ed?
I heard the cushies croon
Thro' the gowden afternoon
And the Quair burn singing doun to the Vale o' Tweed.

"And birks saw I three or four,
Wi' grey moss bearded owre,--
The last that are left o' the birken shaw,
Whar mony a simmer e'en
Fond lovers did convene,
Thae bonny, bonny gloamins that are lang awa'.

"Frae mony a but and ben,
By muirland, holm, and glen,
They cam' ane hour to spen' on the greenwood swaird;
But lang hae lad an' lass I
Been lying 'neth the grass,
The green, green grass o' Traquair kirkyard.

"They were blest beyond compare,
When they held their trysting there,
Among thae greenest hills shone on by the sun;
And then they wan a rest,
The lownest and the best,
I' Traquair kirkyard when a' was dune.

"Now the birks to dust may rot,
Names o' lovers be forgot,
Nae lads and lasses there ony mair convene;
But the blithe lilt o' yon air
Keeps the bush aboon Traquair,
And the love that ance was there, aye fresh and green."

PLATE 17

DRYBURGH ABBEY AND
SCOTT'S TOMB

FROM A WATER-COLOUR SKETCH

PAINTED BY

JAMES ORROCK, R.I.

(_See pp. 35, 39, 91, 92, 103_)

[Illustration]

Traquair House--possibly Scott's Tully-Veolan, "pallid, forlorn,
stricken all o'er with eld," claims to be the oldest inhabited house in
Scotland. It certainly looks it. The great gate, flanked with the huge
Bradwardine Bears, has not been opened since the '45. There seems no
reason to question the legend. It is not so "foolish" as Mr. Lang
supposes. Innerleithen, Scott's "St. Ronan's," is near at hand, and the
peel of Elibank--a mere shell. Harden's marriage to Muckle-mou'ed Meg
Murray was not quite accounted for in the traditional way, however,--a
choice between the laird's dule-tree and the laird's unlovely daughter.
The legend is not uncommon to German folk-lore. At Ashestiel, thrice
renowned, Scott spent the happiest years of his life (1804-1812),
writing "Marmion," the "Lady of the Lake," and the first draft of
"Waverley." In many respects the place is more important to students of
Scott than Abbotsford itself. Yet for a thousand who rush to Abbotsford
only a very few find their way up here. Yair, a Pringle house, and
Fairnalee, comfortable little demesnes, lie further down the Tweed. At
the latter, Alison Rutherford wrote her version of the "Flow