Marjory that in consequence of his master's pantry not being over fully stored, he was but sparingly supplied with food. Like many mothers, she was on this point very sensitive, and conceiving the tidings to be true, she speedily adopted the resolution of sending over her husband to bring home the boy. She told him twice over what he had to do, that no mistake might occur, and the old man departed on his errand. On arriving at Elishaw, he soon met with Jack-brisk as a bee-following his cows-plaiting a rush cap, and lilting like a lintwhite the old Border ditty "Wha' daur meddle wi’ me?" After listening to his father's message, he contradicted the report, said he got a sufficiency of food, was well treated, and would on no account go home till the term, for which he engaged, was expired. Moss, however, was not so scrupulous-he fawned on his old master, "as glad to see him," and very readily accompanied him back to the Rocking Tower.

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'Weel, where has tu John?" enquired Marjory as her husband entered the house.

"O, he says he gets plenty o' meat," replied Nimmo, "an' winna come hame, for a' I can eyther dey or say."

"Then thou's gettin thy labour for thy pains," said the dame in a bantering mood," thou's gane a' the way to 'Lisha' an' back, an' no a hair the better-"

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Nay, gudewife, no just sae bad as that eyther," interposed Nimmo, looking at Marjory and directing her eye to the dog.

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“O, thou's brought hame Moss,-has thou?" she observed, darting a still more displeased glance at her husband; "an' thou's left the callant by his ain sel'? Should the sticking bull o' the Stobbs come down amang the kye, an' they gang a' wrang, an' he hae nae dog to hound them wi', he may rin, puir thing, till he burst his vera heart! Dye, thou's o' nae use kind;—an' naebody 'ill miss thou, if thou'll just get a rape an' hang thysel' at yence. Mercy me! was ever woman like mysel' i' this world pestered wi' sic a sackless, dozen'd creature as thou?

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Wey, gudewife, sae nae mair about it," replied Nimmo in an unmoved tone, for practice had perfected his forbearance. “I did the thing for the best; but I'll tak' back the dog to the callant again, to please ye. Only, when I was at 'Lisha', kenin' that Moss was our ain as weel as Jack, I brought the puir tyke away, thinking it better to save ane than lose twa!!"

Where intellect is wanting, the defect cannot possibly be supplied by other means, and Nimmo's imbecility was observable in almost every act he performed. On slaughtering a sheep, he first of all

cut off the shanks, and afterwards bled the animal to death. Jack had, on an evening, witnessed a cruel exhibition of this kind, and meeting, on the following day, with a neighbouring shepherd, an acquaintance of his, he, in the spirit of communicativeness, related to him the leading points of the whole transaction. "We killed a ewe last night," said he, “an' dye, she was a rook! she ran out o' the house after feyther had the spaulds cut off her!!”

These anecdotes, trifling in themselves, will to many appear unworthy of notice; yet, to those acquainted with the localities of Redesdale, they may at least possess some degree of interest. The remains of the Rocking Tower are now level with the surrounding soil; and it is not without some impressions of a melancholy nature that the transcriber observes, such scanty memoranda are, he believes, all that tradition has recorded of several generations, to whom, formerly, the spot was a residence and a home.-R. White's MSS.

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Pandon Dean.

FROM NEWCASTLE WEEKLY MAGAZINE," MDCCLXXVII.

W

HEN cooling Zephyrs wanton play,
Then oft in Pandon Dean I stray;
When sore depress'd with grief and woe,

Then from a busy world I go;

My mind is calm, my soul serene,
Beneath the Bank in Pandon Dean.
The feather'd race around me sing,
They make the hills and vallies ring;
My sorrow flies, my grief is gone,
I warble with the tuneful throng;
All, all things wear a pleasing mien,
Beneath the Bank in Pandon Dean.

At Distance stands an ancient tower;
Which ruin threatens every hour;
I'm struck with rev'rence at the sight,
I pause and gaze with fond delight;
The antique walls do join the scene,
And make more lovely Pandon Dean.

Above me stand the tow'ring trees,
And here I feel the gentle breeze;
The water flows by chance around,
And green enamels all the ground;
Which gives new splendour to the scene
And adds a grace to Pandon Dean.
But when I mount the rising hill,
And there survey the purling rill;
My eye delighted-but I mourn
To think of winter's quick return,
With with'ring winds, and frost so keen:
I sighing leave the Pandon Dean.

O spare for once a female pen,
And lash licentious wicked men;
Your conscious cheek need never glow,
If you your talents thus bestow :
Scarce fifteen summers have I seen,
Yet dare to sing of Pandon Dean.

Rosalinda.

