A PRICELESS RING
Henry Erskine was a minister in Chirnside an in 1674 hae had the great fortune tae marry his second wife, a certain Margaret Halcrow who originated frae Orkney.
As a token o his great love for her an tae mark their union in holy matrimony, hae presented tae her on the altar the maist magnificent five-diamond cluster wedding ring. It had set him back a fair bit, but it had been worth it in her knowing o his great love for her. Indeed it was tae become her maist prized possession.
However, only a few short months intae the marriage, the young wife o the manse suddenly died.
Only now, having had such a wealth o love snatched away frae him, could Henry Erskine contemplate the full extent o what had been taken frae him. A number o pressing debts came tae light, which in the glow o love may not have shown themselves for several months when a means tae pay them would have been mair apparent. It had been an expensive time for Henry, what with the wedding an his inability tae stick tae his normally frugal ways as hae flamboyantly expressed his love for his dear Margaret. That, along with the inevitable funeral expenses, signified a future o destitution. During this time the comfort o sleep was never able tae seek him oot.
It may have occurred tae him at this derk, derk time that hae had the means o his rectification within his ain grasp, should hae be o a mind. His dearly beloved Margaret’s ring would go a long way tae the settling o aw the ootstanding accounts. Instead, though, when hae remembered the ring, hae found that hae couldnae number the diamond ring amongst his worldly goods. As a symbol o his love the ring had been freely given, an could not so easily be claimed back for the guid o himself. So instead hae wrote oot an instruction tae the undertaker John Carr that Margaret should be buried with her ring. Hae then placed the ring an the note in an envelope for delivery in the morning. Perhaps now Henry would be granted some small portion o sleep.
The next morning, on the day o the funeral, as the undertaker replaced the ring on the wedding finger o the minister’s wife, hae couldnae help thinking that a ring o that size, encrusted as it was with five impressive diamonds would have been worth a fair amount. In coming tae this conclusion, John Carr set his mind tae how hae might acquire this ring for himself, withoot anyone being any the wiser.
After the sorrowful service had been concluded, John Carr said tae the Reverend Erskine that in his considered opinion it was too late in the day tae fill in the grave an besides it was too wet. In something o a dream, Henry took the advice an trusted in the undertaker.
John Carr, o course, returned tae the graveyard that night. However, hae found tae his consternation that hae was unable tae slip the ring frae Margaret’s finger, because her finger had swollen somewhat. So in desperation hae began cutting at her finger with his penknife. Tae his horror Margaret sat upright an screamed like a banshee.
Meanwhile, back at the manse, the minister, inconsolable with grief, sat glowering oot the window, hardly able tae take in any shape or reflection beyond his ain derk thoughts. But then hae thought hae saw what hae maist wanted tae see. Hae could hardly believe his eyes, but then again perhaps it was a grisly ghost come tae unnerve him even further frae where hae already was. His eyes were telling him that hae was seeing Margaret, dressed in her shroud, approaching the front door o the manse. At the same time she was waving up tae him, ‘Let me in, let me in, I’m fair clemmed wi the cauld.’
She had been in some sort o coma an they reckoned that the flow o blood had somehow revived her. Frae that night on she lived a long ad happy life, giving the flummoxed but delighted minister twae braw sons. As for the debts, after confessing his worries tae Margaret, they found that they were resouceful enough tae deal with them. After aw, it is said that John Carr took not a penny for the funeral.
Henry Erskine died in 1696, while Margaret passed away in 1716 an was buried at Scotland Well, Stirlingshire.
THE ANGEL DOCTOR
Away back in the 1930s there was a Traveller couple cawed Jocky an Martha Stewart. They’d gone away doon the Sooth o England tae pick apples at harvest time, as they’d often done ower the years. This time was different, however, as Martha was pregnant with their first bairn. By now it was November time an they were determined that the bairn would be born in Scotland. So even though the weather was miserable an cauld they got a hold o a horse an a float tae take them hame tae Scotland. They didnae have money for a car or even a train ticket.
As they travelled north the weather got worse an worse, until by the time they got intae Cumberland in the North o England the snow was driving intae their faces. Martha was now nine-months pregnant an the labour pains had started. Though she didnae say much she was gey feart, because being her first bairn she didnae really ken what was happening tae her, or what she should be doing for the best. By now the snow lay thick on the ground, an flakes were still coming doon thick an fast. As the snow was coming frae the north it kept flying intae their faces, making it very hard at times for them tae see where they were going. None the less they didnae go too far wrong.
When they finally crossed the border, Martha couldnae have said, but her man assured her that they definitely had, an they only needed tae find a warm place tae rest an shelter. It was a remote area, made aw the mair desolate the way the snow covered much o the fields an hills an fogged ower the woodland up aheid with the rate that it was coming doon at.
