"Sandy then got over his troubles, did he?"
"In a measure," was the cautious reply, "but the puir wee lassie grew paler and paler; and noo her bonny brown hair is covered wi' the yird. She was a sweet bit lassie, but she was frail in the constitootion, ye see, and the hard famishing winter was ower muckle for her feeble frame. But she was weel cared for on her sick bed. And when she died, the hail kintra side turned out to attend the funeral, and mony tears were shed upon her wee bit grave. My Mary, who gaed to school wi' her, canna get ower it to this day. She was an unco bonny thing—sweet as the mornin' wat wi' dew, and gentle as a pet lamb. But her grave is green by this time, and Sandy is better off than he used to be."
The burly laird listened attentively to this narrative, and at the close of it, a tear dimmed his eye. He gave a slight cough, as if to repress and to hide his rising emotion, and looking out the coach window, exclaimed, "There's Peebles, at last, and yonder's the sign of the Black Bull," as if he were prodigiously relieved.
The day is brightening, and this ancient city on the Tweed, looks quite agreeable, reminding us of the days of old, when the kings and nobles of Scotland used to witness, on its beautiful green, games of archery, golf, and so forth. It is supposed to be the scene referred to in the opening stanza of "Christ's Kirk on the Green," by James the First, the royal poet of Scotland.
"Was never in Scotland hard nor sene,
Sic dansing nor deray,
Nouther at Falkland on the green,
Nor Pebllis in the play;
As wes of wowarris as I wene,
At Christ's Kirk on ane day;
Thair came our kittles washen clene,
In thair new kirtillis of gray
Full gay,
At Christ's Kirk o' the Grene that day."
This old town was burnt and laid waste more than once during the invasions of the English. Still, from its sequestered situation, it never figured largely in any great event. An antique bridge, consisting of five arches, connects the old and new towns, which lie on either bank of the river. Rambling through the place, we come to a large massive building, in a castellated form, known to have belonged to the Queensberry family, and believed to be the scene of a romantic incident, thus related by Sir Walter Scott:—"There is a tradition in Tweedale, that when Nidpath castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of March, a mutual passion subsisted between a daughter of that noble family and the son of the Laird of Tushielaw, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. During his absence, the young lady fell into a consumption, and at length, as the only means of saving her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the balcony of a house in Peebles, belonging to the family, that she might see him when he rode past. Her anxiety and eagerness gave such force to her organs that she is said to have distinguished his horses' footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not expecting to see her in that place, rode on, without recognizing her, or even slackening his pace. The lady was unable to support the shock, and after a short struggle died in the arms of her attendants."
Here are the ruins of some very old churches, one in particular, at the western extremity of the old town. This was the original parish church of Peebles, and was built upon the site of one still more ancient, occupied by the Culdees, (probably from Cultores Dei, worshipers of God,) an ancient class of monks, whose forms of worship and doctrinal belief were extremely simple, and, as some suppose, evangelical. They had monasteries at Jona, and in various parts of Scotland, before the Anglo-Saxon period, and preserved for many years, the pure worship of God. An altar in St. Andrew's church, was dedicated to St. Michael, with a special endowment for the services of "a chapellane, there perpetually to say mes, efter the valow of the rents and possessions gevin thereto, in honor of Almighty God, Mary his Modyr, and Saint Michael, for the hele of the body and the sawl of Jamys, King of Scotts, for the balyheis, ye burges, and ye communite of the burgh of Peebles, and for the hele of their awn sawlis, thair fadyris sawlis, thair modyris sawlis, thair kinnis sawlis, and al Chrystyn sawlis." Part of the tithes of this church are now used to support a Grammar school, and while the people still worship Almighty God, they have but little reverence for "Mary his modyr, and St. Michael."
Let us wander along the banks of this far-famed and beautiful river, gliding sweetly through one of the most beautiful vales in Scotland, and once adorned with numerous castles and monasteries, whose mouldering remains yet diversify the landscape. The whole vale of the Tweed, both above and below Peebles, was studded with a chain of castles, built in the shape of square towers, and ordinarily consisting of three stories, to serve as a defence against the invasion of the English freebooters. They were built alternately on each side of the river, and at such distances that one could be seen from the other. A fire kindled on the top of one of these, to give warning of a hostile incursion, could thus be perpetuated through the whole, till a tract of country seventy miles long, "from Berwick to the Bield," and fifty broad, was alarmed in a few hours. What objects of terror and sublimity these blazing summits, lighting, in a dark night, the whole valley of the Tweed, and flashing their ruddy gleam upon copsewood and river, hill-top and castle turret!
"A score of fires, I ween,
From height, and hill, and cliff were seen,
Each with warlike tidings fraught,
Each from each the signal caught;
Each after each they glanced in sight,
As stars arise upon the night:
They gleamed on many a dusky tarn
Haunted by the lonely earn,[163]
On many a cairn's grey pyramid,
Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid."
Lay of the Last Minstrel.