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CANOBIE
DICK AND THOMAS OF ERCILDOUN
Now it chanced many years since that
there lived on
the Borders a jolly rattling horse-cowper, who was remarkable for a
reckless and fearless temper, which made him much admired and a little
dreaded amongst his neighbours. One moonlight night, as he
rode
over Bowden Moor, on the west side of the Eildon Hills, the scene of
Thomas the Rhymer’s prophecies, and often mentioned in his
history, having a brace of horses along with him, which he had not been
able to dispose of, he met a man of venerable appearance and singularly
antique dress, who, to his great surprise, asked the price of his
horses, and began to chaffer with him on the subject. To
Canobie
Dick, for so shall we call our Border dealer, a chap was a chap, and he
would have sold a horse to the devil himself, without minding his
cloven hoof, and would have probably cheated Old Nick into the
bargain. The stranger paid the price they agreed on, and all
that
puzzled Dick in the transaction was, that the gold which he received
was p. 2in unicorns, bonnet-pieces, and other ancient coins, which
would have been invaluable to collectors, but were rather troublesome
in modern currency. It was gold, however, and therefore Dick
contrived to get better value for the coin than he perhaps gave to his
customer. By the command of so good a merchant, he brought
horses
to the same spot more than once; the purchaser only stipulating that he
should always come by night and alone. I do not know whether
it
was from mere curiosity, or whether some hope of gain mixed with it,
but after Dick had sold several horses in this way, he began to
complain that dry bargains were unlucky, and to hint, that since his
chap must live in the neighbourhood, he ought, in the courtesy of
dealing, to treat him to half a mutchkin.
“You may see my dwelling if you will,” said the
stranger;
“but if you lose courage at what you see there, you will rue
it
all your life.”
Dickon, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and having alighted to
secure his horse, he followed the stranger up a narrow footpath, which
led them up the hills to the singular eminence stuck betwixt the most
southern and the centre peaks, and called, from its resemblance to such
an animal in its form, the Lucken Hare. At the foot of this
eminence, which is almost as famous for witch-meetings as the
neighbouring windmill of Kippilaw, Dick was somewhat startled to
observe that his conductor entered p. 3the hillside by a passage or
cavern, of which he himself, though well acquainted with the spot, had
never seen nor heard.
“You may still return,” said his guide, looking
ominously
back upon him; but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on they
went. They entered a very long range of stables; in every
stall
stood a coal-black horse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-black
armour, with a drawn sword in his hand; but all were as silent, hoof
and limb, as if they had been cut out of marble. A great
number
of torches lent a gloomy lustre to the hall, which, like those of the
Caliph Vathek, was of large dimensions. At the upper end,
however, they at length arrived, where a sword and horn lay on an
antique table.
“He that shall sound that horn and draw that
sword,” said
the stranger, who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas of
Ercildoun, “shall, if his heart fail him not, be king over
all
broad Britain. So speaks the tongue that cannot
lie. But
all depends on courage, and much on your taking the sword or horn
first.”
Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold spirit was
quailed by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and he thought to
unsheathe the sword first might be construed into defiance, and give
offence to the powers of the mountain. He took the bugle with
a
trembling hand, and blew a p. 4feeble note, but loud enough to produce
a terrible answer. Thunder rolled in stunning peals through
the
immense hall; horses and men started to life; the steeds snorted,
stamped, ground their bits, and tossed their heads; the warriors sprang
to their feet, clashed their armour, and brandished their
swords.
Dick’s terror was extreme at seeing the whole army, which had
been so lately silent as the grave, in uproar, and about to rush on
him. He dropped the horn, and made a feeble attempt to seize
the
enchanted sword; but at the same moment a voice pronounced aloud the
mysterious words—
“Woe to the coward, that ever he was born,
Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!”
At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled through the
long hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of the mouth of
the cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank of loose stones,
where the shepherds found him the next morning, with just breath
sufficient to tell his fearful tale, after concluding which he expired.
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