The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
Animal Sketches And Stories
Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon
BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS
CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
FABLES FROM INDIA
FATHER PLAYS AND MOTHER PLAYS
FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
For Classes Ii. And Iii.
For Classes Iv. And V.
For Kindergarten And Class I.
FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
Good Little Henry
JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]
Jean De La Fontaine
King Alexander's Adventures
KINGS AND WARRIORS
LAND AND WATER FAIRIES
Lessons From Nature
LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG
MODERN FAIRY TALES
MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES
MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Myths And Legends
NEGLECT THE FIRE
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
PLACES AND FAMILIES
Poems Of Nature
RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)
RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"
RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE
ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY
Selections From The Bible
SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Some Children's Poets
Songs Of Life
STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES for LITTLE BOYS
STORIES FROM BOTANY
STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN
STORIES FROM IRELAND
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
STORIES _for_ LITTLE GIRLS
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
The King Of The Golden River; Or, The Black Brothers
The Little Grey Mouse
THE OLD FAIRY TALES
The Princess Rosette
THE THREE HERMITS
THE TWO OLD MEN
UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
from Tales From Scottish Ballads
"Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage Castle,
And beside him Old Redcap sly;--
'Now, tell me, thou sprite, who art meikle of might,
The death that I must die.'
They roll'd him in a sheet of lead,
A sheet of lead for a funeral pall;
They plunged him in the cauldron red,
And melted him, lead, and bones, and all."
And so thou hast seen the great cauldron at Skelf-hill, little Annie,
standing high up on the hillside, and thou wouldst fain hear its story.
'Tis a weird tale, Sweetheart, and one to make the blood run cold, for
'tis the story of a cruel and a wicked man, and how he came by a violent
and a fearsome death. But Grannie will tell it thee, and when thou
thinkest of it, thou must always try to remember how true it is what the
Good Book says, that "all they that take the sword, shall perish with
the sword," which means, I take it, that they who show no mercy need
expect none at the hands of others.
'Tis a tale of spirits and of witchcraft, child, things that in our days
we do not believe in; but I had it from my grandfather, who had heard it
when he was a laddie from the old shepherds out on the hills, and they
believed it all and feared to pass that way in the dark.
But to come to the story itself. Long, long ago, in far bygone days,
William de Soulis, Lord of Liddesdale, kept high state in his Castle of
Hermitage. The royal blood of Scotland flowed in his veins, for he was
sixth in descent from Alexander II., and could an ancestress of his have
proved her right, he might have sat on the throne of Scotland.
Besides owning Liddesdale, he had lands in Dumfriesshire, and in the
Lothians, and he might have been like the "Bold Buccleuch," a succourer
of widows, and a defender of the oppressed and the destitute.
But instead of this he worked all manner of wickedness, till his very
name was dreaded far and near. He oppressed his vassals; he troubled his
neighbours; he was even at enmity with the King himself. And because he
feared that his Majesty might come against him with an army, he had
fortified his castle with much care. In order to do this thoroughly, he
forced his vassals to work like beasts of burden, putting bores on
their shoulders, and yoking them to sledges, on which they drew all
kinds of building material to the castle.
[Footnote 21: Yokes.]
No wonder, then, that he was hated by rich and poor alike, and no wonder
that his heart would quail at times, reckless and hardened though he
was, for it is an ill thing not to have a friend in this world. Servants
may be hired for money, but 'tis love, and love only, that can buy true
friendship. Aye remember that, little Annie, aye remember that.
I say that he had no friends, but I am mistaken. 'Twas said he had one,
and mayhap he would have been as well without him. For men would have it
that Hermitage Castle was haunted by a familiar spirit.
As a rule he dwelt in a wooden chest, bound with rusty bars of iron; but
occasionally, when Lord Soulis was alone, he would come out and talk
with him. "Old Redcap," the country folk used to call him, and they said
that he was a wee, wee man, with a red pirnie and twisted legs; but
whether that be true or no, 'tis not for me to say.
[Footnote 22: Nightcap.]
'Twas also said that, one day, when Soulis and his uncanny friend were
alone, Soulis asked him what his end would be; if he would die at home
in his bed, or out on the hillside in fair fight with his foes? And
Redcap made answer that he would throw his spell over him, and that that
spell would keep him from all common dangers, from all weapons of war,
and from all devices of peace; from arrows, and lances, and knives; from
chains, and even from hempen ropes. He would be safe from all these, but
there was one thing, and one thing alone, which the charm could not do,
and that was to save him if ever men could take him and bind him with
ropes of sifted sand.
