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man, on a given signal, put to his mouth a large horn which hung by his side, and altogether they blew as loudly as possible. This they repeated at regular intervals which caused a tremendous noise, and created the utmost consternation in the English ranks. Still they approached, but, on seeing the excellent arrangements of the enemy-their strong position, the large earthworks which protected their camp, and the dead bodies of their comrades lying thickly around-they grew faint-hearted. Consulting together, they resolved to retreat. Once more the Scots were masters of the situation. They had routed one English army and scared away a second. Their task was done, and at once they began to make preparations for their return home.

Sir Ralph Percy, who had been severely wounded, was still a prisoner in the hands of the Scots. He begged for liberty to return to the most convenient place in Northumberland, where his wounds would be best attended to. To this the Scots readily assented. They prepared a litter, and, in a manner befitting his rank and prowess, he was carefully conveyed to Newcastle.

On the English side there were left dead on the field, including those slain in the pursuit, 1,840 men. About 1,000 were wounded. The Scots had over 100 slain, and 200 taken prisoners. They were too precipitate in following up the pursuit, hence the proportionately large number made captive.

The work of burying the dead occupied some time, after which the victors followed the ancient custom of marking off the place to posterity; and especially as a memorial of their fallen chief, they prepared an upright stone, and a suitable socket or base. This they erected on the spot where Douglas fell. That memorial, unfortunately, disappeared more than a hundred years ago, and a modern cross, now erroneously called

66

Percy Cross," was erected some years later at a place mid-way between the site of the old "battle stone" and the present turn-pike road. The modern cross stands in a thin plantation, three quarters of a mile west of the village of Otterburn, and a hundred paces from the road, from which it is easily seen in passing. It consists of a roughly built circular pedestal about five feet high. In the centre of this is placed the socket which belonged to the old "battle stone" (the only part of the old memorial extant). Into this socket is fixed a shaft which tapers to a point at the top, the total length of which is nine and a half feet. This stone is nothing else than an old architrave from the kitchen fire-place of Otterburn Hall.

There is another interesting memorial of the

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"On these fields on the

10th August, 1388, the battle
of Otterburn was fought,
and deeds were done
which in the noblest of
English ballads live
immortally recorded."

(The date of the battle given above is, without doubt, incorrect. The most reliable, as well as the greater number of, authorities are agreed that the correct date is 19th August).

The one on the right bears a sentence from Sir Philip Sidney :

"I never heard the old song

of Percy and Douglas, that
I found not my heart more
moved than with a trumpet."

At the right side of the seat is a Latin inscription, declaring that this memorial was erected five hundred years after the battle by "W.H.J." The three concluding letters are the initials of the then member of Parliament for GatesheadMr. James.

Two days after the battle, the Scots, having enclosed in coffins the bodies of Douglas and the two squires who fell with him, started for Scotland. They had constructed slender biers by means of which the coffins were conveyed along.

"Then on the morne they mayde them beerys
Of byrch and haysell graye;
Many a wydowe with wepying teyres

Ther makes they fette awaye.'

Resting mid-way over night, they arrived at Melrose on the evening of the following day. An elaborate ceremony befitting the rank and power of Douglas, and the circumstances of his death, was performed in the Abbey church in presence of the whole army. The remains were placed in a tomb beside the high altar. The place is still marked off, and sacredly observed as the grave of a distinguished member of a no less distinguished family. The bloodstained banner, beside which on the field of battle, he had acquitted himself so nobly, was suspended over the remains. suspended over the remains. This pennon, the identical relic which Douglas captured from Percy before the gates of Newcastle, is carefully and reverently preserved in Cavers House, the

ancestral home of the descendants of the hero of Otterburn.

"Green Cavers, hallow'd by the Douglas name,

Tower from thy woods! assert thy former fame! Hoist the broad standard of thy peerless line, Till Percy's Norman banner bow to thine!" It would not be easy to decide whether the net result of this event was gain or loss to the victors. It is doubtful, indeed, if the victory can be considered as adequate compensation for the loss of Scotland's bravest and most experienced soldier and chieftain. There was no great national issue at stake as in the case of Bannock burn or even Halidon Hill; and so it may be said that, while the country sustained an irreparable loss in the death of Douglas, the victory had no lasting salutary effect in preserving it from the consequences of Southern usurpation and intrigue. Neither did it result in the display of a more pacific spirit on the part of the Scots towards their Southern neighbours. The restless, unsubdued spirit of the Border reivers was ready to break out afresh on the first opportunity. With scarcely sufficient interval for breathing space, they were again on the warpath, marching across the Border, harassing and plundering their old enemy. But, be it loss or gain, posterity has no more brilliant example of individual prowess and indomitable courage and heroism, than that displayed on the field of Otterburn.

