“Behold a letter from the mountains, for I am very snugly settled here, in a farmer’s house, about six miles from Wooler, in the very centre of the Cheviot hills, in one of the wildest and most romantic situations which your imagination, fertile upon the subject of cottages, ever suggested. And what the deuce are you about there? methinks I hear you say. Why, sir, of all things in the world—drinking goat’s whey—not that I stand in the least need of it, but my uncle having a slight cold, and being a little tired of home, asked me last Sunday evening if I would like to go with him to Wooler, and I answering in the affirmative, next morning’s sun beheld us on our journey, through a pass in the Cheviots, upon the back of two special nags, and man Thomas behind with a portmanteau, and two fishing rods fastened across his back, much in the style of St Andrew’s Cross. Upon
* Redgauntlet, vol. i. p. 142. |
| 182 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Often as I have wished for your company I never did
it more earnestly than when I rode over Flodden Edge. I know your taste for
these things, and could have undertaken to demonstrate, that never was an
affair more completely bungled than that day’s work was. Suppose one army
posted upon the face of a hill, and secured by high grounds projecting on each
flank, with the river Till in front, a deep and still river, winding through a
very extensive valley called Milfield Plain, and the only passage over it by a
narrow bridge, which the Scots artillery, from the hill, could in a moment have
demolished. Add that the English must have hazarded a battle while their
troops, which were tumultuously levied, remained together; and that the Scots,
behind whom the country was open to Scotland, had nothing to do but to wait for
the attack as they were posted. Yet did two thirds of the army, actuated by the
perfervidum ingenium
Scotorum, rush down and give an opportunity to Stanley to occupy the ground they had quitted, by
coming over the shoulder of the hill, while the other third, under Lord Home, kept their ground, and having
| LETTER ON FLODDENFIELD. | 183 |
“My uncle drinks the whey here, as I do ever since I understood it was brought to his bedside every morning at six, by a very pretty dairy-maid. So much for my residence; all the day we shoot, fish, walk, and ride; dine and sup upon fish struggling from the stream, and the most delicious heath-fed mutton, barn-door fowls, poys,* milk-cheese, &c., all in perfection; and so much simplicity resides among these hills, that a pen, which could write at least, was not to be found about the house, though belonging to a considerable farmer, till I shot the crow with whose quill I write this epistle. I wrote to Irving before leaving Kelso. Poor fellow, I am sure his sister’s death must have hurt him much; though he makes no noise about feelings, yet still streams always run deepest. I sent a message by him to Edie,† poor devil, adding my mite of consolation to him in his affliction. I pity poor ******, who is more deserving of compassion, being his first offence. Write soon, and as long as the last; you will have Perthshire news I suppose soon. Jamie’s adventure diverted me much. I read it to my uncle, who being long in the India service, was affronted. Remember to James when you write, and to all your family and friends in general. I send this to Kelso—you may address as usual; my letters will be forwarded—adieu—au revoir,