Methinks I can hear Lord Soulis' laugh as Redcap told him this. "Ropes
of sand, forsooth!" he would say. "Did ever man hear of ropes of sand?"
But he had forgotten that the Wizard of the North, Sir Michael Scott of
Balwearie--the same who studied the wisdom of the East under the Moors
at Toledo, in Spain, who could read the stars, and command familiar
spirits to come and go at his bidding--had found out the way to forge
ropes out of sand, and that, though Michael was dead, his Spae-book yet
remained, in which he had written down all his magic.
"Moreover," added Redcap, "if ever danger threatens thee, knock thrice
on this old chest, and the lid will rise, and I will speak; but beware
lest thou lookest into it. When the lid begins to rise, turn thine eyes
away, or the spell will be broken."
Now it chanced soon after this, that one morning, just as the day was
breaking, Lord Soulis, as was his wont, sent one of his little pages up
to the top of the tower, to look out over the country far and near, to
see if there were any travellers who took the road to Hermitage. At
first the boy saw nothing, but, as it grew lighter, the figure of a
horseman, clad in the royal livery, appeared, riding down the hillside.
"Now what may thine errand be?" cried the page.
"I carry a message to Soulis of Hermitage from the King of Scotland,"
replied the stranger; "and he bids me tell that cruel Knight, that the
report of his ill deeds has come to his Majesty's ears at Holyrood
House, and that if ever again such stories reach him, he will send his
soldiers to burn the castle, and put its lord to death."
Then the page hasted, and ran, and delivered this message to his master,
whose face grew white with rage when he heard it. For he was an awful
man, little Annie, an awful man, who in general feared neither God nor
the King, and who could not brook to be reproved.
Under the castle there was a deep dungeon, cut out of the solid rock,
and the entrance to it was by a hole in the courtyard, which was covered
by a great flat stone. The stone rested on beams of oak, and Lord Soulis
gave orders that the guards were to keep the King's messenger waiting
outside the gate, and pretend to be very kind to him, giving him a
tankard of ale, and a hunch of bread, until some of the men inside the
castle had cut away those great oak beams.
Then they opened the gate, and told the poor man that Lord Soulis would
speak with him if he would ride into the courtyard; and he rode in, and
as soon as his horse stepped on the big flat stone that covered the
mouth of the dungeon, it gave way beneath its weight, and both man and
horse fell down, and were crushed to pieces on the hard stone floor,
full thirty feet below.
The King was right wroth when he heard how his messenger had been
treated, but before he could set off for Liddesdale to punish Lord
Soulis, the punishment came from nearer home.
It chanced that the young Lord of Buccleuch wooed a lovely lady called
May o' Gorranberry. 'Twas said that she was the bonniest lass in all
Teviotdale, and in all Liddesdale, and the wedding day was fixed. But
the wicked Lord Soulis, puffed up with pride at the way in which he had
got rid of the King's messenger, and relying, doubtless, on Redcap's
charm to protect him from danger, took it into his sinful head that he
would like May o' Gorranberry for his wife.
And he sent, and took her, as she was walking on the hillside above her
father's house, and brought her to his grim old Castle of Hermitage.
The poor lassie was almost mad with terror, and tore her hair, and cried
continually for her lover, until the cruel man threatened that if she
did not hold her tongue he would send men to burn down Branksome Tower,
and kill all its inmates.
And next morning, because she would not stop weeping, he called his
chief man-at-arms, a brave, fearless fellow called Red Ringan, and told
him to gather a band of spearmen, and ride over the hills to Teviotdale,
and attack the old castle which was the home of the Lords of Buccleuch.
Now it chanced that that very morning, young Buccleuch set out alone to
hunt the roe-buck and the dun deer which roamed in the woods that
surrounded his castle. He had fine sport, and he went on, and on, and
never noticed how far up among the hills he was getting, or how fast the
day was passing, until it began to get dark.
