 [Illustration: She was off and away to the lone plain of Carterhaugh]

 STORIES FROM

 THE BALLADS

 TOLD TO THE CHILDREN BY

 MARY MACGREGOR

 WITH PICTURES BY

 KATHARINE CAMERON

 LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK

 NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO. 

 * * * * *

TO DORIS

 * * * * *

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Listen, children, for you will wish to hear where I found thetales which I have told you in this little book. 

It is long, oh! so long ago, that they were sung up hill and downdale by wandering singers who soon became known all over thecountry as minstrels, or ofttimes, because they would carry withthem a harp, as harpers. 

In court, in cottage, by princes and by humble folk, everywhere, by every one the minstrels were greeted with delight. 

To such sweet music did they sing the songs or ballads which theymade or perchance had heard, to such sweet music, that those wholistened could forget nor tale nor tune. 

In those far-off days of minstrelsy the country was alive withfairies. Over the mountains, through the glens, by babblingstreams and across silent moors, the patter of tiny feet might beheard, feet which had strayed from Elfinland. 

It was of these little folk and of their visits to the homes ofmortals that the minstrels sang. Sterner songs too were theirs, songs of war and bloodshed, when clan fought with clan and liveswere lost and brave deeds were done. Of all indeed that made lifeglad or sad, of these the minstrels sang. 

From town to village, from court to inn they wandered, singingthe old songs, adding verses to them here, dropping lines fromthem there, singing betimes a strain unheard before, until atlength the day came when the songs were written down. 

It was in the old books that thus came to be written that I firstfound these tales, and when you have read them perhaps you willwish to go yourself to the same old books, to find many anothersong of love and hate, of joy and sorrow. 

MARY MACGREGOR. 

 * * * * *

LIST OF STORIES

I. The Young Tamlane, II. Hynde Etin, III. Hynde Horn, IV. Thomas the Rhymer, V. Lizzie Lindsay, VI. The Gay Goshawk, VII. The Laird o' Logie, * * * * *

LIST OF PICTURES

THE YOUNG TAMLANE. --

She was off and away to the lone plain of Carterhaugh. --_Frontispiece. _

'In earth or air I dwell, as pleases me the best, '

HYNDE ETIN. --

'For twelve long years have I never been within the Holy Church, and I fear to enter now, '

HYNDE HORN. --

'Drink, ' she said gently, 'drink, '

THOMAS THE RHYMER. --

Under the Eildon tree Thomas met the lady, LIZZIE LINDSAY. --

'Will ye come to the Highlands with me, Lizzie Lindsay?'

THE GAY GOSHAWK. --

'I go but to my lattice window to listen to the birds, '

THE LAIRD O' LOGIE. --

She stood at the hall door gazing wistfully after the young Laird of Logie, * * * * *

THE YOUNG TAMLANE

The young Tamlane had lived among mortals for only nine shortyears ere he was carried away by the Queen of the Fairies, awayto live in Fairyland. 

His father had been a knight of great renown, his mother a ladyof high degree, and sorry indeed were they to lose their son. 

And this is how it happened. 

One day, soon after Tamlane's ninth birthday, his uncle came tohim and said, 'Tamlane, now that ye are nine years old, ye shall, an ye like it, ride with me to the hunt. '

And Tamlane jumped for joy, and clapped his hands for glee. Thenhe mounted his horse and rode away with his uncle to hunt andhawk. 

Over the moors they rode, and the wind it blew cold from thenorth. Over the moors they rode, and the cold north wind blewupon the young Tamlane until he grew cold and stiff. 

Then the reins they fell from his hands and down from his horseslipped Tamlane, and laid himself down to rest, so weary, so coldwas he. But no sooner had he lain down on the bare earth than heclosed his eyes and fell fast asleep. And no sooner had he fallenfast asleep than the Queen of the Fairies came and carriedTamlane off to Fairyland. 

For long years Tamlane dwelt among the little green folk, yetofttimes he would come back to visit the land of his birth. 

Now many were the hills and dells haunted by the fairy folk. Yetneither hill nor dell pleased them more than the lone plain ofCarterhaugh, where the soft-flowing rivers of Ettrick and Yarrowmet and mingled. 

Many a long day after fairies were banished from the plain ofCarterhaugh would the peasant folk come to gaze at the circleswhich still marked the green grass of the lone moor. The circleshad been made, so they said, by the tiny feet of the fairies asthey danced round and round in a ring. 

Well, in the days before the fairies were banished from the plainof Carterhaugh, strange sights were to be seen there by the lightof the moon. 

Little folk, dressed all in green, would flit across the moor. They would form tiny rings and dance on their tiny toes until themoonlight failed. 

Little horsemen dressed in green would go riding by, the bells onthe fairy bridles playing magic music the while. Sounds too, unknown to mortals, would tremble on the still night air. 

Full of mischief too were these little elfin folk, and wisemortals feared to tread where fairy feet were tripping. 

Wise mortals would warn the merry children and the winsomemaidens lest they should venture too near the favourite haunts offairydom. 

To Carterhaugh came, as I have told you, many of the fairy folk;but more often than any other came a little elfin knight, and hewas the young Tamlane, who had been carried away to Fairylandwhen he was only nine years old. 

Beyond all other of the little green folk was the elf knightfeared. And little was that to be wondered at, for well was itknown that over many a fair-haired child, over many a beauteousmaiden, he had used his magic power. Nor would he let them gountil they promised to come back another moonlit eve, and as apledge of their promise he would seize from the children a toy, from the maidens a ring, or it might be their mantle of green. 

Now about two miles from the plain of Carterhaugh stood a castle, and in the castle there lived a fair maiden named Janet. 

One day her father sent for his daughter and said, 'Janet, ye mayleave the castle grounds, an ye please, but never may ye crossthe plain of Carterhaugh. For there ye may be found by youngTamlane, and he it is who ofttimes casts a spell o'er bonnymaidens. '

Now Janet was a wilful daughter. She answered her father never aword, but when she had left his presence she laughed aloud, shetossed her head. 

To her ladies she said, 'Go to Carterhaugh will I an I list, andcome from Carterhaugh will I an I please, and never will I askleave of any one. '

Then when the moonbeams peeped in at her lattice window, the ladyJanet tucked up her green skirt, so that she might run, and shecoiled her beautiful yellow hair as a crown above her brow. Andshe was off and away to the lone plain of Carterhaugh. 

The moonlight stole across the moor, and Janet laughed aloud inher glee. She ran across to the well, and there, standing alone, riderless, stood the steed of the little elfin knight. 

Janet put out her hand to the rose-tree that grew by the well andplucked a dark red rose. Sweet was its scent and Janet put outher hand and plucked another rose, but ere she had pulled athird, close beside her stood a little wee man. He reached nohigher than the knee of the lady Janet. 

'Ye have come to Carterhaugh, Janet, ' he cried, 'and yet ye havenot asked my leave. Ye have plucked my red roses and broken abranch of my bonny rose-tree. Have ye no fear of me, Janet?'

The lady Janet tossed her head, though over her she felt creepingslow the spell of the little elfin knight. She tossed her headand she cried, 'Nay, I have no fear of you, ye little wee man. Nor will I ever ask leave of you as I come to and fro across theplain of Carterhaugh. Ye shall know that the moor belongs to me, me!' and Janet stamped her foot. 'My father made it all my own. '

But the young Tamlane took the white hand of the lady Janet inhis own, and so gentle were his words, so kind his ways, thatsoon the maiden had no wish to leave the little wee man. Hand inhand they wandered through the red rose-bushes that grew by theside of the well. And in the light of the moon the elf knightwove his spell and made the lady Janet his own. 

Back to the castle sped Janet when the moonlight failed, but allher smiles were gone. Lone and sad was she, all with longing forher little elfin knight. 

Little food would Janet eat in these days, little heed would shetake of the gowns she wore. Her yellow hair hung down uncombed, unbraided around her sad, pale face. 

Janet had been used to join in the games her four-and-twentymaidens played. She had run the quickest, tossed the ball thehighest, nor had any been more full of glee than she. 

Now the maidens might play as they listed, little did the ladyJanet care. 

When evening fell, her four-and-twenty ladies would play theirgames of chess. Many a game had Janet won in bygone days. 

Now the ladies might win or lose as they pleased, little did thelady Janet care. Her heart was away on the plain of Carterhaughwith her little wee elfin knight, and soon she herself would bethere. 

Once more the moonbeams peeped in at her lattice window, andJanet smiled, put on her fairest gown, and combed her yellowlocks. She was off and away to Carterhaugh. [1]

[Footnote 1: See Frontispiece. ]

She reached the moor, she ran to the well, and there as before, there, stood the steed of the little elfin man. 

And Janet put out her hand and plucked a red red rose, but ereshe had plucked another, close beside her stood the youngTamlane. 

'Why do ye pluck my roses?' asked the little elf man. But Janethad not come to talk about the roses, and she paid no heed to hisquestion. 

'Tell me, Tamlane, ' said the lady Janet, 'tell me, have ye alwaysbeen a little elfin man? Have ye never, in days gone by, been tothe holy chapel, and have ye never had made over you the sign ofthe Holy Cross?'

'Indeed now, Janet, the truth will I tell!' cried the youngTamlane. 

Then the lady Janet listened, and the lady Janet wept as thelittle wee knight told her how he had been carried away by theQueen of the Fairies. 

But yet a stranger tale he told to the maiden. 

'Ere I was carried off to Fairyland, Janet, ' said young Tamlane, 'we played as boy and girl in the old castle grounds, and well weloved each other as we played together in those merry merry daysof long ago. Ye do not forget, Janet?'

Then back into the lady Janet's mind stole the memory of herchildhood's merry days, and of the little lad who had shared hertoys and played her games. Together they had made the walls ofthe old castle ring with their laughter. 

No, the lady Janet had not forgotten, and she knew that now, asin the days of long ago, she loved the young Tamlane. 

'Tell me, ' she said, 'tell me how ye do spend your day inFairyland?'

'Blithe and gay is the life we lead, ' cried the little weeknight. 'There is no sickness, no pain of any kind in Fairyland, Janet. 

'In earth or air I dwell as pleases me the best. I can leave thislittle body of mine an it pleases me, and come back to it an Iwill. I am small, as you see me now, but when I will, I grow sosmall that a nut-shell is my home, a rosebud my bed. But I cangrow big as well, Janet, so big that I needs must make my home insome lofty hall. 

'Hither and thither we flit, bathe in the streams, frolic in thewind, play with the sunbeams. 

'Never would I wish to leave Fairyland, Janet, were it not thatat the end of each seven years an evil spirit comes to carry oneof us off to his dark abode. And I, so fair and fat am I, I fearthat I shall be chosen by the Evil one. 

[Illustration: 'In earth or air I dwell as pleases me the best, ']

'But weep not, Janet; an you wish to bring me back to the land ofmortals, I will e'en show you how that may be done. Little timeis there to lose, for to-night is Hallowe'en, and this samenight must the deed be done. 

'On Hallowe'en, at the midnight hour, the fairy court will ride amile beyond Carterhaugh to the cross at Milestone. Wait for methere, Janet, and ye will win your own true knight. '

'But many a knight will ride amid the fairy train. How shall Iknow you, my little wee man?' cried Janet. 

'Neither among the first nor among the second company shall yeseek for me, ' said young Tamlane. 'Only when ye see the thirddraw nigh give heed, Janet, for among them ye will find me. 

'Not on the black horse, nor yet on the brown horse, shall Iride. Let them pass, and keep ye quiet. But as the milk-whitesteed goes by, seize ye the bridle, Janet, and pull me down, andkeep your arms ever around me. For on the milk-white steed Iride. 

