O the broom has a chivalrous crest, And the daffodil's fair on the leas, And the soul of the Southron might rest, And be perfectly happy with these; But we that were nursed on the knees Of the hills of the North, we would fleet Where our hearts might their longing appease With the smell of bog-myrtle and peat!
ENVOY.
Ah! Constance, the land of our quest, It is far from the sounds of the street, Where the Kingdom of Galloway's blest With the smell of bog-myrtle and peat!
ANDREW LANG.
Deep Moat Grange, by S. R. Crockett
DEEP MOAT GRANGE
By
S. R. CROCKETT
CONTENTS
* CHAPTER I : THE EMPTY MAIL GIG
* CHAPTER II : POACHER DAVIE
* CHAPTER III : THE BAILIFF OF DEEP MOAT GRANGE
* CHAPTER IV : THE GOLDEN FARMER
* CHAPTER V : WE MEET DAFT JEREMY
* CHAPTER VI : THICKER THAN WATER
* CHAP
