Morning journal and courier., 1890-10-04

element. Excursion and picnic parties set
forth for days outing in pouring rain
with the same enthusiasm as on a clear
morning. You will see as many fine la
dies shopping in Princess street. Edin-
burgh, on a rainy day as on a clear one.
The indifference to the mist and rain may
have become a national characteristic
through the universal use by Scottish peo-
pie of woolen clothing, so perfect in quail.
ity and comfortable in texture as to protect
the body from the ill-effect of sudden
change in temperature and the chill of
evaporating moisture. But you cannot ac-
count for the apparent actual liking of
mist and drizzle, driZzle and mist, save on
the theory that endless companionship
with anything as exasperating as intermit-
tant fog, sun and drizzle, in time, gives
the habit of liking, if not indeed of love.
That the Scotch love their mists and driz-
zles you have endless proof. 'tDear Aud
Reekie" (old Foggy, or Smoky, is not only
the prideful appellation for mist-wreathed,
drizzle-sprinkled Edinburgh, one of the
most interesting cities of the world, but
it is the loye-name of all old Scotia itself.
Any day in the year-for in Scotland You
will be caught in a shower or swirled in a
fog every day of the year-you will meet
groups of society ladies or business men
gathered at crossings OF near important
building entrances, CHEEKY as larks on a
June morning in their exchange of cour-
tesies or gossip, while tiny rills of rain are
merrily coursing from their ears, chins
and noses, or seeking along tolerative YER
tebre the sequestered and spongy shades
of Wristbands, hip-pockets and killed
skirts. While about George Square at
Glasgow, the old Iron Steeple, Dumfries,
the picturesque landing place at oban, and
along High street or in Waterloo Place,
Edinburgh, you will see scores of people
standing idly in the rain: as though they
had come out of irksome and confining
habitations for an invigorating sup, lite
rally sup, of this sort of fresh air.
Perhaps it is the wizard witchery of
Scott, as poet and novelist, perhaps the
radiant romance of all Scottish border
land, but you never tire of tender Tweed
vale and its sweetly-fiowing stream. You
are not the first to feel this. The old
monks loved the valley and dotted the
Tweed-side with splendid monasteries
Their grazing-lands were the richest; theil
cattle the finest; their grain of the plump
est kernel; their fruit the sweetest; in al
Britain. Tradition has it that the fine old
apple-orchards still standing here-an oi
them on the Tweed's north banks, and
many of them as wonderful in their fruit
age as in the marvellous Vale of Apples
where once dwelt Gabriel and Evangelins
at the edge of Minas Basin-were planted
by these cowled and sandaled folk. That
must have been hundreds of years ago
But these rare old trees are big, gnarled
and gray enough for that. Little hamlets
have grown up within and about these an,
cient orchards. Weavers' villages they
once were. The clack of the dusty loom
is now still; but they are quaint old nests
housing quaint old folk, who have ripened
and mellowed in these sunny places along
the Tweed until they fit into their orchard
environment as the orchards themselves
blend with the restful landscape If you
have wandered up and down the Tweed
perhaps of all these brae-side nests you
have found Gattonside, by Melrose, tn,
dreamiest and quaintest. Leaving tho
glorious abbey to your right you sauntel
along shadowy road overarched will
Scotch frs and beeches, cool and fragrant
On the one side is ancient st. Cuthbert's
| and a moss-grown mill and dam. Tiny
fields with tidily-stooked grain rise il
patches of yellow, gray and green on th'
other. At the end of the vista now ant
then flashes the blue of the Tweed. TheI
an old suspension bridge is crossed
Above and below anglers stand waist dee
| in the river, and q few carts are takin
| gravel from its shining bed. 4 little far
ther on groups of old peasant-women
| pausing now and then to bless the Cove
nanters or boil new bree from an oil
scandal, are cutting thistles and weed
| with sickles at the waterside. Thes
brambles will be dried to help piece ou
the meager fuel in the near winter days
At the village edge the road ends; or rath
| er blends into a score of century-beatel
| paths; for Gattonside has no street. Eacl
| of its matched houses, as if with toucl
/ of Scotch obstinacy, sets its face toward
its own liking: but all have the Tweed AM
its songs Just below them: and every on
has its orchard enclosed with a yellow O
white siuuous wall Huge as oaks AT
these knotted old apple trees, but thei
well-pruned branches are bending eve
to the cottage roofs with such loads G
'rosy-cheekit' apples that their scarls
blends strangely with the red tiles, an
gives the whole village the appearance of
gorgeous cloak spread upon the emerald G
the hillside. When the blossoms are lus
in the spring time what glory of colo
must lie under the sun here in old Cation
side. If men live in the village your keen
est gaze cannot find them. 1t is shopless
save where in one little window ''sweeties
of ancient make and flavor are exposed
1t is kirkless; and nought but the soun
of the old abbey bell from a mile away q
Melrose disturbs the wondrous quiet of th
place. All doors are open to all in SEQ
land, and you peer into this cottage an
that. The incarnation of sweetness an
cleanliness, but no human, is behelC
Here is an old school-house deserted an
silent. An orchard was its play -grount
but a few sheep are grazing among i
tender grasses now. Unconsciously yo
have begun to tip toe through the hamle
for it seems as though even a foot-fa
might break the spell of silence and n
pose; and you pass on to reach the rougl
red road that leads to the primeval fore
beyond. But no, here is such quail
old cottage that You halt again. Som
thing like an arched front from whiC
rises huge chimney arrests your attel
} ton. On either side of the chimney Is
tiny pane of glass. You peep into oI
and see the oldest ingle-nook in all Sec
land. A huge arch sustaining the bow,
wall of the cottage and the chimney abo
/ encloses n cavernous fireplace. At eai
) side of this settle of stone is built in &
bow beneath the arch. The panes
5 glass are little outlooks from this peasa
fortalice of a snuggery. Opposite the u
3 into which You are peering an old, q
, | WOlnau Is hsltcp one uau oeeu AhlN1A
3 and looking and dreaming ont through t
5 apple boughs across the sunlit vale
/, Her white old face is as white as her VIII
e old s'mutch" cap. She had knit to
f middle of her needle and then fall
T asleep. But her thin old hands hold
!, needles upright and clenched, as thou
s duty lasted beyond consciousness; and
s cat has come to the opposite settle to ST
z at the silent face. as If doubtful of
8 meaning when the clicking need
|. stopped. This is the only soul you h'
f found in Gattonside among the apple
o chards and their sunshine by the Tweed
o EDGAR L. WAKEMAN