'On my right hand ye will see a glove, my left will beuncovered. Now, by these signs, ye will know your own trueknight. 

'Hold me fast, Janet, hold me fast, as you pull me down from mymilk-white steed. For while your arms are around me, the fairyfolk will change me into fearful shapes. 

'Into an adder, and into a snake they will change me. Yet, an yelove me, Janet, fear ye nought, but hold me fast. 

'They will change me into a lion, and into a bear. Yet, as I loveyou, Janet, fear ye nought, but hold me fast. 

'A toad, an eel I shall become, yet do not let me slide from yourarms, Janet, but hold me fast. 

'But, an the fairy folk change me into a blazing fagot, or a barof hot iron, then throw me far from you, Janet, into the cold, clear well, throw me with all your speed. 

'There will I change into your own true knight, Janet, and yeshall throw over me your mantle of green velvet. '

Dark was the night and full of gloom as the lady Janet hastenedto the cross at Milestone, but her heart was glad and full oflight. She would see her own true knight in mortal form beforethe dawn of Hallowday. 

It was between the hours of twelve and one o'clock when Janetstood alone at the spot where the fairy train would pass. 

Fearsome it was there alone in the gloom, but the lady Janet washeedful of nought. She had but to wait, to listen. Yet not asound did she hear, save only the wind as it whistled through thelong grass. 

Not a sound save the wind did she hear? Ah yes, now strangenoises were blown to her eager ears. The bells on fairy bridlestinkled, the music of the tiny fairy band piped each moment moreclear. 

Janet looked, and by the light of Will o' Wisp she could justcatch sight of their little oaten pipes. Shrill were the notesthey blew on these, but softer were the sounds they blew throughtiny hemlock pipes. Then deeper came the tones of the bog-reedsand large hemlock, and Janet, looking, saw the little green folkdraw nigh. 

How merry the music was, how glad and good! Never was known afairy yet who sang or played of aught but joy and mirth. 

The first company of the little folk passed Janet as she stoodpatient, watchful by the cross; the second passed, and then therecame the third. 

'The black steed! Let it go, ' said Janet to herself. 

'The brown steed! It matters not to me, she whispered. 

'The milk-white steed!' Ah, Janet had seized the bridle of themilk-white steed and pulled the little rider off into her strongyoung arms. 

A cry of little elfs, of angry little elfs, rang out on the chillnight air. 

Then as he lay in Janet's arms the angry little imps changedtheir stolen elfin knight into an adder, a snake, a bear, a lion, a toad, an eel, and still, through all these changes, the ladyJanet held him fast. 

'A blazing fagot! Let him change into a blazing fagot!' cried theangry little folk. 'Then this foolish mortal will let ourfavorite knight alone. '

And as young Tamlane changed into a blazing fagot the little folkthought they had got their will. For now the lady Janet threw himfrom her, far into the clear, cold well. 

But the little angry imps were soon shrieking in dismay. Nosooner was the fagot in the well than the little elfin knight wasrestored to his own true mortal form. 

Then over the tall, strong knight Janet threw her green mantle, and the power of the fairies over the young Tamlane was for evergone. Their spell was broken. 

Now, the Queen of the Fairies had hidden herself in a bush ofbroom to see what would happen. And when she saw her favouriteknight change into his own true mortal shape, she was very cross, very cross indeed. The little fairy band was ordered to marchhome in silence, their pipes thrust into their tiny greengirdles, and there were no more revels in the fairy court formany and many a long day to come. 

HYNDE ETIN

May Margaret did not love to sew, yet here in the doorway of herbower she sat, her silk seam in her hand. 

May Margaret sat with her seam in her hand, but she did not sew, she dreamed, and her dream was all of Elmond wood. 

She was there herself under the greenwood gay. The tall treesbowed, the little trees nodded to her. The flowers threw theirsweetest scents after her as she passed along; the little birdssang their gladdest that she might hear. How fair and green andcool it was in the wood of Elmond!

On a sudden, Margaret sat upright in the doorway of her bower. She dreamed no more. The sound of the hunting-horn rang in herear. It was blown in Elmond wood. 

Then down on her lap slipped the silken seam, down to her feetthe needle. May Margaret was up and away to the greenwood. 

Down by the hazel bushes she hastened, nor noticed that theevening shadows fell; on past the birch groves she ran, nornoticed that the dew fell fast. 

No one did May Margaret meet until she reached a white-thorntree. There, up from the grass on which he lay, sprang HyndeEtin. 

'What do ye seek in the wood, May Margaret?' said he. 'Is itflowers, or is it for dew ye seek this bonny night of May?'

But Margaret did not care to answer. She only shook her head. 

Then said Hynde Etin, 'I am forester of Elmond wood, nor shouldye enter it without my leave. '

'Nay now, ' cried the lady Margaret, 'leave will I ask of no man, for my father is earl of all this land. '

'Your father may be earl of all the land, May Margaret, yetshall ye die, because ye will not ask my leave to come to Elmondwood. ' And he seized her fast and tied her to a tree by her long, yellow locks. 

Yet did Hynde Etin not kill the maiden, but this is what he did. 

He pulled up by the root the tallest tree he could see, and inthe hollow he dug a deep deep cave, and into the cave he thrustMay Margaret. 

'Now will ye wander no more in my woods!' cried Hynde Etin. 'Hereshall ye stay, or home shall ye come with me to be my wife. '

'Nay, here will I rather stay!' cried May Margaret, 'for myfather will seek for me and will find me here. '

But the cave was dark and cold, and the earl sought yet did notfind his daughter. 

No bed was there in the cave for May Margaret, no bed save therough earth, no pillow save a stone. 

Poor May Margaret! She did not like the dark or the cold. Eremany days had passed away, she thought it would be better to livewith Hynde Etin than to stay longer alone in so dismal a cave. 

'Take me out, take me out!' then cried May Margaret. 

Hynde Etin heard the maiden's call and he came and took her outof the cave. Deep into the greenwood he carried her, where hisown home had been built, and there he made May Margaret, theearl's daughter, his wife. 

For twelve long years Margaret lived in the greenwood. And HyndeEtin was kind to her and she grew to love him well. 

Seven little sons had Margaret, and happy and gay was their lifein their woodland home. Yet oft did Margaret grieve that herlittle wee sons had never been taken to holy church. She wishedthat the priest might christen them there. 

Now one day Hynde Etin slung his bow across his shoulder, placeda sheath of arrows in his belt, and was up and away to the hunt. With him he took his eldest wee son. 

Under the gay greenwood they paced, Hynde Etin and his eldestson, and the thrush sang to them his morning song. Upward overthe hills they climbed, and they heard the chimes of church bellsclear. 

Then the little wee son said to his father, 'An ye would not beangry with me, father, there is somewhat I would ask. '

'Ask what ye will, my bonny wee boy, ' said Hynde Etin, 'for neverwill I be cross with you. '

'My mother ofttimes weeps, father. Why is it that she sobs sobitterly?'

'Your mother weeps, my little wee son, for sore she longs to seeher own kin. Twelve long years is it and more since last she sawthem, or heard the church bells ring. 

'An earl's daughter was your mother dear, and if I had not stolenher away one bonny night in May she might have wedded a knight ofhigh degree. 

'The forester of Elmond wood was I, yet as I saw her standing bythe white-thorn tree I loved her well. And ere many days had goneby thy mother loved me too, and I carried her away to ourgreenwood home. 

'Dear to your mother are her seven little sons, dear to her, too, am I. Yet oft will the tears run down her cheek as she dreams ofher old home and her father the earl. '

Then upward glanced the little wee son as he cried aloud, 'I willshoot the linnet there on the tree and the larks as they wingtheir flight, and I will carry them home to my mother dear thatshe may weep no more. '

Yet neither with linnet nor with lark could her little wee sonwoo the smiles back to his dear mother's face. 

Now a day came when Hynde Etin in his greenwood home thought thehours passed but slow, and that same day he took his gun and hisdog and off he went alone to hunt. His seven little wee sons heleft at home with their mother. 

'Mother, ' said the eldest little son, 'mother, will ye be angrywith me an I tell you what I heard?'

'Nay now, my little wee son, ' said she, 'I will never be crosswith you. '

'I heard the church bells ring as I went hunting over the hill, mother. Clear did they ring and sweet. '

'Ah, would I had heard them too, my little dear son, ' criedMargaret, 'for never have I been in the holy church for twelvelong years and more, and never have I taken my seven bonny sonsto be christened, as indeed I would they were. In the holy churchwill my father be, and there would I fain go too. '

Then the little young Etin, for that was the name of Margaret'seldest son, took his mother's hand and called his six littlebrothers, and together they went through Elmond wood as fast asever they could go. It may be that the mother led the way, it maybe that so it chanced, but soon they had left the greenwood farbehind and stood on an open heath. And there, before them, stooda castle. 

Margaret looked and Margaret smiled. She knew she was standingonce again before her father's gate. 

She took three rings from her pocket and gave them to her eldestwee boy. 

'Give one, ' she said, 'to the porter. He is proud, but so he seesthe ring, he will open the gate and let you enter. 

'Give another to the butler, my little wee son, and he will showyou where ye are to go. 

'And the third ye shall hand to the minstrel. You will see himwith his harp, standing in the hall. It may be he will playgoodwill to my bonny wee son who has come from Elmond wood. '

Then young Etin did as his mother had said. 

The first ring he gave to the porter, and without a word the gatewas opened for the little wee boy. 

He gave the second ring to the butler, and without a word thelittle wee boy was led into the hall. 

The third ring he gave to the minstrel, and without a word hetook his harp and forthwith played goodwill to the bonny wee boyfrom the greenwood. 

Now, when the little Etin reached the earl, he fell on his kneebefore him. 

The old earl looked upon the little lad, and his eyes they werefilled with tears. 

'My little wee boy, ye must haste away, ' he cried. 'An I lookupon you long my heart will break into three pieces, for ye havethe eyes, the hair of my lost May Margaret. '

'My eyes are blue as my mother's eyes, and my yellow hair curlsas does hers, ' cried the little wee boy. 

'Where is your mother?' then cried the earl, and the tears rolleddown his cheek. 

'My mother is standing at the castle gate, and with her are mysix little wee brothers, ' said the bonny young Etin. 

'Run, porter boys, run fast, ' said the earl, 'and throw wideopen the gates that my daughter may come in to me. '

Into the hall came Margaret, her six little sons by her side. Before the earl she fell upon her knee, but the earl he liftedher up and said, 'Ye shall dine with me to-day, ye and your sevenbonny little sons. '

'No food can I eat, ' said Margaret, 'until I see again my dearhusband. For he knows not where he may find me and his seven dearlittle sons. '

'Now will I send my hunters, and they shall search the foresthigh and low and bring Hynde Etin unto me, ' said the earl. 

Then up and spake the little wee Etin. 

'Search for my father shall ye not, until ye do send to him apardon full and free. '

And the earl smiled at the young Etin. 

'In sooth a pardon shall your father have, ' said he. 

With his own hand the earl wrote the pardon, and he sealed itwith his own seal. Then the hunters were off and away to searchfor Hynde Etin. They sought for him east and they sought for himwest, they sought all over the countryside. And at length theyfound him sitting alone in his home in Elmond wood. Alone, andtearing his yellow locks, was Hynde Etin. 

'Get up, Hynde Etin, get up and come with us, for the earl hassent for you, ' cried the merry hunters. 

'The earl may do as he lists with me, ' said Etin. 'He may cut offmy head, or he may hang me on a greenwood tree. Little do I careto live, ' moaned Etin, 'now that I have lost my lady Margaret. '

'The lady Margaret is in her father's hall, Hynde Etin, ' said thehunters, 'nor food will she eat until ye do come to her. There isa pardon for you here sealed by the earl's own hand. '

Then Hynde Etin smoothed his yellow locks, and gay was he as hewent with the hunters to the castle. 

