of having merited any severe usage at the king’s hands.  On the contrary, he went to meet his sovereign at Carlingrigg Chapel, richly dressed, and having twenty-four gentlemen, his constant retinue, as well attired as himself.  The king, incensed to see a freebooter so gentlemanly equipped, commanded him instantly to be led to execution, saying, “What wants this knave save a crown to be as magnificent as a king?” John Armstrong made great offers for his life, offering to maintain himself, with forty men, to serve the king at a moment’s notice, at his own expense, engaging never to hurt or injure any Scottish subject, as indeed had never been his practice, and undertaking that there was not a man in England, of whatever degree, duke, earl, lord, or baron, but he would engage, within a short time, to present him to the king, dead or alive.  But when the king would listen to none of his oilers, the robber chief said very proudly, “I am but a fool to ask grace at a graceless face; but had I guessed you would have used me thus, I would have kept the Border-side in spite of the King of England and you, both, for I well know that the King Henry would give the weight of my best horse in gold to know that I am sentenced to die this day.”

John Armstrong was led to execution, with all his men, and hanged without mercy.  The people of the inland countries were glad to get rid of him; but on the Borders he was both missed and mourned, as a brave warrior, and a stout man-of-arms against England.

But to return to Gilnockie Bridge!  After crossing it we struggled on for another mile or two, and when about six miles from Langholm we reached another bridge where our road again crossed the river.  Here we stopped in mute despair, leaning against the battlements, and listening to the water in the river as it rushed under the bridge.  We must have been half asleep, when we were suddenly aroused by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching in the distance.  Whoever could it be?  I suggested one of the Border freebooters; but my brother, who could laugh when everybody else cried, said it sounded more like a free-clogger.  We listened again, and sure enough it was the clattering of a heavy pair of clogs on the partly frozen surface of the road.  We could not be mistaken, for we were too well accustomed to the sound of clogs in Lancashire; but who could be the wearer!  We had not long to wait before a man appeared, as much surprised to see us as we were to see him.  We told him of our long walk the day before, how we had been disappointed in not getting lodgings, and asked him how far we were away from an inn.  He told us we were quite near one, but it was no use going there, as “they wouldn’t get up for the Queen of England.”  He further told us he was going to the two o’clock “shift” at the colliery.  “Colliery!” my brother ejaculated; “but surely there isn’t a coal-pit in a pretty place like this?” He assured us that there was, and, seeing we were both shivering