CORRESPONDENCE
OF SYLVANUS

URBAN.

THE WILD CAT, AND THE KEILDER DISTRICT.

MR. URBAN,-In The Gentleman's Magazine for November, there is a letter from Mr. Sidney Gibson, which includes a short note from the late Duke of Northumberland, regarding the appearance of wild cats at Keilder Castle, and a reference also to Macaulay's description of the district a century ago. Keilder Castle is a hunting seat of the Dukes of Northumberland, on the borders of Liddesdale, and in its neighbourhood lived James Telfer, the schoolmaster who narrated to the duke the story of the wild cats. It is more circumstantially given in the shape of an extract from a letter written by Mr. Telfer to Mr. Robert White, of Newcastle, editor of Leyden's works. The extract is as follows:

"Keilder, you may have been told, is, indeed, a bleak, wild, out-of-the-way place as any to be found on the Middle Marches. Till within the memory of man the lower parts of the district were overgrown with natural wood, which afforded a refuge for a breed of wild cats, the last, I believe, that were known on the Border. My grandfather, as you have doubtless heard me say, was a shepherd, and it so chanced that being one day either herding or hunting in Keilder, he was attacked by a wild cat. The creature, without the least provocation, sprang upon him before he was aware, making right for his throat, and although he was then a very athletic man, it required all his strength and agility to baffle it in its purpose. He made several attempts to strangle it, or to fling it from him; but these proving ineffectual, he contrived in the end to pin it to the ground under one of his knees, and then he and his dog together managed to dispatch it. His dog, you must understand, chanced not to be within sight of him when the creature made its attack, and it was always his opinion that if the dog had been out of hearing, and not come to his call, he would in the end have fought a losing battle. After his assailant was fairly dead, my grandfather, from curiosity, stretched it out at its length upon the grass, and found that, from the nose to the tip of the tail, it rather out-measured the dog; and a collie dog, you know, from the nose to the tail, is not a very short animal. As may be supposed, from the nature of the contest, my grandfather got his hands severely bit and lacerated. Among other injuries, he got the nail of one of his thumbs split by a stroke of the creature's claw, and his thumb was disfigured ever afterwards. İ can yet remember it. This adventure of my grandfather's might occur a little after the middle of last century, or about a hundred years ago. There are, I believe, no wild cats in Keilder now, nor, as far

as I know, in any part of the country."

The letter to Mr. Sidney Gibson, from Algernon, fourth Duke of Northumberland, also refers to " Macaulay's absurdities or untruths about Keilder." The passage in Macaulay is as follows:

"Within the memory of some whom this generation has seen, the sportsmen who wandered in pursuit of game to the sources of the Tyne, found the heaths round Keilder Castle peopled by a race scarcely less savage than the Indians of California, and heard with surprise the half-naked women chaunting a wild measure, while the men, with brandished dirks, danced a war dance."

The authority given by Macaulay for this statement, is a reference to the journal of Sir Walter Scott, from which we find that Macaulay's inspiration of this passage actually came from Alnwick Castle. In his diary, under date, October 7, 1827, Sir Walter says:

"He" (the Duke) "tells me his people in Keilder were all quite wild the first time his father went up to shoot there. The women had no other dress than a bedgown and petticoat. The men were savage, and could hardly be brought to rise from the heath, either from sullenness or fear. They sang a wild tune, the burden of which was Orsina, orsina, orsina. The females sang, the men danced round, and at a certain point of the tune they drew their dirks, which they always

Here, then, is the origin of Macaulay's so called "absurdities or untruths about Keilder." When the history of England appeared, a gentleman resident on the Scottish side of the Border, wrote to the historian, challenging its accuracy. Macaulay wrote a reply in which he promised to modify the sentence in subsequent editions, but said he would require the very highest evidence to undo entirely what had been accepted by Scott, who knew so much of Border history.

