Antiquities of Eskdalemuir. 21 



And in many more grotesque and ridiculous scenes did this 

 curious little creature play the role of " Deus Ex Machiua." As 

 for the name of •' Gilpin Horner," by which it was known through- 

 out the Border country, this seems to have been given to it some 

 time afterwards, for those who saw it at the time, and those who 

 tell the story with the greatest veracity, never call it by any other 

 name than the " Bogle at the Todshawhill." To those who are 

 acquainted with the " Lay of the last Minstrel," it will at once 

 occur that there are points of similarity (both numerous and 

 various) between the bogle at the Todshawhill and Lord Cran- 

 stoun's " Goblin Page," who figures so prominently in that Border 

 ballad of Scott's — points of similarity so strong that they can 

 scarcely be accounted for on the theory of mere coincidence. 

 Indeed, if we were not expressly told in a note to this poem — 

 Canto number 2 — that the idea of Lord Cranstoun's " Goblin's 

 Page " was taken from the legend of " Gilpen Horner " we could 

 have guessed it for ourselves. To give you an instance of this 

 similai'ity, I will quote to you a few lines from Canto — number 2 

 — beginning from line 352 — which will powerfully recall to your 

 minds the whole incident of the Todshawhill bog'le's first appear- 

 ance — when he scared the lads who were tying up the horses with 

 the sudden and startling exclamation, " Tint, Tint, Tint." The 

 passage which I mean to quote from Scott's Lay contains three 

 words of identical import with the " Tint, Tint, Tint." The words 

 in the Lay are " Lost, Lost, Lost." I should perhaps add that 

 Cranstoun's " Goblin Page " was equally well-known by the title 

 the " Baron's Dwarf." Here is the passage from the Lay — 



" Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld. 

 The ' Baron's Dwarf ' his courser held. 

 And held his crested helm and spear : 

 That Dwarf was scarce an earthly man. 

 If tales were true that of him ran 

 Through all the Border far and near. 

 'Twas said when the Baron a-hunting rode 

 Througli Eeedsdale's glens, but rarely trod. 

 He heard a voice cry Lost ! Lost ! Lost ! 

 And, like a tennis ball by racket tossed, 

 A leap of thirty feet and three, 

 Made from the gorse this elfin-shape, 

 Distorted like some Dwarfish ape, 

 And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee. 



