SOME OUTLYING INGOLDSBY LANDMARKS
NETLEY ABBEY
Three miles from Southampton, in the county of Hampshire--or, as
official documents still have it, the county of Southampton--is Netley
Abbey, one of the scattered Ingoldsby landmarks outside Kent. It is not
evident from the context in the Legends when or on what occasion the
author visited Netley, nor does it appear to be explained in the "Life"
by his son. The ruined abbey stands almost on the shores of Southampton
Water, divided from that beautiful land and seascape only by a road and
the gardens of a narrow fringe of villas. The site is naturally lovely,
but has been spoiled and vulgarised by the neighbourhood of the great
military hospital and the draggle-tailed, unkempt, and sordid line
of mean shops and public-houses which that institution has conjured
up. So surely as Government buildings--be they hospitals, offices,
barracks, or prisons--are erected on any spot, that spot is certain
to be spoiled, and this is assuredly no exception. Stucco-fronted
public-houses of the "Prince Albert" and "Hero of the Alma" type and
period jostle the struggling, compendious greengrocer's shop that deals
at one and the same time in greengrocery, half a hundred weight of
coals, firewood, and linen drapery, and the picnicker comes in crowds
to the spot on Southampton's early-closing days.
How different this from Horace Walpole's description of the place in
1755: "How shall I describe Netley to you? I can only by telling you
it is the spot in the world which I and Mr. Chute wish. The ruins are
vast, and retain fragments of beautiful fretted roof pendent in the
air, with all variety of Gothic patterns of windows wrapped round and
round with ivy. Many trees are sprouted up among the walls, and only
want to be increased with cypresses. A hill rises above the abbey,
encircled with wood. The fort, in which we would build a tower for
habitation, remains, with two small platforms. This little castle is
buried from the abbey in a wood, in the very centre, on the edge of
the hill. On each side breaks in the view of the Southampton sea, deep
blue, glistening with silver and vessels; on one side terminated by
Southampton, on the other by Calshot Castle, and the Isle of Wight
rising above the opposite hills. In short, they are not the ruins of
Netley, but of Paradise. Oh! the purple abbots! what a spot had they
chosen to slumber in! The scene is so beautifully tranquil, yet so
lively, that they seem only to have retired _into_ the world."
There are various derivations of the name of Netley, but the true one
is doubtless from the Anglo-Saxon "Natanleage," a wooded district.
Other "Netleys" occur in the New Forest, and the name compares
curiously with that of the little hamlet of "Nately Scures," near
Basingstoke, where the suffix derives from the Anglo-Saxon "scora,"
a shaw or coppice. The abbey was a Cistercian house founded in the
reign of, and perhaps by, Henry III., who dedicated it not only to
the Virgin Mary, to whom Cistercian houses were always inscribed, but
also to his patron saint, Edward the Confessor. The beautiful abbey
church escaped the usual fate which befell religious houses at the
Dissolution, and remained practically uninjured until so late as the
year 1700. Up to that period it had passed through several hands, and
although converted into a private residence, with the nave as a kitchen
and the other hitherto sacred precincts turned into account for more
or less domestic use, the successive owners had allowed no spoliation
of its architectural features. But when in 1700 it became the property
of Sir Berkeley Lucy, its doom was sealed. He sold the materials of
the church to a certain Taylor, a Southampton builder, and Taylor made
arrangements to pull the great building down. But Taylor, like Joseph,
had a dream. He dreamt that, while engaged in taking down the church
roof, the keystone of the vaulting near the great east window fell from
its place and killed him. The dream probably had its origin in the
warnings that had been given him by superstitious friends some days
before, not to touch the abbey with the hands of a spoiler. They would
not, they said, for riches untold "be concerned in the demolition of
holy and consecrated places." Taylor was equally superstitious and the
warning preyed upon his mind, and the dream was the result. The next
day he hurried off to another friend, a Mr. Watts, schoolmaster in
Southampton and the father of that celebrated divine Dr. Isaac Watts,
author of "How doth the little busy bee" and other improving verse.