The whole story narrated to Sir Walter by the Duke of Northumberland savours of misapprehension, which was excusable, however, in a nobleman visiting for the first time an outlandish portion of his vast estates. Telfer, who died some years ago, knew a man who remembered the duke's visit, and the alleged barbarous state of society was by him, very naturally, explained. The half-naked women with bedgown and petticoat, were women working at hay-making, and in the heat of summer they may still be seen any day in the same dress at similar occupations. The "dirk" carried by the shepherds was really a large clasp knife, called in Scotland a "gully," with a long and sharp pointed blade, kept for flaying sheep when found dead in the moors, as they often are. About the refrain, "Orsina, orsina," there is some difficulty; but it is suggested by a gentleman well acquainted with the district and its ways, that it was really the sort of bravado Tynedale ejaculation of "Oor syde yet, oor syde yet," pronounced in the district dialect, a practice that still prevails at competitive trials of skill or strength,—I am, Sir, yours sincerely, Kelso, Νου. 1869.

J. T.

SUEZ CANAL.

MR. URBAN,-As the Suez Canal is now the question of the day, it may, perhaps, interest some of your readers to learn that one hundred and one years ago, the attention of the English people was called to the possibility of constructing such a canal from the Red Sea to the Nile, by a far-seeing correspondent of yours, who modestly veiled himself under the signature F. In The Gentleman's Magazine for 1768 (p. 607), is the following letter :

"MR. URBAN,-Whilst our projectors are forming schemes, and busied in carrying them out, for the facilitation of trade and commerce, by cutting canals from one part of the country to another, I would just crave leave to mention one, which, if put in practice, will not only be beneficial to particular countries, but all Europe. I mean the uniting of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, by a cut or

canal. This is by no means a visionary scheme, but certainly practicable, as will, I think, evidently appear, by the following extract from the memoirs of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, 1701, —I am, &c., "F."

The extract referred to is too long to be quoted in full. It relates to a map of the Delta, made from actual observation, by M. Boutier, as a contribution to one of the entire country, prepared by M. Delisle.

"But what is most remarkable in this map, is an extremity of a canal, which goes out of the most eastern arm of the Nile, and which M. Delisle judges to have been part of that which formerly made the communication of the Nile and the Mediterranean with the Red Sea."

The well-known passages in Herodotus and Diodorus are then commented upon.

"M. Delisle, refining upon M. Boutier, has carried his inquiries even to the Arabian authors. Elmaun, lib. i. chap. 3, says that under the Caliph Omar, towards the year 635 of the Christian era, Amir caused a canal to be made to transport the corn from Egypt into Arabia. Probably he only renewed the old one, the navigation of which might easily have been neglected in the decline of the Roman empire. But in the year 150 of the Hegira, which agrees with the year 775 of Christ, Albuziafar Almanzor II., Caliph of the Abbasides, caused this canal to be stopped on the side of the sea. If ever this union should be renewed, the world would change its face; China and France, for example, would become neighbours, and our posterity would lament the fate of the barbarous ages, when the Europeans were obliged to go round Africa to get into Asia."

I am, yours truly,

W. E. A. A.

Joynson Street, Strangeways.

A BULLOCK OF THE LAST CENTURY.

MR. URBAN,—As the prize Christmas bullocks are hardly yet forgotten, it may be worth while to state some particulars regarding a prime Scottish bullock of the 18th century, just to indicate the contrast 'twixt now and then. The calculation of profit and loss is given in the "Select Transactions of the Improvers in Agriculture," a society formed in 1723, and which existed fully twenty years. The prime cost of the bullock was 17. 6s. 8d., and he entered Mr. Hope of Rankeillor's grass at Hope Park, in the suburbs of Edinburgh, on the 24th of November, 1729. Here he continued till the 2nd of March, 1730, at a cost of Id. sterling per 24 hours, or 8s. for the three months. On the 2nd of March he was taken to the Sciennes Walls, near Edinburgh, for fresh grass, and here he continued till the 22nd of June, at a farther cost of 135. sterling. From the 1st December, 1729, till the 4th May, 1730, he got hay, what he could eat, at 5d. per stone, which cost 17. 5s. 10d. The total cost of the bullock was 31. 138. 10d., and being presented in the Edinburgh market on the 20th June, 1730, his owner was offered for him 37. 155., which would have yielded a profit of only 1s. 2d. The owner preferred to kill his bullock, and the total weight proved to be 392 pounds of beef and tallow, which, at 4d. a pound, brought 67. 10s. 8d., showing a profit on the animal of 21. 16s. 10d. The hide, head, feet, and in-meat, were given for attendance. -Yours, sincerely,

J. T.

THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE

FEBRUARY, 1870.