No. III.-Homildon Hill next month.

The Exiled Borderer.

AWAY from dear old Borderland,
Our thoughts oft sadly stray

To that loved home of childhood's years,
Where life was young
and gay.

The sun then seemed to shine more bright,

The moon to shine more clear, And musing on the lovely scenes, Quick starts th' unwonted tear.

In fancy once again, we walk

By Teviot's murm'ring stream,
And watch the ripples as they glint
In sunlight's fading beam.

Or climb the lofty Cheviot's brow,
And mark the swelling vales,

The streamlet's course, the shaggy woods,
The grassy hills and dales.

From Eildon's peaks the landscape round,
With glistening eyes, we view,
And conn its many beauties rare,
Tho' old, yet ever new.

By lone St. Mary's lake, we pass; Through Yarrow Braes we stray; In Ettrick Shaws, we chant again The Shepherd's tuneful lay.

By Tweed's fair stream, we fondly pause,
And on its glories dwell,

And think of him of Abbotsford
Who loved it all so well.

By moonlight once again we see
St. David's ruined pile ;

And hear the White Monks masses sing
Within the lofty aisle.

Of Border feud and foray wild

We dream, of Flodden field, And Ancrum Moor and Redswire Raids. These quarrels now are healed.

Again we see the dear old home;
We children on the green,
The old folks gaze with smiling looks,
Upon the cheerful scene.

And as our hearts fill up with joy,

At mem'ries of the past, We wish anew, but wish in vain,

That youth might longer last.

Then starting from these day-dreams sweet,
We find our youth has gone;
That work and duty must be met,

Tho' exiled and alone.

But who shall say those dreams are vain?
Traditions of the past

Shall mould the lives of coming men,
As long as time shall last.

Then let us with brave Border hearts,
Our work and duty do,
Where'er our lot, whate'er our task,

Be honest through and through.

Our glorious record of the past,
Unsullied by a stain,

Let's hand it down from sire to son,
And long may it remain,

That "Borderer" o'er the world may stand
True type of Manhood bold,

Of virtue, courage, faith, and love,
As in the days of old.

DHU-GLAS ELWAND.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

All communications relating to Literary and Business matters should be addressed to the Editor, Mr. NICHOLAS DICKSON, 19 Waverley Gardens, Crossmyloof, Glasgow.

THE

TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. THE BORDER MAGAZINE will be sent post free to any part of the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States, and all Countries included in the Postal Union, for one year, 45.

BORDER MAGAZINE.

JULY, 1896.

LIST OF CONTENTS.

SIR CHARLES TENNANT, BART. By WM. SANDERSON. (Portrait and Illustrations),
CANOBIE DICK: A LEGEND OF THE EILDONS. By the EDITOR,

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BORDER BATTLES AND BATTLEFIELDS: OTTERBURN (Concluded). By JAMES ROBSON. (Illustrated), 106 THE EXILED BORDERER. By DHU-GLAS ELWAND,

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THE ABBEYS OF THE BORDER. NO. I.-MELROSE. BY JAMES THOMSON. (Illustrated),
THE QUARRY MASTER: A BORDER STORY. BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK,
BORDER NOTES AND QUERIES,

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Caerlanrig, A Novel.

BY SIR GEORGE DOUGLAS, BART.,
Author of "The New Border Tales," "The Fireside Tragedy."

CHAP. III.

N a very short time, a small relieving party had been got together. They were armed with spades and shovels, and, lighted by lanterns, set out from the inn-taking their way over the snow, under the guidance of Lord Beltrees' son. They travelled westward, the road in that direction being one of the main entrances to Scotland from Carlisle and the surrounding country.

As they trudged along, the landlord spoke. "They say that misfortunes never come singly," quoth he, "and from two accidents having happened near my house within such a short time, it looks as if the saying was true."

These were his spoken words; but all the while he held in reserve, for his own private use, the more comfortable adage that "tis an ill wind that blows nobody good."

After walking the best part of a mile, they at length beheld the carriage half-buried in the snow before them. As they came up to it, one of the window-glasses was lowered, and a voice from the interior addressed Morden.

"You have found the house and brought back the men ?"

"Yes, father."

"Then let them set to work, at once, to clear away the snow. While you have been away, I have noticed that the wind has changed-we shall have a thaw before morning."

"It has set in already, my lord," observed Jeffrey, who stood uncovered by the carriage, and who had stooped down and taken up some snow in his hand.