Mr. Watts, schoolmaster, seems to have been an unworthy progenitor of
that highly moral cleric, and gave the troubled Taylor the cynical
advice "to have no personal concern in pulling down the building."
This admirable, if somewhat forbiddingly rationalistic, counsel was,
however, disregarded by the unhappy contractor, who, when actively
engaged among his workmen was felled to the ground exactly in the
manner he had dreamt. The falling keystone crushed his skull in, and
the genius of the place was thus avenged. The workmen, who had heard
the story of the dream and had laughed at it, then left off work in
terror, and no one else was found bold enough to proceed with it. To
this we owe the fact that the ruins are still in existence, but it
seems a pity that the vengeful spirit could have found no method of
getting his blow in before the abbey was almost wholly unroofed. Had
Taylor been slain by the first stone wrenched from the groining the
swiftness of the retribution would have rendered it even more dramatic,
and would have resulted in the beautiful building being roofed to this
day.
[Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.]
As it is, the ruins are now open to the sky, and time and the seasons
have wrought more havoc in the two centuries that have passed than was
inflicted by Taylor or his men. Time, weather, and vandal visitors,
that is to say--these last we must by no means forget. Not that they
are likely to be forgotten by the pilgrim to this shrine, for the walls
are hacked and inscribed with the pocket-knives and pencils of two
centuries of holiday-makers, pricked on to it by a noble rage for
immortality manifesting itself in this ignoble way. The earlier scrawls
of John Jones or William Robinson have themselves, almost by lapse of
time, come within the range of archæology. From 1700 to about 1860
these, almost as destructive as the tooth of time, had their wicked
will of the place, and it was under such circumstances and the added
desecrations of bottled beer, drunken fiddling, and rowdy picnicking,
that Barham saw it:
In a rush-bottom'd chair
A hag surrounded by crockery-ware,
Vending in cups to the credulous throng,
A nasty decoction miscall'd Souchong,--
And a squeaking fiddle and wry-neck'd fife
Are screeching away, for the life!--for the life!
Danced to by "All the World and his Wife."
Tag, Rag, and Bobtail are capering there,
Worse scene, I ween, than Bartlemy Fair!--
Two or three Chimney-sweeps, two or three Clowns,
Playing at "pitch and toss," sport their "Browns";
Two or three damsels, frank and free,
Are ogling and smiling, and sipping Bohea.
Parties below, and parties above,
Some making tea, and some making love.
Then the "toot-toot-toot"
Of that vile demi-flute,--
The detestable din Of that crack'd violin,
And the odours of "Stout," and tobacco, and gin.
"Dear me!" I exclaimed, "what a place to be in!"
Since the dawning of the 'sixties, a better taste has prevailed, and
promiscuous jollification has been checked alike by the levying of
an entrance fee and by an improvement in manners; but the providing
of teas within the ruins is objectionable, and the _quality_ of
the "Souchong" and its accompanying sawdusty cake might easily be
better--it could not possibly be worse.
It is best to visit Netley when the crowd may reasonably be expected
to have left. At such a time, shortly before sunset, the spot is most
impressive. The jackdaws, who seem to have the right of domicile in all
ruinated buildings, have gone, clamorous, to bed in the chinks of wall
and airy gable, and one shares the smooth lawns only with the robins,
whose pretty confidence in the harmlessness of human beings is the most
touching thing in so-called "wild" nature. The first stanza of Barham's
poem is excellently descriptive of the time and place, save that
"roofless tower" is a poetic figure unwarranted by facts--Netley Abbey
has no towers:
I saw thee, Netley, as the sun
Across the western wave
Was sinking slow, And a golden glow
To thy roofless tower he gave;
And the ivy sheen, With its mantle of green
That wrapt thy walls around,
Shone lovelily bright, In that glorious light,
And I felt 'twas holy ground.