Suddenly he looked up, and, to his astonishment, he saw, riding down the
glen to meet him, a company of spearmen. He thought they were his own
retainers, and walked boldly up to them, and never knew his mistake
until he was seized, and bound hand and foot. They were really Lord
Soulis' men, with Red Ringan at their head, and Red Ringan had thrown a
glamour over his eyes, so that he could not distinguish between friends
and foes. Of course Red Ringan was delighted at this piece of good luck,
and he set the poor young man on a horse, and sent him over the hills to
Hermitage, guarded by a handful of spearmen, while he rode on with the
rest of his troop to Branksome, to see what mischief he could work
Thou canst think with what triumph my Lord Soulis would greet his
prisoner, and with what bitter tears May o' Gorranberry would see him
brought in, for she would know about the dungeon, and shudder to think
what his fate would be.
'Twas said that the cruel lord mocked at young Buccleuch as he rode
under the archway, and cried out to him, as if in jest--
"Thrice welcome, Buccleuch, thrice welcome to my castle. Nathless 'tis
as a wedding guest thou comest. Certs, my bonnie May well deserves such
a gallant groomsman."
Next morning the sun rose blood red, and just as its rays touched the
gray stones of the grim old keep, the page came running to say that Red
Ringan was riding down the hillside all alone. Methinks the wicked
lord's heart gave a throb of fear, as he hurried out to the gate to meet
"Where have ye stabled my gallant steeds?" he cried, "and wherefore do
thy comrades tarry, whilst thou ridest home all alone?"
Red Ringan shook his head mournfully. "I bring thee heavy tidings,
Master," he said. "The steeds are stabled, sure enough, but 'tis in a
stable where they will rest till the Crack of Doom, and their riders lie
beside them. Thou knowest Tarras Moss, and how fair and pleasant it
lies, and how deep and cruel it is? My men mistook the path in the dark,
and rode right into it, and, had it not been for my good brown mare, not
one of us had been left to tell the tale. She struggled to firm footing
right nobly, and brought me out alive on her back; but when I looked
around me, I was all alone, Master, I was all alone."
Lord Soulis made no reply. With heavy steps he sought the low dark room
where the great chest stood, with its iron bands, and its three rusty
He shut the door behind him, and then, with clenched fist, he knocked
thrice on the heavy lid. The first time he knocked, and the second time,
such a groan came from the chest that his very blood ran cold; but at
the third knock the locks opened, and the lid began to rise.
Lord Soulis turned away his head as Redcap had told him to do, and stood
listening with all his might. A strange sullen muttering came from the
chest, of which he could only distinguish these mysterious words,
"Beware of a coming tree," and then the lid shut as slowly as it had
opened, and the locks were locked with a jerk, as if by unseen hands.
Meanwhile, over the hills in Teviotdale there had been confusion and
dismay when the young Lord of Buccleuch failed to return, and when news
came by the country folk that he had been seen, bound hand and foot,
being taken to Hermitage by Lord Soulis' men, the anger of the whole
clan knew no bounds. For, as it is to-day, little Annie, so it was then.
The Scotts of Buccleuch were strong and powerful, and held in honour far
The young lord had one brother, Bold Walter by name. He was a mighty
fighter and a right strong man, who carried a bow that no other man
could bend, and who loved nothing better than to ride on a foray with
all his father's moss-troopers at his back. Methinks Lord Soulis had
forgotten Bold Walter when he meddled with his brother and his bride.
It did not take this brave knight long, when he heard the news, to send
his riders out to North, and South, and East, and West, to call on his
friends and clansmen to ride with him to the fray. And because he had
heard of Old Redcap, and knew that Lord Soulis would be protected by his
charms, he sent all the way to the Tower of Ercildoune for True Thomas,
that wondrous Rhymer, who had been for seven years in Fairyland, and
who, on his return to earth, had gone to the Abbey Church of St Mary, at
Melrose, and had taken Sir Michael Scott's Spae-book from its dread
hiding-place, for its writer had been buried with it in his arms.
So, before the next sun had set, Bold Walter had raised as fair an army
as that which the King in Edinburgh had thought to send to Hermitage.
The news of this army spread like wildfire over the country, ay, and
over the hills to Hermitage, and I ween Lord Soulis' heart sank still
lower when he heard of it, and once more he went for counsel to the
magic chest. Again he knocked, and again the hollow groan rang out; but
as the lid lifted, he forgot in his haste to turn his eyes away, and in
a moment the charm was broken. The spirit spoke indeed, but it spoke
sullenly and angrily.
"Alas," it said, "thou art undone. Thou hast forgotten my warning, and,
instead of turning away thy head, thou hast raised thine eyes to look on
me. Therefore thou must lock the door of this chamber, and give the key
into my keeping, and for seven long years thou must not return, and I
must remain silent."
