Chapter 10

Footnotes[1]The arms of Fairlie of Bruntisfield were—or, a lion rampant; in chief three stars gules. (Nisbet'sHeraldry.)[2]The following lines were found among some old family papers, and are headed,—VERSES—A FRAGMENT.Descriptive of Bruntisfield House, now in the possession of Mr. Warrender, written in June 1790 at the desire of a young lady to whom the author was much attached.Near where Edina's smoky turrets rise,And Arthur rears his bold and lofty head,Where the green meadow broad expanded lies,And yellow furze the sporting links bespread,—By tallest Elms and spreading Beech concealedFrom vulgar eyes—from busy care retired,To tender Melancholy alone revealed,Or Love, by Truth and Gentleness inspired,—An ancient Pile of gothic structure stands,Whose massy walls still brave the lapse of years,Once the retreat of rude confederate Bands,Or safe Asylum to a virgin's fears.No longer now the seat of War's alarms,Far gentler sounds are echoed here around,Sacred to Genius—here th' Enthusiast warms,Or pensive walks as o'er enchanted ground.No longer on the jarring hinges sweepsTh' unwieldy Portal as in times of yore.Secure within the peaceful owner sleeps,Nor dreams of wounds, or pants for human gore.The arched Gateway open still invites,The curious Traveller to pause awhile,Instructs the grave—the gay but ill delights,Nor asks the vacant for a single smile.High o'er its top the branching Elms ascend,And gild their summits in the Evening beam,The creeping ivy, Ruin's constant friend,Clasps its worn sides and enters every seam.Musing, within these limits oft I rove,A slave to Love's alternate hopes and fears,With heedless footsteps pace the silent grove,And vent the Sorrows of my heart in tears.Here tune my Soul to Pity's softest strain,Mark the swift progress of Life's fleeting hour,Learn, from my own, to feel another's Pain,Nor covet wealth, or court ambitious Power.Here too, when from the West the sun's last rayShoots thro' the gloom, and brightens all the scene,Here fair Eliza oft was wont to stray,And add new lustre to the vernal green.[3]When my aunt, Lady John Scott, was staying at Bruntisfield in 1863, she trenched the mound across, and made a thorough examination of it, but discovered nothing, beyond that it was undoubtedly artificial.[4]The opening lines of the tragedy are believed to have been inspired by the woods of the Flass in Berwickshire, Home having been for a short time on a visit to the neighbouring parish of Westruther.[5]For a detailed account of the convent of St. Catherine and its founders, seeThe Convent of St. Catherine of Sienna, by George Seton, 1871. Privately printed.[6]The arms of Fairlie of Brede were—or, a lion rampant, gules; between his forepaws a star of the last bruised with a bendlet, azure. It is said that the first of this family was a natural son of Robert II.; hence they have the tincture and figure of the Royal Arms (without the tressure), and bruised with a bendlet, a mark of illegitimation. (See Nisbet'sHeraldry.)In his MS. notes, written in 1700, William Wauchope of Niddrie mentions the Fairlies of Brede among the seven old families in the county which were already extinct. The others were—the Logans of Lochsterrick (Restalrig); the Prestons of Craigmillar, the Herrings of Gilmerton, the Edmistons of Edmiston, the Giffords of Sheriffhall, and the Lauders of the Bass.[7]Scott—"The Gray Brother."[8]See Wilson'sPrehistoric Annals of Scotland.[9]Violet Fane—"Autumn Songs."[10]I have been told by Mr. Stillie, who has good reasons for knowing the truth of the matter, that Allan Ramsay laid the scenery of "The Gentle Shepherd," round the Hunter's Tryst, and thatA flowrie howm between twa verdant braes,Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes;A trottin' burnie wimplin' thro' the ground,Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round,lies down in the hollow at the bottom of the hill by the Braid Burn. Old Mr. Trotter of the Bush was very anxious to establish the fact that Habbie's Howe was up the Logan Water in Glencorse; and Mr. Brown of Newhall claimed the site for his property farther west along the Pentlands, and wrote a book to prove that he was right. In consequence, it is the generally received opinion that the spot now called Habbie's Howe on Newhall was the one intended by Allan Ramsay; but, according to the tradition received by my informant from Allan Ramsay's friends and relations, both were wrong.[11]The name of Hales is still retained by a quarry on the farther side of the Water of Leith.[12]The Otterburn arms were—argent,guttee de sable; acheveronbetween threeotters' heads coupedof the last; and on achiefazure, acrescentor.[13]The same Dr. Munro was dining once at Niddrie. One of the children had not been well, and was still looking pale, and Mrs. Wauchope (my great-great-grandmother) asked him what she had better do. "You should take advice, madam," was his answer, thus intimating that no opinion was to be got out of him gratis. His daughter married Sir James Stuart, the last baronet of Allanbank, and was the "pert wife" against whom Charles Sharpe inveighed with such bitterness for persuading her husband to sell the portrait of "Pearlin' Jean."[14]Alas! that is how it looked a few years ago, but lately the place has been acquired by the Morningside Lunatic Asylum, and has been sadly changed. Modern plate-glass replaces the old sixteen and twenty paned windows that I remember, and other alterations seem in progress.[15]Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials.[16]Scott—"Marmion."[17]This story was told by Mrs. Williamson herself to the old Miss Robertsons (who lived in George Square), and they repeated it to Lady John Scott.[18]The Napiers of Merchiston bear the arms of the Earls of Lennox of old, instead of their own,—their ancestor having married an heiress of that family in the 15th century.[19]Thus the Lindesay spoke,Thus clamour still the war-notes whenThe King to mass his way has ta'en,Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.Scott—"Marmion."[20]Sir David Lindesay in "The Monarchie" thus enumerates the saints to whom superstitious honours were paid:Thair superstitious pilgramagisTo menie divers imagis;Sum to Sanct Roche, with diligenceTo saif them from the pestilence;For thair teeth to Sanct Apollene;To Sanct Tred well to mend thair ene.[21]Miss Menie was of a very hospitable disposition. At the beginning of every winter she killed and salted down a Highland bullock, which she and her guests ate steadily through till it was finished. Lady Robert Kerr, and my two great-grand-aunts, Mrs. Mackenzie and Mrs. David Wauchope, constantly dined with her, and she used to press her neighbour, Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, to come, with the reminder, "We we getting gey near the tail noo."[22]Scott—"Marmion."[23]Scott—"The Gray Brother." For this and other stories of the Somerville family, seeThe Memorie of the Somervilles.[24]The nameDrumsignifies a rising ground, the back or ridge of a hill. Here the forest of Drumselch—i.e.Druim sealche, the hill of the hunting—began and reached almost to Holyrood House.[25]It has been supposed by several good judges, including Charles Sharpe, that this melancholy accident gave rise to the ballad of "The Two Brothers." The names, William and John, certainly agree with those of the ballad, but there are several trifling dissimilarities. In all the different versions of "The Two Brothers," it is a knife that gives John the deadly wound, whereas the Somerville tragedy was caused by the accidental discharge of a pistol. Then, in the version I am about to quote, the scene of the story is laid in the north. This version differs slightly from all those hitherto published. In it the brothers are styledLordWilliam andLordJohn. It was given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell (Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan's brother), and it has a pretty old tune.THE TWO BROTHERS.There were two brothers in the north,Lord William and Lord John,And they would try a wrestling match,So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone;So to the fields they've gone.They wrestled up, they wrestled down,Till Lord John fell on the ground,And a knife into Lord William's pocketGave him a deadly wound, wound, wound;Gave him a deadly wound."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the burnie clear,And wash my wound sae deep and dark,Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair, mair, mair;Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair."He took him up upon his back,An' carried him to the burnie clear,But aye the mair he washed his woundIt aye did bleed the mair, mair, mair;It aye did bleed the mair."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the kirkyard fair,And dig a grave sae deep and dark,And lay my body there, there, there;And lay my body there.""But what shall I say to my father dear,When he says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell him I am gone to Greenock townTo buy him a puncheon of rum, rum, rum;To buy him a puncheon of rum.""And what shall I say to my sister dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I've gone to London town,To buy her a marriage-gown, gown, gown;To buy her a marriage-gown.""But what shall I say to my grandmother dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,And that I'm dead and gone, gone, gone;And that I'm dead and gone."[26]Memorie of the Somervilles, vol. i. p. 466.[27]Cibolle, a leek.[28]The Bland Burges Papers.[29]The Laird of Cambusnethan's first wife was the beautiful Katherine Carmichael, the Captain of Crawfuird's daughter, whose early love had been won by James V. By the king she was mother to Lord John Stewart, Prior of Coldingham, and to Janet, Countess of Argyle. The king stood godfather to her eldest son by the Laird of Cambusnethan, who was called James after him, but was better known as "the Laird with the Velvet Eye." The Laird of Cambusnethan's second wife was of the family of Philiphaugh.[30]Memorials of the Earls of Haddington, by Sir William Fraser.[31]Dexter, a lion rampant for Edgar; Sinister, two swords conjoined in base, piercing a man's heart, a cinquefoil in chief, for Pearson.[32]"Gude e'en to ye, Daddie Ratton; they tauld me ye were hanged, man; or did ye get out o' John Dalgleish's hands, like half-hangit Maggie Dickson?"—Heart of Midlothian, chap. viii.[33]In the reign of James II., William Preston of Gourton (as he is styled) had travelled far, and been at much pains and expense in procuring the arm-bone of St. Giles, which he generously bestowed on the church of St. Giles at Edinburgh. For these reasons, on his decease, the Provost and magistrates of Edinburgh engaged to build over his sepulchre an aisle, to have his crest cut out in a conspicuous manner, with a motto intimating what he had done with so much zeal and fidelity for the church, and to cause his armorial bearings, engraven on marble, to be put in three different places in the aisle. Besides, it was expressly ordered that his male representative should have the honour, in all future processions, to bear this relic. This was a singular grant which the family of Preston enjoyed. They retained possession of it until the Reformation. (Whyte'sAccount of the Parish of Liberton.)[34]Letter dated December 2, 1566.[35]'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hallThat first I lent my earTo that deep tempter Lethington,With Moray bending near.Aytoun—"Bothwell."[36]Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials, vol. i. part iii. p. 235.[37]Various derivations have been given of the name of Niddrie Marischal. It is said to have been originally a hunting-seat of the king's, and therefore calledNid-du-Roy. The Rev. Mr. Whyte—the historian of Liberton parish—derives it from the GaelicNiadhandRi, "the King's Champion." The addition of Merschell, Marischal, or Marshal, as it is variously spelt, and which distinguishes it from Niddrie Seton in West Lothian, arose, say Sir George Mackenzie, Nesbit, and others, from "the heads of this family of Wauchope of Niddrie having been hereditary Bailies to Keith Lords Marischal, and Marischal-Deputes in Midlothian; from the Lords Marischal they had the lands of Niddry designed Niddry Marischal." The Rev. Mr. Whyte repeats this statement, with the verbal confirmation of Lord Hailes—no mean authority; but we must confess we have not met with anything like proof of the fact. (History and Genealogy of the Family of Wauchope.)