Down on his knee before the earl fell Hynde Etin. 'Rise, Etin, rise!' cried the earl. 'This day shall ye dine with me. '

Around the earl's table sat the lady Margaret, her husband dear, and her seven little wee sons. And the little Etin looked andlooked and never a tear did he see on his mother's face. 

'A boon I have to ask, ' cried then the little wee boy; 'I wouldwe were all in the holy church that the good priest mightchristen me and my six little brothers. For in the greenwood gaynever a church did we see, nor the sound of church bells did wehear. '

'Soon shall your boon be granted, ' cried the earl, 'for this veryday to the church shall ye go, and your mother and your sixlittle wee brothers shall be with you. '

To the door of the holy church they came, but there did the ladyMargaret stay. 

'For twelve long years and more, ' she cried, and bowed her head, 'for twelve long years have I never been within the holy church, and I fear to enter now. '

Then out to her came the good priest, and his smile was sweet tosee. Come hither, come hither, my lily-white flower, ' said he, 'and bring your babes with you that I may lay my hands upon theirheads. '

Then did he christen the lady Margaret's seven little wee sons. And their names, beginning with the tiniest, were these--Charles, Vincent, Sam, Dick, James, John. And the eldest little wee sonwas, as you already know, named after his father, Etin. 

And back to the earl's gay castle went the lady Margaret withHynde Etin and her seven little new-christened sons. And therethey lived happy for ever after. 

[Illustration: 'For twelve long years have I never been withinthe Holy Church, and I fear to enter now']

HYNDE HORN

Hynde Horn was a little prince. It was because he was socourteous, so kind a little lad that Prince Horn was alwayscalled Hynde Horn. For hend or hynde in the days of long agomeant just all the beautiful things which these words, courteous, kind, mean in these days. 

Hynde Horn lived a happy life in his home in the distant East. For it was in the bright glowing land of the sun that his father, King Allof, reigned. 

The Queen Godylt loved her little son too well to spoil him. Shewished him to learn to share his toys, to play his games withother boys. 

Thus, much to the delight of little Prince Horn, two boys, almostas old as he was, came to live with him in the palace. Athulphand Fykenyld were their names. 

They were merry playmates for the little prince, and, as theyears rolled by, Athulph and Fykenyld thought there was no one toequal their prince Hynde Horn. They would serve him loyally whenhe was king and they were men. 

All went well in the palace of this far-off eastern land untilHynde Horn was fifteen years of age. Then war came, withoutwarning, into this country of blue sky and blazing sun. 

Mury, King of the Turks, landed in the kingdom of King Allof, whowas all unprepared for fight. And King Mury, with his fiercesoldiers, pillaged the land, killed the good King Allof, seizedhis crown, and placed it on his own head. 

Then poor Queen Godylt fled from the palace, taking with herHynde Horn and his two playmates Prince Athulph and PrinceFykenyld. 

I cannot tell you what became of the beautiful queen, but Mury, the cruel king, captured Hynde Horn and made him and his twoplayfellows prisoners. 

What should he do with Prince Horn, who was heir to the kingdomhe had seized?

Should he kill the lad, he wondered. Yet cruel as King Mury was, he could not do so dastardly a deed. 

But Hynde Horn was tall and strong, and Hynde Horn was loved bythe people. He must certainly be sent out of the country. 

So King Mury planned, and King Mury plotted, and at length hethought of a way, by which he hoped to be for ever rid of thegallant prince and his two companions. 

He ordered the prisoners to be brought down to the seashore, andthere the lads were thrust into an open boat, and pushed out tosea. It seemed as though they must perish, for King Mury hadgiven orders that no provisions were to be placed in the boat. 

There was neither helm nor oar for the little craft. The ladscould do nothing to guide her on her dangerous course. Now theywould drift gently on the swell of the quiet sea, now they wouldwhirl giddily on the crest of a storm-tossed wave. Faint andweary grew Hynde Horn and his two companions. It seemed to themthat they would perish from hunger or be devoured by the storm. 

Yet every day the little boat was drifted by soft breezes ordriven by wild storm-clouds westward and always westward. Atlength one day a great wave came and lifted it high up on to thecoast. The boys had reached Scotland, the country over which KingAlymer ruled. 

Now it chanced that King Alymer was passing along the sea-coast, and seeing the lads lying there, pale and bruised, he orderedthat they should be carried to the palace, that they might be fedand that their wounds might be bathed. 

So carefully were they tended in the palace of King Alymer thatsoon roses bloomed again on the cheeks of Hynde Horn and his twocompanions, strength crept back to their bruised bodies. 

Ere many weeks had passed all in the palace loved Hynde Horn andknew that he was a prince worthy of his name. 

When the prince was well, King Alymer listened to the story thelad had to tell, the story of his ruined home, his lost kingdom, his suffering at the hands of the cruel King Mury. 

And King Alymer, for he was gentle at heart, shed a tear as heheard. 

'Thou shalt stay at our court, Hynde Horn, ' he said, 'and learnall that a prince should learn. Then, when thou art older, thoushalt go to war with Mury, the cruel king of the Turks. Thoushalt win back thine own kingdom and rule over it. '

Then the king called for Athelbras, his steward, and bade himcare for Prince Horn and his two companions. 

A suite of rooms was given to the prince in the palace, and herehe and his playfellows were trained in all courtly ways. 

When his studies were over, Hynde Horn would go out to hawk andhunt. Often, too, he would wrestle and tilt with his companions, so that in days to come he would be able to take his place inbattle and in tournament. 

But one day King Alymer heard the young prince's voice as hesang. So pure, so sweet rang the voice that the king said tohimself, 'Hynde Horn shall be trained by the best harpist in ourland. '

Then happy days began for the young prince. Rather would he sing, as he touched softly the cords of the harp, than would he fightor tilt; rather would he sing and play, than go to hunt and hawk. Yet well had he loved these sports in former days. 

Now, King Alymer had one daughter, the Princess Jean. Dearly didthe king love his daughter, and ofttimes he stroked her hair andwished that she had a playfellow to cheer her in his absence. Forwhen the king would journey from city to city to see that justiceand right ruled throughout the land, his child was left alone. 

But now that Hynde Horn and his companions had come, the kingknew that the Princess Jean would no longer be dull while he wasaway. 

She, too, in the early days after the prince came to the palace, would ride to hunt and hawk, Hynde Horn by her side. And latershe would listen as he talked to her of his beautiful home underthe eastern sky, of his dear lost mother, Godylt, and his father, King Allof, who was slain by the cruel Mury. 

She would listen, her eyes dim with tears, for she knew how wellhe had loved his home in the far-off East. 

But her eyes would flash as he told of the cruel King Mury, andof how one day he would go back to his kingdom and win it fromthe hand of the evil king. 

Her eyes would flash and her heart would beat, yet when she wasalone she would weep. For what would she do if Hynde Horn wentaway to the far East and she was left alone? To the Princess Jeanit seemed that the palace would be empty were Prince Horn nolonger dwelling there. 

Well, the years rolled on and Hynde Horn was no longer a boy, Princess Jean no longer a girl. They both had changed in manyways, but in one way both were still as they had been when theywere boy and girl together. They had loved each other then, theyloved each other now. So well did they love one another that theywent to King Alymer and told him that they wished to marry, andthat without delay. 

Now the king was well pleased that Hynde Horn should marry hisbeautiful daughter the Princess Jean, but he was not willing thatthe wedding should be at once. 

'Thou must wait, my daughter, ' said the king; 'thou must wait towed Hynde Horn until he has journeyed to the far East and wonback the kingdom Mury so unjustly wrested from him. Then, when hehas shown himself as brave as he is courteous, then shall thewedding be without delay. '

Thus it was that a few days later Hynde Horn and Princess Jeanstood together to say farewell one to another. Hynde Horn wasgoing away to win his spurs, to show himself worthy of the ladywhom he loved. 

Before he left her, he gave her a beautiful silver wand, and onthe wand were perched seven living larks. They would warble tothe Princess Jean when Hynde Horn was no longer near to sing toher, as had been his wont, in his soft sweet voice. 

And the Princess Jean drew from her own finger a ring, and sevendiamonds shone therein. She placed it on the finger of her dearHynde Horn, and said, 'As long as the diamonds in this ring flashbright, thou wilt know I love thee as I do now. Should the gleamof the diamonds fade and grow dim, thou wilt know, not that mylove grows less, for that may never be, but thou wilt know thatevil hath befallen me. '

Then sadly they parted and Hynde Horn, the ring on his finger, hastened down to the shore. Swiftly he embarked in the ship thatawaited him, and sailed away. On and on for many a long day hesailed, until he reached the kingdom which Mury the king hadseized when he killed King Allof. 

Here Hynde Horn warred against King Mury until he overcame himand won again the kingdom of the East for himself, the rightfulheir. And the people over whom he ruled rejoiced, for Hynde Horn, though he no longer was prince but king, did not forget his kindand courteous ways. 

For seven years King Horn ruled in this distant land, doing manya deed of daring meanwhile, and winning both gold and glory forhimself. 

Ofttimes during these long years he would glance at the diamondring which the Princess Jean had given to him, and always thediamonds flashed back bright. Then one day, when his work wasover and he knew he was free to go again to the princess, hisheart wellnigh stopped for fear. He had looked downward at hisring, and lo! the diamonds were dull and dim. Their lustre hadvanished. 

The Princess Jean must be in trouble, or already evil hadbefallen her. 

Hynde Horn hastened down to the seashore, and there he hired aship to sail speedily to Scotland, where King Alymer ruled. 

The ship sailed swiftly, yet the days seemed long to King Horn. Oft he would gaze at his ring, but only to find the diamondsgrowing always more dull, more dim. Hynde Horn longed as he hadnever longed before to be once more beside the Princess Jean thathe might guard her from all harm. 

Fair blew the wind, onward sailed the ship, and at length HyndeHorn saw land, and knew that he was drawing near to Scotland. 

A little later he had reached the coast and had begun his journeytowards the palace. 

As he hastened on, King Horn met a beggar man. 

'Old man, ' cried Hynde Horn, 'I have come from far across thesea. Tell me what news there is in this country, for it is many along day since I have been in Scotland. '

'There is little news, ' said the beggar, 'little news, for wedwell secure under our gracious King Alymer. To be sure, in thepalace there is rejoicing. The feast has already been spread forforty days and more. To-day is the wedding-day of the king'sdaughter, the Princess Jean. '

Ah, now Hynde Horn understood why his diamonds had grown dull anddim. His beautiful princess had not forgotten him. Of that he wasquite sure. But King Alymer and his people had grown weary ofwaiting for his return. Seven years had seemed a long, long time, and now the king was anxious that his daughter should marry andwait no longer for the return of Hynde Horn. 

And, but this King Horn did not know, Fykenyld, his oldcompanion, loved the princess, and had wooed her long and waswaiting to marry her. False to Hynde Horn was Fykenyld, for everdid he say, 'Hynde Horn is dead, ' or 'Hynde Horn hath forgottenthe Princess Jean, ' or 'Hynde Horn hath married one of thedark-haired princesses in the far-off East. ' And never did heleave the palace to go in search of his old playfellow, whom hehad once longed to serve. 

Now King Alymer had listened to Fykenyld's words, and though hedid not believe Hynde Horn would forget his daughter, he didbelieve that Hynde Horn might be dead. Thus it was that hecommanded Princess Jean to look no longer for the return of HyndeHorn, but without more delay to marry Prince Fykenyld. 

