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local popularity of Sir Charles, then plain Mr. Tennant, and the well-known steadiness of his political principles brought him out victor with a majority of 32. At the election of 1885, his majority was largely increased, and in June of that year, he was created a Baronet, an honour for which he had long been worthy. The Election of 1886, when Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule Bill was before the country, brought about a division among the Liberals of Peebles and Selkirk, where perfect unity was absolutely necessary at any time, and the Conservatives casting in their lot with the Liberal Unionists, enabled the present Member, Mr. Thorburn, to
statesman must have pleasant recollections of his stay at the Glen. Though Sir Charles Tennant has practically retired from the political arena, the traditions of the family are not neglected, his son, Mr. H. J. Tennant, being M.P. for Berwickshire, while his daughter Margot is the wife of the ex-Home Secretary, Mr. Asquith, a politician who, according to many, has a great future before him.
In the commercial world Sir Charles Tennant occupies a very high position, and were there such a thing as a Premiership in business matters, we feel sure that his election to the post would be a certainty. Combined with intuitive
enter Parliament as representative of the united counties.
While in Parliament, Sir Charles 'Pennant's constituents had no reason to complain of his non-attendance in the House, for he took an active part in the work of legislation, and was an intimate friend of Mr. Gladstone. This friendship resulted in the latter paying a visit to the Glen in 1892. There the hero of so many parliamentary fights gazed with pleasure upon the hills and valleys once familiar to his ancestors, for it is a well-known fact that Mr. Gladstone is descended from the Gledstanes of Peeblesshire. This memorable visit was made the occasion of much rejoicing in the district, and the veteran
perception, he has in a very marked degree that rapidity of decision which is so necessary in the man of business. A hard worker, full of energy and "go," he has done much to ennoble labour, and hasten the total extinction of the old world tradition that a business life is incompatible with high social rank
'Midst all the present day driftings to more ornate forms of worship, the subject of our sketch has remained true to his native Presbvterianism, and is often to be found worshipping in the old church of Traquair among the lairds, farmers and cottars who there assemble
"Frae mony a but and ben,
Owner of one of the loveliest spots in our dear Borderland, he is "leal to the Border" in every sense of the word. One of the first Honorary Presidents of the Glasgow Border Counties' Association, he has all along taken an interest in the work of that important society, and has done much to further the aims and objects it has in view, giving a handsome donation to the Leyden Bursary, founded in Glasgow University by the Association, and in many other ways encouraging those who are willing to spend and be spent in keeping alive the kindly feelings of the homeland amid the noise and turmoil of city life.
As Sir Charles Tennant is still with us and a distinct force in present day life, it is unnecessary for me to add much to this short sketch. Sorrow has been no stranger at the Glen, and several members of the family peacefully rest in the quiet aisle in Traquair Kirkyaird. On 21st January, 1895, Lady Tennant, the partner of his joys and sorrows, who had endeared herself to all, joined those gone before, and, in the touching words of the late Principal Shairp—
"Wan a rest,
The lownest and the best,
I' Traquair kirkyaird when a'was dune."
A Legend Of The Eildons.
CAPTAIN JOHN RHYMER, the subject of an old Border Ballad, was the only son of the Laird of Chesters Hall. His first and earliest playmate, Lady Nancy, was the only child of the neighbouring Earl of Leaderdale. These twoyouthful loversmade"acompact them between" that when John Rhymer entered the army and rose to the rank of Captain, he was to return home and be married in his "red coat and sword." The fate of his family, however, overtook him.
There was an old legend or tradition that if any of the Rhymers should ride a white or a grey horse, he would never ride another. Disregarding the tradition as an auld wife's winter tale, Captain John, on returning home after the sudden death of his father, purchased two horses at Melrose Fair—a white and a grey—and sent them on to Chesters. Next day he rode them both and declared they would make a couple of capital hunters. Consternation at Chesters! Magpies (or pyets) came out of the wood and kept chattering evil omens as they sat on the garden wall! A few mornings after his daring ride, Captain John was climbing a fence while
shooting on the moor. Stumbling over a stone on the other side, he fell and was shot through the head by the accidental discharge of his own gun.
The white and the grey horses, the supposed cause of the disaster, were hurried away from Chesters as fast as possible. Consigned to the charge of a well-known horse-couper, named Davy Dawson, he was instructed to dispose of them at once, and at any price he could get for them.
Trotting the two beautiful animals up and down the market at Melrose, they were very greatly admired, but nobody would bid for them. They were, in fact, looked upon as "uncanny craturs" that would bring fresh disaster upon anyone buying them.
