ned. These are the appearances
presented now; but, in the beginning of the sixteenth century,
Henderland was a close retreat, surrounded by wood and water. The family
castle stood in the midst of a dense wood of firs, mixed, in those parts
where the soil supported the king of the forest, with large oaks. The
Megget, rolling along its brattling stream, to St. Mary's, was, when in
its calm moods, made available for the ends of picturesque beauty; and,
when swollen by the mountain rills, served as a defence to the grounds
and residence. In building their strengths, all the Border chiefs had
particular reference to the natural advantages of the situation: the
middle of a morass, the edge of a precipice rising from a mountain
torrent, or a small island in the midst of a lake or river, were held to
be favoured localities; and Selkirkshire, in curious accordance with the
habits of the people, had and has no want of these natural strongholds.
Henderland had, perhaps, less to boast of, in point of natural strength,
than Tushielaw, Mangerton, and some other of the Border residences; but,
in the beauty of its wooded scenery, and the picturesque effect of
sleeping lochs and roaring torrents, it might not be excelled in all the
Borders.

In the minority of James V., Henderland Tower was occupied by Parys
(supposed to be a corrupted orthography of Paris) Cockburn. He was then
comparatively a young man, and inherited, with the property of a Border
chief, all the usual characteristics of that class of lairds--a natural,
inborn valour being looked upon as the principal of all the qualities of
the heart; and yet, unfortunately, applied, by a habit that had assumed
the strength of an instinct, to the strife of contending families, the
enterprises of pillage, and the contentions of a circumscribed ambition.
There was no peculiarity of the Borderers more remarkable than the union
of a high valour that would have immortalized many a knight within the
palisades, and the habit of overturning the rights of property--descending
even to the grade of petty larceny. Now-a-days, theft and cowardice are
generally supposed to be nearly allied; but, in those days, the chief of
a large clan, inhabiting a stately castle, and famous for a noble
courage throughout the land, could pause, in the progress homewards,
with half-a-dozen of his neighbour's kine; look, with a furacious eye,
on a bundle of hay, and regret, in his heart, that it had not four legs
li