Walter Scott of Wauchope was one of the most popular men in Liddesdale.
He it was who had, by his own exertions, raised the Light Company of
Roxburghshire Volunteers, a band of nearly a hundred men of fine
physique and first-rate horsemanship, whose bearing was the admiration
of everyone when the laird marched them into Hawick on that momentous
night in 1804 when "Boney" was supposed to have landed on Scottish
shores. Mr. Scott's services had not been forgotten. A captain's
commission in the 1st Regiment of Roxburgh Local Militia now belonged to
him, and he squared his shoulders with an air and gave the military
salute to those on the road with whom he exchanged greetings.
It was a morning for only peace and goodwill to be abroad, and the
laird rode on in cheerful frame, and put his horse to a canter along the
turf. But as he cantered, the good steed's ears suddenly went back, he
plunged, swerved, and answered his master's voice and heels by standing
stock-still, staring affrightedly at what at first, to his rider, seemed
a mere limp, inanimate bundle of old clothing lying half in, half out of
the ditch. In a moment the laird was standing beside the mysterious
heap, and found an old, white-haired man, grievously mishandled, with
blood on his face, blood dabbling the dead leaves in the ditch, blood on
the turf where the pure hoar-frost had lain.
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