Frequently, too, these robbers were in league with the keepers of low roadside public-houses, where passengers on their homeward way were encouraged—­nothing loth, as a rule—­to halt and refresh steed and rider, and possibly whilst they drank their pistols were tampered with.  Who does not remember the meeting of Harry Bertram and Dandie Dinmont in such a place?  And who has not read in the author’s notes to Guy Mannering, Sir Walter’s account of the visit to Mump’s Ha’ of Fighting Charlie of Liddesdale, and what befell him thereafter?  In spite of a head that the potations pressed on him by an over-kind landlady had caused to hum like an angry hive of bees, Charlie had sense enough, after he had travelled a few miles on his homeward way, to examine his pistols.  Finding that the charges had been drawn and tow substituted, Charlie, now considerably sobered, carefully reloaded them, a precaution which certainly saved his money, and possibly his life as well, for he was presently attacked by a party of armed men, who, however, fled on finding that “the tow was out.”

Mump’s Ha’ was in Cumberland, near Gilsland.  In olden days it was a place of most evil repute, but one may question if in ill name it could take precedence of a similar establishment which in the days of our great-grandfathers stood on Soutra Hill, on the Lauder road.  Travellers had need to give this place a wide berth, for it was a veritable den—­indeed “Lowrie’s Den” was the name by which it was known, and feared, by every respectable person.  Many a bloody, drunken fight took place there, many were the evil deeds done and the robberies committed; not even was murder unknown in its immediate vicinity.

Well for us that in our day we know of such places only by ancient repute.  When we talk regretfully of “the good old days,” we are apt to leave out of the reckoning those Mump’s Ha’s and Lowrie’s Dens of our forefathers’ times; we forget to add to the burden of a journey such items as indifferent roads and highway robbers, and the possibility of reaching one’s destination minus purse, watch, or rings.  From an encounter with highwaymen, few passengers emerged with flying colours, having had the best of the deal.  Not to many persons was such fortune given as fell to the lot of a country lass near Kelso one winter’s evening.  She had little enough to lose in the way of money or valuables, and it was “bogles,” more than the fear of footpads that disturbed her mind as she stumped along that muddy road in the gathering gloom.  Consequently, after one terrified shriek, it was almost a relief to her to find that the two figures which bounced out on her from the blackness, demanding her money, were flesh and blood like herself, and not denizens of another world.  Five or six shillings was all that the poor lass possessed, but they took that paltry sum.  Only, when she pled hard that they should leave her at least a trifle to take to her mother, who was very poor, one of the