Hound and Horn in Jedforrest Chapter X. Cummanshemenslaige
Should not his care
Improve his growing stock, their kinds might fail;
Man ?night once more on roots and acorns feed."
was the jubilee of the Talladale Farmers Club, and the occasion was
being celebrated in a characteristic fashion. There had been a 4
P.M. heavy dinner of broth, joints, and plum pudding, to which I and
a friend had been invited. It was a somewhat solemn and silent
function, and ominously temperate. Then the tablecloths were swept
away, and rummers and glasses, with basins of lump sugar, were
placed on the table, and bottles of whisky in profusion, apparently
in the ratio of one bottle to three men, were set down, while large
black kettles of boiling water were handed round by waiting-maids
before being placed by the fire.
The loyal toasts were given and received with great heartiness;
after which pipes were stuffed and kindled, and a loud hammering and
applauding accompanied the rising of the Chairman to propose the
toast of the eveningProsperity to the Farmers' Club. He spoke
with a voice clear as a cornet, and began by addressing his
expectant hearers as Brother farmers all, high and low, that is,
hill men and low country men; few if any of you have seen the span
of years, or experienced the variety of seasons, or weathered the
severity of storms, that I have during the period of my occupancy of
the farm of Buccleuch; and few can make the boast which I can, viz.
that for two long leases, or rather for thirty-nine years, I have
never missed paying my rent punctually and in person.
I can only touch on some few of the changed conditions during that
period. First of all, the system and practice of husbandry is kept
up to a high standard, and the most is got out of the land that it
will yield; but this only with the expenditure of much capital, with
the exercise of much skill, and through the results of oft-repeated
experience. But there has been a marked decrease in value of produce
of all kinds, the returns from all classes of farms showing a
decided falling off from the average of preceding years. This
decrease has been in greater contrast in the case of secondary and
inferior produce (good articles, whether grain or live stock, never
feel the fall so much as inferior articles), and this would seem to
point to the importance of keeping our land in good heart so as to
grow the best possible crops, and to breed and feed only the best
Accompanying the fall in prices, we have had to pay more for our
working expenses, and for nothing so much as labour. The
introduction of machines has done away with some of the extra labour
formerly employed for harvesting and at odd times, and that has to
some extent caused people to move into the towns; but one of the
real and main causes of rural depopulation lies in the restless
spirit of the age, and the desire of the people themselves. I would
counsel the ploughman to pause before he gives up a house rent free,
which is kept up for him, his cow, his pig, his hens, and his money
wage, paid regularly rain or shine, and moves into the town, where,
though wages for himself and his family may be better, the expense
of living is out of all proportion higher.
"A new feature of rural life is the invasion of even the remotest
districts by so-called grocers' vans. These are very detrimental to
farming life, bringing as they do tinned meats, patent medicines,
and cheap literature; none of which are so wholesome as the oatmeal
and milk or the old books and papers. One class does not change a
great deal, and that is the shepherds, more notably the hill
shepherds. A good man who can mow, cast peats, and cut sheep drains
is always sought for.
If, then, we breed good stock we shall yet for a while hold our
own; and if we are left freedom of contract, and if the transfer of
land is made easy and cheap, even under the many adverse conditions
we suffer from, we shall be able to keep up the good repute of
Border farming, and maintain the high standard of Border live
He gave some most interesting reminiscences of his youth, and of the
habits and customs of the hill farmers, and told some very droll
stories of sayings and doings at the annual kirns, and wound up by
again charging us to be pointed in stock-breeding, and punctual in
payment of rent.
Toast and song followed in quick succession. Pat Murray, a
jovial-looking young fellow, sang a pathetic song in a way that
nearly made us all weep; and his pal, John Fraser, a sad-looking
soul, sang one of the most comic of comic songs with the drollest
Then the Croupier rose to propose a toast, and my neighbour
whispered that this person had three or four long words which he
dragged into every speech he made, and offered to lay me five to
four that he would use them all to-night. Ventilate and
obfuscate had at one time been prime favourites, but had long been
discarded as being no longer impressive; and the others, which I was
soon to hear, were of a similar nature. He was a preternaturally
solemn-looking old gentleman, wise as he looked, and very outspoken;
and it was with some trepidation that I gathered he was proposing
the toast of Foxhunting, and addressing his remarks to me, as if
challenging contradiction. He was sure the present Master was not
one to desire to connect, still less amalgamate, the sport of
fox-hunting with that of horse-racing and its concomitant gambling,
for the two were diametrically dissimilar and ran counter the one to
the other; the first being a wholesome and natural recreation, and
the last being an unhealthy and artificial method of producing
excitement. He wished to promulgate his opinion far and wide that he
loved the one and abominated the otherin fact, he looked upon the
gambling element of the latter as the incarceration of the devil.