And the princess, pale and sad, worn out by long waiting, promised to look no more for Hynde Horn. To please her father andhis people, she even promised to marry Hynde Horn's oldplayfellow, Prince Fykenyld. 

Ah, but had they only known, King Horn was already hasteningtowards the palace. Already he had learned that the wedding hadnot yet taken place. 

Now he was speaking to the beggar again, quickly, impatiently. 

'Old man, lend me your torn and tattered coat. Thou shalt have myscarlet cloak in its place. Thy staff, too, I must have. Insteadof it thou shalt have my horse. '

You see the young king had made up his mind to go to the palacedressed as a beggar. 

But the old man was puzzled. Could the young prince from acrossthe sea really wish to dress in his torn rags? Well, it was astrange wish, but right glad would he be to have the scarletcloak, the gallant steed. 

When King Horn had donned his disguise, he cried, 'Tell me now, how dost thou behave thyself when thou comest to the palace tobeg?'

'Ah, sir, ' said the old man, 'thou must not walk thus upright. Thou must not look all men boldly in the face. As thou goest upthe hill, thou must lean heavily on thy staff, thou must castthine eyes low to the ground. When thou comest to the gate of thepalace, thou must tarry there until the hour for the king todine. Then mayest thou go to the great gate and ask an alms forthe sake of St. Peter and St. Paul, but none shalt thou take fromany hand, save from the hand of the young bride herself. '

Hynde Horn thanked the old beggar man, and, bidding him farewell, set off up the hill toward the palace gate. And no one looking athim in the tattered coat, bending half double over his staff, noone could have guessed that this beggar man was the brave andcourteous Hynde Horn. 

Now when at length King Horn reached the palace gate, the weddingfeast was spread. 

Princess Jean was sitting on the throne beside her father, PrinceFykenyld on her other side, smiling to himself. 

He would soon be wedded to the princess, he thought, and in daysto come he would reign with her over King Alymer's wide domains. Fykenyld had no thought to spare for his old playmate, save to beglad that he had never returned from the far East to claim hisbride. 

But though seven long years had rolled away, Princess Jean hadnot forgotten Hynde Horn. Forgotten! Nay, day and night he was inher thought, in her heart. Yet was she sure that he would nevernow return. 

It is true that in her despair she had yielded to her father'swishes; she had promised to wed Prince Fykenyld that very day. Itwas no wonder then that she sat on the throne sad at heart, paleof face. 

Hynde Horn had knocked at the palace gate. It was no humblebeggar's rap he gave, but a bold, impatient knock. King Horn hadforgotten for the moment that he was only a beggar man. 

The palace gate was flung wide. One of the noble guests hadarrived, thought the porter. But when he saw a beggar standingbefore him, he wellnigh slammed the gate in the poor man's face. 

Before he could do this Hynde Horn spoke, and his voice made theporter pause to listen, so sweet, so soft it was. It brought backto the rough old man the thought of Hynde Horn, for he had beenused to speak in just such a tone. 

The porter cleared his voice, wiped his eyes, for he, as allothers who dwelt in the palace, had loved Hynde Horn, and grievedsorely for his absence. 

For the sake of Hynde Horn it was that the porter listened to thebeggar man's request. 

'I have come to ask for alms, yet will I take them from none savefrom the hand of the Princess Jean herself, and from across thesea, ' said the beggar man. 

Still hearing the sound of the lost prince's voice, the porterbade the beggar wait, and stealing up into the hall unnoticed, hepassed through the crowd of gay lords and ladies until he reachedthe princess. 

'A beggar from across the sea begs alms, yet none will he havesave from the hand of the Princess Jean herself, ' said the porterboldly. Then--for he had known the princess from the time thatshe was only a tiny little girl--then he added in a whisper: 'Theman hath a voice soft and sweet as that of our lost Prince Horn. '

Princess Jean heard, and not a moment did she pause. 

She stepped down from the throne, took a cup of red wine in herhand, and heeding not the astonished stare of lord and lady, shehastened out to the palace gate. 

Very beautiful she looked in her long white robe, her gold combsglinting in her hair. 

'Drink, ' she said gently, as she stood before the beggar, 'drink, and then haste to tell me what tidings thou dost bring fromacross the sea. '

[Illustration: 'Drink, ' she said gently, 'drink']

The beggar took the cup of wine and drank. As he handed back thecup to the princess he dropped into it the diamond ring, whichhad been dull and dim for many a long day now. 

Princess Jean saw the ring. She knew it was the very one she hadgiven to Hynde Horn. Her heart bounded. Now at least she wouldhear tidings of her long-lost love. 

'Oh tell me, tell me quick, ' she cried, 'where didst thou findthis ring? Was it on the sea or in a far-off country that thoudidst find it, or was it on the finger of a dead man? Tell me, ohtell me quick!' cried the Princess Jean. 

'Neither by sea nor by land did I find the ring, ' answered thebeggar, 'nor on a dead man's hand. It was given to me by one wholoved me well, and I, I give it back to her on this herwedding-day. ' As Hynde Horn spoke he stood up, straight and tall, and looked straight into the eyes of the Princess Jean. 

Then, in a flash, she understood. In spite of the tattered coat, she knew her own Hynde Horn. 

Her pale cheeks glowed, her dim eyes shone. 

'Hynde Horn!' she cried, 'my own Hynde Horn, I will never letthee leave me again. I will throw away my golden combs, I willput on my oldest gown, and I will come with thee, and together wewill beg for bread. '

King Horn smiled, and his voice was soft as he answered, 'No needis there to take the gold combs from thy hair or to change thywhite robe for one less fair. This is thy wedding-day, and I havecome to claim my bride. ' And King Horn flung aside the old torncoat, and the Princess Jean saw that beneath the rags Hynde Hornwas clothed as one of kingly rank. 

Then throughout the palace the tidings spread, 'Hynde Horn hathcome back, Hynde Horn hath come back, and now is he king of hisown country. '

And that very day King Horn was wedded to the beautiful PrincessJean, with her father's blessing, and amid the rejoicings of thepeople. 

And Prince Fykenyld slunk away, ashamed to look his old playmatein the face. 

Not many months passed ere King Horn and Queen Jean sailed awayto reign together in the far East. And never again in the yearsto come did the diamonds on King Horn's ring grow dull or dim. 

THOMAS THE RHYMER

It is six hundred years ago since Thomas the Rhymer lived andrhymed, and in those far-off days little need was there to tellhis tale. It was known far and wide throughout the countryside. 

Thomas was known as Thomas the Rhymer because of the wonderfulsongs he sang. Never another harper in all the land had so greata gift as he. But at that no one marvelled, no one, that is tosay, who knew that he had gained his gift in Elfland. 

When Thomas took his harp in his hand and touched the strings, ahush would fall upon those who heard, were they princes or werethey peasants. For the magic of his music reached the hearts ofall who stood around him. Were the strains merry, gleeful? Thefaces of those who heard were wreathed in smiles. Were they sad, melancholy? The faces of those who looked upon the harpist werebathed in tears. Truly Thomas the Rhymer held the hearts of thepeople in his hand. 

But the minstrel had another name, wonderful as the one I havealready told to you. 

Thomas the Rhymer was named True Thomas, and that was because, even had he wished it, Thomas could not say or sing what was nottrue. 

This gift too, as you will hear, was given to him by the Queen ofElfland. 

And yet another name had this wonderful singer. 

He was born, so the folk said, in a little village calledErcildoune. He lived there, so the folk knew, in a castlestrongly built on the banks of a little river. Thus to those whodwelt in the countryside the Rhymer was known as Thomas ofErcildoune. The river which flowed past the castle was theLeader. It flowed broader and deeper until two miles beyond thevillage it ran into the beautiful river Tweed. And to-day theruins of an old tower are visited by many folk who have heardthat it was once the home of the ancient harpist. 

Thomas of Ercildoune, Thomas the Rhymer, and True Thomas werethus only different names for one marvellous man who sang andplayed, never told an untruth, and who, moreover, was able totell beforehand events that were going to take place. 

Listen, and I will tell you how Thomas of Ercildoune came tovisit Elfland. 

It was one beautiful May morning that Thomas felt somethingstirring in his heart. Spring had come, spring was calling tohim. He could stay no longer in the grim tower on the banks ofthe Leader. He would away, away to the woods where the thrush andthe jay were singing, where the violets were peeping forth withtimid eyes, where the green buds were bursting their bonds forvery joy. 

Thomas hastened to the woods and threw himself down by the bankof a little brook. 

Ah yes! spring has come. How the little birds sing, how thegentle breezes whisper! Yet listen! what is it Thomas hearsbeyond the song of the birds, the whisper of the breeze?

On the air floats the sound of silver bells. Thomas raises hishead. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle! The sound draws nearer, clearer. Itis music such as one might hear in Elfland. 

Beyond the wood, over the lonely moors, rode a lady. So fair alady had Thomas never seen. 

Her palfrey was dapple-grey and she herself shone as the summersun. Her saddle was of pure ivory, bright with many preciousstones and hung with cloth of richest crimson. 

The girths of her saddle were of silk and the buckles were eachone a beryl. Her stirrups of clear crystal and adorned withpearls hung ready for her fairy feet. The trappings of herpalfrey were of finest embroidery, her bridle was a chain ofgold. 

From the palfrey's mane hung little silver bells, nine-and-fiftylittle silver bells. It was the fairy music of the bells that hadreached the ears of Thomas as he lay dreaming on the bank of thelittle brook. 

The lady's skirt was green, green as the leaves of spring, hercloak was of fine velvet. Her long black hair hung round her as aveil, and her brow was adorned with gems. 

By her side were seven greyhounds, other seven she led by aleash. From her neck hung a horn and in her belt was thrust asheath of arrows. 

It seemed as though the lady gay were on her way to thehunting-field. 

Now she would blow her horn until the echoes answered merrily, merrily; now she would trill her songs, until the wild birdsanswered gaily, gaily. 

Thomas of Ercildoune gazed, and Thomas of Ercildoune listened, and his heart gave a great bound as he said to himself, 'Now, bymy troth, the lady is none of mortal birth. She is none otherthan Mary, the Queen of Heaven. '

Then up sprang Thomas from the little woodland brook and awaysped he over the mountain-side, that he might, so it werepossible, reach her as she rode by the Eildon tree, which treegrew on the side of the Eildon hills. 

'For certainly, ' said Thomas, 'if I do not speak with that ladybright, my heart will break in three. '

And in sooth, as she dismounted under the Eildon tree, Thomas metthe lady, and kneeling low beneath the greenwood, he spoke, thuseager was he to win a benison from the Queen of Heaven. 

'Lovely lady, have pity upon me, even as thou art mother of theChild who died for me. '

'Nay now, nay now, ' said the lady gay, 'no Queen of Heaven am I. I come but from the country thou dost call Elfland, though queenof that country in truth I am. I do but ride to the hunt with myhounds as thou mayest hear. ' And she blew on her horn merrily, merrily. 

Now Thomas did not wish to lose sight of so fair a lady. 

'Go not back to Elfland; stay by my side under the Eildon tree, 'he pleaded. 

'Nay, ' said the Queen of Elfland, 'should I stay with thee, amortal, my fairness would fade as fades a leaf. '

But Thomas did not believe her, and, for he was a bold man, hedrew near and kissed the rosy lips of the Elfland Queen. 

Alas, alas! no sooner had he kissed her than the lady fairchanged into a tired old woman. 

She no longer wore a skirt of beautiful green, but a long robe ofhodden grey covered her from head to foot. The light, bright asthe summer sun that had shone around her, faded, and her facegrew pale and thin. Her eyes no longer danced for joy, they gazeddull and dim before her. And on one side of her head the longblack hair had changed to grey. 