[38]"The estate was again forfaulted in Archibald's time, father to Francis, my great-grandfather, because he followed Queen Mary; and possibly having some power at that time, satisfied his own bold humour in disobliging his neighbours. He mutilated the Laird of Woolmet, and never rid without a great following of horsemen, whom he maintained, and gave to every man a piece of land as a gratuity, which continued during their service. The house at that time was of long standing, capable to lodge a hundred strangers, and lay most eastwards from the place it now stands in. It was then burnt by his neighbours, after he broke his neck in Skinner's Close (Edinburgh), being alarmed by his man, and thinking to save himself out of a storm window, while his enemies were already in great number at his door, with design to murder or take him prisoner." (MS. Notes by William Wauchope, 1700.)There seems to have been a hereditary friendship between the Bothwell family and the Wauchopes. Robert Wauchope is the "young Niddrie" mentioned in the following lines, as riding with James, Earl of Bothwell, to intercept the queen and carry her off to Dunbar—Hay, bid the trumpet sound the march,Go, Bolton, to the van;Young Niddrie follows with the rear.Set forward, every man!Aytoun—"Bothwell."His son Archibald (the young Niddrie of William Wauchope's notes) was a friend and companion of Francis, Lord Bothwell, and was concerned in the attack on the palace of Holyrood, December 27, 1591. (SeeHistory and Genealogy of the Family of Wauchope of Niddrie-Merschell, by James Paterson, 1858. Privately printed.)[39]Dron brats, a kind of apron worn behind. (Jamieson'sDictionary.)[40]Tironensian Monks, a branch of the Benedictines, so called from the Abbey of Tiron in France, from which they were brought by David I. in 1113, and planted at Selkirk. He removed them to Kelso in 1126. (SeeRegistrum Cartarum de Kelso, Ban. Club, 1846.)[41]She was Anne Hepburn, a famous beauty, eldest daughter of Sir Patrick Hepburn of Waughton, and wife of Sir James Hamilton of Priestfield, second son of Thomas, first Earl of Haddington.[42]See Scot'sStaggering State, edited with notes by Charles Rogers.[43]Two of these songs, being less well known than others, I quote from the versions given me by Lady John Scott.THE WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL.There cam a bird out o' a bushOn water for to dine,And sighing sair, said the King's dochter,"O! wae's this heart o' mine."He's ta'en a Harp into his hand,He's harped them a' asleep,Except it was the King's dochter,Who ae wink couldna get.He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,Ta'en her on behind himsel',And they rade down to that waterThat they ca' Wearie's Well."Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The first step she steppit in,She steppit to the knee,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"This water's no' for me.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the middle,And sighin' said that ladye fair,"I've wat my golden girdle.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearies Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the chin,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"It will gar our loves to twine.""Seven King's dochters I hae drownedIn the water o' Wearie's Well,And I'll mak' you the eighth o' them,An' I'll ring for you the Bell.""Sin' I am standin' here," she says,"This dowie death to die,Grant me ae kiss o' your fause, fause mouth,For that would comfort me."He leaned him ower his saddle bowTo kiss her cheek and chin,She's ta'en him in her arms twaAnd thrown him headlong in."Sin' seven King's dochters ye've drowned thereIn the water o' Wearie's Well,I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the Bell mysel'."An' aye she warsled, an' aye she swam,Till she won to dry land,Then thankit God maist heartilieThe dangers she'd ower cum.The other song is the Scottish version of the old fairy tale of the Frog Prince, and runs thus:—THE LADYE AND THE FAIRY;ORTHE PADDO'S SANG.Oh, open the door, my hinnie, my heart!Oh, open the door, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spakBy the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my castock,[44]my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my castock, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my kail, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my kail, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spak'At the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, gi'e me your hand, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me your hand, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, wae to ye now, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, wae to ye now, my wise fause love;Ye've broken the words ye gi'ed to meAt the well in the woods o' Wearie!There is a very pretty old tune to "The Paddo's Sang."[44]Castock, cabbage-stock.[45]Birrel'sDiary; Anderson'sMS. History of Scotlandin the Advocates' Library.[46]Sir David Lindsay writes of persons goingTo Sanct Trid well to mend thair ene.[47]I had intended only to quote a few lines of this touching lament, but it is all so beautiful, I cannot refrain from quoting the whole, and trust that those who know it well already will not mind reading it again.THE MARCHIONESS OF DOUGLAS.Oh, waly, waly up yon bank,An' waly, waly down yon brae,An' waly, waly by yon burn side,Whar I an' my love were wont to gae.Hey nonnie, nonnie, but love is bonnieA little while, when it is new,But when it's auld, it waxes cauld,An' wears awa like mornin' dew.Oh, wherefore sud I busk my head,An' wherefore sud I kaim my hair,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me,An' says he'll never lo'e me mair.When we rade in, by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see,My Lord was clad in black velvetAn' I, mysel', in cramasye.Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,Nae roof henceforth shall shelter me.St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me.It's no' the frost, that freezes fell,Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie,It's no' sic cauld, that gars me greet,But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.When I lay sick, an' very sick,When I lay sick, an' like to die,A gentleman o' gude accountCam' frae the west to visit me;But Blackwood whispered in my Lord's earA fause word, baith o' him an' me."Gae, little Page, an' tell your LordIf he'll come doun an' dine wi' me,I'll set him on a chair o' gowdAn' serve him on my bended knee.""When cockle shells turn siller bells,When wine draps red frae ilka tree,When frost and snaw will warm us a',Then I'll come doun an' dine wi' thee!"If I had kent, as I ken nowThat love it was sae ill to win,I wad ne'er hae wet my cherry cheekFor ony man, or mother's son.When my father gat word o' this,I wat, an angry man was he.He sent fourscore o' his Archers bauldTo bring me safe to his ain countrie."Fare ye well then, Jamie Douglas,I need care as little as ye care for me.The Earl o' Mar is my father dear,An' I sune will see my ain countrie."Ye thocht that I was like yoursel',Loving ilk ane I did see;But here I swear, by the heavens clear,I never lo'ed a man but thee."Slowly, slowly rose he upAn' slowly, slowly cam' he doun,An' when he saw her on horseback set,He garred his drums and trumpets sound.When I upon my horse was set,My tenants a' were wi' me ta'en,They sat them doun upon their kneesAn' begged me to come back again."Oh fare ye weel, my bonnie Palace,An' fare ye weel, my children three.God grant your father may get mair grace,An' lo'e ye better than he's lo'ed me!"An' wae be to you, ye fause Blackwood,Aye, an' an ill death may ye die,Ye were the first, and the foremost man,That parted my ain gude Lord and me."As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun,My gude father, he welcomed me,He caused his minstrels loud to sound,It was nae music at a' to me;Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear,Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me."Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear,An' o' your weepin' let me be;A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him,An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee.""Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your talking let me be;I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's faceFor a' the Lords in the north countrie."The lintie is a bonnie bird,An' aften flies far frae its nest,Sae a' the warld may plainly seeHe's far awa' that I lo'e best."As she was sitting at her bower window,Lookin' afar ower hill and glen,Wha did she see but fourscore menThat came to tak' her back again.Out bespak' the foremost man,(An' whaten a weel spoken man was he!)"If the Lady o' Douglas be withinYe'll bid her come doun and speak to me."Then out bespak' her father dear,I wat an angry man was he,"Ye may gang back the gate ye cam',For my daughter's face ye'se never see.""Now hand your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your folly let me be,For I'll gae back to my gude Lord,Sin' his love has come back to me."She laughed like ony new-made bride,When she bad farewell to her father's towers;But the tear, I wat, stude in her e'e,When she cam' in sicht o' her ain Lord's bowers.As she rade by the Orange Gate,Whaten a blyth sight did she see,Her gude Lord comin' her to meet,An' in his hand, her bairnies three."Oh, bring to me a pint o' wine,That I may drink to my Ladie."She took the cup intill her hand,But her bonnie heart, it burst in three.[48]Collegiate Churches of Midlothian.Bannatyne Club, 1861.[49]Sanct Tredwell als thare may be sene,Quhilk on ane prik hes baith her ene.Sir David Lindsay—"The Monarchie."[50]See Chambers'sTraditions of Edinburgh.[51]The Logans of Restalrig quartered the arms of Ramsay of Dalhousie with their own. They bore 1st and 4th, or, three piles issuing from a chief, and conjoined in base, sable, for Logan; 2nd and 3rd, argent, an eagle displayed with two heads sable, beaked and membered gules, for Ramsay.[52]There is a poem in the Bannatyne MS. termed "Rowll's Cursing." Whether written by him, or only in his name, is not known. "The following passage in it," writes the learned Lord Hailes, "determines the era at which he lived:—----and now of Rome that beiris the rod,Undir the hevin to lowse and bind,Paip Alexander.The Pontiff here meant must have been the virtuous Alexander VI., who wasDivine Vicegerent, from 1492 to 1503." InSelect Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, printed by Dr. Laing in 1822, the poem is given, and entitledThe cursing of Sir John RowlisUpoun the steilars of his fowlis;but to which of the two Rowlls this refers is unknown.[53]Wilson'sReminiscences of Old Edinburgh.[54]She was Christian Hamilton, daughter of Grange Hamilton, and maternal grand-daughter of the first Lord Forester.[55]Kirkton'sHistory of the Church of Scotland, edited with notes by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, page 184.[56]Fountainhall'sHistorical Notices, vol. i. p. 231-233.[57]This preparation of milk is very ancient, and probably originated among the Tartars, by whom it was made of mares' milk, and calledKoumiss. It is believed to have been introduced into this country by the wandering Eastern tribes, who, leaving their native Phœnicia, gradually spread themselves along the north of Africa, and, leaving traces of their passage in the Basque Provinces and Brittany, colonised first Cornwall, and then the western coast of this island; and a few of whose customs still linger among us. There is a very interesting dissertation on this subject inThe Pillars of Hercules, by the late David Urquhart, M. P.[58]Should any one wish to pursue this subject further, he will find it most exhaustively treated in vol.I.ofArchæological Essays, by the late Sir James Young Simpson, Baronet. May not possibly Torphin, who gave his name to the neighbouring village of Corstorphine, have been a leader in the same Saxon host?[59]The original document, with signatures and seals attached, is preserved in the Register House, Edinburgh.[60]The arms of Lauder of Haltoun were—argent, a griffon salient sable, beaked and membered gules.[61]Chambers'sDomestic Annals of Scotland; Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials, ii. p. 445.[62]Scot'sStaggering State.[63]See Wood'sAccount of the Parish of Cramond, 1794.[64]The Laws of Lauriston bear ermine, a bend between two cocks, gules. The cock in their arms is supposed by Nisbet to refer to the concluding part of the crow of that bird having a similar sound to the name Law.[65]Scott'sTales of a Grandfather.[66]There are two curious sundials at Barnton. One is an obelisk dial, about twelve feet high, dated 1692. The other, of monumental design, was erected by Lord Balmerino.[67]Health to immortal Jeffrey! once in nameEngland could boast a judge almost the same.English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.[68]It was either this Sir Archibald's widow or his mother, that was the Lady Primrose who entertained Flora Macdonald so hospitably in London, during her detention there in 1747, and to whose house in Essex Street, Strand, Prince Charles came during the secret visit he paid to London in 1750. Dr. King, in hisPolitical and Literary Anecdotes, gives an account of meeting the Prince at Lady Primrose's.[69]They were both Swintons of Swinton.

