Os a fine summer evening, about the beginning of July, on a year which must have been about the latter end of the reign of Queen Anne, or some years subsequent to that, as Adam Scott, farmer of Kildouglas, was sitting in a small public-house on North Tyne, refreshing himself on brown bread and English beer, and his hungry horse tearing up the grass about the kail-yard dike, he was accosted by a tall ungainly fellow, who entered the hut, and in the broadest Northumberland tongue, enquired if he was bound for Scotland. "What gars ye speer that, an it be your will?" said Scott, with the characteristic caution of his country

men.

"Because a neighbour and I are agoing that way to-night," said the stranger," and we knaw neything at all about the rwoad; and mwore than that, we carry soomthing reyther ower valuable to risk the losing of; and as we saw your horse rooging and reyving with the saddle on him, I made bould to call, think ing you might direct us on this coorsed rwoad.”

"An' what will you gie me if I guide you safely into Scotland, an' set ye aince mair upon a hee road?" said Scott.

"Woy, man, we'll give thee as mooch bread as thou canst eat, and as mooch beer as thou canst drinkand mwore we cannot have in this moorland,” said the man.

"It is a fair offer," said Adam Scott; "but I'll no pit ye to that expense, as I am gaun o'er the fells the night at ony rate; sae, if ye'll wait my bijune, for my horse is plaguit weary, and amaist jaded to death, then we shall ride thegither, and I ken the country weel; but road ye will find nane."

The two men then fastened their horses, and came in and joined Scott; so they called for ale, drank one another's healths at every pull, and seemed quite delighted that they were to travel in company. The tall man, who came in first, was loquacious and outspoken, though one part of his story often did not tally

with the other; but his neighbour was sullen and retired, seldom speaking, and as seldom looking one in the face. Scott had at first a confused recollection of having seen him, but in what circumstances he could not remember, and he soon gave up the idea as a false one.

They mounted at length, and there being no path up the North Tyne then, nor till very lately, their way lay over ridges and moors, and sometimes by the margin of the wild river. The tall man had been very communicative, and frankly told Scott that they were going into Scotland to try to purchase sheep and cattle, where they expected to get them for next to nothing, and that they had brought gold with them for that purpose. This led on Scott to tell him of his own adventures in that line. He had come to Stagshaw bank fair, the only market then for Scots sheep and cattle in the north of England, with a great number of sheep for sale, but finding no demand, he bought up all the sheep from his countrymen for which he could get credit, and drove on to the Yorkshire markets, where he hawked them off in the best manner he could, and was now in fact returning to Scotland literally laden with money to pay his obligations.

After this communication, the tall man always rode before Adam Scott, and the short thick-set sullen fellow behind him, a position which, the moment it was altered, was resumed, and at which Scott began to be a little uneasy. It was still light, though wearing late, for there is little night at that season, when the travellers came to a wild glen called Bell's Burn, a considerable way on the English side of the Border. The tall man was still riding before, and considerably a-head, and as he was mounting the ridge on the north side of Bell's Burn, Adam Scott turned off all at once to the right. The hin dermost man drew bridle on seeing this, and asked Scott, “Where now?"

"This way, lads. This way," was the reply.

The tall man then fell a swearing

The straight road, honest manthe straight road. Follow me," said Scott.

The tall man then rode in before him and said, "Whoy, man, thou'st either drunk, or gone stooped with sleep, for wilt thou tell me that the road up by Blakehope Shiel, and down the Burnmouth rigg, is nwot the rwoad into Liddisdale?"

Ay, man!—ay, man! How comes this?" said Scott. "Sae it seems ye are nae sic strangers to the road as ye pretendit? Weel, weel, since ye ken that road sae particularly weel, gang your gates, an' take that road. For me, I'm gaun by the Fair-Lone, an' if Willie Jardine's at hame, I'll no gang muckle farther the night."

"The devil of such a rwoad thou shalt go, friend, let me tell thee that," said the tall fellow, offering to lay hold of Scott's bridle. "It is of the greatest consequence to us to get safely over the fell, and since we have put ourselves under thuyne care, thou shalt either go with us, or do worse."

