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barons and gentlemen were mortally wounded without being able to strike a blow, and without even the possibility, at that stage, of reaching the enemy. The horses became restless and impatient, weary of their inactivity. Mad with

fear, occasioned by the stinging shower of arrows, they plunged and reared so that they became completely unmanageable. The appearance of the dense mass of spearmen and naked Galwegians has been likened to a huge hedgehog, bristling over with a thousand shafts, whose feathers were red with blood. It was not a question of fighting. The only test of courage was that of patiently submitting to be shot down without turning their backs upon the foe. Such a state of things was beyond endurance for any length of time.

(To be continued).

The Photo of Homildon Hill arrived too late for re-production here. It will appear next month.

ح

ED., B.M.

The Abbeys of the Border.

BY JAMES THOMSON.

NO. II. JEDBURGH.

HE first that we learn of any religious community on the banks of the Jed, is connected with the name of Egrid, Bishop of Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, who endowed the monastery of Lindisfarne with two villages called Jedworth, which he had built, one where the town now stands, the other about four miles and a half up the river valley. To the Church of St. Cuthbert, Jedworth, or Jedburgh, seems to have been still subject in the eleventh century, but early in the twelfth, it fell under the jurisdiction of the Bishopric of Glasgow. Acting on the advice of John, called also Achaius, whom he had preferred to the see of Glasgow, King David, of ecclesiastical fame, brought over to Jedburgh a body of religious men from the Abbey of St. Quentin, at Beauvais, in France. These men were of the order of

Augustine Friars. Their discipline was less rigid than that of other monks; but they lived like them under one roof, and were bound to observe the statutes of their order. Their habit was a long black cassock, surmounted by a white rochet, with a black cloak and hood They wore beards instead of shaving, and had caps instead of cowls. The establishment was first a priory, and afterwards an abbey.

About the year 1162 we read of a dependency of Jedburgh Abbey, Restenote, a cell near Forfar; for Robert, a canon of Jedburgh, and prior of Restenote, was made prior of Scone. Most of the writings and valuable effects of the Abbey seem to have been deposited at Restenote in the

troublous times of Border marauding; for it was a place of considerable strength, being situated on a peninsula, formed by a lake, and accessible from the land only by a drawbridge. Other dependencies were the priory of Canonby in Dumfriesshire, situated between the Esk and the Liddel, near their junction.

In the early history of the Abbey of Jedburgh there are no facts of outstanding interest till the 14th of October, 1285, when the nuptials of Alexander III., King of Scotland, and Jolande, daughter of the Count of Dreux, were there celebrated. The happy event was attended with great pomp and festivity, greater than had ever before been witnessed in Scotland. Jedburgh was selected as the scene of these celebrations, because of its charming situation and its beauty of wood and river. All the Scottish, and many of the French nobility, were there assembled. But a sudden check was given to the mirth of the marriage revels. In the midst of the royal banquet, a masque had been arranged. The guests were seated on either side of the hall, and a clear space kept for the performers in the centre. The tables groaned with good cheer, the cup was circulating freely, and not one thought of care clouded a brow in the brilliant assemblage. Then the masque began first came a band of revellers, playing upon various musical instruments, and accompanied by splendid pageants, then a party of dancers who executed with many wonderful evolutions a sort of military dance. The dance was just at its height, when suddenly an unexpected figure appeared, more a shadow than a human figure, which seemed to glide instead of walk. The revels were suddenly broken up, and each asked the other, with awe-struck face, what was the import of this unwelcome visitation. The prevailing opinion was that it boded no good to the King, and this opinion was confirmed a few months after when Alexander was killed by a fall from his horse.

In the stormy time which followed so soon, the history of Jedburgh Abbey is mostly connected with the general history of the country. When Edward, King of England, seized the crown of Scotland for himself, and demanded the homage and submission of the people, the the Abbot John of Jedburgh, with the other members of his community, swore fealty to him as their liege lord at Berwick. Their property, which had previously been forfeited, was now restored. But the brethren were not for long to enjoy immunity from the troubles of the time. John Baliol grew weary of his vassalage to England, and strove to throw it off. But after various Border skirmishes, the result was his

