EAR the frowning and rugged crags of Harbottle, in Northumberland, which impart a high degree of sublimity to the adjoining scenery, is the famous "Drake Stone," near the Loughs, which rivals the Bowder Stone in Westmoreland. It is customary with the young men in the neighbourhood to climb up this huge rock, from the top of which there is a fine prospect of the vale below, but it requires considerable dexterity and address to descend. The rustics here relate a story respecting the "Drake Stone" with great glee. On one fine summer evening, a few years ago, a stranger arrived at the village. He entered a public house, and having taken some refreshment, immediately departed. His intention was to ascend the Drake Stone, which he did with little difficulty, and after remaining for some time on the summit of the rock, enjoying the beautiful and extensive prospect, the deepening gloom warned him that it was time to depart, and he therefore set about descending the dangerous rock, but in vain. He looked at the yawning depth below and shuddered at the prospect of attempting to descend; further, the night was closing in, not a human being was in sight, and the poor traveller in an agony of fear was obliged to content himself with remaining on the cold rock with the starry heaven for a canopy. Wrapping himself up in his garments as well as he could, he laid him down to obtain, if possible, some repose. To sleep, however, was not in his power, the knowledge of his situation made him to lay awake, anxiously awaiting the break of day. Early on the following morn ing, the inhabitants on rising, were surprised to hear a human voice, "loud as the huntsman's shout," bawling lustily for assistance. Seeing his danger, they immediately proceeded to the stone, and by proper means and some exertion, he was safely extricated from his very perilous situation, where he had passed so sleepless a night. Harbottle is not only distinguished by one of the most perfect Saxon camps in the county, but it is also remarkable as being the birth place of Gen. Handyside, whose regiment is noticed by Uncle Toby in Tristram Shandy. Lines ON THE DEATH OF MR. JOHN CAMPBELL.* (FROM THE SELECTOR FOR NOVEMBER 8, 1828,) So I beheld the swelling sail Waft thee away to other scenes, With Fortune merging from her teens, Alas! to die, as smiles seemed ranged For death and darkness in the tomb Mr. John Campbell was the son of Mr. Henry Campbell, many years of Deanstreet, Newcastle, subsequently of London. He was a young man of a generous disposition, and a strong mind, with a decided turn for literary pursuits. He will long be remembered by a circle of friends, members of several private Debating Societies in that town, where the writer has often seen him display a degree of research, an acuteness of reasoning, and a power of oratory, that would have done honour to an older and more experienced head.-In 1821, he went to London, where he afterwards commenced business, and married. After a fortnight's illness, he died on the 25th of October, 1828, aged 28, leaving a wife and two children. To leave the friends thy faith had found- But life's a scene of blasted hopes That gives to love and joy the lie- But's darkened with "you're born to die!" The earliest victims of decay The brave, the good, the fair, the free, Farewell!-'tis not because thou'rt gone Who breathed their sighs above thy bier- The tribute of a faithful heart, And showed to those thou leavest behind, Newcastle-on-Tyne. WILLIAM BOAG. Brandling. OF THE FELLING, COUNTY OF DURHAM, AND OF GOSFORTH, COUNTY OF NORTHUMBERLAND. "Like as the brand doth flame and burn, So we from death to life should turn." An old rhyme, or motto of the Brandling family, whose crest is an Oak tree in flames-perhaps a border beacon--the name first occurring on the border, as burgesses of Berwick. Sharp's Bishoprick Garland. The Legend of the EATED on the summit of a grassy knoll in the immediate vicinity of the western frontier of the county of Northumberland, the hoary fragments of the old fortress of Blenkinsopp, grim, gaunt, rent, and tenantless, still exhibiting a semblance of the majesty and strength which characterized its existence for more than five hundred years. When we look back into the remote ages of antiquity, and contemplate the works of the mighty of old, we cannot help wondering how much more perishable man is than his works, for we have rejoicing in their length of days the massive weather-beaten walls, just as they were raised by the hands of Thomas de Blenkinsopp, whose body has long since mingled with the dust. * More than thirty years ago, there lived in two of the more habitable apartments, the hind of the estate, who occupied one as a sleeping place for part of his family. One night shortly after retiring to rest the parents were alarmed on hearing loud and reiterated screams, and hastily rushing into the adjoining apartment, found one of their children, a boy of about eight years of age, sitting trembling on his pillow, bathed in perspiration and writhing in extreme terror. "The White Lady, the White lady!"-screamed the child, holding his hands before his eyes, as if to shut out an apparition of some frightful object; "What lady," cried the astonished parents, looking around the room, which to all appearance was entirely untenanted, "there is no lady here." "She is gone," replied the boy "and she looked so angry at me because I would not go with her. She was a fine lady-and she sat down on my bedside-and wrung her hands • Until about 1820, there were some poor families who occupied a few of the rooms which the hand of time had spared, but these are now ruinous and deserted. and cried sore-then she kissed me and asked me to go with herand she would make me a rich man, as she had buried a large box of gold, many hundred year since, down in the vault-and she would give it me, as she could not rest so long as it was there. When I told her I durst not go-she said she would carry me-and was lifting me up when I cried out and frightened her away." A tale so singular, and, to all appearance, narrated with fidelity, filled the old people with fear and astonishment. That the place was haunted by a white lady, was currently reported, although since their entrance into this dreary abode they had been entirely undisturbed. Persuading themselves that the child had been dreaming, they succeeded in quieting and getting him to sleep. The three following nights they were disturbed in the same manner-the child repeating the same story with little variation, when, after a little consideration, they removed him and were no longer troubled with the spectre, yet such was the terror with which it inspired him, that he dared not enter into any part of the old castle alone, even in daylight. When he became a man, although a sensible person, he invariably persisted in the truth of his statement, and said that at forty years of age he could recal the scene so vividly as to make him shudder-as if still he felt her cold lips press his cheeks, and her wan arms in death-like embrace. He is still alive, and has become a settler in Canada. The belief that treasure lies buried there was not a little strengthened some years ago, by the arrival of a strange lady at the neighbouring village. She, it would appear, dreamt that a large chest of gold lay buried in the vault of this castle-and, although she had never seen it before, she instantly recognised it as the same she had seen in her dream. She staid several weeks awaiting the return of the owner of the property to ask leave to search. She had, meanwhile, made the hostess of the inn her confidant, with strict injunctions not to mention it to any one: but she, good soul, unable it seems to keep a secret, told it to every person in the village, accompanying it with the same caution she had received herself, "dinna ye be speaking o'nt." Whether from the circumstances of it having become public, or from other reasons unknown, the stranger left without accomplishing her purpose. B The Legend. RYAN DE BLENKINSOPP was gallant and brave: in a private feud-a border raid-or on the battle field-he was ever first and foremost. The mighty and the brave ranked him as VOL. III. • Or “ Bryan Blenship" as his name is provincially contracted. U |