(Loud applause.) He wound up by hoping his hearers would homologate
his sentiments and drink to Fox-hunting. He apparently added
something more, but his closing remarks were drowned in a wave of
applause that swept round the table, gathering increased force as it
reached my neighbourhood, and carrying several glasses off the
Two excited lads sprang to their feet, then upon their chairs, and
lastly in emulation upon the table, to second the Croupiers toast.
The more likely-looking competitor was hauled down, along with
several bottles and decanters; and the other, a rather shy,
awkward-looking youth, was held in position and charged to spit it
out. A half tumbler of raw whisky was handed up to him, and this he
swallowed at a gulp without winking, and then declared the one thing
that induced him to offer for his farm, lying in the forsaken and
remote locality it did, was the fact that a pack of fox-hounds
hunted within reach. He worked hard all summer, staying at home,
while he sent his wife to Spittal-on-Tweed. Here his intimates
jeered derisively, for the lady in question was known to do exactly
as she pleased. He took his holidays in winter, on the Saturdays
with the hounds; and this relieved the monotony, enlivened the
existence, and brightened the dark days between Martinmas and
Whitsunday. He met his friends, compared notes with them as to the
condition of their stock, the stage of their farm work, and
sometimes galloped over their young grass and knocked down their
fences in return for similar compliments paid to him. He was always
pleased to see hounds and a good field, for whom he always had a fox
in his whin cover, and a cut of mutton ham and some mountain dew to
wash it down. He was applauded to the roof.
My reply was much interrupted by Hear, hears the audience was in
a mood to cheer, and cheer they did; so that if there was a fox
within three miles of the Cross Keys that night, he must have
shivered in his kennel.
The company then broke into knots of three and four, and
conversation was very animated, being carried on by some in
confidential whispers, and by others in loud declamation that might
have been mistaken for quarrelling, but was only meant to emphasise
the various propositions laid down.
The fun was at its height when I noted a hard-featured hill farmer,
whom I only knew by sight, trying to fix me with his eye. When he
had caught mine, he pushed a gigantic tortoise-shell snuff-mull into
my hand. After accepting this form of hospitality, and returning the
mull, I found him alongside of me, and was puzzled by his repeating
again and againWill ye cummanshemenslaige, cummanshemenslaige?
A mutual friend translated the mystic utterance, which turned out to
be Come and see my ensilage" an invitation to inspect the contents
of a silo which he had recently established to his own satisfaction
and his neighbours wonder and contempt. He was very old-fashioned
and conservative in most respects; but occasionally made an outbreak
into modern experiments, and this was his latest departure.
Promising to cummanshemenslaige on Saturday, and being adjured to
be in good time in a manner so earnest as to draw up a picture of
the possibility of the silo going off in spontaneous combustion
before then, and being reminded that Saturday was to-morrow, and
that to-morrow was Saturday" we made our escape about 1 A.M.
Friday was spent in kennels, which were visited by several belated
sportsmen, one or two of whom let out the fact that the jubilee
celebrations were still in progress.
The puddles were covered with a thin coating of ice as we left the
courtyard on Saturday morning, and they crackled sharply under
Merrylass feet as she stepped briskly away; and where the sun had
touched the road, the mud flew in thick flakes from the wheels of
the dog-cart; and all human and horse foot-marks were clear and
distinct on the slight peppering of snow that had dusted the country
overnight. My companion was a young Australian, just home from the
back blocks of Queensland, and much interested in all the signs and
symptoms of rural life, and an experienced tracker.
After leaving the village we came suddenly upon the youth, John
Fraser, one of the most hilarious of the revellers ot two nights
ago. He was leading a cob without a strap of harness on him by the
simple expedient of a muffler round its neck, and was carrying a
driving whip. He explained that the cobs forelock had come away in
his hand, and he exhibited the tuft in confirmation, but offered no
explanation why he happened to be leading it by so frail a medium.
He evaded answering all questions as to how he came to be reduced to
this pass, merely stating that he was returning to the town. He was
grateful to the Australian for showing him a way of leading an
unwilling horse by a noose of whip-cord passed round the lip and
lower jaw under the tongue, and known to bushmen as the humane
twitch. He inquired, rather anxiously, what road we were taking,
and refused all offers of assistance.
About a mile further out, on rounding a corner, we saw Johns boon
companion, Pat Murray, sitting complacently on a dog-cart cushion,
alongside his trap, with the harness piled on the ground, and a
horse-rug wrapped round his knees, smoking his pipe. Pat was as
communicative as his pal had been reticent, and cried out, in answer
to our query what was wrong, that he and John had cast out badly
over the questionable soundness of a cob that John had almost sold
to him ; that they had agreed that a continued journey in each
others company would be deteriorating to both; that this being
decided, John had taken out his cob and proceeded to lead him off,
when Pat reminded him that the harness was his, and he would rather
it was left with the cart. John had demurred to this, but Pat had
insisted, so there was nothing for it but to comply, and march off
with as much dignity as could be put into the action of dragging a
snorting unwilling beast along by the nose and the forelock. John
had returned to claim his whip, giving an opening for a
reconciliation, but Pat had been obdurate, and had laughed loud when
the Mugger, drawing back from the whip, had left his forelock in
John's hand and trotted off, nose and tail in the air; nor did he
assist in the capture of the animal, but shouted out, Well see
wholl be home first. He, too, declined all offers of help, saying
he was all right and would soon be picked up by a passing chance.