Footnotes

[1]The arms of Fairlie of Bruntisfield were—or, a lion rampant; in chief three stars gules. (Nisbet'sHeraldry.)

[2]The following lines were found among some old family papers, and are headed,—VERSES—A FRAGMENT.Descriptive of Bruntisfield House, now in the possession of Mr. Warrender, written in June 1790 at the desire of a young lady to whom the author was much attached.Near where Edina's smoky turrets rise,And Arthur rears his bold and lofty head,Where the green meadow broad expanded lies,And yellow furze the sporting links bespread,—By tallest Elms and spreading Beech concealedFrom vulgar eyes—from busy care retired,To tender Melancholy alone revealed,Or Love, by Truth and Gentleness inspired,—An ancient Pile of gothic structure stands,Whose massy walls still brave the lapse of years,Once the retreat of rude confederate Bands,Or safe Asylum to a virgin's fears.No longer now the seat of War's alarms,Far gentler sounds are echoed here around,Sacred to Genius—here th' Enthusiast warms,Or pensive walks as o'er enchanted ground.No longer on the jarring hinges sweepsTh' unwieldy Portal as in times of yore.Secure within the peaceful owner sleeps,Nor dreams of wounds, or pants for human gore.The arched Gateway open still invites,The curious Traveller to pause awhile,Instructs the grave—the gay but ill delights,Nor asks the vacant for a single smile.High o'er its top the branching Elms ascend,And gild their summits in the Evening beam,The creeping ivy, Ruin's constant friend,Clasps its worn sides and enters every seam.Musing, within these limits oft I rove,A slave to Love's alternate hopes and fears,With heedless footsteps pace the silent grove,And vent the Sorrows of my heart in tears.Here tune my Soul to Pity's softest strain,Mark the swift progress of Life's fleeting hour,Learn, from my own, to feel another's Pain,Nor covet wealth, or court ambitious Power.Here too, when from the West the sun's last rayShoots thro' the gloom, and brightens all the scene,Here fair Eliza oft was wont to stray,And add new lustre to the vernal green.

[2]The following lines were found among some old family papers, and are headed,—

VERSES—A FRAGMENT.

Descriptive of Bruntisfield House, now in the possession of Mr. Warrender, written in June 1790 at the desire of a young lady to whom the author was much attached.