"Is that Jeffrey? Ah, I remember you! Come, get me out of this hobble, and we'll renew acquaintance at Rest-and-be-thankful afterwards."

The voice which spoke out of the carriage. revealed plainly the exhaustion of suffering in the speaker. But no less plainly was it the voice of one accustomed to command, and to command not others only. The accent of self-possession in the face of difficulties and annoyances was perfect the finished result of the discipline of high breeding of the old school.

Encouraged and directed by Morden, and the landlord, the men now set to work with a will, and ere very long had shovelled away the greater part of the obstructing snow. Then the coachman whipped up his horses, and the animals started forward, pulling from the collar; the men laid their hands on the spokes of the wheels, and with an effort and a shout the carriage was drawn

clear. By this time the change of weather was beyond doubt. The air had grown milder, and the snow felt soft, and began to "ball" beneath the tread. The distance to the inn was traversed at a foot's pace.

It was now near midnight, yet they found the house lighted up and astir. The name of Beltrees had acted like a spell upon the brisk and bustling Mrs. Jeffrey, who had awakened Mar'an, and resumed the labours of the day with redoubled energy, after the briefest of nocturnal respites.

The horses having drawn up at the inn-door, Jeffrey carefully assisted the invalid to alight from the carriage; and then, stepping before him into the house, turned and bowed to the ground. "Welcome back to your own country, and your own people, my lord!"

"Thank you, Jeffrey, thank you! Yes, I am anxious to see Beltrees once more."

A wistful pathos in the cadence of the speaker's voice told plainly enough what he forebore to add, namely that he knew full well for what purpose he had come home.

Lamps were alight in the kitchen, and a bright fire burned on the hearth, so that as his lordship unfastened the long gaberdine in which he was enveloped, the emaciation of his tall and distinguished figure was revealed, not less than the traces left on his fine features by the heartmalady which from time to time agonized his frame. He sank into a chair, whilst Jeffrey compassionately marvelled at the change in him. There now entered the kitchen Jacques Mignon, his lordship's French valet, and another servant, laden with baggage. The valet was looking exceedingly depressed, as though he believed himself to have been carried off into servitude in some land of eternal snows, and despaired of ever again gladding his eyes with a sight of the Boulevards. He was silent, but behind his black moustache were the words, formed if not uttered, "Que diable fais-je dans cette galère?"

Having recovered his breath, Lord Beltrees resumed.

"I should dearly have liked to sit up to drink a glass of wine with you, Jeffrey, and talk over old times. Ah! those old times, what times they were! But I believe the best thing I can do is to go to bed as soon as possible. Which room can you give me?"

This was Mrs. Jeffrey's department, and accordingly she stept forward.

"It is very unfortunate that the west room is occupied, my lord, by a lady who arrived by the coach this afternoon. But the fire in the east room is burning up well, and I have put the

warming-pan in the bed. Your lordship may feel quite easy about the sheets, which are well aired." "Ah, that is comfortable! This is your wife, Jeffrey? Well, I will go upstairs at once-give me your arm, Eustace."

The servants had by this time disposed of their load of leathern valises, dressing-cases, dispatch-boxes, fur rugs, and the like; so the old nobleman passed out of the kitchen, and began slowly to climb the stairs, supported by his son, preceded by Mrs. Jeffrey bearing a light, and followed by the landlord.

Now facing the top of the stairs was the door of the bedroom which had been spoken of as the west room, and as she went first with the light, the landlady was surprised to observe that, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the door stood slightly open. Within the room there seemed to be no light save that of a dying fire, yet, in the narrow aperture, the shadow of a human figure could be distinctly seen. This surprised the landlady less. Like most of the rest of us, she probably argued of the actions of others from her own. Or, if not that, at any rate it has generally been admitted that, from the days of Eve downward, curiosity has borne a large part among feminine motives. What more natural, then, than that the strange lady, disturbed in her slumbers by the bustle of so queerly-timed an arrival at the inn, should have risen from her bed and stationed herself at a coign of vantage to observe who the new-comers might be. And, as for her reasons for concealment, these were not difficult to surmise, for at this late hour of the night her toilet was probably imperfect.

