THE TWEED ABBOTSFORD, 69 



able ale- drinking match in the neighbouring village, 

 from which the young men of Stratford walked off 

 victorious, but had to succumb before they reached 

 home, and sleep all night under the hedge ? 



In 1812 Sir Walter had finished Abbotsford, which 

 is about six miles below Ashiestiel on the Tweed, and 

 bade the latter place good-bye, not without a pang. 

 But he was proud of his new creation, and of the title 

 of Border- laird, which was now his due. Here it was 

 that he lived for a space, deservedly waited upon, if 

 ever man was so, by " honour, love, obedience, troops 

 of friends;" hither, after the crash of his fortunes and 

 the death of his wife, he fled when he could from his 

 duties in Edinburgh, and toiled to redeem his position 

 and his credit, until his wonderful brain gave way; 

 hither, from the blue skies of Italy, he was driven by 

 the yearnings of his love for his native country to die. 

 Lockhart draws a delightful picture of the life at Ab- 

 botsford in 1820 : 



" It was a clear, bright, September morning, with a sharp- 

 ness in the air that doubled the animating influence of the 

 sunshine, and all was in readiness for a general coursing-match 

 on Newark Hill. The only guest who had chalked out other 

 sport for himself was the staunchest of anglers, Mr. Hose ; but 

 he too was there on his shelty, and with his salmon-rod and 

 landing-net, and attended by his humorous squire Hinves and 

 Charlie Purdie, a brother of Tom, in those days the most cele- 

 brated fisherman of the district. This little group of Walton- 

 ians, bound for Lord Somerville's preserve, remained lounging 

 about to witness the start of the main cavalcade. Sir Walter, 

 mounted on Sybil, was marshalling the order of procession with 

 a large hunting-whip; and, among a dozen frolicsome youths 

 and maidens who seemed disposed to laugh at all discipline, 

 appeared each on horseback, each as eager as the youngest 

 horseman in the troop Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. Wollaston, 

 and the patriarch of Scottish belles lettres, Henry Mackenzie. 

 The Man of Feeling, however, was persuaded with some diffi- 

 culty to resign his steed for the present to his faithful negro 



