es, the probability is that we have it here in the heart of
these silent lonely hills. There is the tradition of a cross, too, at or
near Tweed's Well, borne out in the place-name Corse, which, we know,
is good Scots for Cross. That such a symbol of the ancient faith stood
here long since "to remind travellers of their Redeemer and to guide
them withal across these desolate moors," is more than a mere
picturesque legend. It is a prolific watershed this from which Tweed
starts its seaward race. South and west, Annan and Clyde bend their way
to the Solway and the Atlantic, as the quaint quatrain has it:

"Annan, Tweed, and Clyde
Rise a' oot o' ae hillside,
Tweed ran, Annan wan,
Clyde brak his neck owre Corra Linn."

Tweed turns its face to the north, and running for the most part, as old
Pennecuik puts it, "with a soft yet trotting stream," it pursues a
course of slightly over a hundred miles, and drains a basin of no less
than 1870 square miles, a larger area than any other Scottish river
except the Tay.

PLATE 15

VIEW OF MELROSE

FROM A WATER-COLOUR SKETCH

PAINTED BY

JAMES ORROCK, R.I.

(_See pp. 23, 35, 39, 60, 61, 89, 90, 91, 123_)

[Illustration]

Tweed's Well lies in the bosom of solemn, bare hills. There is nothing
attractive about the spot. Grey moorlands, riddled with innumerable inky
peat-bogs, the whaups crying as Stevenson heard them in his dreams, and
the bleat of an occasional sheep are the chief characteristics. There is
little heather, and the hills are hardly so shapely as their neighbours
further down the valley. A first glance is disappointing, but the
memories of the place are compensation enough. For what a stirring place
it must have been in the early centuries! Here, as tradition asserts,
the pagan bard Merlin was converted to Christianity through the
preaching of the Glasgow Saint Mungo. Here Michael Scot, the "wondrous
wizard," pursued his mysteries. And even the Flower of Kings himself
wandered amongst those wilds, "of fresh aventours dreaming." One of his
twelve battles is claimed for the locality. More historic, perhaps, is
the picture of the good Sir James of Douglas (red-handed from dirking
the Comyn) plighting his troth to the Bruce at Ericstane Brae, close to
Tweed's Well, which latter spot, by the way, Dr. John Brown
characteristically describes in one of his shorter "Horae" papers.
Readers of the "Enterkin" also will remember his reference to