330 A Walk from 



Did patriotism ever fight bloodier battles to prevent 

 such a union, or cling to local sovereignty with a 

 more desperate hold ? 



This is the Border-land! Look up the purpled 

 steeps of these heathered hills. The white lambs are 

 looking, with their soft, meek eyes, into the grass- 

 choked mouths of the rusty and dismantled cannon 

 of the war of nationalities between England and Scot- 

 land. The deed has been consummated. The valor 

 and patriotism of Wallace and Bruce could not pre- 

 vent it. The sheep of English and Scotch shepherds 

 feed side by side on these mountain heights, in spite of 

 Stirling and Bannockburn, of Flodden and Falkirk. 

 The Iron Horse, bearing the blended arms of the two 

 realms on his shield, walks over those battle-fields by 

 night and day, treading their memories deeper and 

 deeper in the dust. The lambs are playing in the sun 

 on the boundary line of the two dominions. Does a 

 Scot of to-day love his native land less than the Camp- 

 bell clansman or clan-chief in Bruce's time? Not a 

 whit. He carries a heartful of its choicest memories 

 with him into all countries of his sojourning. But 

 there is a larger sentiment that includes all these filial 

 feelings toward his motherland, while it draws addi- 

 tional warmth and strength from them. It is the sen- 

 timent of Imperial Nationality ; the feeling of a Briton, 