Just as the market was about over, a wellknown jockey or dealer appeared upon the scene. This was Canobie Dick, who, after standing looking knowingly at the beautiful horses, carefully handling them, and seeing them put through their paces round the marketplace, said—
"Look here, Davy, name your price."
"Saxty pund a piece."
"There's my thoom; I'll ne'er beguile ye."
Dick touched the offered thumb in token of closing with the offer, and then the two worthies went down to the Black Bull, where the bargain was ratified, the money paid, and several gills of strong unwatered whisky were disposed of.
"It's dry work buyin' horses," remarked Dick; "so, Davy, my man, ye'd better ca' in another gill before I munt the galloway and take the road wi' the beauties ower Bowden Muir.".
Ten minutes later Dick mounted his pony and, leading the white horse on his right and the grey on his left, set out for Hawick by way of Dingleton, Bowden Moor, and Lilliesleaf— the same route, but reversed, as that taken by Sir William Deloraine in his famous moonlight ride from Branksome to Melrose Abbey.
It was moonlight, too, as Dick made the ascent of Bowden Moor with the Eildons on his left. Just as he gained the summit, where, in the daytime, a glorious view of the Border country can be had, a tall man of venerable appearance met him and demanded what Dick was doing with these white and grey horses, where he got them (in a louder tone), and where he was going with them (in a voice that seemed to shake the Eildon Hills as with reverberating thunder).
Dick, with the Black Bull whisky under his belt, nothing daunted, replied that he had bought the horses at Melrose Fair, and that he was onhisway to Hawick, where heintendedtosell them—"A' in the way o'business, if ye please."
"Of whom did ye buy these white and grey horses ?" asked the old man in a gentler tone. "O' Davy Dawson, honest man." "And where did David Dawson get them?" "Weel-a-weel, stranger, I cannagie the history o' the white and the grey, puir things—a' that I can tell ye is that they were boucht by Captain John Rhymer—the first grey and white horses that were ever seen at Chesters."
"And they'll be the last," replied the stranger, looking much displeased in the strange white moonlight, and putting great emphasis upon the words, "They'll be the last." Then calming down a little he asked Dick— "Will you sell the horses?" "Certainly."
"What do you want for them?"
"Seventy-five pund a piece."
"Done! Bring them along, if you have the courage to jollow me."
All undaunted, and calculating what a splendid profit he would have out of the transaction, Dick followed the stranger, who left the public road and took a straight cut across the moor among the heather. After walking for about ten minutes the party arrived at the foot of the steep hill which forms the central peak of the triple Eildons. Here Dick was directed to leave his pony, but to bring the white and grey horses. With great difficulty Dick scrambled up the precipitous side of the hill, which was covered with small, hard stones at that particular part instead of grass. The horses had still greater difficulty in keeping their footing among the sliding stones. Whether it was from the great physical exertion in getting up such a steep hill, or whether it was from some strange terror that seemed to be coming over the horses, cannot be known, but as Dick turned to look at the animals struggling up behind him he saw great beads of perspiration standing on their necks and shoulders. Then the perspiration broke, and as it ran off their bodies it glittered in the moonlight and gave the horses the most weird and unearthly appearance.
After a little more climbing, the stranger stopped opposite a great stone which lay like a door on the slope of the hill. "Now," said he to Dick, "give me the horses. Do you still feel that you have the courage to follow me? This stone shall open of itself if you care to enter the cavern."
"I'm no' gaun back now, after this weary fecht up the hill. I'll gang wi' ye."
"All right," said the stranger. Then taking the halters he stroked each horse down the face, and said as he did so—
White and grey, now go away,
Instantly the two horses were changed in colour to coal-black, when the perspiration was at once checked, and Dick could see that their coats were beautiful and glossy as they were led into the cavern after the great stone had lifted itself and revealed the entrance hall of some wondrous subterranean palace.
Wonder upon wonder in the cavern! Passing through the arched door of the vestibule the roof rose to a great height—as high, Dick thought, as the loftiest peak of the Eildons. What were his astonishment and amazement to see on both sides of him, as he followed his guide with the horses, now no longer grey and white, but black, a long, long line of stable stalls, in each of which stood a coal black steed most richly caparisoned, but all as silent and still as if they were carved out of black marble. Beside each horse stood a knight clad in complete armour, with a drawn sword in his hand, but silent as the grave.
Still traversing the cavern with its thousand black horses and its thousand armed knights the guide arrived at the upper end, where was a grand hall full of magnificence, lighted with lamps, and sparkling with the rarest diamonds and all sorts of precious stones. Approaching a table in the centre of the hall the guide ranged one of the horses on the right side of the table and one on the left. Then, taking his place at the head, he directed Dick to stand at the foot of the table and tell him what he saw lying upon it.