own defeat and dethronement. The Scottish army in its invasions of the north of England had set an evil example in the destruction of the Abbey of Hexham, and some other religious houses. When the Scots under Wallace resumed the struggle for independence, the protection granted to Jedburgh Abbey was either revoked or disregarded through greed of plunder and vindictive spirit. The Abbey was not only The Abbey was not only ruthlessly plundered, but the conventual buildings were destroyed, and the lead stripped off the roof of the church. The abbot sought redress of his grievances from the English King,

time before the Abbey recovered from its impoverished condition in these troublous times, and for a very considerable period there is no mention of its affairs. When we gain any

authentic information we find that the members of the religious community endeavoured to avoid incurring the displeasure of either party in the contentions of the times. We find Abbots of Jedburgh frequently witnessing deeds concerning English grants, and in 1356 we find that the Abbot of Jedburgh was present, when Edward Baliol made a cession of the Kingdom of Scotland, and of his own private estates to Edward

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but as the proceedings were delayed, petitioned. that the lead stolen from his church might be restored, thus showing how the monks placed the preservation of their beautiful church before their own personal interests at a time when they themselves had not a roof above their heads. So poverty-stricken, indeed, were the friars of Jedburgh, that the King of England in pity found a refuge for them among various of his own monastic establishments, with orders that they should be kindly received and well treated, until their own monastery might be repaired and fit for their occupation. It was probably a long

Photograph.

for the sum of five thousand merks, and an annual pension of two thousand pounds. The affairs of the monastery seem to have been prosperous in 1373, for we read of wool, the produce of the conventual estates, being exported, and King Edward granting a remission of customs on wool exported from the Abbeys of the Border. Letters of protection were granted to all members of these sacred bodies, but the ferocious spirit of the times is seen in the fact that passport or not, no Scotsman for three or four years after this date could travel in England without being stopped and robbed. Some

canons of Jedburgh and Dryburgh, who took a journey into England to sue for restoration of the property belonging to their churches, were brutally murdered.

In 1513, the citizens of Jedburgh thought proper to establish in the town an order of Franciscan friars, about thirty in number, of the reformed class called Observantines.

Their mode of life was exceedingly austere. They were not allowed to possess property either as individuals or a community, except the ground on which their houses stood. They subsisted entirely on charity. A certain number of them went about in turns with a wallet soliciting alms, hence they were called mendicant or begging friars. Their dress was a grey woollen gown with a cowl, girt round the middle with a rope, and they went about barefoot.

Any references to the Abbey which we find at this period are so much bound up with Border history that the limits of this article do not permit their narration. In 1544 the Abbey was destroyed by the English, and its tower and choir still show the marks of battery by the enemy's cannon. The ruin of Jedburgh in 1544 seems to have been complete, and from that ruin it never recovered. At the Reformation, the establishment met the fate of the rest. monastic order was suppressed, and the revenues were confiscated.

The Next Article of the Series will be Dryburgh.

The Quarry Master.

A BORDER STORY.

BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK.

CHAP. X.

THE COUNTING-HOUSE.

The

CCUPYING a large space in the northern quarter of the city-so large, indeed,

that each side of the rectangular block is bounded by a street-stands the great printing and publishing establishment of Maclellan & Sons, Limited. Here the accepted work of an author comes in the form of a manuscript, and here it leaves in the form of a volume, got up in the fine artistic taste and finished style of workmanship that characterise everything taken in hand by the famous firm. In the centre of the block, like the engine-room of a steam-ship, are the private rooms of the partners, and the suite of apartments included under the general term of the Counting house.

Here in this counting-house, occupying the humblest position in the department, is our young friend, the ex-expectant millionaire of the Eildonlea quarry. Caring little for the

66

classical side of the curriculum while attending the public school of St. Johns, Tom Watson had gone in" rather for the commercial as more to his liking. The head-master of that institution had a craze for training his senior commercial pupils in book-keeping, and boasted that his boys were so thoroughly "up" in the literature of the day-book, the journal, the cash-book, and the ledger, that they could at once assume the responsibities of any countinghouse to which they might find themselves appointed.

Vain boast! What boy, entering the countinghouse department of any business, is asked to air his knowledge of book-keeping by taking his place over the heads of a lot of poor fellows who have been working there for years among day-books and ledgers, with but faint hopes of ever attaining the position of head book-keeper or chief cashier! With such a training, and with the notions that such a training had put into his head, it can scarcely be a matter of surprise if Tom Watson felt considerably disappointed in being set to copy letters, enter invoices, and docquet accounts, instead of being set to keep the bill-book or balance the cash for which he deemed himself thoroughly qualified,

Frank, brusque, and apt to be quick in temper -qualities inherited from his father, the forester -Tom asked one of the clerks one day how long he was expected to be kept among the drudgeries of the counting-house.