"Dare not for your soul to lay your hand on my bridle, sir," said Scott; "for, if you touch either my horse or myself but with one of your fingers, I'll give you a mark to know you by." The other swore by a terrible oath that he would touch both him and it if he would not act reasonably, and seized the horse rudely by the bridle. Scott threw himself from his horse in a moment, and prepared for action, for his horse was stiff and unwieldy; and he durst not trust himself on his back between two others, both horses of mettle. He was armed with a cudgel alone, and as his strength and courage were unequalled at that time, there is little doubt that the tall Englishman would have come down, had not the other, at the moment the bridle was seized, rushed forward and seized his companion by the arm-" Fool! madman!" cried he; " What do you mean? has not the honest man a right to go what way he pleases, and what business have you to stop him? Thou wert a rash idiot all the days of thy life, and thou wilt die one, or be hangit for thy mad pranks. Let go!-for here, I swear, thou shalt nei

horse as long as I can hinder thee, and I thinks I should be as good a man as thee. Let us go all by the Fair-Lone, since it is so, and mayhap Mr Jardine will take us all in for the night."

Whoy, Bill, thou sayest true after all," said the tall man succumbing; "I'm a passionate fool; but a man cannot help his temper. I beg Mr Sewott's pardon, for I was in the wrong. Come, then, let us go by the Fair-Lone with one consent."

Scott was now grieved and ashamed of his jealousy and dread of the men's motives, and that moment, if they had again desired him to have accompanied them over the fell, he would have done it; but away they all rode on the road towards the Fair-Lone, the tall man before as usual, Adam Scott in the middle, and the gruff but friendly fellow behind,

They had not rode above five minutes in this way, Scott being quite reassured of the integrity of his companions, perfectly at his ease, and letting them ride and approach him as they listed, when the hindermost man struck him over the crown with a loaded whip such a tremendous blow as would have felled an ox, yet, as circumstances happened to be, it had not much effect on the bullet head of Adam Scott. When the man made the blow, his horse started and wheeled, and Scott, with a readiness scarcely natural to our countrymen, the moment that he received the blow, knocked down the foremost rider, who fell from his horse like lead. The short stout man had by this time brought round his horse, and Adam Scott and he struck each other at the same moment. At this stroke he cut Adam's cheek and temple very sore; and Adam in re turn brought down his horse, which fell to the earth with a groan. A desperate combat now ensued, the Englishman with his long loaded whip, and the Scott with his thorn staff. At the second or third stroke, Adam Scott knocked off his antagonist's wig, and then at once knew him for a highwayman, or common robber and murderer, whom he had seen at his trials both at Carlisle and Jeddart. This incident opened Scott's eyes to the sort of company he had fallen into, and despising the rogue's

cowardice who durst not attack him before, two to one, but thought to murder him at one blow behind his back, he laid on without mercy, and in about a minute and a half left him for dead. By this time the tall fellow had got up on one knee and foot, but was pale and bloody, on which Scott lent him another knoit, which again laid him flat; and then, without touching any thing that belonged to them, Adam mounted his sorry horse, and made the best of his way homewards.

As ill luck would have it, our farmer did not call at Fair-Lone. Indeed, his calling there was only a pretence to try his suspicious companions; for William Jardine and he were but little acquainted, and that little was the reverse of kindness for one another. At that time the Borders were in much disorder, owing to the discontents regarding the late Union, which were particularly cherished there; and there were many bickerings and heart-burnings between the natives on each side of the Marches. To restrain these as much as possible, there were keepers, as they were called, placed all along the Border line, who were vested with powers to examine and detain any suspicious person from either side till farther trial. Of these keepers, or marchmen, Jardine was one; and he being placed in the very entry of that wild pass which leads from Liddisdale and the highlands of Teviotdale into North Tyne, he often found his hands full. He was an intrepid and severe fellow; and having received a valuable present from some English noblemen for his integrity, from that time forth it was noted that he was most severe on the Scots, and blamed them for every thing.

Now Scott ought, by all means, to have called there, and laid his case before the keeper, and have gone with him to the maimed or killed men, and then he would have been safe. He did neither, but passed by on the other side, and posted on straight over moss and moor for Kildouglas. He seems to have been astounded at the imminent danger he bad escaped; and after having, as he believed, killed two men, durst not face the stern keeper, and that keeper his enemy; and as a great part of the treasure he carried be

longed to others, and not to himself, he was anxious about it, and made all the haste home that he could, that so he might get honestly quit of it.

