Bog-Myrtle and Peat

Bog-Myrtle and Peat

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bog-Myrtle and Peat, by S.R. Crockett This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Bog-Myrtle and Peat Tales Chiefly Of Galloway Gathered From The Years 1889 To 1895
Author: S.R. Crockett
Release Date: October 7, 2004 [EBook #13667]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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BOG-MYRTLE AND PEAT
TALES CHIEFLY OF GALLOWAY
GATHERED FROM THE YEARS 1889 TO 1895, BY
S.R. CROCKETT
LONDON
BLISS, SANDS AND FOSTER 15 CRAVEN STREET, STRAND MDCCCXCV

_Inscribed with the Name of George Milner of Manchester, a Man most Generous, Brave, True, to whom, because he freely gave me That of His which I the most desired-- I, having Nothing worthier to give, Give This_.

KENMURE
1715
"The heather's in a blaze, Willie, The White Rose decks the tree, The Fiery-Cross is on the braes, And the King is on the sea.
"Remember great Montrose, Willie, Remember fair Dundee, And strike one stroke at the foreign foes Of the King that's on the sea.
"There's Gordons in the North, Willie, Are rising frank and free, Shall a Kenmure Gordon not go forth For the King that's on the sea?
"A trusty sword to draw, Willie, A comely weird to dree, For the royal Rose that's like the snaw, And the King that's on the sea!"
He cast ae look upon his lands, Looked over loch and lea, He took his fortune in his hands, For the King was on the sea.
Kenmures have fought in Galloway For Kirk and Presbyt'rie, This Kenmure faced his dying day, For King James across the sea.
It little skills what faith men vaunt, If loyal men they be To Christ's ain Kirk and Covenant, Or the King that's o'er the sea.
ANDREW LANG.

CONTENTS
BOOK FIRST. ADVENTURES
I. THE MINISTER OF DOUR II. A CRY ACROSS THE BLACK WATER III. SAINT LUCY OF THE EYES IV. UNDER THE RED TERROR V. THE CASE OF JOHN ARNISTON'S CONSCIENCE VI. THE GLISTERING BEACHES
BOOK SECOND. INTIMACIES
I. THE LAST ANDERSON OF DEESIDE II. A SCOTTISH SABBATH DAY III. THE COURTSHIP OF TAMMOCK THAKANRAIP, AYRSHIREMAN IV. THE OLD TORY V. THE GREAT RIGHT-OF-WAY CASE VI. DOMINIE GRIER VII. THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
BOOK THIRD. HISTORIES
I. FENWICK MAJOR'S LITTLE 'UN II. MAC'S ENTERIC FEVER III. THE COLLEGING OF SIMEON GLEG IV. KIT KENNEDY, NE'ER-DO-WELL V. THE BACK O' BEYONT VI. NORTH TO THE ARCTIC
BOOK FOURTH. IDYLLS
I. ACROSS THE MARCH DYKE II. A FINISHED YOUNG LADY III. THE LITTLE LAME ANGEL
BOOK FIFTH. TALES OF THE KIRK
I. THE MINISTER-EMERITUS II. A MINISTER'S DAY III. THE MINISTER'S LOON IV. THE BIOGRAPHY OF AN INEFFICIENT V. JOHN VI. EUROCLYDON OF THE RED HEAD VII. THE CAIRN EDWARD KIRK MILITANT
EPILOGUE: IN PRAISE OF GALLOWAY
NIGHT IN THE GALLOWAY WOODS BIRDS AT NIGHT THE COMING OF THE DAWN FLOOD-TIDE OF NIGHT WAY FOR THE SUN THE EARLY BIRD FULL CHORUS THE BUTCHER'S BOY OF THE WOODS THE DUST OF BATTLE COMES THE DAY

PREFACE
_There is a certain book of mine which no publisher has paid royalty upon, which has never yet been confined in spidery lines upon any paper, a book that is nevertheless the Book of my Youth, of my Love, and of my Heart_.
_There never was such a book, and in the chill of type certainly there never will be. It has, so far as I know, no title, this unpublished book of mine. For it would need the blood of rubies and the life of diamonds crusted on ivory to set the title of this book_.
_Mostly I see it in the late night watches, when the twilight verges to the cock-crowing and the universe is silent, stirless, windless, for about the space of one hour. Then the pages of the book are opened a little; and, as one that reads hungrily, hastily, at the bookstall of an impatient vendor a book he cannot buy, so I scan the idylls, the epics, the dramas of the life of man written in words which thrill me as I read. Some are fiercely tender, some yearning and unsatisfying, some bitter in the mouth but afterward sweet in the belly. All are expressed in words so fit and chaste and noble, that each is an immortal poem which would give me deathless fame--could I, alas! but remember_.
_Then the morning comes, and with the first red I awake to a sense of utter loss and bottomless despair. Once more I have clutched and missed and forgotten. It is gone from me. The imagination of my heart is left unto me desolate. Sometimes indeed when a waking bird--by preference a mavis--sings outside my window, for a little while after