56 Anniversary Address 



and blighting it, an upward current, intense enough, at starting 

 to cut the bark, had flowed up the Ash, but had divided among 

 its branches, and passed ofl through the twigs and foilage with- 

 out leaving trace of its dangerous presence. By the time we 

 visited the trees the bark of the Ash had become slightly detached 

 from the wood so that the wound gaped a little, instead of pre- 

 senting the sharp clean cut which at first attracted notice. 



On re-assembling at the Hotel at 12 o'clock the party was re- 

 inforced by several members, who had arrived by the midday 

 train. Notwithstanding the threatening aspect of the weather it 

 was resolved to proceed with the remainder of the day's pro- 

 gramme ; and by half-past twelve almost all the members pre- 

 sent were seated in two large waggonettes, and left the town for 

 a drive up Yarrow as far as Hangingshaw. The route was for 

 the most part the same with that traversed during the former 

 visit of the Club, on June 28th, 1876. A pleasant account of 

 that day's proceedings is given by the President of the year, Mr 

 Campbell Swinton (Proc. of B.N.C. vol. viii. pp. 12-17.), and 

 it is unnecessary to narrate here what is well told by his flowing 

 pen. We drove past Philiphaugh House, up the north-east bank 

 of the Yarrow by Foulshiels (the birthplace of Mungo Park), and 

 Broadmeadows, to Hangingshaw. Leaving the grounds of 

 Hangingshaw by the upper gate, we returned under the dark 

 shadow of Blackandro, whose wooded steep was shrouded in 

 trailing mist, and entered the Bowhill grounds at the West 

 Lodge. Newark Castle was passed on the way to Bowhill 

 House, from which the drive through the old wood was followed 

 to Colin's Bridge, where the Ettrick road was reached, and 

 whence the three miles down the valley to Selkirk were soon tra- 

 versed — Carterhaugh, with its fairy legend of Tamlane, and 

 Philiphaugh, with its memories of triumphant Covenanters, 

 and a ruined cause in the fugitive Marquis of Montrose, lying 

 in full view on the opposite side of the river. Even under 

 the gloomy sky overhead, which threatened every moment 

 to discharge a deluge of rain, the drive was enjoyed ; but in 

 but in a bright summer day this is one of the most delightful drives 

 in the south of Scotland, presenting many charming views along 

 the narrow wooded valleys, and overflowing with romantic asso- 

 ciations. It traverses the scenes so tunefully sung by Sir Walter 

 Scott in the closing lines of the "■ Lay of the Last Minstrel," in 

 which he tells how the advent of summer rekindled the poetic 