Near where Edina's smoky turrets rise,And Arthur rears his bold and lofty head,Where the green meadow broad expanded lies,And yellow furze the sporting links bespread,—By tallest Elms and spreading Beech concealedFrom vulgar eyes—from busy care retired,To tender Melancholy alone revealed,Or Love, by Truth and Gentleness inspired,—An ancient Pile of gothic structure stands,Whose massy walls still brave the lapse of years,Once the retreat of rude confederate Bands,Or safe Asylum to a virgin's fears.No longer now the seat of War's alarms,Far gentler sounds are echoed here around,Sacred to Genius—here th' Enthusiast warms,Or pensive walks as o'er enchanted ground.No longer on the jarring hinges sweepsTh' unwieldy Portal as in times of yore.Secure within the peaceful owner sleeps,Nor dreams of wounds, or pants for human gore.The arched Gateway open still invites,The curious Traveller to pause awhile,Instructs the grave—the gay but ill delights,Nor asks the vacant for a single smile.High o'er its top the branching Elms ascend,And gild their summits in the Evening beam,The creeping ivy, Ruin's constant friend,Clasps its worn sides and enters every seam.Musing, within these limits oft I rove,A slave to Love's alternate hopes and fears,With heedless footsteps pace the silent grove,And vent the Sorrows of my heart in tears.Here tune my Soul to Pity's softest strain,Mark the swift progress of Life's fleeting hour,Learn, from my own, to feel another's Pain,Nor covet wealth, or court ambitious Power.Here too, when from the West the sun's last rayShoots thro' the gloom, and brightens all the scene,Here fair Eliza oft was wont to stray,And add new lustre to the vernal green.

Near where Edina's smoky turrets rise,And Arthur rears his bold and lofty head,Where the green meadow broad expanded lies,And yellow furze the sporting links bespread,—

By tallest Elms and spreading Beech concealedFrom vulgar eyes—from busy care retired,To tender Melancholy alone revealed,Or Love, by Truth and Gentleness inspired,—

An ancient Pile of gothic structure stands,Whose massy walls still brave the lapse of years,Once the retreat of rude confederate Bands,Or safe Asylum to a virgin's fears.

No longer now the seat of War's alarms,Far gentler sounds are echoed here around,Sacred to Genius—here th' Enthusiast warms,Or pensive walks as o'er enchanted ground.

No longer on the jarring hinges sweepsTh' unwieldy Portal as in times of yore.Secure within the peaceful owner sleeps,Nor dreams of wounds, or pants for human gore.

The arched Gateway open still invites,The curious Traveller to pause awhile,Instructs the grave—the gay but ill delights,Nor asks the vacant for a single smile.

High o'er its top the branching Elms ascend,And gild their summits in the Evening beam,The creeping ivy, Ruin's constant friend,Clasps its worn sides and enters every seam.

Musing, within these limits oft I rove,A slave to Love's alternate hopes and fears,With heedless footsteps pace the silent grove,And vent the Sorrows of my heart in tears.

Here tune my Soul to Pity's softest strain,Mark the swift progress of Life's fleeting hour,Learn, from my own, to feel another's Pain,Nor covet wealth, or court ambitious Power.

Here too, when from the West the sun's last rayShoots thro' the gloom, and brightens all the scene,Here fair Eliza oft was wont to stray,And add new lustre to the vernal green.

[3]When my aunt, Lady John Scott, was staying at Bruntisfield in 1863, she trenched the mound across, and made a thorough examination of it, but discovered nothing, beyond that it was undoubtedly artificial.

[4]The opening lines of the tragedy are believed to have been inspired by the woods of the Flass in Berwickshire, Home having been for a short time on a visit to the neighbouring parish of Westruther.

[5]For a detailed account of the convent of St. Catherine and its founders, seeThe Convent of St. Catherine of Sienna, by George Seton, 1871. Privately printed.

[6]The arms of Fairlie of Brede were—or, a lion rampant, gules; between his forepaws a star of the last bruised with a bendlet, azure. It is said that the first of this family was a natural son of Robert II.; hence they have the tincture and figure of the Royal Arms (without the tressure), and bruised with a bendlet, a mark of illegitimation. (See Nisbet'sHeraldry.)In his MS. notes, written in 1700, William Wauchope of Niddrie mentions the Fairlies of Brede among the seven old families in the county which were already extinct. The others were—the Logans of Lochsterrick (Restalrig); the Prestons of Craigmillar, the Herrings of Gilmerton, the Edmistons of Edmiston, the Giffords of Sheriffhall, and the Lauders of the Bass.

In his MS. notes, written in 1700, William Wauchope of Niddrie mentions the Fairlies of Brede among the seven old families in the county which were already extinct. The others were—the Logans of Lochsterrick (Restalrig); the Prestons of Craigmillar, the Herrings of Gilmerton, the Edmistons of Edmiston, the Giffords of Sheriffhall, and the Lauders of the Bass.

[7]Scott—"The Gray Brother."

[8]See Wilson'sPrehistoric Annals of Scotland.

[9]Violet Fane—"Autumn Songs."

[10]I have been told by Mr. Stillie, who has good reasons for knowing the truth of the matter, that Allan Ramsay laid the scenery of "The Gentle Shepherd," round the Hunter's Tryst, and thatA flowrie howm between twa verdant braes,Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes;A trottin' burnie wimplin' thro' the ground,Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round,lies down in the hollow at the bottom of the hill by the Braid Burn. Old Mr. Trotter of the Bush was very anxious to establish the fact that Habbie's Howe was up the Logan Water in Glencorse; and Mr. Brown of Newhall claimed the site for his property farther west along the Pentlands, and wrote a book to prove that he was right. In consequence, it is the generally received opinion that the spot now called Habbie's Howe on Newhall was the one intended by Allan Ramsay; but, according to the tradition received by my informant from Allan Ramsay's friends and relations, both were wrong.

[10]I have been told by Mr. Stillie, who has good reasons for knowing the truth of the matter, that Allan Ramsay laid the scenery of "The Gentle Shepherd," round the Hunter's Tryst, and that

A flowrie howm between twa verdant braes,Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes;A trottin' burnie wimplin' thro' the ground,Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round,

lies down in the hollow at the bottom of the hill by the Braid Burn. Old Mr. Trotter of the Bush was very anxious to establish the fact that Habbie's Howe was up the Logan Water in Glencorse; and Mr. Brown of Newhall claimed the site for his property farther west along the Pentlands, and wrote a book to prove that he was right. In consequence, it is the generally received opinion that the spot now called Habbie's Howe on Newhall was the one intended by Allan Ramsay; but, according to the tradition received by my informant from Allan Ramsay's friends and relations, both were wrong.

[11]The name of Hales is still retained by a quarry on the farther side of the Water of Leith.

[12]The Otterburn arms were—argent,guttee de sable; acheveronbetween threeotters' heads coupedof the last; and on achiefazure, acrescentor.

[13]The same Dr. Munro was dining once at Niddrie. One of the children had not been well, and was still looking pale, and Mrs. Wauchope (my great-great-grandmother) asked him what she had better do. "You should take advice, madam," was his answer, thus intimating that no opinion was to be got out of him gratis. His daughter married Sir James Stuart, the last baronet of Allanbank, and was the "pert wife" against whom Charles Sharpe inveighed with such bitterness for persuading her husband to sell the portrait of "Pearlin' Jean."

[14]Alas! that is how it looked a few years ago, but lately the place has been acquired by the Morningside Lunatic Asylum, and has been sadly changed. Modern plate-glass replaces the old sixteen and twenty paned windows that I remember, and other alterations seem in progress.

[15]Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials.

[16]Scott—"Marmion."

[17]This story was told by Mrs. Williamson herself to the old Miss Robertsons (who lived in George Square), and they repeated it to Lady John Scott.

[18]The Napiers of Merchiston bear the arms of the Earls of Lennox of old, instead of their own,—their ancestor having married an heiress of that family in the 15th century.

[19]Thus the Lindesay spoke,Thus clamour still the war-notes whenThe King to mass his way has ta'en,Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.Scott—"Marmion."

Thus the Lindesay spoke,Thus clamour still the war-notes whenThe King to mass his way has ta'en,Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.Scott—"Marmion."