"A sword and a horn," replied the bold horsecouper, but with a dry and husky voice, for he felt his heart thumping at his breast, as if it wanted out to see this wondrous scene.
"Right. Now," continued the guide, "you say that these two horses belonged to Captain John Rhymer of Chesters Castle?"
"I'm tauld sae," Dick replied, putting his hand to his hammering heart, and gasping for breath.
"Don't be alarmed. Anything from Chesters is always welcome here. Alas! for Captain John—the best of his race since its wondrous founder left the halls of Ercildoune. True Thomas still remembers his kith and kindred with all their belongings."
"Is this the Rhymer's Palace?" asked Dick, beginning to feel a little more at ease.
"Only the stables; and if such be the stables, what must the palace be? But," continued the stranger, abruptly changing the subject, "what see you on the table?" "A sword and a horn."
"Now, if you draw that sword and sound that horn you shall, if your courage does not fail, be made the ruler of a mighty province of the British Empire. But, remember, everything depends on whether you take the m'ord or the horn first."
The stranger paused, then pointed to the table, and told Dick to make the choice if he still felt inclined to do so.
After much hesitation—and what a stake lay in the choice—Dick put forth his hand, took the horn, and blew but a feeble blast.
Feeble as it was, however, the effect was terrible and dreadful in the extreme. The thousand black horses started into instant life and action ; the thousand armed knights vaulted at once into their saddles, brandished their swords, and clanked their armour. The horses stamped with their feet, ground their bridlebits, and tossed their heads on high —making such an indescribable noise that Dick, alarmed at having caused such a commotion, attempted to throw down the horn and seize the sword. But a voice, far above the champing steeds and the clanking warriors, called out in tones of thunder—
Woe to the coward that ever he was born,
Who did not draw the sword lx'fore he blew llie horn.
At the same moment a whirlwind of terrific force and fury swept Dick out of the subterranean hall like a withered leaf in autumn. Next morning he was found at the foot of the hill by a passing shepherd, but in such a state of exhaustion that after relating what he had experienced he immediately expired. And the Chesters horses, the cause of all this commotion and disaster, what befell them? Never again on moor or market did mortal eye behold them; but one loves to think of them in imagination as still living in the stables of the Rhymer's Palace, a thousand leagues below the highest summit of the Eildons.
Boroer Battles an& Battlefiel&s.
BY JAMES ROBSON.
NO. II.—BATTLE OF Otterburn (Concluded.)
w #EXT morning when the sun rose the strife M had ceased, and the sound of clashing
spears was no more. It has been stated that a detachment of Sir
Thomas Umphreville's force was left in the Scottish camp to guard the booty and stores. When the Scots discovered their camp thus occupied, and their opponents making free use of their stores, they fell upon them and slaughtered the greater portion.
The English fugitives were eagerly pursued by the victors, especially such as were distinguished by rank and fortune, since the ransom corresponded with the wealth of the prisoners, and the amount of such ransom was by right the property of the captors. In many instances the fugitives turned and attacked their pursuers, inflicting considerable loss on the latter.
When the defeat of the English became apparent, and each one required to shift for himself, Sir Edward Redman, governor of Berwick, well mounted, hurried from the field. Such a prize could not be allowed to escape. He was pursued by Sir James Lindsay of Crawford, with the view of gaining a good ransom by his capture. Armed with battle-axe and spear, Lindsay, after an exciting chase came up with Redman. The latter, urging his horse to greater speed so that it stumbled, leaped off, and, drawing his sword, prepared to defend himself. Lindsay also dismounted and attacked him with such strength and skill that Redman was obliged to yield. He was permitted, however, to return to Newcastle, having given his word of honour to surrender himself to Lindsay at Edinburgh within fifteen days. A large number of English knights, who were taken prisoners, were released on the same conditions. With others the Scots agreed on a specified sum as ransom, and this the liberated captives transmitted to their respective captors. Surprising as it may seem, the utmost fidelity was observed in the discharge of their verbal agreements. It is estimated that the total amount of ransom money paid, was about ,£600,000 of our money.
It so happened that, at the very time when the battle was being fought, the Bishop of Durham was on his way from Newcastle to Otterburn, with a force of 5,000 foot and 2,000 horse. Arriving within a few miles of Otterburn in the early morning, he met a number of the fugitives who related to him the result of the battle. These tidings so disheartened his followers, that nearly four-fifths of the number at once returned homeward. Under these circumstances, the bishop judged it advisable also to return to Newcastle. On their way back they met Lindsay alone (he having released Redman), returning to the Scottish camp. It does not appear as if the English extended the same liberality towards him that he had shown to Redman. He was conveyed to Newcastle, and,