"What do you want?" replied the clerkJackson, the youngest son of a wealthy Glasgow merchant living in one of the finest houses in Hillhead. "What do you want?"

I

"I want out of this sickening drudgery. was taught at school to keep a set of books, and make a balance-sheet."

Then

"Oh, indeed, you were were you? perhaps you would like to jump over the heads of six of us, and take the crib of old Colway the cashier!"

"I could easily take his place if offered it."

"Well-that's about the coolest piece of cheek I ever heard in all my life." Then calling out to some of his fellow-clerks, Jackson rehearsed the "cheek" that had just been uttered. A yell of derisive laughter followedrepeated again and yet again.

Unlucky Tom Watson! It was a long time ere he heard the last of that unfortunate assertion. It "nettled" the fellows in the office more than amused them, and sowed the seeds of jealousy which bore its bitter fruit by and bye. Good-natured, with no such thing as ill-will in his disposition, Tom Watson endeavoured to live down the banter as he had done the ridicule

that had followed the incident in the quarry at Eildonlea. He apologised for the unlucky mistake he had made, declared that he wanted promotion over nobody's head, and explained that it arose from the training he had received at school. "All in good time, Tom, my man. You'll rise to eminence some day, like me-head book-keeper in this great establishment, with a wife and weans at home to comfort ye after your day's work is done here."

"Thank you, Mr. Paterson, for your kind words-the first I've heard for some weeks."

There was a touch of emotion in the lad's voice-a touch of nature which helped to bring the younger clerks into something like forgiveness and sympathy with the junior who was voted "not a bad fellow, after all, in spite of his Border cheek."

Mr. Paterson ranked next to Mr. Colway, the cashier, the two oldest employees of the firm, and who had both been connected with it since its establishment by the father of Mr. Maclellan. Mr. Paterson, it used to be remarked, had sat on the same stool, and at the same desk, for the same number of years as the children of Israel had wandered in the wilderness of Sinai.

66

The other clerks in the office were all younger men-good fellows doing their work well, but always on the scheme" to get down town for a turn or two in Buchanan Street. There was one long standing ordinance which had afforded a plausible pretext for absence from the office for an hour or so, whenever such was specially wanted by any one of the clerks. A butcher in the east-end of the city was always behind with his half-yearly feu-duty payable to Mr. Maclellan in connection with some private trust. It was the collection of this feu-duty which afforded the pretext for at least an hour out. "Where is Jackson?" Mr. Colway would ask, peeping out of his little cash-room.

"He's away down to see if he can get Macfarlane's feu-duty which was promised to-day," some of the clerks would reply.

"Confound that feu-duty," muttered the old cashier retreating into his den.

In about an hour afterwards, Jackson would return, but, of course, with no feu-duty. Probably in a day or two later on, the feu-duty was again put into requisition until it was at last paid, when all decent pretext for another outing was laid on the shelf for the next month or two. But for the butcher's feu-duty, it was declared that life in the counting-house of Maclellan & Sons would have been insupportable and not worth the living. The clerks had their existence embittered by Mr. Colway, whose cash was always committing some freak of over or under

balancing. When it was at last discovered where the error lay, the cash broke out afresh a day or two afterwards, and kept the counting-house in hot water. Somebody must have got payment of an account and not entered the same or somebody must have paid some account and made no note of it. There was a cash-hunt almost every day, and the hunt always ended in the discovery of some memoranda lying below the eyes of the old gentleman who had set the hunt agoing. (To be continued.)

A Reverie.