He then goes on to enlarge upon the legend of a refractory nun having
been walled up alive in the abbey, and to meditate upon the justice of
Heaven fallen upon Netley in the time of Henry VIII.:
Ruthless Tudor's bloated form
Rides on the blast and guides the storm.[A]
The context gives the date of the ruin of the fabric as at that period;
but we have already seen that this took place quite a hundred and
sixty years later. The curious, too, might ask what the nun was doing
in a Cistercian monastery. It is not a little singular to note that
Barham has made no use, and indeed no mention, of the picturesque
legend of Taylor's death.
[A] _cf._ "Rides on the whirlwind and directs the storm."
THE DEAD DRUMMER
A LEGEND OF SALISBURY PLAIN
Oh, Salisbury Plain is bleak and bare,--
At least so I've heard many people declare,
For I fairly confess I never was there:--
Not a shrub, nor a tree, Nor a bush can you see,
No hedges, no ditches, no gates, no stiles,
Much less a house or a cottage for miles;
--It's a very sad thing to be caught in the rain
When night's coming on upon Salisbury Plain.
Salisbury Plain is, as Ingoldsby rightly assures us, bleak and barren.
It is remarkable to note that, although as he truly says in the
legend itself he was never there, he catches exactly the spirit of
that dreary Wiltshire table-land, and describes it with such insight,
picturesqueness, and economy of words and space as never at any other
time have been used to give a proper mental picture of that vast
solitude. It is far removed from the Ingoldsby Country proper, and
might easily have been more loosely described in those opening lines;
but they are perfect, alike topographically and for the production of
that mental picture required to start the tale of horror.
The exact spot on the plain described in the legend where the two
sailors, overtaken by the storm, vainly seek shelter, and where the
vision of the dead drummer appears, can, thanks to the precision of
the verse, be readily found. It is in the central and wildest spot
of the wilderness, two miles almost due east of the small village of
Tilshead. Let us here refer to the legend:
But the deuce of a screen, Could be anywhere seen
Or an object except that, on one of the rises,
An old way-post show'd Where the Lavington road
Branch'd off to the left from the one to Devizes.
Black Down the surrounding expanse is named. Bare and bleak, the close
grass a wan sage-green, the white road divides across the treeless
undulations, with a signpost directing right and left to Devizes and
Lavington, exactly as described. But alterations are now in the making,
and when completed will thoroughly alter and abolish the solitude of
the place. "They have spoiled my battlefield," exclaimed the Duke
of Wellington when he revisited Waterloo and found it stuck full of
monuments; and the "East Camp" on the right of this spot, and the "West
Camp" on the left, with all the permanent buildings and the great
masses of troops now established on the plain, are changing it beyond
recognition. Where the bustard lingered longest and the infrequent
traveller came timorously, the bugles blow and crowded battalions
manoeuvre every day.
But the true story of the dead drummer is very different from
Ingoldsby's version. He has taken many liberties, both as regards scene
and names, with the real facts of a remarkable case--for the legend is
founded upon facts.
[Illustration: SALISBURY PLAIN: WHERE THE LAVINGTON ROAD BRANCHES OFF
TO THE LEFT FROM THE ONE TO DEVIZES.]
It seems that on Thursday, June 15th, 1786, two sailors paid off
from H.M.S. _Sampson_ at Plymouth came tramping up to London along
the old Exeter Road. Their names were Gervase (or Jarvis) Matcham
and John Shepherd. They came nowhere near Salisbury Plain, but
pursued their course direct along the old coach road from Blandford
towards Salisbury. Near the "Woodyates Inn" they were overtaken
by a thunderstorm, when Matcham startled his messmate by showing
extraordinary signs of horror and distracted faculties, running to and
fro, falling on his knees, and imploring mercy of some invisible enemy.
