The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1893-10-07

were ended. They are gray, battles
SCARED, ancient. They we're built
in fighting times and have their re-
cords in their hard old faces To
wander among them is like being
whisked back two or three centuries
and set down face to face with the
grimness and cruelties OF feudal
times; and | sometimes think that
the nature of the lowly folk, beaten
to savage hardness in those sorry
times, is in this borderland of both
kingdoms long time taking on the
gentler touch of our time. Scotland
is richest in these weird old border
relics of sorry age The Scotch
crowded close to the border; built
more and stronger places of sally,
even the tiniest of hamlets ha ing
likeness in sturdiness and strength
to the larger towns, and then, being
the livliest on their legs" "harried"
the English in such brisk and oc.
cupying way, that they had little
time on their hands, after chasing
the raiders home, for building i'm.
portant border towns.
The quaint hamlet stands in a lit
tie hollow of the champaign land Of
south eastern Annandale. The same
old post road which leads north from
England through Carlisle and grew
some Gretna Green passes through
it, forming its principal and almost
its only street. From the south this
highway leads through a pleasant
country, we'll watered and wooded
and charmingly broken by clumps
of ancient trees or newer plantations
and small, well titled fields. Beyond
the hamlet the road winds upward
for a mile or more to as bleak, sug,
gestively dreary and hopeless horizon
as you will often come upon in Nor
mandy, or as are seen in the peasant
pictures of Brittany by the master
hand of MilIet. To the northeast
there are dim outlines of the Hart.
fell and other mountain ranges.
Away to the southwest are the misty
wales of lovely Annandale and to the
northwest, but four miles distant,
the legend haunted hill of Bruins
wark, where the boy Carlyle often
wandered, lifts its Roman camped
head into the fleecy, vagrant clouds.
Ecclefechan has great age but lit.
tie history, aside from having pro
duced this one famous man. AT
about the centre of the village, where
a highway leaves the old Carlisle
and Glasgow post road to wander
through the valley of Amman to the
Solway-side town of that name, a
little cross street, formed by this
read, runs a few rods with it and
stops short by an ancient graveyard.
In this lies Carlyle, his father and
mother and other members of the
family. 1t has also hundreds of I'm
named graves; for half Thousand
years before the Carlyle line had
crossed the border into Scotland
from Carlisle with the adherents of
returning King David H., it was the
site of then ancient church called
Ecclesie S. Feehani. or the Church
of St. Fechan. Fechan was an Irish
abbot of the seventh century from
Iona, who was canonized, his day he.
ing the goth Of January. Hence the
curious name Of Ecclefechan.
Border war brought the ancient
church to ruin. The spirit of the
covenanters' time effaced what re
manned. But the churchyard of a
thousand years ago is Eeclefechan's
graveyard of to day; and all the
stern descendants of those who swore
to ''endeavour the extirpation of pop
cry, prelacy, superstition, heresy,
schism, profaneness, etc." who have
departed life in little Ecclefechan, are
lying here in "consecrated ground. "
In Carlyle's boyhood time there were
many of hand-loom weaves here.
Their stone cottages stood along the
highway interspersed with few
shops and inns. The cottages remain,
housing folk of the same social order,
comfortable laborers among the sur
sounding farms. At least three OF
the inns are still standing. Two have
been transformed into humble habi-
tations. One, the Bush Hotel-a
little, long, low, rambling structure
jutting out into the highway invit-
ingly, and presided over by brisk,
bonnie landlady, Mistress Kilgour,
who is not afraid to tell you that she
has no love for "Yonkee" pilgrims
and their sneering ways-contains
most of the life of the sleepy hamlet
and, with ministering to cyclers on
their northern tours, modern coach
ing parties and occasional pilgrims
to Carlyle's birthplace and grave, is
almost as breezy and bustling as in
the times of the packers and carriers,
when the olden post coaches changed
their steaming horses, after the dash
from Gretna, before its hospitable
door.
EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
The wonderful cures of thousands