The wicked may flourish like the green bay tree, little Annie, but
vengeance will always overtake them at last; and I trow that Lord Soulis
felt that vengeance was close on his heels, as he left that mysterious
chamber, and locked the door, and drew the key from the lock, where it
had always rested, in his life-time at least, and threw it over his left
shoulder, which is, men say, the right way to give things to wizards and
witches, and such-like beings.
The key sank in the ground, and there it remains for aught I know, and
'tis said that even to this day, at the end of every seven years, if
anyone cares to listen, they may hear strange and awful sounds coming
from that long-locked chamber.
[Footnote 23: "Somewhere about the autumn of 1806, the Earl of
Dalkeith, being encamped near the Hermitage Castle, for the
amusement of shooting, directed some workmen to clear away the
rubbish from the door of the dungeon in order to ascertain its
ancient dimensions and architecture. To the great astonishment of
the labourers, a rusty iron key of considerable size was found among
the ruins a little way from the dungeon door. The well-known
tradition passed from one to another, and it was generally agreed
that the malevolent demon who had so long retained possession of the
key of the castle dungeon now found himself obliged to resign it to
the heir-apparent of the domain."--Note on "Lord Soulis" in Leyden's
Life and Works.]
Yet Lord Soulis' heart was not humbled, and he made up his mind, that,
come what might, young Buccleuch should die. And in the wickedness and
cruelty of his heart he determined that he himself should choose the
manner of it.
So he had him brought before him. "What wouldst thou do, young Scott, if
thou hadst me as I have thee?" he asked, in his cruel mocking voice.
"I would take thee to the good greenwood," answered Buccleuch haughtily,
"and I would hang thee there, and I would make thine own hand wale
[Footnote 24: Choose.]
"Good," answered Lord Soulis; "then thou shalt do as thou hast said, and
if bonnie May refuse to marry me, then she shall hang on a bush beside
So they led him out to a wood full of tall trees, far up on whose upper
branches sat hooded crows, looking down on them in solemn silence.
The first tree that Lord Soulis made his men halt under was a fir.
"Say, wilt thou hang on a fir tree, and let the hooded crows pick thy
bones?" he asked roughly.
Young Buccleuch shook his head. "Nay, not so, my Lord of Soulis," he
answered in mock humility, "for on windy nights at Branksome, the fir
trees rock by the old towers, and the fir cones come pattering to the
ground like rain. I heard them when I was a bairn, as I lay awake at
night in my cot. Thou surely wouldst not have the heart to hang me on a
tree which I have loved all my life."
Then Soulis told his men to pass on, and as they went through the wood
their prisoner kept peeping and peering from side to side, and muttering
to himself, as if he were looking for something. The men-at-arms could
not hear what he was saying, and methinks they would have been much
astonished if they had. For he knew the spirit that his brother was of,
and he knew that he would not let him hang without an attempt at rescue,
and he was saying over and over again to himself, "This death is no' for
me, this death is no' for me."
At last they halted again under an aspen tree, whose leaves were
quivering mournfully in the wind. Lord Soulis was growing impatient.
"Choose, and choose quickly," he cried, "or methinks I must choose for
But again Buccleuch shook his head. "Not on an aspen tree, my lord, not
on an aspen tree. I love its gray leaves better than any other, for it
was under their shade that May o' Gorranberry and I first plighted our
So on they went, and still the young man peered and looked, first in
this direction, then in that, until at last he saw what seemed to be a
bank of hazel branches pressing through the trees towards them. Then he
gave a great shout, and leaped high in the air. "Methinks I spy a coming
tree," he cried, and at the words Lord Soulis' face grew pale, for they
recalled to him Redcap's warning, and he feared that his hour had come.
Everyone soon saw what the strange thing was which was coming towards
them. It was Bold Walter of Buccleuch and his men, and each of them had
stuck a branch of witch's hazel in his basnet, for 'tis said that a twig
of hazel protects its wearer from the arts of magic, and they had no
mind to be bewitched by the Lord of Hermitage.
So this was the coming tree that Redcap had warned Lord Soulis to beware
of, and it had come in right earnest.
But Soulis remembered the charmed life that he bore, and he tried to
shake fear from his heart.
"Ay, many may come, but few shall go back," he cried defiantly;
"besides, ye come on a bootless errand. There is not a man in broad
Scotland who hath the power to wound me."