[Illustration: Under the Eildon tree Thomas met the lady]

It was a sight to make one sad, and Thomas, as he gazed, cried, as well he might, 'Alas, alas!'

'Thyself hast sealed thy doom, Thomas, ' cried the lady. 'Thoumust come with me to Elfland. Haste thou therefore to bidfarewell to sun and moon, to trees and flowers, for, come weal, come woe, thou must e'en serve me for a twelvemonth. '

Then Thomas fell upon his knees and prayed to Mary mild that shewould have pity upon him. 

But when he arose the Queen of Elfland bade him mount behind her, and Thomas could do nought save obey her command. 

Her steed flew forward, the Eildon hills opened, and horse andriders were in the caverns of the earth. 

Thomas felt darkness close around him. On they rode, on and yeton; swift as the wind they rode. Water reached to his knee, aboveand around him was darkness, and ever and anon the booming of thewaves. 

For three days they rode. Then Thomas grew faint with hunger andcried, 'Woe is me, I shall die for lack of food. '

As he cried, the darkness grew less thick, and they were ridingforward into light. Bright sunlight lay around them as they rodetoward a garden. It was a garden such as Thomas had never seen onearth. 

All manner of fruit was there, apples and pears, dates anddamsons, figs and currants, all ripe, ready to be plucked. Inthis beautiful garden, too, there were birds, nightingalesbuilding their nests, gay popinjays flitting hither and thitheramong the trees, thrushes singing their sweetest songs. 

But these Thomas neither saw nor heard. Thomas had eyes only forthe fruit, and he thrust forth his hand to pluck it, so hungry, so faint was he. 

'Let be the fruit, Thomas, ' cried the lady, 'let be the fruit. For dost thou pluck it, thy soul will go to an evil place, norshall it escape until the day of doom. Leave the fruit, Thomas, and come lay thy head upon my knee, and I will show thee a sightfairer than ever mortal hath seen. And Thomas, being fain torest, lay down as he was bid, and closed his eyes. 

'Now open thine eyes, Thomas, ' said the lady, 'and thou shalt seethree roads before thee. Narrow and straight is the first, andhard is it to walk there, for thorns and briars grow thick, andspread themselves across the pathway. Straight up over themountain-tops on into the city of God runs this straight andnarrow road. It is named the path of Goodness. And ever will thethorns prick and the briars spread, for few there be who treadfar on this rough and prickly road. 

'Look yet again, Thomas, ' said the lady. And Thomas sawstretching before him a long white road. It ran smooth and broadacross a grassy plain, and roses blossomed, and lilies bloomed bythe wayside. 'That, ' said the lady, 'is named the path of Evil, and many there be who saunter along its broad and easy surface. '

Thomas said no word, but lay looking at the third pathway as ittwisted and twined in and out amid the cool, green nooks of thewoodland. Tiny rills caught the sunlight and tossed it back tothe cold, grey rock down which they trickled; tiny ferns waved awelcome from their sheltered crevices. 'This, ' said the lady, 'this is the fair road to Elfland, and along its beauteous waymust thou and I ride this very night. But speak thou to none, Thomas, when thou comest to Elfland. Though strange the sightsyou see, the sounds you hear, speak thou to none, for nevermortal returns to his own country does he speak one word in theland of Elfs. '

Then once again Thomas mounted behind the lady, and hard and fastdid they ride until they saw before them a castle. It stood on ahigh hill, fair and strong, and as it came in sight the ladyreined in her white steed. 

'See, Thomas, see!' she cried, 'here is the castle that is mineand his who is king of this country. None like it is there, forbeauty or for strength, in the land from which thou comest. Mylord is waited on by knights, of whom there are thirty in thiscastle. A noble lord is mine, nor would he wish to hear how thouwert bold and kissed me under the Eildon tree. Bear thou in mind, Thomas, that thou speak no word, nay, not though thou artcommanded to tell thy tale. I will say to my courtiers that Itook from thee the power of speech ere ever we crossed the sea. '

Thomas listened, and dared not speak. Thomas stood still, stillas a stone, and gazed upon the lady, and lo! a great wonder cameto pass. 

Once more the lady shone bright as the sun upon a summer's morn, once more she wore her skirt of green, green as the leaves ofspring, and her velvet cloak hung around her shoulders. Her eyesflashed and her long hair waved once more black in the breeze. 

And Thomas, looking at his own garments, started to see that theytoo were changed. For he was now clothed in a suit of beautifulsoft cloth, and on his feet were a pair of green velvet shoes. 

Clear and loud the lady fair blew her horn, clear and loud, andforward she rode toward the castle gate. 

Then down to welcome their queen trooped all the fairy court, andkneeling low before her, they did her reverence. 

Into the hall she stepped, Thomas following close at her side, silent as one who had no power to speak. 

They crowded around him, the knights and squires; they asked himquestions about his own country, yet no word dared Thomas answer. 

Then arose great revelry and feasting in the castle of the ElfinQueen. 

Harps and fiddles played their wildest and most gladsome tunes, knights and ladies danced, and all went merry as a marriage bell. 

Across the hall Thomas looked, and there a strange sight met hisglance. Thirty harts and as many deer lay on the oaken floor, andbending over them, their knives in their hands, were elfin cooks, making ready for the feast. Thomas wondered if it were but adream, so strange seemed the sights he saw. 

Gaily passed the days, and Thomas had no wish to leave thestrange Elfland. But a day came when the queen said to Thomas, 'Now must thou begone from Elfland, Thomas, and I, myself, willride with you back to your own country. '

'Nay now, but three days have I dwelt in thy realm, ' said Thomas, 'with but little cheer. Give me leave to linger yet a littlewhile. '

'Indeed, indeed, Thomas, ' cried the Queen of Elfland, 'thou hastbeen with me for seven long years and more, but now thou mustaway ere the dawn of another day. To-morrow there comes an evilspirit from the land of darkness to our fair realm. He comes eachyear to claim our most favoured and most courteous guest, and itwill be thou, Thomas, thou, whom he will wish to carry to hisdark abode. But we tarry not his coming. By the light of the moonwe ride to-night to the land of thy birth. '

Once again the lady fair mounted her white palfrey, and Thomasrode behind until she brought him safe back to the Eildon tree. 

There, under the leaves of the greenwood, while the little birdssang their lays, the Queen of Elfland said farewell to Thomas. 

'Farewell, Thomas, farewell, I may no longer stay with thee. '

'Give me a token, ' pleaded Thomas, 'a token ere thou leavest me, that mortals may know that I have in truth been with thee inElfland. '

'Take with thee, then, ' said the lady, 'take with thee the giftof harp and song, and likewise the power to tell that which willcome to pass in future days. Nor ever shall thy tales be false, Thomas, for I have taken from thee the power to speak aught saveonly what is true. '

She turned to ride away, away to Elfland. Then Thomas was sad, and tears streamed from his grey eyes, and he cried, 'Tell me, lady fair, shall I never meet thee more?'

'Yea, ' said the Elf Queen, 'we shall meet again, Thomas. Whenthou art in thy castle of Ercildoune and hearest of a hart andhind that come out of the forest and pace unafraid through thevillage, then come thou down to seek for me here, under theEildon tree. '

Then loud and clear blew she her horn and rode away. Thus Thomasparted from the Elfin Queen. 

On earth seven slow long years had passed away since Thomas hadbeen seen in the little village of Ercildoune, and the villagersrubbed their eyes and stared with open mouth as they saw him onceagain in their midst. 

Ofttimes now Thomas was to be seen wandering down from his grimold castle down to the bonny greenwood. Ofttimes was he to befound lying on the bank of the little brook that babbled toitself as it ran through the forest, or under the Eildon tree, where he had met the Elf Queen so long before. 

He would be dreaming as he lay there of the songs he would singto the country folk. So beautiful were these songs that peoplehearing them knew that Thomas the Rhymer had a gift that hadbeen given to him by no mortal hand. 

He would be thinking, too, as he lay by the babbling brook, ofthe wars and dangers that in years to come would fall upon hiscountry. And those who hearkened to the woes he uttered foundthat the words of True Thomas never failed to come to pass. 

Seven long years passed away since Thomas had parted from theElfland Queen, and yet another seven. 

War had raged here and there throughout the land, when on a timeit chanced that the Scottish army encamped close to the castle ofErcildoune where Thomas the Rhymer dwelt. 

It was a time of truce, and Thomas wished to give a feast to thegallant soldiers who had been fighting for their country. 

Thus it was that the doors of the old castle were flung wide, andnoise and laughter filled the banquet-hall. Merry were the tales, loud the jests, bright the minstrel strains that night in thecastle of Ercildoune. 

But when the feast was over Thomas himself arose, the harp he hadbrought from Elfland in his hand, and a hush fell upon thethrong, upon lords and ladies, and upon rough armed men. 

The cheeks of rugged warriors that day were wet ere ever Thomasceased to sing. Nor ever in the years to come did those who heardforget the magic of his song. 

Night fell, those who had feasted had gone to rest, when in thebright moonlight a strange sight was seen by the village folk. 

Along the banks of the Leader there paced side by side a hart anda hind, each white, white as newly fallen snow. 

Slowly and with stately steps they moved, nor were theyaffrighted by the crowd which gathered to gaze at them. 

Then, for True Thomas would know the meaning of so strange asight, then a messenger was sent in haste to the castle ofErcildoune. 

As he listened to the tale the messenger brought, Thomas startedup out of bed and in haste he put on his clothes. Pale and reddid he grow in turn as he listened to the tale, yet all he saidwas this: 'My sand is run, my thread is spun, this token is forme. '

Thomas hung his elfin harp around his neck, his minstrel cloakacross his shoulders, and out into the pale moonlight he walked. And as he walked the wind touched the strings of the elfin harpand drew forth a wail so full of dole that those who heard itwhispered: 'It is a note of death. '

On walked Thomas, slow and sad, and oft he turned to look againat the grim walls of the castle, which he knew he would never seeagain. 

And the moonbeams fell upon the grey tower, and in the soft lightthe walls grew less grim, less stern, so thought Thomas. 

'Farewell, ' he cried, 'farewell. Nor song nor dance shallevermore find place within thy walls. On thy hearthstone shallthe wild hare seek a refuge for her young. Farewell to Leader, the stream I love, farewell to Ercildoune, my home. '

As Thomas tarried for a last look, the hart and the hind drewnear. Onward then he went with them toward the banks of theLeader, and there, before the astonished folk, he crossed thestream with his strange companions, and nevermore was Thomas theRhymer seen again. 

For many a day among the hills and through the glens was Thomassought, but never was he found. There be some who say that he isliving yet in Elfland, and that one day he will come again toearth. 

Meanwhile he is not forgotten. The Eildon tree no longer wavesits branches in the breeze, but a large stone named theEildon-tree stone marks the spot where once it grew. And near tothe stone flows a little river which has been named the GoblinBrook, for by its banks it was believed that Thomas the Rhymerused to talk with little men from the land of Elf. 

LIZZIE LINDSAY

In the fair city of Edinburgh there lived many many years ago abeautiful maiden named Lizzie Lindsay. Her home was in theCanongate, which is now one of the poorest parts of the city. 

But in the days when Lizzie danced and sang, and made herfather's and mother's heart rejoice, the Canongate was the homeof all the richest lords and ladies. 

For close to the Canongate was Holyrood, the palace where theking held his court. And it was well, thought the lords andladies of long ago, to live near the palace where there were manygay sights to be seen. 