Thus the Lindesay spoke,Thus clamour still the war-notes whenThe King to mass his way has ta'en,Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.

Scott—"Marmion."

[20]Sir David Lindesay in "The Monarchie" thus enumerates the saints to whom superstitious honours were paid:Thair superstitious pilgramagisTo menie divers imagis;Sum to Sanct Roche, with diligenceTo saif them from the pestilence;For thair teeth to Sanct Apollene;To Sanct Tred well to mend thair ene.

[20]Sir David Lindesay in "The Monarchie" thus enumerates the saints to whom superstitious honours were paid:

Thair superstitious pilgramagisTo menie divers imagis;Sum to Sanct Roche, with diligenceTo saif them from the pestilence;For thair teeth to Sanct Apollene;To Sanct Tred well to mend thair ene.

[21]Miss Menie was of a very hospitable disposition. At the beginning of every winter she killed and salted down a Highland bullock, which she and her guests ate steadily through till it was finished. Lady Robert Kerr, and my two great-grand-aunts, Mrs. Mackenzie and Mrs. David Wauchope, constantly dined with her, and she used to press her neighbour, Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, to come, with the reminder, "We we getting gey near the tail noo."

[22]Scott—"Marmion."

[23]Scott—"The Gray Brother." For this and other stories of the Somerville family, seeThe Memorie of the Somervilles.

[24]The nameDrumsignifies a rising ground, the back or ridge of a hill. Here the forest of Drumselch—i.e.Druim sealche, the hill of the hunting—began and reached almost to Holyrood House.

[25]It has been supposed by several good judges, including Charles Sharpe, that this melancholy accident gave rise to the ballad of "The Two Brothers." The names, William and John, certainly agree with those of the ballad, but there are several trifling dissimilarities. In all the different versions of "The Two Brothers," it is a knife that gives John the deadly wound, whereas the Somerville tragedy was caused by the accidental discharge of a pistol. Then, in the version I am about to quote, the scene of the story is laid in the north. This version differs slightly from all those hitherto published. In it the brothers are styledLordWilliam andLordJohn. It was given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell (Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan's brother), and it has a pretty old tune.THE TWO BROTHERS.There were two brothers in the north,Lord William and Lord John,And they would try a wrestling match,So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone;So to the fields they've gone.They wrestled up, they wrestled down,Till Lord John fell on the ground,And a knife into Lord William's pocketGave him a deadly wound, wound, wound;Gave him a deadly wound."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the burnie clear,And wash my wound sae deep and dark,Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair, mair, mair;Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair."He took him up upon his back,An' carried him to the burnie clear,But aye the mair he washed his woundIt aye did bleed the mair, mair, mair;It aye did bleed the mair."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the kirkyard fair,And dig a grave sae deep and dark,And lay my body there, there, there;And lay my body there.""But what shall I say to my father dear,When he says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell him I am gone to Greenock townTo buy him a puncheon of rum, rum, rum;To buy him a puncheon of rum.""And what shall I say to my sister dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I've gone to London town,To buy her a marriage-gown, gown, gown;To buy her a marriage-gown.""But what shall I say to my grandmother dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,And that I'm dead and gone, gone, gone;And that I'm dead and gone."

THE TWO BROTHERS.

There were two brothers in the north,Lord William and Lord John,And they would try a wrestling match,So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone;So to the fields they've gone.They wrestled up, they wrestled down,Till Lord John fell on the ground,And a knife into Lord William's pocketGave him a deadly wound, wound, wound;Gave him a deadly wound."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the burnie clear,And wash my wound sae deep and dark,Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair, mair, mair;Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair."He took him up upon his back,An' carried him to the burnie clear,But aye the mair he washed his woundIt aye did bleed the mair, mair, mair;It aye did bleed the mair."Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the kirkyard fair,And dig a grave sae deep and dark,And lay my body there, there, there;And lay my body there.""But what shall I say to my father dear,When he says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell him I am gone to Greenock townTo buy him a puncheon of rum, rum, rum;To buy him a puncheon of rum.""And what shall I say to my sister dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I've gone to London town,To buy her a marriage-gown, gown, gown;To buy her a marriage-gown.""But what shall I say to my grandmother dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,And that I'm dead and gone, gone, gone;And that I'm dead and gone."

There were two brothers in the north,Lord William and Lord John,And they would try a wrestling match,So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone;So to the fields they've gone.

They wrestled up, they wrestled down,Till Lord John fell on the ground,And a knife into Lord William's pocketGave him a deadly wound, wound, wound;Gave him a deadly wound.

"Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the burnie clear,And wash my wound sae deep and dark,Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair, mair, mair;Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair."

He took him up upon his back,An' carried him to the burnie clear,But aye the mair he washed his woundIt aye did bleed the mair, mair, mair;It aye did bleed the mair.

"Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,"And carry me to the kirkyard fair,And dig a grave sae deep and dark,And lay my body there, there, there;And lay my body there."

"But what shall I say to my father dear,When he says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell him I am gone to Greenock townTo buy him a puncheon of rum, rum, rum;To buy him a puncheon of rum."

"And what shall I say to my sister dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I've gone to London town,To buy her a marriage-gown, gown, gown;To buy her a marriage-gown."

"But what shall I say to my grandmother dear,When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?'""Oh, tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,And that I'm dead and gone, gone, gone;And that I'm dead and gone."

[26]Memorie of the Somervilles, vol. i. p. 466.

[27]Cibolle, a leek.

[28]The Bland Burges Papers.

[29]The Laird of Cambusnethan's first wife was the beautiful Katherine Carmichael, the Captain of Crawfuird's daughter, whose early love had been won by James V. By the king she was mother to Lord John Stewart, Prior of Coldingham, and to Janet, Countess of Argyle. The king stood godfather to her eldest son by the Laird of Cambusnethan, who was called James after him, but was better known as "the Laird with the Velvet Eye." The Laird of Cambusnethan's second wife was of the family of Philiphaugh.

[30]Memorials of the Earls of Haddington, by Sir William Fraser.

[31]Dexter, a lion rampant for Edgar; Sinister, two swords conjoined in base, piercing a man's heart, a cinquefoil in chief, for Pearson.

[32]"Gude e'en to ye, Daddie Ratton; they tauld me ye were hanged, man; or did ye get out o' John Dalgleish's hands, like half-hangit Maggie Dickson?"—Heart of Midlothian, chap. viii.

[33]In the reign of James II., William Preston of Gourton (as he is styled) had travelled far, and been at much pains and expense in procuring the arm-bone of St. Giles, which he generously bestowed on the church of St. Giles at Edinburgh. For these reasons, on his decease, the Provost and magistrates of Edinburgh engaged to build over his sepulchre an aisle, to have his crest cut out in a conspicuous manner, with a motto intimating what he had done with so much zeal and fidelity for the church, and to cause his armorial bearings, engraven on marble, to be put in three different places in the aisle. Besides, it was expressly ordered that his male representative should have the honour, in all future processions, to bear this relic. This was a singular grant which the family of Preston enjoyed. They retained possession of it until the Reformation. (Whyte'sAccount of the Parish of Liberton.)

[34]Letter dated December 2, 1566.

[35]'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hallThat first I lent my earTo that deep tempter Lethington,With Moray bending near.Aytoun—"Bothwell."

'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hallThat first I lent my earTo that deep tempter Lethington,With Moray bending near.Aytoun—"Bothwell."

'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hallThat first I lent my earTo that deep tempter Lethington,With Moray bending near.

Aytoun—"Bothwell."

[36]Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials, vol. i. part iii. p. 235.

[37]Various derivations have been given of the name of Niddrie Marischal. It is said to have been originally a hunting-seat of the king's, and therefore calledNid-du-Roy. The Rev. Mr. Whyte—the historian of Liberton parish—derives it from the GaelicNiadhandRi, "the King's Champion." The addition of Merschell, Marischal, or Marshal, as it is variously spelt, and which distinguishes it from Niddrie Seton in West Lothian, arose, say Sir George Mackenzie, Nesbit, and others, from "the heads of this family of Wauchope of Niddrie having been hereditary Bailies to Keith Lords Marischal, and Marischal-Deputes in Midlothian; from the Lords Marischal they had the lands of Niddry designed Niddry Marischal." The Rev. Mr. Whyte repeats this statement, with the verbal confirmation of Lord Hailes—no mean authority; but we must confess we have not met with anything like proof of the fact. (History and Genealogy of the Family of Wauchope.)

