hich draws the pilgrim's feet
to Branxholme's Tower, but the memory of events which the imagination
of the Minstrel has conjured up, and which have made for themselves a
local habitation and a name. For here Scott placed the leading incidents
of the "Lay,"--the first and finest of his Border efforts:

"Nine-and-twenty knights of fame
Hung their shields in Branksome Hall,
Nine-and-twenty squires of name
Brought them their steeds to bower from stall."

From Branxholme to the russet-grey Peel of Goldielands is scarcely two
miles. Minus gables or parapet now, and standing among the haystacks and
buildings of a farm, it is still in tolerable preservation. Here dwelt
amongst others of its old heroes, "the Laird's Wat, that worthie man,"
who led the Scots at the Reidswire in 1575. Not improbably is
Goldielands the peel associated with Willie of Westburnflat's operations
in the "Black Dwarf." At Goldielands Gate one gets a fine view to the
right of the Borthwick valley,

"Where Bortha hoarse that loads the meads with sand,
Rolls her red tide to Teviot's western stand."

And up the Borthwick, a mile or two, on its steep bank sits Harden, a
place of more than ordinary note to the Scott student. Here Auld Wat,
Sir Walter's grandsire seven times removed, reigned a king among Border
reivers, whose deeds of derring-do have been long shrined by the
balladists, and graven deep on the tablets of memory. Hawick, the
Glasgow of the Borders, comes next in sight,--where Slitrig and Teviot
meet. An ancient town, but possessing few relics of antiquity, except
St. Mary's Church, and the Tower Inn, a dwelling of the Drumlanrig
Douglases, with the mysterious Moat "where Druid shades still flitted
round." The modernity of the place is, however, lost sight of annually
in the "riding of the marches," a custom which prevails also in Selkirk
and Langholm. It is the great public festival of the year, and dates
from time immemorial. Its memories are mostly of Flodden, and the brave
stand at Hornshole in the neighbourhood, the year after. The Flodden
flag, splendidly "bussed," is carried in civic and cornetal procession
with crowds continually singing--as only Teridom can--the rousing
martial air of "Teribus," the Hawick slogan, which expresses more than
any other the wild and defiant strain of the war-trump and the
battle-shout. Hawick, including Wilton, has several elegantly
architectured buildings, over a score of Tweed m