The Bible which plays so prominent a part in the story is an old black-letter edition, printed by Robert Baker, A.D. 1634. It is covered with old calf-skin, and inclosed in a massive brass-bound box made out of one of the old beams of Spedlins Tower itself, which, needless to say, is most carefully preserved. The spirited ballad of "The Prisoner of Spedlins," by Robert Chambers, may here not inappropriately be included:-- To Edinburgh, to Edinburgh, The Jardine he maun ride; He locks the gates behind him, For lang he means to bide, And he, nor any of his train, While minding thus to flit, Thinks of the weary prisoner Deep in the castle pit. They were not gane a day, a day, A day but barely four, When neighbours spake of dismal cries Were heard from Spedlins Tower. They mingled wi' the sighs of trees And the thud-thud o' the linn; But nae ane thocht 'twas a deein' man That made that eldrich din. At last they mind the gipsy loon In dungeon lay unfed; But ere the castle key was got The gipsy loon was dead. They found the wretch stretch'd out at length Upon the cold, cold stone, With starting eyes and hollow cheek, And arms peeled to the bone. * * * * * Now Spedlins is an eerie house, For oft at mirk midnight The wail of Porteous' starving cry Fills a' that house wi' fright: "O let me out, O let me out, Sharp hunger cuts me sore; If ye suffer me to perish so, I'll haunt you evermore." O sad, sad was the Jardine then, His heart was sorely smit; Till he could wish himself had been Left in that deadly pit. But "Cheer up," cried his lady fair, "'Tis purpose makes the sin; And where the heart has had no part God holds his creature clean." Then Jardine sought a holy man To lay that vexing sprite; And for a week that holy man Was praying day and night. And all that time in Spedlins House Was held a solemn fast, Till the cries waxed low, and the boglebo In the deep red sea was cast. * * * * * There lies a Bible in Spedlins Ha', And while it there shall lie Nae Jardine can tormented be With Porteous' starving cry. But Applegarth's an altered man, He is no longer gay; The thought of Porteous clings to him Until his dying day.