[38]"The estate was again forfaulted in Archibald's time, father to Francis, my great-grandfather, because he followed Queen Mary; and possibly having some power at that time, satisfied his own bold humour in disobliging his neighbours. He mutilated the Laird of Woolmet, and never rid without a great following of horsemen, whom he maintained, and gave to every man a piece of land as a gratuity, which continued during their service. The house at that time was of long standing, capable to lodge a hundred strangers, and lay most eastwards from the place it now stands in. It was then burnt by his neighbours, after he broke his neck in Skinner's Close (Edinburgh), being alarmed by his man, and thinking to save himself out of a storm window, while his enemies were already in great number at his door, with design to murder or take him prisoner." (MS. Notes by William Wauchope, 1700.)There seems to have been a hereditary friendship between the Bothwell family and the Wauchopes. Robert Wauchope is the "young Niddrie" mentioned in the following lines, as riding with James, Earl of Bothwell, to intercept the queen and carry her off to Dunbar—Hay, bid the trumpet sound the march,Go, Bolton, to the van;Young Niddrie follows with the rear.Set forward, every man!Aytoun—"Bothwell."His son Archibald (the young Niddrie of William Wauchope's notes) was a friend and companion of Francis, Lord Bothwell, and was concerned in the attack on the palace of Holyrood, December 27, 1591. (SeeHistory and Genealogy of the Family of Wauchope of Niddrie-Merschell, by James Paterson, 1858. Privately printed.)

There seems to have been a hereditary friendship between the Bothwell family and the Wauchopes. Robert Wauchope is the "young Niddrie" mentioned in the following lines, as riding with James, Earl of Bothwell, to intercept the queen and carry her off to Dunbar—

Hay, bid the trumpet sound the march,Go, Bolton, to the van;Young Niddrie follows with the rear.Set forward, every man!Aytoun—"Bothwell."

Hay, bid the trumpet sound the march,Go, Bolton, to the van;Young Niddrie follows with the rear.Set forward, every man!

Aytoun—"Bothwell."

His son Archibald (the young Niddrie of William Wauchope's notes) was a friend and companion of Francis, Lord Bothwell, and was concerned in the attack on the palace of Holyrood, December 27, 1591. (SeeHistory and Genealogy of the Family of Wauchope of Niddrie-Merschell, by James Paterson, 1858. Privately printed.)

[39]Dron brats, a kind of apron worn behind. (Jamieson'sDictionary.)

[40]Tironensian Monks, a branch of the Benedictines, so called from the Abbey of Tiron in France, from which they were brought by David I. in 1113, and planted at Selkirk. He removed them to Kelso in 1126. (SeeRegistrum Cartarum de Kelso, Ban. Club, 1846.)

[41]She was Anne Hepburn, a famous beauty, eldest daughter of Sir Patrick Hepburn of Waughton, and wife of Sir James Hamilton of Priestfield, second son of Thomas, first Earl of Haddington.

[42]See Scot'sStaggering State, edited with notes by Charles Rogers.

[43]Two of these songs, being less well known than others, I quote from the versions given me by Lady John Scott.THE WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL.There cam a bird out o' a bushOn water for to dine,And sighing sair, said the King's dochter,"O! wae's this heart o' mine."He's ta'en a Harp into his hand,He's harped them a' asleep,Except it was the King's dochter,Who ae wink couldna get.He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,Ta'en her on behind himsel',And they rade down to that waterThat they ca' Wearie's Well."Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The first step she steppit in,She steppit to the knee,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"This water's no' for me.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the middle,And sighin' said that ladye fair,"I've wat my golden girdle.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearies Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the chin,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"It will gar our loves to twine.""Seven King's dochters I hae drownedIn the water o' Wearie's Well,And I'll mak' you the eighth o' them,An' I'll ring for you the Bell.""Sin' I am standin' here," she says,"This dowie death to die,Grant me ae kiss o' your fause, fause mouth,For that would comfort me."He leaned him ower his saddle bowTo kiss her cheek and chin,She's ta'en him in her arms twaAnd thrown him headlong in."Sin' seven King's dochters ye've drowned thereIn the water o' Wearie's Well,I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the Bell mysel'."An' aye she warsled, an' aye she swam,Till she won to dry land,Then thankit God maist heartilieThe dangers she'd ower cum.The other song is the Scottish version of the old fairy tale of the Frog Prince, and runs thus:—THE LADYE AND THE FAIRY;ORTHE PADDO'S SANG.Oh, open the door, my hinnie, my heart!Oh, open the door, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spakBy the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my castock,[44]my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my castock, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my kail, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my kail, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spak'At the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, gi'e me your hand, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me your hand, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, wae to ye now, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, wae to ye now, my wise fause love;Ye've broken the words ye gi'ed to meAt the well in the woods o' Wearie!There is a very pretty old tune to "The Paddo's Sang."

[43]Two of these songs, being less well known than others, I quote from the versions given me by Lady John Scott.

THE WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL.

There cam a bird out o' a bushOn water for to dine,And sighing sair, said the King's dochter,"O! wae's this heart o' mine."He's ta'en a Harp into his hand,He's harped them a' asleep,Except it was the King's dochter,Who ae wink couldna get.He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,Ta'en her on behind himsel',And they rade down to that waterThat they ca' Wearie's Well."Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The first step she steppit in,She steppit to the knee,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"This water's no' for me.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the middle,And sighin' said that ladye fair,"I've wat my golden girdle.""Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearies Well."The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the chin,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"It will gar our loves to twine.""Seven King's dochters I hae drownedIn the water o' Wearie's Well,And I'll mak' you the eighth o' them,An' I'll ring for you the Bell.""Sin' I am standin' here," she says,"This dowie death to die,Grant me ae kiss o' your fause, fause mouth,For that would comfort me."He leaned him ower his saddle bowTo kiss her cheek and chin,She's ta'en him in her arms twaAnd thrown him headlong in."Sin' seven King's dochters ye've drowned thereIn the water o' Wearie's Well,I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the Bell mysel'."An' aye she warsled, an' aye she swam,Till she won to dry land,Then thankit God maist heartilieThe dangers she'd ower cum.

There cam a bird out o' a bushOn water for to dine,And sighing sair, said the King's dochter,"O! wae's this heart o' mine."

He's ta'en a Harp into his hand,He's harped them a' asleep,Except it was the King's dochter,Who ae wink couldna get.

He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,Ta'en her on behind himsel',And they rade down to that waterThat they ca' Wearie's Well.

"Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."

The first step she steppit in,She steppit to the knee,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"This water's no' for me."

"Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearie's Well."

The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the middle,And sighin' said that ladye fair,"I've wat my golden girdle."

"Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair,Nae harm shall thee befa'.Aft times I hae watered my guid steedWi' the water o' Wearies Well."

The next step that she stepped in,She steppit to the chin,And sighin' said this ladye fair,"It will gar our loves to twine."

"Seven King's dochters I hae drownedIn the water o' Wearie's Well,And I'll mak' you the eighth o' them,An' I'll ring for you the Bell."

"Sin' I am standin' here," she says,"This dowie death to die,Grant me ae kiss o' your fause, fause mouth,For that would comfort me."

He leaned him ower his saddle bowTo kiss her cheek and chin,She's ta'en him in her arms twaAnd thrown him headlong in.

"Sin' seven King's dochters ye've drowned thereIn the water o' Wearie's Well,I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the Bell mysel'."

An' aye she warsled, an' aye she swam,Till she won to dry land,Then thankit God maist heartilieThe dangers she'd ower cum.

The other song is the Scottish version of the old fairy tale of the Frog Prince, and runs thus:—

THE LADYE AND THE FAIRY;ORTHE PADDO'S SANG.

Oh, open the door, my hinnie, my heart!Oh, open the door, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spakBy the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my castock,[44]my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my castock, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!Oh, gi'e me my kail, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my kail, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spak'At the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, gi'e me your hand, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me your hand, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well in the woods o' Wearie.Oh, wae to ye now, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, wae to ye now, my wise fause love;Ye've broken the words ye gi'ed to meAt the well in the woods o' Wearie!

Oh, open the door, my hinnie, my heart!Oh, open the door, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spakBy the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!