THE CHRISTIAN VAGABOND.

BY BLANCHARD JERROLD.

(Continued from p. 61.)

CHAPTER III.

DAME REBECCA'S STORY.

much as I may and should tell to him who is called the Christian Vagabond-and much more to him than should be told to any other of God's creatures-I have

promised." Our Lady of Charity sate with the Vagabond in the common room of the Sisterhood, on the morrow of Dame Rebecca's death. She was putting together, with a sweet sadness, a mass of flowers which two Sisters had laid upon the table before her, and which were jewelled still with the dew of the fresh summer morning. It was near the break-up of the summer time when Dame Rebecca died: the time when the insect dies within the petals of the rose, and the birds turn rough feathers to the crisp air of sunrise. The eyes of the Vagabond fell upon the serious flower bearers, and then turned, with a plain question in them, to the Lady of Charity. "Our Sisters of the Garden; and these are the flowers they grow to brighten the graves of our poor: to gladden the sick-room, and to lay upon the bosom of the dead. These have brought Dame Rebecca's flowers; and, while I prepare them for her bosom, will you listen to all I can say of her—that you may judge whether she is the creature of long ago, to whom your memory seems to carry you back, with uncertain steps.

VOL. IV., N. S. 1870.

S

The Christian Vagabond took up flower after flower, scented them. and mused over them.

"Yes, let me turn upon the past now; but the threads, to my weak vision, are tangled overmuch."

"Dame Rebecca had been with me more than two years, I see by our Tables of Hospitality. It seemed to me that we had had her much longer."

"We are carried forward at a ringing pace, as we age," the venerable Pilgrim interrupted. "We feel less acutely, we are arrested by fewer landmarks, and all the years soften to a level surface. It is so smooth that, in the end, we hardly feel that we are moving. My journeying has been very far beyond the reach of most men; so that I can take an extraordinary stride of experiences-and mark how the glowing uplands and valleys of our freshest days, roll into a flat land of equal tint. But-" here he laid a gentle hand upon the flannel

sleeve of the Lady of Charity-" But, of Dame Rebecca.”

"She came to us one spring evening: a most melancholy wet and grey, and chilly time it was. I have been accustomed to the faces of the miserable all my life; but I was never so startled and pained with the sight of distress, as when Sister Ursula drew me to the door of the Chamber of Christ, and begged me to look within.

"Rebecca looked much older, to me, on that evening, than when she passed away from us and her troubles yesterday. She was huddled up—a confused heap of clothes and limb-deep in a big arm-chair we keep in the chamber, the very chair by which you said your prayers last night; and out of her livid face burned two eyes that spell-bound me, as I fell within their range. I saw a soul in agony then; making a last desperate effort to speak. She tried to articulate. Her lips moved swiftly; but not the murmur of a word came forth. Then she was desperate in her effort to express herself by motion; but the poor body would not answer to her will, save by a quiver. When I approached her and took her stone-cold hands, so wasted, that they felt as though a little pressing would break them; her eyes, still glowing, followed me. The mouth dropped open; and thin flakes of white hair loosened over her brow of a thousand wrinkles. I took her in my arms. I am weak enough—but I could lift her—and I laid her upon the warm bed to which Sister Ursula had been attending. Still those two eyes, from that silent creature smote me: for I knew they meant to speak that which the palsied tongue could not The eyes of some of the many dying creatures I have seen, have reminded me of Dame Rebecca's on that night. It is the cruellest watching of all, when the sick are silent, and the imploring

utter.