So we continued our
journey, and the Australian exclaimed: I have been studying the
tracks on the road, and there has been some loose driving here, and
not so long ago, for they are quite fresh; and as we proceeded he
said, Will you go slowly here, and let me examine them?
Our road now branched off to the left from the main valley, and lay
across an unfenced moor, and the powdering of snow showed every mark
conspicuously, which my friend read like a book.
Look here, he said, this chap has been galloping hard and swaying
from one side of the road to the other, as he pointed out tracks
now running close to the shallow ditch close to the bank, and now
perilously near the edge, where a row of stones was all the parapet
to guard a wheel from going over the ten foot drop into a
watercourse on the other side. It's a broad flat-tyred trap,
probably a grocers van, and there is another lighter trap, with
narrow round tyres. And, by Jove, the fellow has been racingat any
rate the rear trap has been flogging and trying to pass.
Sure enough, a whip broken through the whalebone, and marked as if
it had been run over, lay across the road, and Moncrieff's surmise
appeared to be correct, for the tracks now showed a less rapid pace
and straighter going. At the foot of a hill the sharp eyes of the
tracker picked up a cap by the side of the road, and shortly after
this the two traps seemed to have pulled up, for the road was
paddled with footmarks, and strewn with countless spent matches.
At the end of the road leading through the ford to the snug
farmhouse of Nether, or Under, Fawhope, stood Jim Peebles waiting
for us. We had barely pulled up when, anticipating the question, he
at once said: We only got home from the dinner this morning just
before daylight, and what a job I had with my cousin, William
Peebles. We left the Cross Keys at closing time last night, but we
put in at the Doctors for an hour or two, leaving there about three
or four oclock. William maintained that his pony could out-trot my
mare, giving me half a mile start, and I set off before him, and
about the crossroads he came galloping and barging behind me like at
a bumping boat race, and I had to gallop to save my dog-cart from
being crashed into. He was for coming in here, and his pony would
hardly pass the road end, and set my mare on jibbing at the ford,
and when I hit her she flung up to the dash-board, a thing I never
knew her do before. But come away, Upper Fawhope is only
three-quarters of a mile on, and well just be in time for lunch.
He strode after us with the long swinging stride of a hill shepherd,
and kept up to Merrylass quick walk without effort. We found
William Peebles sitting on a stone at the turn off of his road,
watching a young lad who was applying a liberal wash of whitening to
a row of large stones marking the turn.
Good morning, gentlemen, said he. These stones are not easy seen
on a black night. The last time Jim Peebles was in here he drove
over most of them; I see his tracks. And he added half
hesitatingly, They might be useful to you going out to-night.
Here is your whip, William, said his cousin, coming up. Mr.
Moncrieff found it below the cross roads.
I must have dropped it when I got out to look for my cap.
We remembered there had been an interval of about a mile between the
whip and the cap, but we said nothing.
1 couldnt find the second step of my trap, he continued, and
slipped and cut my head a bit.
"Mr. Moncrieff here says there is a very wobbly driver in the
valley, Williama man who drives a flat-tyred broad wheel.
Ah, ah, Jim, thats you; ye mind ye had your wheels new ringed by
Robbie Tamson just a fortnight since. Mine has a narrow round tyre,
and makes a track like a velocipede. But open the gig-house and
well see it.
The gig-house doors were opened, and there stood Jim Peebles cart,
and in the stable an unconcerned-looking boy was wiping down Jim
Peebles mare. William gasped and looked as if he might have
explained away the cart, but the two together, cart and mare, were
too weighty evidence against him; so producing his snuff-box,
removing his cap, and displaying a bandaged head, he said, "Well,
that accounts for the bezzom reisting on the hill and cutting across
the grass at the corner. But, he added, with confidence, Ill take
my davy that I started in my own trap. We must have changed them
when I was looking for my whip, for I mind kindling a match there
and sheltering it from the wind with my cap.
We lunched lavishly; and two more hill farmers having stepped in, we
listened attentively to the characteristics of hoggs and gimmers and
twinters and dinmonts till it was discovered to be too dark to
inspect the silo; but Jim, the lad, was instructed to put a cut in
the dog-cart for us to carry home. This we did as far as the first
ravine, into which Moncrieff tossed it with his ungloved hands,
declaring he would never be able to taste Gorgonzola cheese for the
rest of his life.
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