To his companion's questions he answered that he saw several strange
and dismal spectres, particularly one in the shape of a woman, towards
which he advanced, when it instantly sank into the earth and a large
stone rose up in its place. Other large stones also rolled upon the
ground before him, and came dashing against his feet. There can be no
doubt that both Matcham and Shepherd were unnerved by the violence of
the thunder and lightning, and that the terror of Matcham, who had very
special reasons for fright, communicated itself to his friend to such
a degree that when Matcham's diseased imagination saw moving shapes
which had no existence, Shepherd readily saw them also. Thus, when
the terrified Matcham fancied he saw numbers of stones with glaring
eyes turn over and keep pace with them along the road, Shepherd very
soon became afflicted with what specialists in mental phenomena term
"collective hallucination."
They then agreed to walk on either side of the road, and so perceive,
by the behaviour of the stones, which of them it was who had so
affronted God. The stones then exclusively accompanied Matcham all the
way to the inn, where he beheld the Saviour and the drummer-boy, very
terrible and accusing. To the roll of a drum, and in a terrific flash
of lightning, they dissolved into dust.
Thereupon, overcome by these terrors, Matcham made confession there
and then to Shepherd of a murder he had committed six years earlier,
on the Great North Road, and begged his companion to hand him over to
the nearest magistrate, in order that the avenging spectres and justice
might be satisfied. He was accordingly committed at Salisbury pending
inquiries as to the truth of his confession.
Those inquiries disclosed a remarkable story. Matcham, it appeared,
was the son of a farmer of Frodingham, Yorkshire. When in his twelfth
year he had run away from home and became a jockey. In the course of
this employment he was despatched to Russia, in charge of some horses
sent by the Duke of Northumberland to the Empress, and, returning to
London well supplied with money, dissipated it all in evil courses. He
then shipped as a sailor on board the _Medway_ man-o'-war, but after
a short experience of fighting managed to desert. He had no sooner
landed in England after this escapade than he was seized by one of
the pressgangs then scouring the seaports, and shipped aboard the
_Ariadne_. Succeeding, when off Yarmouth, in an attempt to escape,
he enlisted in the 13th Regiment of Foot, but, deserting again near
Chatham, set out to tramp home, through London, to Yorkshire, passing
Huntingdon on the way. The 49th Regiment was then recruiting in that
district, and this extraordinary Matcham promptly enlisted in it.
Shortly after having joined, he was sent on the morning of August 19th,
1780, from Huntingdon to Diddington, five miles distant, to draw some
subsistence-money, between six and seven pounds, from a Major Reynolds.
With him went a drummer-boy, Benjamin Jones, aged about sixteen, son
of the recruiting sergeant. Having drawn the money, they returned
along the high-road. Instead of turning off to Huntingdon, Matcham
induced the boy to go on with him in the direction of Alconbury, and
picking a quarrel with him because he refused to stop and drink at a
wayside public-house, knocked him down at a lonely spot still known as
"Matcham's Bridge" and cut his throat there. He then made off with
the money to London, leaving the body by the roadside. Shipping again
in the Navy, he saw six years of hard fighting under Rodney and Hood,
being finally paid off, as at first described.
In the contemporary account of this remarkable affair, taken down from
Matcham's own statements by the chaplain of the gaol at Huntingdon,
whither he was conveyed for trial from Salisbury, he stated that he
was drunk at the time when the crime was committed, and did it, being
suddenly instigated by the Devil, without any premeditated design.
Further, that he had never afterwards had a single day's peace of mind.
He was duly found guilty, and executed on August 2nd, 1786, his body
being afterwards gibbeted on Alconbury Hill.