Meantime, the progress of the party on the staircase was slow, for they took their time from his lordship, who paused on every third or fourth step to rest and take breath. He was chatting pleasantly to Jeffrey all the while, and the private opinion of the landlord, who was charmed with his condescension, was that his lordship had greatly mellowed under the influence of age and ill-health. Well, Mrs. Jeffrey had reached the landing, and the others were following her at their own pace, when she turned round so as to throw the light of the candle on the staircase. It fell full on the face of the old nobleman, who happened to be saying at that moment, "I wonder if you remember an otter-hunt, Jeffrey, one very hot day in August, it must be thirty years ago, when the hounds had met Caerlanrig..."

at

Just then, from the door which stood ajar behind her, the landlady heard a sound which made her heart leap. It was that of a painful gasp, followed by a prolonged rustling of drapery.

As I have said, Mrs, Jeffrey was at first a good deal startled by the sound. But she had self-command enough to say nothing, and quickly recollecting herself, she came to the conclusion that her lady visitor must have had a relapse to the weakness of the afternoon, and fainted again. And with this conclusion came an impulse of impatience. For landladies are but human after all, all things are relative, and it must be admitted that in Mrs. Jeffrey's estimation the last arrivals at the inn had cast the brilliant guest of the afternoon completely into the shade. However, nobody but herself appeared to have heard the ill-omened sounds, which was fortunate; for it would be very regrettable that Lord Beltrees should be distressed by a disagreeable scene which might be avoided. Accordingly she resolved to say nothing about what she had heard for the present, to see his lordship safely to his room, and then to return to the assistance of the fainting lady.

Having discharged her duties, then, as quickly as might be, she opened the door of the west room without knocking, and entered. She was considerably taken aback to find Mrs. Allonby -not extended senseless on the floor in a robe-de-chambre, as she had expected, but fully attired, a-foot, and busily occupied in gathering together and replacing in her trunk the few articles which had been taken from it.

"I am sure I beg your pardon, madam,” said the worthy woman in some confusion, “I feared that you were unwell."

"Not at all," returned the stranger lady coldly, though the pallor of her countenance sorely belied her words. "On the contrary, I feel so completely restored that I am anxious to proceed on my journey with the least possible delay."

Here again was a surprise for Mrs. Jeffrey, for until now the lady had said not a word about departing, and had indeed seemed utterly careless whether she ever reached her journey's end

or not.

But now her tone was entirely changed. Since it was impossible to leave the inn at once, she earnestly enquired what was the earliest hour at which she could start the next morning, and being assured that the Coach would be ready at daybreak, before closing her door for the night she repeatedly commanded the landlady to see that she was waked in good time.

When the landlord and his wife were by themselves again, Mrs. Jeffrey observed that she was now more than ever convinced that their visitor must be some very fine lady indeed, because it was evident that she did not

know her own mind. To which honest Jeffrey, who had grown fat on easy living, replied with a great yawn, that fine company was all very well in its way, but that for his part he was glad he was not often called upon to sit up so late at night, with the prospect of rising so early the next day. But whatever may have been the good man's objections to late hours, it was obvious that one at least of his visitors did not share them. After attending his father upstairs, the Master of Beltrees had returned to the kitchen, refreshed and debonair, and more volatile than before.

"If his lordship can live without eating," he exclaimed, “I'm sure it's more than I can do," and having eagerly declined the offers of Mrs. Jeffrey, he called to Jacques, and desired that the valet would make him an omelette as quickly as possible.

Eggs were broken, accordingly, and soon an appetizing odour pervaded the kitchen. Meantime the landlady, not exactly best pleased that her services had been passed over, laid the table in the parlour for one.

"Why, I cannot eat without talking!" exclaimed Morden, when he saw this. "I positively require conversation at a repast, or at the worst a listener. Lay places for two at once, if you please, and send Jeffrey here . . . . But no; he is half-asleep already-it would be cruelty to keep him from his bed. Where is the young man whom I saw just now, who opened the door to me when I knocked? Tell him I request the pleasure of his company."

Since the arrival of Lord Beltrees' party at the inn, Lawson had remained in the background; but he now made his re-appearance, nothing loth. Whilst assisting to release the carriage, he had exchanged a few remarks with Morden, and either had been favourably impressed with the other.

"It is very kind of you, sir, to give me your company," said Eustace politely, as he motioned his guest to a seat, "I only regret that I have so little to offer you. I am given to understand that, in the department of the kitchen, Scotland affords only raw material, and even that only in coarse kinds. (Yes, I have not been misinformed. Here is a sample of the bread of the country; heavy, moist, spongy-only fit to be eaten after being well toasted.) However, almost every Frenchman has a light hand for an omelette, and I've little doubt that in favourable circumstances that fellow of ours could turn out as many as from five-and-twenty to thirty different kinds. I desired him also to fry me a few slices of sobrazada, a Spanish sausage, manufactured from acorn-fed pork. It is my

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