ry small basis of fact for this story. The Corbets of
Shropshire--one branch of whom are owners of Moreton Corbet--are among
the very oldest of the many old Shropshire families. They trace their
descent back to Corbet the Norman, whose sons, Robert and Roger,
appear in Domesday Book as holding large estates under Roger, Earl of
Shrewsbury. The grandsons of Roger Corbet were Thomas Corbet of
Wattlesborough, and Robert Corbet. Thomas, who was evidently the elder
of the two, it seems went beyond seas, leaving his lands in the
custody of his brother Robert. Both brothers left descendants, but the
elder branch of the family never attained to such rank and prosperity
as the younger one." Hence, perhaps, the origin of the legend; but
Moreton Corbet did not come into the possession of the family till
long after this date.[15]

Whatever truth there may be in this old tradition, there is every
reason to believe that some of the worst tragedies recorded in family
history have been due to jealousy; and an extraordinary instance of
such unnatural feeling was that displayed by the second wife of Sir
Robert Scott, of Thirlestane, one of the most distinguished cadets of
the great House of Buccleuch. Distracted with mortification that her
husband's rich inheritance would descend to his son by his first wife,
she secretly resolved to compass the destruction of her step-son, and
determined to execute her hateful purpose at the festivities held in
honour of the young laird's twentieth birthday. Having taken into her
confidence one John Lally, the family piper, this wretched man
procured three adders, from which he selected the parts replete with
the most deadly poison, and, after grinding them to fine powder, Lady
Thirlestane mixed them in a bottle of wine. Previous to the
commencement of the birthday feast, the young laird having called for
wine to drink the healths of the workmen who had just completed the
mason work of the new Castle of Gamescleugh--his future residence--the
piper Lally filled a silver cup from the poisoned bottle, which the
ill-fated youth hastily drank off. So potent was the poison that the
young laird died within an hour, and a feeling of horror seized the
birthday guests as to who could have done so foul a deed. But the
father seems to have had his suspicions, and having caused a bugle to
be blown, as a signal for all the family to assemble in the castle
court, he inquired, "Are we all here?"

A voice answered, "A