INDEX
Acol, 214, 215
Acryse, 186-188
Aldington, 146, 147, 149, 150, 152, 159, 160
---- Forehead, 147
---- Frith, 147
---- Knoll, 105, 160-162
Amen Corner, 22
Appledore, 85, 89, 99, 164
Ashford, 6, 16, 18, 108, 145
Augustine, St., 214
Babes in the Wood, the, 6
Barham, 10, 66
---- Court, 68
---- Downs, 10, 63, 66
---- families of, 10-12, 18
---- Frances, Lady Bond, 22, 25
---- John, 11, 12
---- Richard, 12, 14
---- Richard Harris (father of "Tom Ingoldsby"), 12-14
---- Rev. Richard Harris, author of the _Ingoldsby Legends_, 5;
born at Canterbury, 9, 12, 14;
claims descent from the FitzUrses, 9, 42;
first curacy at Ashford, 16;
second curacy at Westwell, 16;
Rector of Snargate and Curate of Warehorne, 17;
Minor Canon of St. Paul's and Rector of St. Mary Magdalene, 17;
Rector of St. Faith, 17;
assumes pseudonym of "Ingoldsby," 18;
residence in London, 21;
illness, 23-26;
death, 27;
a Governor of the Harris Charity, 30;
at Warehorne, 77;
first literary work, 77;
removes to London, 78
---- Rev. Richard Harris Dalton, 16, 25, 76
Barhamstead, or Parmstead, 11
Barton, Elizabeth, the "Holy Maid of Kent," 147, 150-158, 159
Becket, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, 9, 29, 34, 41;
career and murder of, 42-62, 168-170, 203
_Belerica_, Court-at-Street, 147
Bilsington, 85, 105, 162
Blackmanstone, 98, 107
Bonnington, 85, 88
Bourne Park, 64
Brenzett, 101, 102
Bridge, 63
Britton, John, 19-21, 194
Brookland, 101-103
Broome Park, 68
_Brothers of Birchington, the_, 226
Burgate Street, No. 61, Canterbury, birthplace of
"Tom Ingoldsby," 12, 14
Canterbury, 5, 28-40;
birthplace of "Tom Ingoldsby," 12, 14;
Wincheap, where the
martyrs suffered, 30;
the Castle, 31-33;
Dane John, 33;
Christ Church Gate, 35;
Butter Market, 35;
Marlowe Memorial, 35;
Burgate Street, 36;
the "Dark Entry," 37-40, 176, 177, 203, 225, 228, 232
---- Cathedral, 29, 41-62
Chapel of Our Lady, Court-at-Street, 148-150, 155
Cheriton, 136, 165, 168
Chislett, 219, 222, 227
Cinque Ports, the, 114, 124, 131, 202, 230
Cobb's Hall, 150, 153, 159
Court-at-Street, 147, 148-150
_Dead Drummer, the_, 6, 264-269
Deal, 197
Denton, 6, 70, 191
---- Chapel, 70-72
"Devil's Stone," the, 233
Dover, 114, 124, 138, 171, 192-197, 203, 230
Dunge Marsh, 113
Dungeness, 86, 88, 101, 120, 144
Dymchurch, 119, 120-123
---- Wall, 86, 89, 120-123
"Eagles Gates," the, Broome Park, 68
Eastbridge Chapel, 98
Eastchurch, 252
East Langdon, 198
Ebbsfleet, 214
Elham, 184-186
---- Valley, 181, 184
Elmley, 255
Erasmus, 147
Fair Rosamond, 176
FitzUrses, the, 9-12
FitzUrse, Reginald, 9, 42, 48, 49, 51, 52, 168, 171
Folkestone, 124, 131-142, 147, 148, 165-167, 192
Fordwich, 218, 228-232
Fox, Elizabeth, mother of "Tom Ingoldsby," 14, 15
Great Mongeham, 201
Great Queen Street, No. 51, Holborn, 22
Great Stonar, 208
_Grey Dolphin_, 242-246
Ham Street, 163
Harbledown, 29, 60
Harris Almshouses, Canterbury, 29
Harris, Thomas, 10, 30
Hope Chapel, Hope All Saints, 98, 112
Hurst, 85, 88
Hythe, 6, 15, 85, 86, 87, 108, 114, 119, 124-126, 143, 145, 147,
