jessie, as they whizzed along ; " Liddesdale, the farm of Charlies- hope, so noted for its pepper and mustard terriei-s, Nichol Forest, and many other places." " Just fancy," said Elise, " The picture of ' Dumple ' bearing ' Dandie Dinmont,' and * Brown' en croupe over moor and glen, the faithful * Wasp ' bringing up th 3 rear, just after the encounter with the robbers upon leaving ' Mumps Ha.' Hear the sturdy borderer saying; 'I could gar him show mair action, but we are twa langlegged chiels after a', and it would be a pity to distress ' Dumple ! * " " So say I," cried Fred, laughing ; " maia nous-avons changS tout cela. The Dumpies have given place to the snorting steam-horse, that might strike terror into the hearts of all the moss-troopers en masse that ever wan- dered lawless through these wild glens." The valley of the Esk is bordered with uplands, and richly wooded, especially the Netherby estate, the seat of the Grahams. " There is Netherby Hall," said Mr. Hopeton. " It is built on the site of a Roman station." " Netherby ? " said Fred. " That is the scene of Lady Heron's song before King James in Holyrood : (( ( Oh, young 'Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best, Aiid save his good broadsword he weapons had none, *?.^ IIAMBLES IN THE BORDER MOORS. He rode all unartn'd and he rode all alone ; So faithful in lje\i on this lichen-grown stone, and begin youi sketch or we shall be obliged to stay here all night." It is not known who built this famous castle, most probably one of the De Sules — or Soulis family, sometime about the middle of the tliirteenth century. '!pr iriT" tamtemrmnw^TMsm 84 HERMITAGE CASTLE. This family owned vast possessions, which, however, were forfeited, when Lord William Soulis, the most cele- brated of the family, made an attempt to wrest the crown from Robert Bruce. Tradition says he was boiled in lead in a hxige caldron on the Nine-Stane-Rig hard- by:— " On a circle of stones they placed the pot, On a circle of stones, but barely nine ; They heated it red and fiery-hot, Till the burnished brass did glimmer and shine. They rolled him up in a sheet of lead, A sheet of lead for a funeral pall, They plunged him in the caldron red. And melted him, lead, and bones, and all." All very well fc)r j)oetry ! but the truth is, Lord Soulis was convicted of treason, and imprisoned in Dumbarton Castle. Upon this forfeiture, the lands were given by David II, to William Douglass, and later they came into the hands of the Earls of Bothwell, One of the most interesting associations of Hermitage Castle, is the visit the ill-fated Mary Stuart made to it. The famous Earl Bothwell, afterward the ({ueen's third husband, was the Lord Lieu- tenant of the Border ; he had been wounded in a fierce encounter with the freebooter, John Elliot, of the Park — and I may say en passant, this hand-to-hand conflict sug- geste