ONE summer evening-'twas the month of June,
When all the brightest blossoms were in bloom-
I wandered idly down by Teviot side
And listened to the rippling of its tide.
The cooling breezes played upon its breast
And all my drooping inner thoughts refreshed.
I watched the sinking sun, the crescent moon,
And slowly gathering shades of coming gloom,
That told the daylight's course was nearly o'er,
And night, its fellow-rival, king once more-
Just then it was a far from equal fight
For day was long and very brief the night;
But, summer past, grim winter will return,
And lengthened night will shortened daylight
To hum the busy insect tribe had ceased [spurn.
And all the air was filled with perfect peace,
Save that there came from Minto's neighbouring
The lowly murmur of the cooing dove. [wood

I mused on many a mirthful hour gone by;
I heaved, and heaved again, a useless sigh
For joys long past with childhood's happy day,
When in the flowery meads I loved to play.
Once more I dwelt in that health-giving isle,
Which Phoebus blesses with his bounteous smile;
Where Philomel sings far into the night;
Where nature's garb is one of pure delight;
And all the tenderest flowers and shrubs combine
To make her woods a paradise divine;
In pastoral Ettrick and in Yarrow too,
Where poesy's sweet seedling sprang and grew-
Yarrow, that placid vale and storied stream,
Whose murmuring flow inspires the poet's dream;
Yarrow, by Scott, by Hogg, and Wordsworth loved
And all who near its mossy banks have roved.
Yarrow! I've seen thee under every hue,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter's icy thew,
Through memory's mirror I can see thee yet,
Thy charms are such as I may ne'er forget;
Beside thy birken bowers were I content
If all my years in happiness were spent.
No other spot I know around whose name
A brighter halo of romantic fame
There clings. Heaven grant, O, gentle river,
That you and I through life may love for ever.
APOLLO.

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, 48.

BORDER MAGAZINE.

AUGUST, 1896.

LIST OF CONTENTS.

JOHN TELFER, Esq. By STUART DOUGLAS ELLIOT, S.S.C. (Portrait and Illustrations),
BORDER BATTLES AND BATTLEFIELDS: HOMILDON HILL. BY JAMES ROBSON,

THE ABBEYS OF THE BORDER. No. II.-JEDBURGH.

THE QUARRY MASTER: A BORDER STORY. BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK,
A REVERIE. By APOLLO,

EDITORIAL NOTICES AND LIST OF CONTENTS,

PAGE

121

124

By JAMES THOMSON. (Illustrated),

126

128

129

130

130

133

136

139

139

140

Supplement.

CAERLANRIG: A NOVEL. By SIR GEORGE DOUGLAS, Bart.,

Dr. JOHN LEYDEN'S INDIAN CAREER. BY CARFAX. (Illustrated),
GRETNA GREEN AND ITS MARRIAGES. By G M. R.,

THE BALLAD OF CAPTAIN JOHN,

BORDER BOOKS,

BORDER NOTES AND QUERIES,

LOVE ON TWEED: A STORY O' TRAQUAIR,

W

Caerlanrig, A Novel.

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

ELL, I suppose that most men's early recollections are of affection in some kind or other-if not of a mother's love, then of an elder sister's, or a nurse's. I have nothing of the sort to recall. My guardian during infancy was an elderly gentlewoman, who had undertaken the charge of me with a view to increasing small means. We lived together in a retired house on the outskirts of Melmerby, a village in Cumberland. Let me endeavour to do no injustice to Miss Erne. She was a woman of exemplary life, who, according to her own lights, I believe, sincerely meant to do her duty by me. But possibly an unfortunate venture which she had made as a teacher had given her a dislike to children. Assuredly nature never created a woman less fitted to have charge of a child. Her mind was narrow, her circle of interests painfully restricted, and she displayed in great perfection some of the petty characteristics of the pattern old maid-such as a craze for order, a hatred of the slightest noise, or of whatever disturbed the dreary and punctilious routine of her daily life. In youth she had come under the influence of John Wesley, and had become deeply imbued with religious principles of an

evangelical order-principles which she painfully strove to instil into myself. I remember her best as I have seen her sit for hours together, her mittened hands either folded before her, or else supporting a volume of divinity; whilst I was left to my own devices in the room, being forbidden, however, to make any noise, or to touch any article excepting my own few toys. The sole other occupant of the house was an aged female domestic. She had been a notorious drunkard; but professing to have been "converted," she was taken into the service of Miss Erne, who laboured at reclaiming her. But the woman was either a hypocrite or an incurable, for she kept spirits concealed in the bedroom which I shared with her, and would drink freely at nights or when her mistress's back was turned, after which she often terrified me with her violence. Of course, there were other children in the village, but either in consequence of instructions which she had received, or from her own notion of discipline, Miss Erne forbade my associating with them. Amid such surroundings my earliest years were passed! At the age of eight, I was transferred from Melmerby to a country school in the north of England. No doubt I benefited by the change, for I had now the society suited to my age. I

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