But, alas! our brave farmer got not so soon home as he intended. There is a part of the thread of the narrative here which I remember but confusedly. But it seems, that immediately after Scott left the prostrate robbers, some more passengers from the fair came riding up, and finding the one man speechless and the other grievously mauled, and on enquiring what had happened, the tall man told them in a feeble voice that they had been murdered and robbed by a rascally Scot called Adam Scott of Kildouglas. As the matter looked so ill, some of the men galloped straight to Fair-Lone, and apprized the marchman, who instantly took horse and pursued; and having a privilege of calling one man out of each house, his company increased rapidly. Jardine, well knowing the wild tract that Scott would take, came up with him about midnight at a place called Langside, and there took him prisoner.

It was in vain that our honest yeoman told the keeper the truth of the story-he gained no credit. For the keeper told him, that he had no right to try the cause; only he, Adam Scott, had been accused to him of robbery and murder, and it was his office to secure him till the matter was enquired into. He assured Scott further, that his cause looked very ill; for had he been an honest man, and attacked by robbers, he would have called in passing, and told him

So.

Scott pleaded hard to be taken before the Sheriff of Teviotdale; but the alleged crime having been committed in England, he was carried to Carlisle. When Scott heard that such a hard fate awaited him, he is said to have expressed himself thus: -“Aye, man, an' am I really to be tried for my life by Englishmen for felling twa English robbers? If that be the case, I hae nae mair chance for my life than a Scots fox has amang an English pack o' hounds. But had I kend half an hour ago what I ken now, you an' a' your menzie should never hae taen Aidie Scott alive."

To Carlisle he was taken and ex amined, and all his money taken

from him, and given in keeping to the Mayor, in order to be restored to the rightful owners; and witnesses gathered in all the way from Yorkshire, such as the tall man named ;— for as to all that Adam told in his own defence, his English judges only laughed at it, regarding it no more than the barking of a dog. Indeed, from the time he heard the tall man's evidence, whom he felled first, he lost hope of life. That scoundrel swore that Scott had knocked them both down and robbed them, when they were neither touching him nor harming him in any manner of way. And it seemed to be a curious fact, that the fellow really never knew that Scott had been attacked at all. He had neither heard nor seen when his companion struck the blow, and that instant having been knocked down himself, he was quite justifiable in believing that, at all events, Scott had meant to dispatch them both. When Adam related how this happened, his accuser said he knew that was an arrant lie; for had his companion once struck, there was not a head which he would not have split.

"Aha! it is a' that ye ken about it, lad," said Adam; "I fand it nae mair than a rattan's tail! I had baith my night-cap an' a flannen sark in the crown o' my bannet. But will ye just be sae good as tell the gentlemen wha that companion o' yours was; for if ye dinna do it, I can do it for you. It was nae other than Ned Thom, the greatest thief in a' England."

The Sheriff here looked a little suspicious at the witnesses; but the allegation was soon repelled by the oaths of two, who, it was afterwards proven, both perjured themselves. The Mayor told Scott to be making provision for his latter end; but, in the meantime, he would delay passing sentence for eight days, to see if he could bring forward any exculpatory proof. Alas! lying bound in Carlisle prison as he was, how could he bring forward proof? For in those days, without a special messenger, there was no possibility of communication; and the only proofs Adam could have brought forward were, that the men forced themselves into his company, and that he had as many sheep in his possession as ac

counted for the whole of the money. He asked in Court if any person would go a message for him, but none accepted or seemed to care for him. He believed seriously that they wanted to hang him for the sake of his money, and gave up hope.

Always as Adam sold one drove of sheep after another in Yorkshire, he dispatched his drivers home to Scotland, and with the last that returned, he sent word of the very day on which he would be home, when all his creditors were to meet him at his own house, and receive their money. However, by the manœuvres of one rascal, (now one of his accusers,) he was detained in England three days longer. The farmers came all on the appointed day, and found the gudewife had the muckle pat on, but no Adam Scott came with his pockets full of English gold to them, though many a long look was cast to the head of the Black Swire. They came the next day, and the next again, and then began to fear that some misfortune very serious had befallen to their friend.

There was an elderly female lived in the house with Scott, called Kitty Cairns, who was aunt either to the goodman or the goodwife, I have forgot which; but Auntie Kitty was her common denomination. On the morning after Adam Scott was taken prisoner, this old woman arose early, went to her niece's bedside, and said, Meggification, hinny! sic a dream as I hae had about Aidie!-an' it's a true dream, too! I could tak my aith to every sentence o't-aye, an' to ilka person connectit wi't, gin I saw him atween the een."

