Proceeding further we met a gentleman walking along the road, of whom we made inquiries about the country we were passing through.  He told us that the castle we could see across the river was named “Muckle Mouthed Meg.”  A certain man in ancient times, having offended against the laws, was given a choice for a sentence by the King of Scotland—–­either he must marry Muckle Mouthed Meg, a woman with a very large mouth, or suffer death.  He chose the first, and the pair lived together in the old castle for some years.  We told him we were walking from John o’ Groat’s to Land’s End, but when he said he had passed John o’ Groat’s in the train, we had considerable doubts as to the accuracy of his statements, for there was no railway at all in the County of Caithness in which John o’ Groat’s was situated.  We therefore made further inquiries about the old castle, and were informed that the proper name of it was Elibank Castle, and that it once belonged to Sir Gideon Murray, who one night caught young Willie Scott of Oakwood Tower trying to “lift the kye.”  The lowing of the cattle roused him up, and with his retainers he drove off the marauders, while his lady watched the fight from the battlement of the Tower.  Willie, or, to be more correct, Sir William Scott, Junr., was caught and put in the dungeon.  Sir Gideon Murray decided to hang him, but his lady interposed:  “Would ye hang the winsome Laird o’ Harden,” she said, “when ye hae three ill-favoured daughters to marry?” Sir Willie was one of the handsomest men of his time, and when the men brought the rope to hang him he was given the option of marrying Muckle Mou’d Meg or of being hanged with a “hempen halter.”  It was said that when he first saw Meg he said he preferred to be hanged, but he found she improved on closer acquaintance, and so in three days’ time a clergyman said, “Wilt thou take this woman here present to be thy lawful wife?” knowing full well what the answer must be.  Short of other materials, the marriage contract was written with a goose quill on the parchment head of a drum.  Sir William found that Meg made him a very good wife in spite of her wide mouth, and they lived happily together, the moral being, we supposed, that it is not always the prettiest girl that makes the best wife.

Shortly afterwards we left the River Tweed for a time while we walked across the hills to Galashiels, and on our way to that town we came to a railway station near which were some large vineries.  A carriage was standing at the entrance to the gardens, where two gentlemen were buying some fine bunches of grapes which we could easily have disposed of, for we were getting rather hungry, but as they did not give us the chance, we walked on.  Galashiels was formerly only a village, the “shiels” meaning shelters for sheep, but it had risen to importance owing to its woollen factories.  It was now a burgh, boasting a coat-of-arms on which was represented a plum-tree with a fox on either side, and the motto, “Sour