Elphin Irving - Page 2

gained full credence
among the people where the scene is laid."

"I ken the tale and the place weel," interrupted an old Scottish woman,
who, from the predominance of scarlet in her apparel, seemed to have been
a follower of the camp,--"I ken them weel, and the tale's as true as a
bullet to its aim and a spark to powder. O bonnie Corriewater, a
thousand times have I pulled gowans on its banks wi' ane that lies stiff
and stark on a foreign shore in a bloody grave;" and, sobbing audibly,
she drew the remains of a military cloak over her face, and allowed the
story to proceed.

"When Elphin Irving and his sister Phemie were in their sixteenth year,
for tradition says they were twins, their father was drowned in
Corriewater, attempting to save his sheep from a sudden swell, to which
all mountain streams are liable; and their mother, on the day of her
husband's burial, laid down her head on the pillow, from which, on the
seventh day, it was lifted to be dressed for the same grave. The
inheritance left to the orphans may be briefly described: seventeen acres
of plough and pasture land, seven milk cows, and seven pet sheep (many
old people take delight in odd numbers); and to this may be added seven
bonnet-pieces of Scottish gold, and a broadsword and spear, which their
ancestor had wielded with such strength and courage in the battle of
Dryfe Sands, that the minstrel who sang of that deed of arms ranked him
only second to the Scotts and Johnstones.

"The youth and his sister grew in stature and in beauty. The brent
bright brow, the clear blue eye, and frank and blithe deportment of the
former gave him some influence among the young women of the valley; while
the latter was no less the admiration of the young men, and at fair and
dance, and at bridal, happy was he who touched but her hand, or received
the benediction of her eye. Like all other Scottish beauties, she was
the theme of many a song; and while tradition is yet busy with the
singular history of her brother, song has taken all the care that rustic
minstrelsy can of the gentleness of her spirit and the charms of her
person."

"Now I vow," exclaimed a wandering piper, "by mine own honoured
instrument, and by all other instruments that ever yielded music for the
joy and delight of mankind, that there are more bonnie songs made about
fair Phemie Irving than about all other dames of Annandale, and many of
them are both high and bonnie. A proud lass maun she be if her spirit
hears; and men say the dust lies not insensible of beautiful verse; for
her charms are breathed through a thousand sweet lips, and no further
gone than yestermorn I heard a lass singing on a green hillside what I
shall