Finally, squinting through the flakes, they made oot a faint light through the trees. Jocky geed the horse along the single track towards the light as if their lives depended on it. On arriving at the gate, hae unhitched the horse frae the float, led it intae the barn tae see tae its feed, before quickly returning tae go an knock at the door.
As there was nae reply hae opened the door an discovered that there was nae one in, an yet there were tilley lamps blazing, a big fire roaring in the fireplace, an a big pan o soup simmering on the cooker. Hae rushed back oot an lifted his wife intae the cottage an put her tae bed. Despite Martha’s discomfort she couldnae help noticing that the bed was still warm, which was peculiar as there was nae one in the cottage. However, the couple had greater concerns. Just then her waters broke. It became obvious that the bairn was due very soon, an so it was agreed that Jocky would away an fetch someone tae help wi the birth.
After Jocky was away, very strong labour pains came on her, an Martha felt gey terrified aboot being on her ain in a strange cottage. It was aboot half an hour later when Martha heard the sneck lift on the front door, an in walked this tall lean fella with a long white coat an a leather bag, ‘Is that you, doctor?’ Martha gasped.
‘Aye, it is.’
‘Aw, thank God that ye’ve come.’
Right away hae put some water on tae boil so that hae could make everything spotlessly clean an hae duly tended tae her with great care an tenderness. After hae delivered the bairn hae said tae Martha, ‘Now this is a very special time when I cut the cord atween ye an yer bairn.’
After hae was finished an had gently handed the bairn ower tae Martha, she said, ‘Oh, ye’re an angel doctor so ye are.’ Hae smiled, fair pleased that she had cawed him an angel doctor.
When hae’d seen tae it that she was comfortable an at peace, with her bairn in her arms, the doctor took his leave o the new mother an her bairn.
A wee while after, Martha’s man came back with a whole dose o folk behind him. ‘It’s aw right Jock, I’m fine, I had the angel doctor tend tae me. Hae was that caring an canny wi me I’ve decided tae caw ma laddie John after him.’
‘That was nae doctor, hae only thinks hae’s a doctor. Hae’s starnhorn mad. Hae’s just escaped frae the asylum at Carstairs.’
‘But, hae’s an angel doctor …’ Martha would have none o it, but on searching the hoose, yin o the men discovered that the auld woman, who’s hoose it was, was lying under the bed with her thrapple cut.
However, the young mother had seen the man as an angel doctor, an in doing so had somehow brought the guid side oot o a man who was better kent as a brutal murde
rer.
Yince the weather settled doon a bit, Jocky an Martha Stewart an the bairn travelled onwards tae Auld Reekie (Edinburgh). They settled there for a while an registered their newborn as John Angel Stewart. Thereafter the laddie was always kent as Johnnie Angel.
THE JETHART FIDDLER
In the year 1928, at the time o Whitsun, Tom Hughes went tae Kelso tae the hiring fair, where they took on farm workers. It was a derk, dreich day. Hae was walking along Bridge Street when hae came across a Traveller fella walking slowly in front o him playing a tune on his fiddle. Tom was immediately captivated by the melody frae the tall fiddler, an decided tae follow along behind until hae had learnt the tune. Weel hae picked the melody up quick enough, hae had it in his heid before the fiddler had got as far as the bridge, an so hae aboot turned an heided back towards the market place.
Now Tom always regretted not stopping the beggar fiddler an giving him a wee bit o siller, particularly when hae read in the Jethart Gazzette the following week that the fiddler’s body had been found doon at Berwick. Hae’d thrown himself ower Kelso Bridge that very day, an his body had been swept away doon the Tweed, aw the way tae Berwick. They kent it was him because, in a deep inside pocket in his long owercoat, they found a fiddle. His name was John Harvey an hae didnae have three ha’pennies tae his name. Tom Hughes decided tae caw the tune that hae’d pick up frae the traveller fiddler, ‘Kelso Hiring Fair’.
Tom Hughes’ grandson, Jimmy Nagle, became a grand fiddler himself, an went on tae form a band in his young days. The band was cawed Fiddler’s Leap, after this incident.
THE MINISTER’S DOG
There’s a wee village cawed Minto somewhere atween Jethart an Hawick. Now yince there was a minister that lived in the manse an hae employed a gardener who acted as a sort o handyman. This gardener fella was always on the make, anything for a pickle o extra siller for his pocket.
Weel yin morning when they were at their breakfast, hae was telling the minister that there was a fella in Hawick that could teach dogs how tae talk. Now the minister didnae pay an awfie lot o attention, but as the forenoon wore on hae found that hae couldnae get the ootlandish notion oot o his heid. So when they were sitting doon together for their dinner the minister brought up the subject. ‘An dae ye think that fella ye’re talkin aboot could teach ma dog?’
‘Weel, they say hae’s never had a failure yit.’