Lizzie had been a bonny wee girl, and as she grew up she grewbonnier still, until, not only in Edinburgh, but far and widethroughout the country, people would speak of her beauty. Eventhe folk who dwelt away over the hills in the Highlands heard ofthe beauty of Lizzie Lindsay. 

Dame Lindsay loved her daughter well, and gave her beautifulgowns of silk and velvet. Her father, too, would bring her homemany a sparkling jewel, many a brilliant gem. It seemed as thoughLizzie Lindsay had all that her heart could wish. 

Certainly she did not wish to leave her home in the Canongate, for though lord after lord, noble after noble begged for herhand, Lizzie but tossed her beautiful head high in the air as shesaid them nay. 

But though it was well known that the lovely maiden had kindlooks and gentle words to spare for none save only her dearfather and her doting mother, yet still the lords and nobleswould dance more gladly with Lizzie than with any other maiden. And a ball, even a ball given by the court at the palace ofHolyrood, seemed to be less gladsome were it known that the fairmaiden would not be there. 

Now, as I have told you, the fame of Lizzie Lindsay's beauty hadspread even to the Highlands. And Donald, the young laird ofKingcaussie, heard that she was fairer than any other maiden inthe land, and that she was haughtier and more wilful as well. Forshe would have nought to say, to any of the rich suitors whosurrounded her. 

Then Donald, who was tall and handsome, and who was used to havehis own way, smiled as he heard of Lizzie's wilful spirit and hergreat beauty. He made up his mind that he would go to Edinburghand try to win as his bride the bonnie lassie who would havenought to do with noble or with lord. 

The young laird lived with his father and mother in a castlebuilt high amid the heather-covered hills, and little until nowhad Donald cared for city ways or city walls. To hunt the deer, to chase the roe, to spend the long hours from early morn untileven among the heathery moors which were all his own, had beenhappiness enough for him. 

But now, now the glory faded from the heather, and the hunt andchase lost their delight. Sir Donald's heart was in the fair cityof Edinburgh with beautiful Lizzie Lindsay, whom, though he hadnot seen, he loved. 

At length one day the young laird went to his lady mother and, kissing her hand right courteously, he begged her to grant him aboon. For Donald had been well trained, and, though he was nolonger a boy, he did not dream of leaving his home among thehills until he had gained his mother's consent. 

'Grant me a boon, lady mother, ' said the young laird. 'Send meaway to the fair city of Edinburgh, for it is there that my truelove dwells. And if ye will do this I will bring you home adaughter more beautiful than any other maiden in the land. '

Now the young laird's mother had heard of Lizzie Lindsay, and itmay be that she was glad that her son should wish to bring to thecastle so beautiful a bride. Yet she had no wish for the maidento be won by aught save by love for her dear son alone. 

Lizzie had refused to wed with lord or noble, it was true, yetthe broad lands, the ancient castle of the MacDonalds, mightplease her fancy. But the Lady of Kingcaussie determined thatneither for land nor for castle should bonnie Lizzie Lindsay cometo the Highlands. 

When she saw young Donald at her side, and heard him beggingleave to go to the fair city of Edinburgh, she smiled as shelooked into his eager face, and answered slowly, 'My son, yeshall go to Edinburgh an it please you, and so ye are able yeshall bring back with you Lizzie Lindsay as your bride. A fairermaiden, I can well believe, has never graced these walls. Yet, ifye go, it shall not be as Sir Donald MacDonald, the heir to broadlands and ancient castles, but as a simple stranger, withoutriches and without rank. Then, if ye do win your bride, it willbe through love alone, ' said his mother gravely. But her eyesshone bright and glad, for she thought that there was not amaiden in all the land who would not be proud to wed her son, though he had neither riches nor lands. 

As for the old laird, he laughed when he heard why his son hadgrown weary at the hunt and listless at the chase. He laughed andcried, 'Let the lad go to the city; before a year has passed awayhe will be home again and the beautiful Lizzie Lindsay with him. 'For his old father, too, thought that no maiden could refuse tolove his bonny self-willed son. 

Well, young Donald was too anxious to be off and away toEdinburgh to be grieved to go as a simple Highlander. Before theday was over he had said farewell to his light-hearted old fatherand to his gentle lady mother, and clad in a rough tartan kiltand without a servant to follow him, the young laird was off tothe fair city of Edinburgh. 

When Donald reached Edinburgh he wondered how he would see themaiden of whose beauty and of whose cleverness he had so oftenheard. 

He had not long to wait, for he had scarce been a day in the citywhen he heard that a great ball was to be given and to be gracedby the presence of the fair maiden whom he hoped to win as hisbride. 

Donald made up his mind that he too would go to the ball, and itwas easy for him to do this, as there were many in the city whoknew the young laird. 

When he entered the ballroom he saw that the lords and nobleswere dressed in suits of velvet or silk and satins, while he woreonly his kilt of rough tartan. 

The lords and ladies too stared at the tall handsome youngHighlander in his strange garments, and some, who did not knowhim, forgot their good manners and smiled and nudged each otheras he passed down the room. 

But the young laird had no thought to spare for the crowd. He wasmaking his way to the circle, in the midst of which stood LizzieLindsay. He had heard too often of the beautiful maiden not to besure it was she as soon as his eyes fell upon her face. 

Young Donald, in his homespun tartan, stood on the outskirt ofthe little crowd that surrounded her, listening. The lords intheir gay suits were doing their utmost to win the goodwill ofthe maiden, but their flattery and foolish words seemed to giveher little pleasure. Indeed she was too used to them to find themaught but a weariness. 

Soon Donald was bowing before the maiden he had left his home towin, and begging her to dance with him. And something in thebright eyes and gallant bearing of young Donald pleased thepetted maiden, and, despite his rough suit, she had nought butsmiles for the young stranger from the Highlands. 

The lords, in their silks and velvets, opened their eyes wide inastonishment as Lizzie glided past them with young Donald; theladies smiled and flouted her, but the maiden paid no heed totheir words or looks. 

Donald was not flattering her as she was used to be flattered, hewas telling her of the country in which he dwelt. And Lizzie asshe listened heard the hum of the bees, smelt the fragrance ofthe heather. Nay, she even forgot the ballroom, and she was outon the silent moorland or climbing the steep mountains side byside with the young stranger whose face was so eager, whose eyeswere so bright. She was stooping to pluck the wildflowers thatgrew in the nooks of some sheltered glen, or she was kilting herdainty gown and crossing the mountain streamlets, and ever thetall, young stranger was by her side. 

Before the ball was over Donald knew that Lizzie Lindsay's homewas in the Canongate, and he had begged to be allowed to see herthere. 

Lizzie had no wish to lose sight of the bright young Highlander, and she told him gaily that if he came to the Canongate to seeher he should be welcome, both to her and her dear father andmother. 

When the dance ended the young laird went to his lodgings, andhis heart was light and his dreams glad. His old father hadthought he might be in Edinburgh a year ere he won his bride. Butyoung Donald murmured to himself that it would scarce be twelvelong months before he was back again to the Highlands with hisbonny Lizzie Lindsay. 

The next day Donald was at the Canongate betimes, and Lizziewelcomed him merrily, and her father and mother looked in kindlyfashion at the young stranger, for indeed Donald had the gift ofwinning hearts. 

But neither father nor mother dreamed that the country cladyouth would win their beautiful daughter's hand, for had she notrefused it to many a lordly earl and noble knight. 

Yet the more Lizzie heard about the Highlands, the more shelonged to be there with young Donald by her side. 

At length a day came when Donald, with little fear and much hopein his heart, asked the maiden if she would go with him to theHighlands. 

'We will feed on curds and whey, ' cried the daring young Donald;'your cheeks will grow more pink, and your brow more white withour simple fare. Your bed shall be made on the fresh greenbracken and my plaid shall wrap you round. Will ye come to theHighlands with me, Lizzie Lindsay?'

Now Lizzie had listened to young Donald's words with joy, butalso with some fear. Her food had been of the daintiest, her bedof the softest down, and the young stranger, who was indeedscarce a stranger now, had, it seemed, but little to offer hersave his love. Yet Lizzie still wished to go to the Highlands. 

[Illustration: 'Will ye come to the Highlands with me, LizzieLindsay?']

But when Dame Lindsay heard what young Donald had said shehardened her heart against the bonny young Highlander. 

'Ye shall speak no more to my daughter, ' she cried, 'until yehave told me where your home is, and how many broad lands areyour own?' For it seemed to the old dame that a penniless ladwould never dare to win her daughter, when lords and nobles hadwooed her in vain. 

But Donald's head was high, and he seemed to feel no shame as heanswered the old dame bravely--

'My name is Donald MacDonald, and I hold it high in honour. Myfather is an old shepherd and my mother a dairymaid. Yet kind andgentle will they be to your beautiful daughter if she will comewith me to the Highlands. '

Dame Lindsay could scarce believe she had heard aright. Herdaughter marry a shepherd lad! Nay, that should never be, thoughindeed the lad was a bonny one and brave. 

Then in her anger she bade young Donald begone. 'If ye do stealaway my daughter, then, without doubt ye shall hang for it!' shecried. 

The young laird turned haughtily on his heel. He had littlepatience, nor could his spirit easily brook such scorn as the oldDame flung at him. 

He turned on his heel and he said, 'There is no law in Edinburghcity this day which can hang me. '

But before he could say more Lizzie was by his side. 'Come to myroom, Donald, ' she pleaded; and as he looked at the beautifulgirl the young laird's wrath vanished as quickly as it had come. 'Come to my room for an hour until I draw a fair picture of youto hang in my bower. Ye shall have ten guineas if you will butcome. '

'Your golden guineas I will not have!' cried Donald quickly. 'Ihave plenty of cows in the Highlands, and they are all my own. Come with me, Lizzie, and we will feed on curds and whey, andthou shalt have a bonnie blue plaid with red and green strips. Come with me, Lizzie Lindsay; we will herd the wee lambstogether. '

Yet, though Lizzie loved young Donald MacDonald, she stillhesitated to leave her kind parents and her beautiful home. 

She sat in her bower and she said to her maid, 'Helen, what shallI do, for my heart is in the Highlands with Donald?'

Then the maid, who was wellnigh as beautiful as her mistress, cried, 'Though I were a princess and sat upon a throne, yet wouldI leave all to go with young Donald MacDonald. '

'O Helen!' cried Lizzie, 'would ye leave your chests full ofjewels and silk gowns, and would ye leave your father and mother, and all your friends to go away with a Highland laddie who wearsnought but a homespun kilt?'

But before her maid could answer her, Lizzie had sprung from herchair, saying, 'Yet I think he must be a wizard, and haveenchanted me, for, come good or come ill, I must e'en go to theHighlands. '

Then early one morning Lizzie tied up her silk robes in a bundleand clad herself in one of Helen's plain gowns. With her bundleover her arm, Lizzie Lindsay was off to the Highlands with DonaldMacDonald. 

Donald's heart was glad as he left the fair city of Edinburghbehind him, Lizzie by his side. He had so much to tell hisbeautiful bride, so much, too, to show her, that at first theroad seemed neither rough nor long. 

But as the hours passed the way grew rougher, the hills steeper, and Lizzie's strength began to fail. Her shoes, too, which werenot made for such rough journeys, were soon so worn that her feetgrew hot and blistered. 

'Alas!' sighed Lizzie Lindsay, 'I would I were back in Edinburgh, sitting alone in my bower. '

'We are but a few miles away from the city, ' said Donald; 'willyou even now go back?'

But the tears trickled slowly down the maiden's cheeks, and shesobbed, 'Now would I receive no welcome from my father, no kissfrom my mother, for sore displeased will they be that I have leftthem for you, Donald MacDonald. '

On and on they trudged in silence, and as evening crept on Donaldcried aloud, 'Dry your tears now, Lizzie, for there before us isour home, ' and he pointed to a tiny cottage on the side of thehill. 

