They had not seen the lamp which lightens the soul, and leadeth it to knowledge; but having perceived its far-off reflection, plunged into the quagmire of error--and hence proceeded superstition. But I digress into a descant on the superstitions of our fathers, nor should I have done so, but that it is impossible to write a Border tale of the olden time without bringing them forward, and, when I do so, it is not with the intention of instilling into the minds of my readers the old idea of sorcery, witchcraft, and visible spirits, but of showing what was the belief and conduct of our forefathers. Therefore, without further comment, I shall cut short these remarks, and simply observe, that the thoughts of the young stranger still running upon Leyden, he turned to the elder, after they had sat together for some time, and said-- "Did you know Dr. Leyden, sir?" "Ken him!" said the old man; "fifty year ago, I've wrought day's wark beside his father for months together." They continued their conversation for some time, and the younger inquired of the elder if he were acquainted with Leyden's ballad of "Lord Soulis." "Why, I hae heard a verse or twa o' the ballad, sir," said the old man; "but I'm sure everybody kens the story. However, if ye're no perfectly acquaint wi' it, I'm sure I'm willing to let ye hear it wi' great pleasure; and a remarkable story it is--and just as true, sir, ye may tak my word on't, as that I'm raising this bottle to my lips." So saying, the old man raised the flask to his mouth, and, after a regular fisher's draught, added-- "Weel, sir, I'll let ye hear the story about Lord Soulis:--You have no doubt heard of Hermitage Castle, which stands upon the river of that name, at no great distance from Hawick. In the days of the great and good King Robert the Bruce, that castle was inhabited by Lord Soulis.[2] He was a man whose very name spread terror far and wide; for he was a tyrant and a sorcerer. He had a giant's strength, an evil eye,[3] and a demon's heart, and he kept his _familiar_[4] locked in a chest. Peer and peasant became pale at the name of Lord Soulis. His hand smote down the strong, his eye blasted the healthy; he oppressed the poor, and he robbed the rich. He ruled over his vassals with a rod of iron. From the banks of the Tweed, the Teviot, and the Jed, with their tributaries, to beyond the Lothians, an incessant cry was raised against him to heaven and to the king. But his life was protected by a charm, and mortal weapons could not prevail against him." [Footnote 2: He was also proprietor of Eccles, in Berwickshire, and, according to history, was seized in the town of Berwick; but tradition saith otherwise.] [Footnote 3: There is, perhaps, no superstition more widely diffused than the belief in the fascination of an evil eye, or a malignant glance; and, I am sorry to say, the absurdity has still its believers.]