branches.]

THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNEL.

The seat of a branch of the Dumfries-shire Maxwells--Kirconnel--a
property lying not far distant from Dumfries, and surrounded by the
little pastoral stream, Kirtle--is one of the most beautiful that ever
gratified the taste or inspired the pride of a high family. It was not
until about the beginning of the seventeenth century that it came into
the possession of the Maxwells; for, during a long period, it belonged
to the old, though never illustrious, family of the Bells, who, amidst
all the turmoil and strife of the March territories, had the good sense
to prefer the quiet pleasures of the retreats of their own pure Kirtle,
to the tumultuous and cruel scenes which boasted no streamlet but the
heart's blood of contending foes. The power of Lord Maxwell, or the
threat of Douglas, were equally unavailing to force the old proprietor
of Kirconnel--though he ranked as a lesser baron, and might command
retainers to fight for his plea--to sacrifice the pleasures of domestic
peace on the altars of Laverna or Bellona: these conjunct goddesses who,
hand in hand, swayed the destinies of Border men, and regulated the
Border rights of mine and thine. He held his fine property directly of
the crown; and, so long as he fulfilled the conditions of his right, he
conceived himself entitled to the enjoyment of what had been fairly got
and honourably retained. One strong element in Kirconnel's determination
to live at home, in the enjoyment of what home may produce to a mind
capable of appreciating its sweets, was the fear of interrupting the
happiness of his lady--one of the family of Irvings in that quarter, who
latterly came to possess his property--and of one child, a daughter, the
Maid of Kirconnel, concerning whom, as all our readers know, more has
been said and sung by antiquarian minstrel than ever fell to the hapless
fame or treasured memory of fair woman. Ah, we need scarcely say, that
this young heiress of Kirconnel's name was Helen; for who that has read
the touching lines of Pinkerton can ever forget the appellation of one
whose fate has drawn more tears than ever did that of the heroine Lady
Margaret, in the old ballad of "Douglas' Tragedy?" The disasters of
ordinary women, though hallowed by the sanctifying power of love, have
seldom in this country inspired the harp of the minstrel; so far we are
forced to admit the power of beauty, abstracted from the qualities o