An old woman stood at the door, gazing down the hill, and as theydrew near she came forward with outstretched hands. 'Welcome, SirDonald, ' she said, 'welcome home to your own. '

'She spoke in Gaelic, as Highlanders do, so Lizzie did not knowwhat she said. 

Sir Donald whispered quickly in the same language, 'Hush, call meonly Donald, and pretend that I am your son. ' The old woman, though sore dismayed at having to treat the young laird in sohomely a way, promised to do his bidding. 

Then Donald turned to Lizzie. 'Here mother, ' he said, 'is mylady-love, whom I have won in the fair city of Edinburgh. '

The old woman drew Lizzie into the cottage, and spoke kindly toher, but the maiden's heart sank. For a peat fire smouldered onthe hearth and the room was filled with smoke. There was no easychair, no couch on which to rest her weary body, so Lizziedropped down on to a heap of green turf. 

Her sadness did not seem to trouble Donald. He seemed gayer, happier, every moment. 

'We are hungry, mother, ' he said; 'make us a good supper of curdsand whey, and then make us a bed of green rushes and cover uswith yonder grey plaids. '

The old woman moved about eagerly as though overjoyed to do allthat she could for her son and his young bride. 

Curds and whey was a supper dainty enough for a queen, as Lizziewhispered to her shepherd lad with a little sigh. Even the bed ofgreen rushes could not keep her awake. No sooner had she laindown than, worn out with her long journey, she fell fast asleep, nor did she awake until the sun was high in the sky. 

As she awoke she heard Donald's voice. He was reproaching her, and she had not been used to reproach. 

'It would have been well, ' said Donald, 'that you had risen anhour ago to milk the cows, to tend the flock. '

The tears gathered in Lizzie's eyes and trickled down her cheeks. 

'Alas, alas!' she sighed, 'I would I had never left my home, forhere I am of little use. I have never milked a cow, nor do I knowhow to begin, and flocks have I never tended. Alas that I evercame to the Highlands! Yet well do I love Donald MacDonald, andlong and dull would the days have been had he left me behind himin Edinburgh. '

'Shed no more tears, Lizzie, ' said Donald gently. 'Get up anddress yourself in your silk gown, for to-day I will take you overthe hills of Kingcaussie and show you the glens and dales whereI used to play when I was but a little lad. '

Then Lizzie dried her tears and soon she was up and dressed inher finest gown, and leaning on Donald's arm she wandered withhim over the heathery hills until they reached a noble castle. 

Joyously then laughed the young laird, as he bade Lizzie gaze allaround her and be glad. 

'I am the lord of all you see, Lizzie, ' cried he, 'for thiscastle is my home and the mountains are my own broad lands. '

Then joyously too laughed Lizzie Lindsay, for she knew that hershepherd lad was none other than the far-famed Sir DonaldMacDonald. 

At that moment the castle gates were flung wide, and the oldLaird of Kingcaussie came out to greet the bride. 

'Ye are welcome, Lizzie Lindsay, welcome to our castle, ' he saidright courteously. 'Many were the lords and nobles who begged foryour hand, but it is young Donald, my son, who has won it, withno gift save the glance of his bonny blue eyes. ' And the oldlaird laughed merrily as he looked up at his son. 

The laird's gracious mother too came down to greet her, and wellwas she pleased that her boy had won the beautiful maiden heloved. 

As for Lizzie Lindsay, she sent to Edinburgh to fetch her fatherand mother, that they might see for themselves how wise theirdaughter had been to follow Donald MacDonald to the Highlands. 

THE GAY GOSHAWK

Lord William sat alone in his grey northern castle. He had comebut lately from the sunny South, and the room in which he satstruck chill after the sun-warmed rooms to which he had grownused. Little joy had Lord William in his old grey castle, for hisheart was far away in the sunny South. 

All alone he sat save for his favourite bird, the gay goshawk. And it, for it loved its master well, blinked a tear from its eyeas it peered into Lord William's gloomy face, blinked and peeredagain, so pale and lean had his master grown. 

'Now what ill has befallen, ' thought the bird, and it ruffled itsfeathers in its distress. 

Lord William looked up and stroked the glossy plumage of his gaygoshawk. 

'Be still, my bonny bird, be still, ' said Lord William, 'and Iwill smooth your ruffled wings. '

The goshawk blinked and peered more close into the tired face ofhis master. Then he began to speak. 

'Have you lost your sword or spear in the tournament, have youlost them in sunny England?' asked the bird, 'or are you palewith grief because your true love is far away?'

'By my troth!' cried Lord William, 'I have lost nor sword norspear, yet do I mourn, for my true love whom I fain would see. 

'You shall carry a message to her, my gay goshawk, for you canfly over hill and dale. You shall carry a letter to my love, andyou shall e'en bring me an answer, ' said Lord William, 'for youcan speak as well as fly, my bonny bird. '

'But how shall I know your true love?' said the bird. 'Never haveI seen her face or heard her voice. '

'O well will you know my true love, ' cried Lord William, 'for inall England lives there none so fair as she. The cheeks of mylove are red as the red red rose, and her neck, it is whiter thannew-fallen snow. 

'Near to her lattice window grows a birch, whose leaves tremblein the breeze. There shall you sit, my gay goshawk, and you shallsing to her as she goes to holy church. 

'With four-and-twenty maidens will she go, yet well will you knowmy own true love, for she is the fairest of them all. You shallknow her, too, by the gold that bedecks her skirt, by the lightthat glimmers in her hair. '

Then Lord William sat down and wrote a letter to his love, andfastened it firm under the pinion of his gay goshawk. Away flewthe bird, swift did it fly to do its master's will. O'er hill anddale it winged its flight until at length it saw the birch-treethat grew near the lady's bower. 

There, on the birch-tree, did the goshawk perch, and there did hesing his song as the lady with her four-and-twenty maidens passedbeneath its branches towards the church. 

The sharp eyes of the goshawk glanced at each beautiful maiden, and quick was he to see Lord William's love, for sweet was she asthe flowers that spring in May. Gold was embroidered on herskirt, sunlight glistened in her beautiful yellow hair. 

When another day dawned the gay goshawk left the birch-tree andalighted on the gate, a little nearer to the lattice window wheresat the beautiful lady to whom he had been sent. Here again hesang his song. Loud and clear he sang it first, loud and clearthat all might hear. Soft and sweet he sang it after, soft andsweet that only Lord William's lady might catch the note of love. And ever, loud or soft, the last words of his song were these, 'Your true love cannot come to you here. '

Then said the lady to her four-and-twenty maidens, 'Eat, my merrymaidens, eat and drink, for the feast is spread. I go but to mylattice window to listen to the birds, for hark! they are singingtheir evensong. '

But in her heart the lady knew there was only one song shelonged to hear. Wide she opened her lattice window and, leaningout, she hearkened to the song of the gay goshawk. 

'Sing on, ye bonny bird, ' she cried, 'sing on, for I know no songcould be so sweet that came not from my own true love. '

A little nearer flew the gay goshawk, and first his song wasmerry as a summer morn, and then it was sad as an autumn eve. 

As she listened, tears dropped from the eyes of the beautifullady. She put out her hand and stroked the pinions of the gaygoshawk, and lo! there dropped from beneath his wing LordWilliam's letter. 

'Five letters has my master sent to you, ' said the bird, 'andlong has he looked for one from you, yet never has it come, andhe is weary with long waiting. '

Then the lady sighed, for no letter had she ever had from hertrue love. 'My stepmother has hidden the letters, for never onehave I seen, ' she cried. 

[Illustration: 'I go but to my lattice window to listen to thebirds']

Her fingers tore open the letter which had dropped frombeneath the bird's wing, and she read, and as she read shelaughed aloud. 

Lord William had written a letter that was full of grief, becausehe could not come to the lady he loved, yet did the lady laugh. And this is why she laughed both long and glad. Because she hadmade up her mind that as he could not come to her she herselfwould go to Lord William. 

'Carry this message to my own true love, ' said she then to thegay goshawk. 

'Since you cannot come to me, I myself will come to you in yourcold northern country. And as a token of my love I send you byyour gay goshawk a ring from off my finger, a wreath from off myyellow hair. And lest these should not please you I send myheart, and more than that can you not wish. 

'Prepare the wedding feast, invite the guests, and then haste youto meet me at St. Mary's Church, for there, ere long, will youfind me. 

'Fly, gay goshawk, fly and carry with you my message to LordWilliam. '

And the bird flew o'er hill and dale until once again he reachedthe grey northern castle in which his master dwelt. And he sawhis master's eye grow glad, his pale cheek glow as he listened tothe message, as he held the tokens of his own true love. 

Then the lady, left alone, closed her lattice window and went upto her own room followed by her maidens. Here she began to moanand cry as though she were in great pain, or seized by suddenillness. So ill she seemed that those who watched her feared thatshe would die. 

'My father!' moaned the lady, 'tell my father that I am ill; bidhim come to me without delay. '

Up to her room hastened her father, and sorely did he grieve whenhe saw that his daughter was so ill. 

'Father, dear father, ' she cried, holding his strong hand in herpale white one, 'grant me a boon ere I die. '

'An you ask not for the lord who lives in the cold north country, my daughter, you may ask for what you will, and it shall begranted. '

'Promise me, then, ' said his daughter, 'that though I die here inthe sunny South, you will carry me when I am dead to the coldgrey North. 

'And at the first church to which we come, tarry, that a mass maybe said for my soul. At the second let me rest until the bells betolled slow and solemn. When you come to the third church, whichis named St. Mary's, grant that from thence you will not bear meuntil the night shades fall. '

Then her father pledged his word that all should be done as shewished. 

Now as her father left her room, the lady sent herfour-and-twenty maidens down to her bower that they might eat anddrink. And when she was left alone she hastened to drink asleeping draught which she had already prepared in secret. 

This draught would make her seem as one who was dead. And indeedno sooner had she drunk it than she grew pale and still. 

Her cruel stepmother came up into the room. She did not love thebeautiful maiden, and when she saw her lying thus, so white, socold, she laughed, and said, 'We shall soon see if she be reallydead. '

Then she lit a fire in the silent room, and placing some lead ina little goblet, she stirred it over the flames with an ironspoon until it melted. When the lead was melted the stepmothercarried a spoonful carefully to the side of the bed, and stoodthere looking down upon the still white form. It neither movednor moaned. 

'She is not dead, ' murmured the cruel woman to herself; 'shedeceives us, that she may be carried away to the land of her owntrue love. She will not lie there silent long. ' And she let somedrops of the burning lead fall on to the heart of the quietmaiden. Yet still the maiden never moved nor cried. 

'Send for her father, ' shouted the cruel stepmother, going to thedoor of the little room, for now she believed the maiden wasreally dead. 

'Alas, alas!' cried her father when he came and saw his daughterlying on her white bed, so pale, so cold. 'Alas, alas, my childis dead indeed!'

Then her seven brothers wept for their beautiful sister; but whenthey had dried their tears, they arose and went into the forest. There they cut down a tall oak-tree and made a bier for themaiden, and they covered the oak with silver. 

Her seven sisters wept for their beautiful sister when they sawthat she neither stirred nor moaned. They wept, but when they haddried their tears they arose and sewed a shroud for the maiden, and at each stitch they took they fastened into it a littlesilver bell. 

Now the duke, her father, had pledged his word that his daughtershould be carried, ere she was buried, to St. Mary's Church. Herseven brothers therefore set out on the long sad journey toward thegloomy north country, carrying their sister in the silver-mountedbier. She was clad in the shroud her seven sisters had sewed, andthe silver bells tinkled softly at each step her seven strongbrothers took along the road. 