Oh, gi'e me my castock,[44]my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my castock, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well o' the woods o' Wearie O!

Oh, gi'e me my kail, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me my kail, my ain true love!An' mind the words that you and I spak'At the well in the woods o' Wearie.

Oh, gi'e me your hand, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, gi'e me your hand, my ain true love,An' mind the words that you and I spak'By the well in the woods o' Wearie.

Oh, wae to ye now, my hinnie, my heart,Oh, wae to ye now, my wise fause love;Ye've broken the words ye gi'ed to meAt the well in the woods o' Wearie!

There is a very pretty old tune to "The Paddo's Sang."

[44]Castock, cabbage-stock.

[45]Birrel'sDiary; Anderson'sMS. History of Scotlandin the Advocates' Library.

[46]Sir David Lindsay writes of persons goingTo Sanct Trid well to mend thair ene.

[47]I had intended only to quote a few lines of this touching lament, but it is all so beautiful, I cannot refrain from quoting the whole, and trust that those who know it well already will not mind reading it again.THE MARCHIONESS OF DOUGLAS.Oh, waly, waly up yon bank,An' waly, waly down yon brae,An' waly, waly by yon burn side,Whar I an' my love were wont to gae.Hey nonnie, nonnie, but love is bonnieA little while, when it is new,But when it's auld, it waxes cauld,An' wears awa like mornin' dew.Oh, wherefore sud I busk my head,An' wherefore sud I kaim my hair,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me,An' says he'll never lo'e me mair.When we rade in, by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see,My Lord was clad in black velvetAn' I, mysel', in cramasye.Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,Nae roof henceforth shall shelter me.St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me.It's no' the frost, that freezes fell,Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie,It's no' sic cauld, that gars me greet,But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.When I lay sick, an' very sick,When I lay sick, an' like to die,A gentleman o' gude accountCam' frae the west to visit me;But Blackwood whispered in my Lord's earA fause word, baith o' him an' me."Gae, little Page, an' tell your LordIf he'll come doun an' dine wi' me,I'll set him on a chair o' gowdAn' serve him on my bended knee.""When cockle shells turn siller bells,When wine draps red frae ilka tree,When frost and snaw will warm us a',Then I'll come doun an' dine wi' thee!"If I had kent, as I ken nowThat love it was sae ill to win,I wad ne'er hae wet my cherry cheekFor ony man, or mother's son.When my father gat word o' this,I wat, an angry man was he.He sent fourscore o' his Archers bauldTo bring me safe to his ain countrie."Fare ye well then, Jamie Douglas,I need care as little as ye care for me.The Earl o' Mar is my father dear,An' I sune will see my ain countrie."Ye thocht that I was like yoursel',Loving ilk ane I did see;But here I swear, by the heavens clear,I never lo'ed a man but thee."Slowly, slowly rose he upAn' slowly, slowly cam' he doun,An' when he saw her on horseback set,He garred his drums and trumpets sound.When I upon my horse was set,My tenants a' were wi' me ta'en,They sat them doun upon their kneesAn' begged me to come back again."Oh fare ye weel, my bonnie Palace,An' fare ye weel, my children three.God grant your father may get mair grace,An' lo'e ye better than he's lo'ed me!"An' wae be to you, ye fause Blackwood,Aye, an' an ill death may ye die,Ye were the first, and the foremost man,That parted my ain gude Lord and me."As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun,My gude father, he welcomed me,He caused his minstrels loud to sound,It was nae music at a' to me;Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear,Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me."Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear,An' o' your weepin' let me be;A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him,An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee.""Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your talking let me be;I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's faceFor a' the Lords in the north countrie."The lintie is a bonnie bird,An' aften flies far frae its nest,Sae a' the warld may plainly seeHe's far awa' that I lo'e best."As she was sitting at her bower window,Lookin' afar ower hill and glen,Wha did she see but fourscore menThat came to tak' her back again.Out bespak' the foremost man,(An' whaten a weel spoken man was he!)"If the Lady o' Douglas be withinYe'll bid her come doun and speak to me."Then out bespak' her father dear,I wat an angry man was he,"Ye may gang back the gate ye cam',For my daughter's face ye'se never see.""Now hand your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your folly let me be,For I'll gae back to my gude Lord,Sin' his love has come back to me."She laughed like ony new-made bride,When she bad farewell to her father's towers;But the tear, I wat, stude in her e'e,When she cam' in sicht o' her ain Lord's bowers.As she rade by the Orange Gate,Whaten a blyth sight did she see,Her gude Lord comin' her to meet,An' in his hand, her bairnies three."Oh, bring to me a pint o' wine,That I may drink to my Ladie."She took the cup intill her hand,But her bonnie heart, it burst in three.

THE MARCHIONESS OF DOUGLAS.

Oh, waly, waly up yon bank,An' waly, waly down yon brae,An' waly, waly by yon burn side,Whar I an' my love were wont to gae.Hey nonnie, nonnie, but love is bonnieA little while, when it is new,But when it's auld, it waxes cauld,An' wears awa like mornin' dew.Oh, wherefore sud I busk my head,An' wherefore sud I kaim my hair,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me,An' says he'll never lo'e me mair.When we rade in, by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see,My Lord was clad in black velvetAn' I, mysel', in cramasye.Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,Nae roof henceforth shall shelter me.St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me.It's no' the frost, that freezes fell,Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie,It's no' sic cauld, that gars me greet,But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.When I lay sick, an' very sick,When I lay sick, an' like to die,A gentleman o' gude accountCam' frae the west to visit me;But Blackwood whispered in my Lord's earA fause word, baith o' him an' me."Gae, little Page, an' tell your LordIf he'll come doun an' dine wi' me,I'll set him on a chair o' gowdAn' serve him on my bended knee.""When cockle shells turn siller bells,When wine draps red frae ilka tree,When frost and snaw will warm us a',Then I'll come doun an' dine wi' thee!"If I had kent, as I ken nowThat love it was sae ill to win,I wad ne'er hae wet my cherry cheekFor ony man, or mother's son.When my father gat word o' this,I wat, an angry man was he.He sent fourscore o' his Archers bauldTo bring me safe to his ain countrie."Fare ye well then, Jamie Douglas,I need care as little as ye care for me.The Earl o' Mar is my father dear,An' I sune will see my ain countrie."Ye thocht that I was like yoursel',Loving ilk ane I did see;But here I swear, by the heavens clear,I never lo'ed a man but thee."Slowly, slowly rose he upAn' slowly, slowly cam' he doun,An' when he saw her on horseback set,He garred his drums and trumpets sound.When I upon my horse was set,My tenants a' were wi' me ta'en,They sat them doun upon their kneesAn' begged me to come back again."Oh fare ye weel, my bonnie Palace,An' fare ye weel, my children three.God grant your father may get mair grace,An' lo'e ye better than he's lo'ed me!"An' wae be to you, ye fause Blackwood,Aye, an' an ill death may ye die,Ye were the first, and the foremost man,That parted my ain gude Lord and me."As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun,My gude father, he welcomed me,He caused his minstrels loud to sound,It was nae music at a' to me;Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear,Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me."Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear,An' o' your weepin' let me be;A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him,An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee.""Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your talking let me be;I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's faceFor a' the Lords in the north countrie."The lintie is a bonnie bird,An' aften flies far frae its nest,Sae a' the warld may plainly seeHe's far awa' that I lo'e best."As she was sitting at her bower window,Lookin' afar ower hill and glen,Wha did she see but fourscore menThat came to tak' her back again.Out bespak' the foremost man,(An' whaten a weel spoken man was he!)"If the Lady o' Douglas be withinYe'll bid her come doun and speak to me."Then out bespak' her father dear,I wat an angry man was he,"Ye may gang back the gate ye cam',For my daughter's face ye'se never see.""Now hand your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your folly let me be,For I'll gae back to my gude Lord,Sin' his love has come back to me."She laughed like ony new-made bride,When she bad farewell to her father's towers;But the tear, I wat, stude in her e'e,When she cam' in sicht o' her ain Lord's bowers.As she rade by the Orange Gate,Whaten a blyth sight did she see,Her gude Lord comin' her to meet,An' in his hand, her bairnies three."Oh, bring to me a pint o' wine,That I may drink to my Ladie."She took the cup intill her hand,But her bonnie heart, it burst in three.