148, 149, 166, 168, 169, 173
"Ingoldsby Country" delimited, 5
Ingoldsby family wholly fictitious, 74
Ivychurch, 98, 103
Iwade, 235
King's Ferry, 236, 255
_Lapidem Tituli_, Great Stonar, 209
_Lapis Populi_, Folkestone, 209
_Leech of Folkestone, the_, 131, 147, 148, 160, 163, 186, 197, 198
Limen, River, 87, 89, 91, 146, 183
Little Stonar, 208
Littlestone, 108, 118, 209
"Lone Tree," the, 197
"Lundenwic," Stonar, 208, 211
Lyminge, 181-184
Lympne, 15, 85, 105, 143-146, 176, 183
Margate, 214, 215, 218, 220
Marsh, Col. Thomas, 10
---- Thomas, of Marston, 74,
106, 133, 160, 186, 197, 198-200
"Marston Hall," 197, 198, 200
Martello Towers, the, 83, 119-121, 127, 139, 144, 150
Martin, 198, 200
Matcham, Gervase, 266-269
Minster-in-Sheppey, 237, 240-252
Minster-in-Thanet, 214, 240
Monkton, 217, 218
Mud Row, 252, 254
Mydley Chapel, 113
Netley Abbey, 6, 257-264
Newchurch, 105
Newington, 233
New Romney, 86, 87, 90, 91, 96, 99, 101, 110, 112-118, 124
"Old England's Hole," 64-66
---- Romney, 87, 110-112, 209
Orgarswick, 98
Orlestone Hill, 163
Parmstead, or Barhamstead, 11
Pegwell Bay, 208, 211
_Portus Lemanis_, Lympne, 88, 89, 144
Postling, 179
Queenborough, 235, 237-239, 248
Ramsgate, 208, 211, 212, 215, 216, 220
Reculver, 88, 214, 222-227
_Regulbium_, Reculver, 88, 214, 222-227
Rhee Wall, the, 89, 99, 110
Richborough, 88, 208, 210-212
Ringwould, 201
Rokeby, Baron, 179
Romney Marsh, 6, 77-113, 143, 144, 149
Rother, River, 86, 89, 91, 99, 110
Royal Military Canal, the, 81-86, 125, 126, 144
Ruckinge, 85, 88, 163
_Rutupium_, Richborough, 88, 208, 210-212
St. Mary Magdalene, London, where "Ingoldsby" was buried, 14, 17,
22, 27;
destroyed by fire, 1886, 27
---- Canterbury, 14, 30
St. Mary the Virgin, Romney Marsh, 107
St. Nicholas-at-Wade, 221
St. Paul's Churchyard, No. 4, 22
Salisbury Plain, 6, 264-266
Saltwood Castle, 48, 58, 168-174
Sandgate, 128-131, 148, 165
Sandwich, 114, 118, 124, 197, 202-208, 211, 212, 216, 218, 230, 238
Sarre, 219-222
Scrapsgate, 250
Seabrook, 126, 128, 129, 166, 168
Sheerness, 235, 239, 250
Shellness, 236, 239, 255
Sheppey, Isle of, 6, 233-256
Shorncliffe Camp, 165
Shurland Castle, 246, 248, 252
---- Sir Robert de, 242-247
Smuggler's Leap, 215-218
Smuggling, 80, 82, 94-97, 114, 117, 133, 145, 180, 215-219
Snargate, 77, 78, 80, 86, 98, 99
Stonar, 208-211
Stone Street, the, 15, 88, 171, 175, 177, 181, 182
Studfall Castle, 88, 144
Stour, River, 208, 210, 219, 227, 228, 232
Sturry, 218, 227, 232
Swale, the, 6, 235, 255, 256
Swingfield Minnis, 21, 189-191
Tappington Hall and Manor, (sometimes styled "Tappington Everard"
or "Tapton Wood"), 9, 18, 21, 63, 68, 69-76, 191
---- Gerrard de, 10
Thanet, Isle of, 202, 210, 214, 215, 219
Upper Deal, 201
Upper Hardres, 15
Up Street, 219, 227
Wantsume, the, 210, 219
Warden, 224, 236, 250, 252, 254
---- Point, 236
Warehorne, 77-81, 85, 87, 98, 100
Wayland Wood, 6
Westbere, 218, 227
Westenhanger, 168, 174-177
Wincheap, Canterbury, 30
_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury_
Large Crown 8vo, price 6s. in cloth, gilt top.