The stepmother had no tears to shed. Indeed she had no time toweep, for she must keep strict watch over the dead maiden's sevensisters, lest they too grew ill and thus escaped her power. 

As for the poor old father, he shut himself up alone to grievefor his dear lost child. 

When the seven brothers reached the first church, they rememberedtheir father's promise to their sister. They set down the bierand waited, that a mass might be sung for the lady's soul. 

Then on again they journeyed until before them they saw anotherchurch. 

'Here will we rest until the bell has been tolled, ' they said, and again the bier was placed in the holy church. 

'We will come to St. Mary's ere we tarry again, ' said the sevenbrothers, and there they knew that their journey would be over. Yet little did they know in how strange a way it would end. 

Slow and careful were the brothers' steps as they drew near tothe church of St. Mary, slow and sad, for there they must partfrom their beautiful pale sister. 

The chime of the silver bells floated on the still air, dullingthe sound of the seven strong brothers' footsteps. 

They were close to St. Mary's now, and as they laid the bier downthe brothers started, for out of the shadows crept tall armedmen, and in their midst stood Lord William. He had come as he hadbeen bidden to meet his bride. The brothers knew him well, thelord from the cold grey country, who had stolen the heart oftheir beautiful sister. 

'Stand back, ' commanded Lord William, and his voice was stern, for not thus had he thought to meet the lady he loved. 'Standback and let me look once more upon the face of my own truelove. '

Then the seven brothers, though they had but little goodwill forthe northern lord, lifted the bier and laid it at his feet, thatonce again he might look upon the face of their pale cold sister. 

And lo! as Lord William took the hand, the cold white hand, ofhis true love in his own, it grew warm, as his lips touched hersthey grew rosy, and the colour crept into her cheeks. Ere longshe lay smiling back at her own true love with cheeks thatbloomed and eyes that shone. The power of the sleeping draughtwas over. 

'Give me bread, dear lord, ' cried the lady, 'for no food have Itasted for three long days and nights, and this have I done thatI might come to you, my own true love. '

When the lady had eaten she turned to her seven strong brothers. 'Begone, my seven bold brothers, ' she cried, 'begone to your homein the sunny South, and tell how your sister has reached herlord. '

'Now woe betide you, ' answered her bold brothers, 'for you haveleft your seven sisters and your old father at home to weep foryou. '

'Carry my love to my old father, ' cried the lady, 'and to mysisters seven. Bid them that they dry their tears nor weep forme, for I am come to my own true love. '

Then the seven brothers turned away in anger and went back totheir home in the South. But Lord William carried his own truelove off to the old grey castle where they were married. And thegay goshawk sang their wedding song. 

THE LAIRD O' LOGIE

It was when James the Sixth was king in Scotland that the youngWemyss of Logie got into sore trouble. 

Wemyss of Logie was one of the king's courtiers; a tall, handsomelad he was, and a favourite with both king and queen. 

Now King James had brought his wife, Queen Anne, across the seato Scotland. Her home was in Denmark, and when she came, a royalbride, to Scotland, she brought with her a few fair Danish maids. She thought it would be dull in her new home unless she had someof her own country-folk around her. 

Among these maids was a tall, beautiful girl named MargaretTwynlace. Her the queen loved well, and oft would she speak withMargaret of their old free life in the country over the sea. 

It chanced on a day that the young Laird of Logie was inattendance upon the king, and the Danish maid, Margaret Twynlace, in waiting upon the queen; and that day they two looked at eachother, and yet another day they two talked to each other, indeedmany were the times they met. And before long it was well knownat court that the young Laird of Logie loved the Danish maidMargaret, and would marry her an he could. 

But now trouble befell the young laird. He had been seen talkingwith the Earl of Bothwell, and he a traitor to the king. Nor wasit alone that Wemyss of Logie had been seen to speak withBothwell. It was even said that he had letters written by thetraitor in his room at Holyrood. 

No sooner had this rumour reached the king than orders were givento search both young Logie himself and the room in which he wasused to sleep. 

On his person no letters were found, but in his room, flungcarelessly into his trunk, lay a packet of letters tied andsealed. And the seal was that of the traitor, the Earl ofBothwell. 

The young laird was taken at once before the king. He spoke inhis usual fearless tones. 

'It is true, ' said he, 'that I have ofttimes spoken to the Earlof Bothwell, and it is true that I received from him the sealedpacket which was found in my trunk. But of that which is writtenin the packet know I nought. The seal is, as you see, unbroken. Nor knew I that the earl was still acting as traitor, ' added thelad, as he saw displeasure written on the face of the king. 

But despite all he could say, the young laird was arrested as atraitor and thrown into prison. Margaret Twynlace with her owneyes saw Sir John Carmichael, keeper of the prison, turn the keyin the lock. 

Margaret went quickly to the queen's house, but there did sheneither sew nor sing. She sat twining her fingers in and out, while she cried, 'Woe is me that ever I was born, or that ever Ileft my home in Denmark. I would I had never seen the young Lairdof Logie. ' And then Margaret wept bitterly, for having seen theyoung laird, she loved him well. 

When the queen came to her bower, she was grieved to see herfavourite maid in tears. Yet had she no comfort to offer her, forwell she knew that, even should he wish it, little power had theking to save the young Laird of Logie. 

But the queen spoke kindly to the maid, and told her that she, Margaret, might e'en go herself to King James to beg for the lifeof the young Laird of Logie. For it was well known that thesentence passed on him would be death. 

Then Margaret Twynlace wiped from her face all traces of hertears. She put on her soft green silk gown, and she combed outher bonny yellow hair. Thus she went into the presence of theking and fell on her knee before him. 

'Why, May Margaret, ' said the king, 'is it thou? What dost thouat my feet, my bonny maid?'

'Ah, sire, ' cried she, 'I have come to beg of thee a boon. Norever since I came over the sea have I begged of thee until now. Give me, I beseech of thee, the life of the young Laird ofLogie. '

'Alas, May Margaret, ' cried the king, 'that cannot I do! An thougavest to me all the gold that is in Scotland yet could I notsave the lad. '

Then Margaret Twynlace turned away and crept back to the queen'sbower. Yet now no tears fell from her blue eyes, for if neitherking nor queen could help the young Laird of Logie, she herselfwould save him from death. 

She would wait until night, when the king and queen slumbered, and then she would carry out her plan. A brave plan it was, forMargaret Twynlace was no coward maid. 

Quiet and patient she waited in the little ante-room, close tothe queen's bedchamber, waited until she felt sure the royal pairwere fast asleep. Then tripping lightly on tiptoe, she stoleinto the bedroom, where, as she had guessed, both king and queenwere slumbering sound. 

She crossed the room, quiet as any mouse, and reached the toilettable. There lay the king's gold comb, and close to it the littlepearl knife, the king's wedding gift to his queen. 

Back tripped Margaret, still on tiptoe, to the ante-room, andstood, her breath coming quick. 

Had she roused the king or queen? Was that the bed creaking?

No, there was not a sound. The royal pair slept sound as before. 

Then downstairs in the dark fled Margaret, down to the room whereSir John Carmichael lay slumbering, without a thought of hisprisoner, the young Laird of Logie. 

Loud did the maiden knock at his door, loud and long, until atlast Sir John was roused. 

'Sir John, ' cried the maid, 'haste thee and wake thy prisoner, the young Laird of Logie, for the king would speak to him thisvery moment. Open the door, for here be the tokens he sends tothee, ' and Margaret held out to Carmichael the gold comb and thepearl knife. 

Now, when Sir John had opened the door, he saw the tokens thatthe maid held out to him. He knew them well and hastened to dothe king's will, rubbing his sleepy eyes the while, and mutteringunder his breath, 'The king holds audience at strange hours; yetmust his orders be obeyed. '

He took the great key in his hand and went to the prison door. Margaret followed close, her heart bounding, not wholly in fear, nor yet wholly in hope. 

Sir John turned the prison lock and roused the young Laird ofLogie from his dreams, saying only, 'The king would speak withthee, without delay. '

Thus in the dead of night Margaret led the captain and hisprisoner to the door of the ante-room. 

'Wait thou here, Sir John, ' said the maid, until thy prisonerreturns. '

The young laird started as Margaret spoke. He had not guessedthat the maid wrapped in the rough cloak was his own dearMargaret Twynlace. 

But Sir John noticed nothing. He was wondering how long it wouldbe ere he would be again in his comfortable bed. 

Margaret drew the prisoner into her own little room. He tried tospeak, but not a word would she let him utter. She led him to thewindow, and shewed him a rope which she herself had fastenedthere. 

She pushed a purse of gold into his hand, a pistol into his belt, and bade him shoot when he was free, that she might know that hewas safe. 'Then haste, ' said Margaret, 'haste with all thy mightto the pier at Leith. Ships wilt thou find there in plenty tocarry thee into a safe haven. '

The young Laird of Logie would fain have tarried with the braveDanish maid, but not a moment was there to lose. The king mightwake, Sir John might grow impatient and come in search of hisprisoner; thus whispered the maid as she urged young Wemyss ofLogie to flee. 

He knew she spoke the truth, and he slipped down the rope, and ina moment was standing on the ground. He hastened to the palacegates, and getting safely through, he stayed only to fire hispistol that Margaret Twynlace might know that no evil hadbefallen. 

When Margaret heard the shot she stole softly downstairs andstood at the hall door gazing wistfully after the young Laird ofLogie. Yet not long dare she tarry there, lest the queen shouldneed her services. Noiselessly she crept back into the ante-room. Hark! what was that? The king was moving! Indeed, the pistol-shothad roused King James, and he jumped out of bed crying, 'Thatpistol was fired by none other than the young Laird of Logie. '

[Illustration: She stood at the hall door gazing wistfully afterthe young Lard of Logie]

He shouted for his guards and bade them go send their captain, Sir John Carmichael, to his presence. 

Sir John, fearing nothing, came before the king, and falling onhis knee before him he said, 'Sire, what is thy will?'

'Where is thy prisoner, where is the young Laird of Logie?'demanded the king. 

Sir John stared. Had not the king himself sent for his prisoner?

'The young Laird of Logie!' he said. 'Sire, thou didst send thytokens to me, a golden comb, a pearl knife. See, they are here, 'and Sir John drew them from his pocket and held them up beforethe bewildered king. 

'And with the tokens came an order to send my prisoner at once tothy presence. I brought him to the door of the ante-room, where Iwas bidden to wait thy will. '

'If thou hast played me false, Carmichael, if thou hast played mefalse, ' said the king, 'thou shalt thyself be tried to-morrow inthe court of justice in place of the prisoner, the young Laird ofLogie. '

Then Carmichael hastened to the door of the ante-room as fast asever he could go. And he called out, 'O young Wemyss of Logie, anthou art within, come out, for I must speak to thee. '

Margaret Twynlace smiled to herself as she opened the door of theante-room. Carmichael stepped into the room, stopped short, andstared. The open window, the rope that hung there, told him allhe had come to ask. He stared, but never a word did he find tosay. 

Then maid Margaret laughed aloud and clapped her hands for glee. 

'Dost wish thy prisoner, the Laird of Logie?' she cried. 'Thoushalt not see him again for many a long day. Long ere the morningdawned he was on board one of the ships at Leith, and now he issailing on the sea. He is free, he is free!'

King James did not punish the brave Danish maid. Nor when heheard from Queen Anne all that the maid had done did he blame SirJohn Carmichael. 

Indeed ere many months had passed away the king sent a pardon tothe young laird. Then was he not long in coming back to bonnyScotland to marry brave Margaret Twynlace, who had saved hislife. 

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