THE MUTINEER PARDONED.

A Royalist Tradition.

BOUT the year 1642, when his majesty Charles the first, and the parliament were adopting measures in opposition to each other, Sir John Fenwick of Wallington, aided by his friend Thomas Loraine, Esq. of Kirkharle, and other gentlemen, adherents to the royal cause, raised in Newcastle, it is said, a regiment in defence of the King. The tide of popular feeling, however, set strongly in favour of the parliament, and sir John, who was colonel, experienced great difficulty in maintaining regular subordination amongst his men. In all probability the remuneration allowed them would be trifling, and amongst other causes of dissatisfaction this seems to have been the ostensible one; for a state of mutiny was the consequence, and one of the restless spirits, who had been most active in the matter, was brought before a court martial, and sentenced to death. Some days however elapsed before this could be carried into execution, and the

culprit, a young man, and allied to a respectable family, was strongly recommended to mercy.

In the mean time, Sir John Fenwick, both for his own credit and that of his regiment, felt desirous to investigate the matter, and, if possible, discover how far the soldiers had reason to complain. He suspected that a considerable portion of their money was spent by them in taverns and ale houses; and communicating his ideas to Mr. Loraine, it was resolved that they should forthwith adopt measures to ascertain the fact. Having effectually disguised their persons, they sallied forth under shadow of night, to observe whether or not, in these places of resort, the men were accustomed to spend their weekly allowance.

On they went from house to house, without meeting with any of the men, until at last, entering a small tavern near the Nun's-gate, they encountered corporal Steel, an old soldier, who was partially known to them, seated at a table with a tankard of ale before him. They sat down near him, and called for a pot themselves; but before it was brought, the old corporal very generously placed his own before them, begging that they would pledge him therein. They complied, and when their full pot was produced, it of course, was presented to the corporal, with a request that he would favour them with a toast; and he, his eye glistening with delight over the foaming beverage, gave May our soldiers ever preserve in their noddles due obedience to their colonel; and may he resolve in his noddle to increase their pay!" This was drunk with acclamation,-another pot was emptied,—and when it came to the corporal to provide for a second round, he excused himself, alleging that he had not the means to procure more. On being asked if he had nothing he could pledge with the hostess until he received his pay; he replied that his sword a Ferara, with which he boasted of having performed many surprising feats, was the only thing he possessed that could be appropriated to such a purpose; but that having to appear on parade, on the morrow (the day appointed for putting the mutineer to death), he could not possibly dispense with it. By persuasion, however, he was at last induced to substitute a smooth lath, which was immediately procured; the blade was delivered to the hostess, the ale produced,-another and another tankard were emptied,—and the party seperated.

Next day, when the whole brigade was drawn up, on the town moor, to witness the death of the criminal, Sir John Fenwick stated to the adjutant that, understanding a corporal Steel in the regiment had been, when engaged in several battles, uncommonly dextrous in hewing off the heads of the enemy, he intended his skill should be proven once more, and that he should behead the mutineer. To all

appearance every thing was arranged for this tragical scene. The corporal was ordered to the front, his instructions were given him,— and he begged hard to be excused, saying he had no heart to execute such an act on one of his poor comrades.

"It must be done" cried the commandant firmly. your duty, sir, without another murmur."

"Perform

"Will your honour," said the rueful corporal, "first allow me to say my prayers?"

"To them instantly then," said the colonel, and turning to Mr. Loraine, a suppressed smile passed between them. The corporal fell on his knees, and with much apparent sincerity and fervour, and in a loud voice prayed that if the act he was commanded to perform should be inconsistent with justice, it might be rendered apparent to all, by the immediate transformation of his weapon into wood. The corporal rose up-drew what was supposed to be his sword, and behold, the change had been effected! "A miracle! a miracle! the man must be pardoned" shouted the multitude. "Be it so " laughingly cried Sir John "and may all our noddles remain where they are, and serve us as well in time of need, as corporal Steel's has served the criminal!"

This saying, it is alleged, conferred the term "NODDLES,” or “NOODLES” on Sir John Fenwick's regiment; and thus, in all probability, its application may be accounted for, at a much later period.Communicated by A. Fenwick.

Enscription on a Tombstone.

IN THE CHURCHYARD AT HALTWHISTLE, NORTHUMBERLAND.

From Bell's "Rhymes of Northern Bards."

I

HON REDLE that som tim did be,
The laird of the Waltoun;

Gon is he out of thes vale of misery,

His bons lies under this ston.
We must beleve be God's mersy,

Into thes world gave hes son;
Then for to redem al christens,
So Christ haes hes soul woon.