‘When will ye be in Hawick nixt?’
‘I was thinkin aboot gaun in later this afternoon.’
‘An would ye take the dog tae see this fella ye’re on aboot?’
‘Aye, aye, nae bother.’
‘How much does hae take?’
‘A fiver, just a fiver.’
‘An ye’ll bring the dog back the night?’
‘Aye, that I will.’
So the minister gave the gardener five pounds tae take his dog intae Hawick that afternoon. The minister was on tenterhooks as hae waited for the gardener tae come hame. But when the gardener came back that night the minister was fair vexed tae see that there was nae dog with him. O course the gardener had drunk the money.
‘I had tae leave him wi the man cos there was such a muckle queue, but I’ll get him the next time I’m in.’
A couple o days later, the gardener was due tae go back intae Hawick, so the minister told him tae make sure hae brought the dog back with him.
‘Aw aye, dinnae fash yersel, I’ll bring him back the night wi me.’
But that night the gardener again came back empty handed.
‘Weel minister, the man hadnae finished wi him.’
‘There’s nothing the matter wi him is there?’
‘Naw, naw, nothing like that. It’s just it’s a bigger job than hae reckoned it wud be. You bein the educated man that ye are, the dog needs a whole lot mair words than maist folk would use, so that the twae o ye can speak together as equals.’
‘Fair enough, but hae can teach him?’
‘Aw aye, but like I say, it’ll be aw thae muckle fantoosh words hae’ll be learning that’s takin the time.’
‘Aye, aye, I see what ye mean.’
‘An the man will be needin anther fiver, what wi the extra work involved.’
‘Aye sure, but ye will bring the dog back when ye’re next in Hawick?’
‘Sure I will.’
Weel, a couple o days after, on the Saturday, the gardener set off again for Hawick. That night the minister was gey vexed tae see the gardener coming hame again withoot the dog.
‘What happent? Did hae teach the dog how tae talk?’
‘Aw aye hae learnt him how tae talk awright, an I was bringing him away wi me, an we were having the grandest blether, talkin aboot everything ye can imagine, what a grand wee speaker. So we were just walkin along when hae started going on aboot how ye’re carrying on wi the servant lassie. Weel, I never let on, but a wee while efter, when we were comin doon on tae Horn’s Hole Bridge, I took a tight grip o the lead, an quick as anythin chucked him ower the side an held the lead there, till it stopped shooglin. Then I just let the lead drop intae the water. Did I dae the right thing minister?’
‘Aw aye, ye did that, an here, there’s an extra five pound tae yerself, for yer trouble.’
Now, ye might think that that’s just a load o taradiddle, but Jim Tait, ma auld technical drawing teacher, the fella that told me this story, assured me that there is a dog carved on the side o Horn’s Hole Bridge, which is just past Denholm on the road tae Hawick, immediately after the caravan park.
GLOSSARY
AIN……………
own
AINSEL, OR AIN SEL……………
own self
AULD……………
old
AW……………
all
AWFIE……………
awful
BAHOOKIE……………
backside
BELTANE……………
Gaelic May Day festival
BIELD……………
shelter
BIRL……………
turn, spin
BOGLIE……………
ghostly
BOWFIN……………
stinking
BRAE……………
hill
BRAW……………
comely, pleasant, excellent
BROON……………
brown
BURN……………
a small stream
CANNY……………
gentle
CAULD……………
cold
CAW……………
call
CHANCIE……………
dangerous
CHITTER……………
shiver
CLAES……………
clothes
CLAG……………
clog, as in block
CLASHED……………
thrown out or down in a dismissive way
CLEEK……………
attach, hook, capture
CLEUCH……………
a narrow gorge or ravine
CLOOT……………
cloth
COO……………
cow
COVEN……………
gathering of witches
DANDER……………
wander
DEEK……………
look
DEID……………
dead
DERK……………
dark
DONNERT……………
stupid
DOONPOOR……………
downpour
DOOT……………
doubt, regret
DREICH……………
dingy, drab
DROOKIT……………
soaked, saturated
DROON……………
drown
DROOTH……………
thirst
DUMFOONDERE
D……………
dumfounded, astonished
DUNT……………
thump
DWINE……………
decline in health, drain away
FAMILIAR……………
a demon, often animal-shaped, believed to serve witches or magicians
FANKLED……………
perturbed, panicked
FANTOOSH……………
fancy, often over-elaborate
FASH……………
trouble, worry
FAW……………
fall
FEART……………
frightened
FETTLE……………
mood
FOONDER……………
founder
FRAE……………
from
GABERLUNZIE……………
beggar minstrel man
GALLUS……………
brazen
GEY……………
very
GIE……………
give
GLIFF……………
fright
GLOAMING……………
twilight, early night
GLOWERED……………
glared
GREET……………
cry
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 17
