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Updated: May 24, 2025
Jean Dalziel came to visit us a week ago, and has put new life into our little circle. I suppose it was playing 'Sir Patrick Spens' that set us thinking about it, for one warm, idle day when we were all in the Glen we began a series of ballad-revels, in which each of us assumed a favourite character. The choice induced so much argument and disagreement that Mr.
"I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the old moon in her arm: And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'd come to harm." The voice died away as it travelled down the space of the long room. Presently it came nearer; the verses were still going on "Oh, lang, lang may the ladies sit, With their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand.
"She judges by instinct, and so do I. Instinct told her to dislike Mr. Spens' back as he sat in his gig, and so do I dislike it. I hate those round fat backs and short necks like his, and I hate of all things that little self-satisfied air." "Oh, you may hate in that kind of way if you like," said the squire. "Hatred from a little midget like you is very different from Frances's sober prejudice.
'O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the King's right knee: "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea." "Now I'll write my letter," said the king, who was endeavouring to make himself comfortable in his somewhat contracted tower. 'The King has written a braid letter And sealed it with his hand; And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand.
Upon this low shore line, which lies blinking in the midday sun, the waves of history have beaten for two centuries and a half, and romance has had time to grow there. Out of any of these coves might have sailed Sir Patrick Spens "to Noroway, to Noroway," "They hadna sailed upon the sea A day but barely three, Till loud and boisterous grew the wind, And gurly grew the sea."
A second body of fifty men were overpowered in the same way, after a creditable defence. Fifteen of the British were killed and thirty wounded, while Bridgford the commander was also taken. Spens came up shortly afterwards with the column, and the Boers were driven off.
We have no means to live on; your mother's money has long vanished it was lost in that silver mine in Peru. And the greater part of the six thousand pounds lent by Spens has one way or another pretty nearly shared the same fate. I've been a very unlucky man, Frances, and if your mother were here, she'd pity me. I've had no one to sympathize with me since her death."
The sale will take place early in October." Frances had been sitting. She now rose to her feet. "And there is really no way out of it?" she said, lingering for a moment. "None; unless your father can refund the six thousand pounds." "He told me, Mr. Spens, that if the Firs is sold he will certainly die. He is an old man, and feeble now.
Edward's Coll., Ware, and wrote various treatises on controversial theology. Poetess, dau. of Sir Charles Halkett of Pitfirrane, and wife of Sir Henry Wardlaw of Pitreavie, is believed to have written the pseudo-ancient ballad of "Hardyknute." The ballad of "Sir Patrick Spens" and others have also, but doubtfully, been attributed to her.
From then until the end of the year 1901, numbers of smaller captures continued to be reported from the same region, where Plumer, Spens, Mackenzie, Rawlinson, and others were working.
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