erwards conferred upon the laird; and
Meg bore unto him many sons and daughters, and was, as the reader will
be ready to believe, one of the best wives in Scotland; while Simon
declared that he never saw a better-looking woman in Ettrick Forest,
his own wife and daughters not excepted.

LORD DURIE AND CHRISTIE'S WILL.

Who can journey, now-a-days, along the high parts of Selkirkshire, and
hear the mire-snipe whistle in the morass, proclaiming itself, in the
silence around, the unmolested occupant of the waste, or descend into
the green valley, and see the lazy shepherd lying folded up in his
plaid, while his flocks graze in peace around him and in the distance,
and not think of the bold spirits that, in the times of Border warfare,
sounded the war-horn till it rang in reverberating echoes from hill to
hill? The land of the Armstrongs knows no longer their kindred. The
hills, ravines, mosses, and muirs, that, only a few centuries ago,
were animated by the boldest spirits that ever sounded a war-cry, and
defended to the death by men whose swords were their only charters of
right, have passed into other hands, and the names of the warlike
holders serve now only to give a grim charm to a Border ballad. An
extraordinary lesson may be read on the banks of the Liddel and the
Esk--there is a strange eloquence in the silence of these quiet dales.
Stand for a while among the graves of the chief of Gilnockie and his
fifty followers, in the lonely churchyard of Carlenrig--cast a
contemplative eye on the roofless tower of that brave riever, then
glance at the gorgeous policies of Bowhill, and resist, if you can, the
deep sigh that rises as a tribute to the memories of men who, having,
by their sleepless spirits, kept a kingdom in commotion, died on the
gallows, and left no generation to claim their lands from those who,
with less bravery and no better sense of right, had the subtle policy
to rise on their ruins. Poorly, indeed, now sound the names of Johnny
Armstrong, Sim of Whittram, Sim of the Cathill, Kinmont Willie, or
Christie's Will, besides those of Dukes of Buccleuch and Roxburgh,
Scott of Harden, and Elliot of Stobbs and Wells; and yet, without
wishing to take away the _merit_ or the _extent_ of their ancestors'
own "reif and felonie," how much do they owe to their succession to the
ill-got gear of those hardy Borderers whose names and scarcely credible
achievements are all that have escaped the rapacity that, not