Oh, waly, waly up yon bank,An' waly, waly down yon brae,An' waly, waly by yon burn side,Whar I an' my love were wont to gae.

Hey nonnie, nonnie, but love is bonnieA little while, when it is new,But when it's auld, it waxes cauld,An' wears awa like mornin' dew.

Oh, wherefore sud I busk my head,An' wherefore sud I kaim my hair,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me,An' says he'll never lo'e me mair.

When we rade in, by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see,My Lord was clad in black velvetAn' I, mysel', in cramasye.

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,Nae roof henceforth shall shelter me.St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me.

It's no' the frost, that freezes fell,Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie,It's no' sic cauld, that gars me greet,But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.

When I lay sick, an' very sick,When I lay sick, an' like to die,A gentleman o' gude accountCam' frae the west to visit me;But Blackwood whispered in my Lord's earA fause word, baith o' him an' me.

"Gae, little Page, an' tell your LordIf he'll come doun an' dine wi' me,I'll set him on a chair o' gowdAn' serve him on my bended knee."

"When cockle shells turn siller bells,When wine draps red frae ilka tree,When frost and snaw will warm us a',Then I'll come doun an' dine wi' thee!"

If I had kent, as I ken nowThat love it was sae ill to win,I wad ne'er hae wet my cherry cheekFor ony man, or mother's son.

When my father gat word o' this,I wat, an angry man was he.He sent fourscore o' his Archers bauldTo bring me safe to his ain countrie.

"Fare ye well then, Jamie Douglas,I need care as little as ye care for me.The Earl o' Mar is my father dear,An' I sune will see my ain countrie.

"Ye thocht that I was like yoursel',Loving ilk ane I did see;But here I swear, by the heavens clear,I never lo'ed a man but thee."

Slowly, slowly rose he upAn' slowly, slowly cam' he doun,An' when he saw her on horseback set,He garred his drums and trumpets sound.

When I upon my horse was set,My tenants a' were wi' me ta'en,They sat them doun upon their kneesAn' begged me to come back again.

"Oh fare ye weel, my bonnie Palace,An' fare ye weel, my children three.God grant your father may get mair grace,An' lo'e ye better than he's lo'ed me!

"An' wae be to you, ye fause Blackwood,Aye, an' an ill death may ye die,Ye were the first, and the foremost man,That parted my ain gude Lord and me."

As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun,My gude father, he welcomed me,He caused his minstrels loud to sound,It was nae music at a' to me;Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear,Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me.

"Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear,An' o' your weepin' let me be;A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him,An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee."

"Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your talking let me be;I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's faceFor a' the Lords in the north countrie.

"The lintie is a bonnie bird,An' aften flies far frae its nest,Sae a' the warld may plainly seeHe's far awa' that I lo'e best."

As she was sitting at her bower window,Lookin' afar ower hill and glen,Wha did she see but fourscore menThat came to tak' her back again.

Out bespak' the foremost man,(An' whaten a weel spoken man was he!)"If the Lady o' Douglas be withinYe'll bid her come doun and speak to me."

Then out bespak' her father dear,I wat an angry man was he,"Ye may gang back the gate ye cam',For my daughter's face ye'se never see."

"Now hand your tongue, my father dear,An' o' your folly let me be,For I'll gae back to my gude Lord,Sin' his love has come back to me."

She laughed like ony new-made bride,When she bad farewell to her father's towers;But the tear, I wat, stude in her e'e,When she cam' in sicht o' her ain Lord's bowers.

As she rade by the Orange Gate,Whaten a blyth sight did she see,Her gude Lord comin' her to meet,An' in his hand, her bairnies three.

"Oh, bring to me a pint o' wine,That I may drink to my Ladie."She took the cup intill her hand,But her bonnie heart, it burst in three.

[48]Collegiate Churches of Midlothian.Bannatyne Club, 1861.

[49]Sanct Tredwell als thare may be sene,Quhilk on ane prik hes baith her ene.Sir David Lindsay—"The Monarchie."

Sanct Tredwell als thare may be sene,Quhilk on ane prik hes baith her ene.Sir David Lindsay—"The Monarchie."

Sanct Tredwell als thare may be sene,Quhilk on ane prik hes baith her ene.

Sir David Lindsay—"The Monarchie."

[50]See Chambers'sTraditions of Edinburgh.

[51]The Logans of Restalrig quartered the arms of Ramsay of Dalhousie with their own. They bore 1st and 4th, or, three piles issuing from a chief, and conjoined in base, sable, for Logan; 2nd and 3rd, argent, an eagle displayed with two heads sable, beaked and membered gules, for Ramsay.

[52]There is a poem in the Bannatyne MS. termed "Rowll's Cursing." Whether written by him, or only in his name, is not known. "The following passage in it," writes the learned Lord Hailes, "determines the era at which he lived:—----and now of Rome that beiris the rod,Undir the hevin to lowse and bind,Paip Alexander.The Pontiff here meant must have been the virtuous Alexander VI., who wasDivine Vicegerent, from 1492 to 1503." InSelect Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, printed by Dr. Laing in 1822, the poem is given, and entitledThe cursing of Sir John RowlisUpoun the steilars of his fowlis;but to which of the two Rowlls this refers is unknown.

----and now of Rome that beiris the rod,Undir the hevin to lowse and bind,Paip Alexander.

The Pontiff here meant must have been the virtuous Alexander VI., who wasDivine Vicegerent, from 1492 to 1503." InSelect Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, printed by Dr. Laing in 1822, the poem is given, and entitled

The cursing of Sir John RowlisUpoun the steilars of his fowlis;

but to which of the two Rowlls this refers is unknown.

[53]Wilson'sReminiscences of Old Edinburgh.

[54]She was Christian Hamilton, daughter of Grange Hamilton, and maternal grand-daughter of the first Lord Forester.

[55]Kirkton'sHistory of the Church of Scotland, edited with notes by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, page 184.

[56]Fountainhall'sHistorical Notices, vol. i. p. 231-233.

[57]This preparation of milk is very ancient, and probably originated among the Tartars, by whom it was made of mares' milk, and calledKoumiss. It is believed to have been introduced into this country by the wandering Eastern tribes, who, leaving their native Phœnicia, gradually spread themselves along the north of Africa, and, leaving traces of their passage in the Basque Provinces and Brittany, colonised first Cornwall, and then the western coast of this island; and a few of whose customs still linger among us. There is a very interesting dissertation on this subject inThe Pillars of Hercules, by the late David Urquhart, M. P.

[58]Should any one wish to pursue this subject further, he will find it most exhaustively treated in vol.I.ofArchæological Essays, by the late Sir James Young Simpson, Baronet. May not possibly Torphin, who gave his name to the neighbouring village of Corstorphine, have been a leader in the same Saxon host?

[59]The original document, with signatures and seals attached, is preserved in the Register House, Edinburgh.

[60]The arms of Lauder of Haltoun were—argent, a griffon salient sable, beaked and membered gules.

[61]Chambers'sDomestic Annals of Scotland; Pitcairn'sCriminal Trials, ii. p. 445.

[62]Scot'sStaggering State.

[63]See Wood'sAccount of the Parish of Cramond, 1794.

[64]The Laws of Lauriston bear ermine, a bend between two cocks, gules. The cock in their arms is supposed by Nisbet to refer to the concluding part of the crow of that bird having a similar sound to the name Law.

[65]Scott'sTales of a Grandfather.

[66]There are two curious sundials at Barnton. One is an obelisk dial, about twelve feet high, dated 1692. The other, of monumental design, was erected by Lord Balmerino.

[67]Health to immortal Jeffrey! once in nameEngland could boast a judge almost the same.English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.

Health to immortal Jeffrey! once in nameEngland could boast a judge almost the same.English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.

Health to immortal Jeffrey! once in nameEngland could boast a judge almost the same.

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.

[68]It was either this Sir Archibald's widow or his mother, that was the Lady Primrose who entertained Flora Macdonald so hospitably in London, during her detention there in 1747, and to whose house in Essex Street, Strand, Prince Charles came during the secret visit he paid to London in 1750. Dr. King, in hisPolitical and Literary Anecdotes, gives an account of meeting the Prince at Lady Primrose's.

[69]They were both Swintons of Swinton.

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