THE
SCOTT COUNTRY.
BY W. S. CROCKETT.
_NOTE._
The "Scott Country" tells the story of the famous Borderland, and its
undying associations with Sir Walter, its greatest son. His early years
at Sandyknowe and Kelso are sketched by one who is himself a native of
that very district. Scott's first Border home at Ashestiel, and the
making of Abbotsford, the Ettrick and Yarrow of Scott, the memories
that cluster round Melrose, the district of Hawick, and the country of
"Marmion," all have a place in the work. Not a spot of historic and
romantic interest but is referred to all along the line of Tweedside
and its tributaries from Berwick to the Beild. The Border country of
Scotland has already been the subject of a very extensive literature,
but the "Scott Country," being presented upon a more compact and
comprehensive plan than has yet been attempted, will, we feel sure, be
a source of satisfaction to every reader, whether Border-born or not.
To the Scot abroad the volume will recall many a familiar memory, and
at home it should take its place as a standard work of its kind, the
author being, according to Dr. Robertson Nicoll and others, perhaps
the most capable living student of the Border and its literature. The
"Scott Country" contains =162 illustrations=, many of them quite new,
and the price is such as to bring it within the reach of all.
_SOME OPINIONS._
"A work which no lover of Scott and the Scott country can afford
to miss. It is the best Scott book of recent years."--_The Scots
Pictorial._
"Singularly pleasant reading."--_St. James's Gazette._
"It is pleasant to go with so cultivated and enthusiastic a guide on a
sentimental pilgrimage through the Scott country."--_The Speaker._
"Visitors to the Scott country will find in this volume the very kind
of guide-book they want."--_Daily News._
"Full of fascination."--_The Academy._
A. AND C. BLACK. PUBLISHERS. 4, SOHO SQUARE. LONDON.
_In Preparation._
UNIFORM WITH THE "SCOTT COUNTRY" AND THE
"INGOLDSBY COUNTRY."
THE
BURNS COUNTRY.
BY CHARLES S. DOUGALL, M.A.,
HEADMASTER OF THE DOLLAR INSTITUTE.
_Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top._
WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS.
_NOTE._
This is a companion volume to the "Scott Country." It describes
the homes and home life of Burns; it contains sketches of his
contemporaries and his surroundings; and incidentally it traces his
development as man and poet from Alloway to Dumfries. The country
traversed includes Carrick, Kyle, and Nithsdale, a country with many
features of engrossing interest apart from Burns. It was the scene of
the early struggles of Wallace and Bruce; it abounds with memories of
the Covenanters; its castles and keeps were the homes of Kennedys,
Crawfords, Cochranes, and Boyds, whose deeds made history; its literary
associations are many and important. The author spent several years in
the south-west of Scotland, and he made a series of journeys on foot
or on cycle through the whole country. He has thus gathered together
a mass of interesting material which, though not new, was not readily
accessible to the general reader; and in the "Burns Country" he seeks
to present this in popular form in the hope that the volume will guide
the steps and enhance the pleasure of the tourist, and that to those
to whom a visit to the land of Burns is denied, it will afford a
correct and complete view of what, to patriotic Scotsmen, is the most
interesting corner of our land. The volume is profusely illustrated
from Photographs.
A. AND C. BLACK. PUBLISHERS. 4, SOHO SQUARE. LONDON.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Variations in spelling and punctuation are as in the original, except
in cases of obvious typographical error. Inconsistencies of
hyphenation have been resolved.
In the reference "like an inverted Y." on page 113, the Y in the
original is inverted.