"By my troth," replied Bold Walter, "but we shall soon prove that," and,
drawing his bow, he sent an arrow straight in Lord Soulis' face.
Sure enough it fell harmless to the ground, and there was not even a
scratch on the wicked lord's skin, and for a moment Buccleuch was
But Thomas of Ercildoune stepped forward. "He is bewitched, Sire," he
said, "and protected by the charms of Redcap. No steel can break that
charm, but mayhap if thy men bore him down with their lances, he might
In vain the spearmen crowded round, and struck him to the earth. The
lances glanced harmlessly off his body, and never left so much as a mark
Then they bound him hand and foot with hempen ropes, but, to their
amazement, he burst them as if they had been threads of wool. Then
someone brought chains of forged steel, and they bound those round his
limbs, thinking that now they surely had him in their power; but he
burst them as easily as if they had been made of tow.
At this everyone was daunted, and would have let him go, but Thomas of
Ercildoune cried cheerily, "We'll bind him yet, lads, whatever betide."
As he spoke, he drew out from his bosom a little black leather-covered
book, and at the sight of it all the spearmen fell back in awe. For it
was Sir Michael Scott's "Book of Might," and, as I have said, Sir
Michael was a wizard himself, and knew all about warlocks and witches,
with their charms and spells, and he could undo everyone of them, and he
had written all this knowledge down in his black Spae-book. When he
died, the book had been buried deep in his grave in the Abbey at
Melrose, and True Thomas had gone there, and recovered it, and he had
brought it with him to aid Bold Walter of Buccleuch in rescuing his
He turned over the leaves, and at last he found the place where Sir
Michael had told how it was possible to bind a charmed man.
"Ye cannot bind a wizard with ropes," he read, "unless they be ropes of
"Where can we get some sifted sand?" he asked, and everyone looked round
in dismay, for there was no sand there, under the trees.
"Come to the Nine-stane Rig," cried a man; "there is a burn runs
past the bottom of it, and we will find plenty of sand there."
[Footnote 25: Stream.]
Thou knowest the Nine-stane Rig, little Annie, the hill that slopes down
to Hermitage Water, with the circle of great stones standing on it,
which, 'tis said, were placed there by wild and heathen men, hundreds of
years ago. Well, they carried Lord Soulis there, and hurried him down to
the burn, and they shaped ropes out of the sand that lies smooth and
clean by the water-side.
But, shape the ropes as they might, they would neither twist nor twine;
the dry sand just ran through their fingers, and once again they were
baffled. Once more True Thomas turned to the spae-book, and this time he
found that the sand would twist more easily if it were mixed with barley
chaff, and the men of Teviotdale ran down the valley until they came to
a field of growing barley. They pulled the ripe grain and beat it in
their hands, and it was not long ere they returned with a napkin full of
chaff. They mixed nine handfuls of it with the sand, for it was thus the
"Book of Might" directed, and once more they tried to twist the ropes,
but once more they failed.
"This is some of the wee man's work," muttered the country folk, who
were standing looking on; and they were right. Old Redcap had not
deserted his master, although the spell which caused the magic chest to
open was broken, and he was at hand, doing his utmost to save him,
though unseen by mortal eyes.
Again True Thomas turned over the leaves of Sir Michael's book, in the
hope of finding something which would break even the most powerful
spell, and at last he came to a page where it told how, if all else
failed, the wizard must be boiled in lead.
Ay, thou mayst well shudder, little Annie, and hide thy face in my gown.
'Twas a terrible thing to do, but they did it.
They kindled a fire on the Nine-stane Rig, in the middle of the old
Druid stones, and there they placed the great brass cauldron. They
heated it red hot, and some of them hasted to Hermitage Castle, and
stripped a sheet of lead from the roof, and they wrapped the wicked lord
in it, and plunged him in, and stood round in solemn silence till the
contents of that awful pot melted--lead, and bones, and all--and nought
remained but a seething sea of molten metal.
So came the sinful man by his end, and to this day the cauldron remains,
as thou knowest, child. It was brought over to the Skelf-hill, and there
it stands, a fearful warning to evil-doers, while, on the spot where it
was boiled, within the circle of stones on the Nine-stane Rig, the
ground lies bare and fallow, for the very grass refuses to grow where
such a terrible deed was done.
Next: The Brownie Of Blednock
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