"Oh, auntie, for mercy's sake haud your tongue, for you are garring a' my heart quake! Ower weel do I ken how true your dreams are at certain times!"

"Aye, hinny! an' did you ever hear me say that sic an' sic a dream was true when it turned out to be otherwise? Na, never i' your life. An' as for folk to say that there's nae truth in dreams, ye ken that's a mere meggification. Weel, ye shall hear; for I'm no gaun to tell ye a dream, ye see, nor aught like ane; but an even-down true story. Our Aidie was sair pinched to sell the hinderend o' his sheep, till up comes a braw dashing gentleman, and bids

would go a message for him into Scotland for a fair reward, and all had declined it, then Thomas Linton stepped forward within the crowd, and said, Aye, here is ane, Adam, that will ride to ony part in a' Scotland or England for ye; ride up to Lunnon to your chief in the House o' Lords, afore thae English loons shall dare to lay a foul finger on ye!-An' I can tell you, Mr Shirra, or Mr Provice, or whatever ye be, that you are gaun to get yoursell into a grand scrape, for there never was an honester man breathed the breath o' life than Aidie Scott."

him a third mair than they were worth, wi' the intention o' paying the poor simple Scotchman in base money. But, aha! let our Aidie alane! He begoud to poize the guineas on his tongue, an' feint a ane o' them he wad hae till they were a' fairly weighed afore a magistrate; and sae the grand villain had to pay the hale in good sterling gowd. This angered him sae sair that he hired twa o' his ruffians to follow our poor Aidie, and tak a' the money frae him. I saw the haill o't, an' I could ken the twa chaps weel if confrontit wi' them. They cam to him drinkin' his ale. They rade on an' rade on wi' him, till they partit roads, an' then they fell on him, an' a sair battle it was; but Aidie wan, and felled them baith. Then he fled for hame, but the English pursued, an' took him away to Carlisle prison; an' if nae relief come in eight days, he'll be hanged."

This strange story threw the poor goodwife of Kildouglas into the deepest distress; and the very first creditor who came that morning, she made Auntie Kitty repeat it over to him. This was one Thomas Linton, and she could not have repeated it to a fitter man; for, though a religious and devout man, he was very superstitious, and believed in all Auntie's visions most thoroughly. Indeed, he believed farther; for he believed she was a witch, or one who had a familiar spirit, and knew every thing almost either beneath or beyond the moon. And Linton and his brother being both heavy creditors, the former undertook at once to ride to the south, in order, if possible, to learn something of Adam Scott and the money; and, if he heard nothing by the way, to go as far as Carlisle, and even, if he found him not there, into Yorkshire. Accordingly he sent a message to his brother, and proceeded southward; and at a village called Stanegirthside, he first heard an account that a man called Scott was carried through that place, on the Friday before, to Carlisle jail, accused of robbery and murder. This was astounding news; and, in the utmost anxiety, Linton pressed on, and reached Carlisle before the examination concluded, of which mention was formerly made; and when Adam Scott asked through the crowded court, if any present

The judge smiled, and said he would be glad to have proofs of that; and, for Linton's encouragement, made the town-clerk read over the worst part of the evidence, which was very bad indeed, only not one word of it true. But Linton told them, he cared nothing for their evidence against a Scot; "for it was weel enough kend that the Englishers war a' grit leears, an' wad swear to ony thing that suited them; but let him aince get Adam Scott's plain story, an' then he wad ken how matters stood."

He was indulged with a private interview, and greatly were the two friends puzzled how to proceed. The swindler, who really had bought the last ewes from Scott, had put a private mark upon all his good gold to distinguish it from his base metal, and made oath that all that gold was his; and that he had given it to his servant, whom Scott had robbed, to buy cattle for him in Scotland. The mark was evident; and that had a bad look; but when Scott told the true story, Linton insisted on the magistrate being summoned to Court, who saw that gold weighed over to his friend. "And I will mysell tak in hand," said he, "not only to bring forward all the farmers from whom Scott bought the sheep, but all the Englishmen to whom he sold them; an' gin I dinna prove him an honest man, if ye gie me time, I sall gie you leave to hang me in his place."

The swindler and robber now began to look rather blank, but pretended to laugh at the allegations of Thomas Linton; but the Scot set up his birses, and told the former that "he could prove, by the evidence of two English aldermen, who