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entering one of their churches； to see a gauntlet or mail…glove hanging
above the altar。 Upon inquiring； the meaning of a symbol so indecorous
being displayed in that sacred place； he was informed by the clerk that the
glove was that of a famous swordsman； who hung it there as an emblem of
a general challenge and gage of battle to any who should dare to take the
fatal token down。 〃Reach it to me；〃 said the reverend churchman。 The
clerk and the sexton equally declined the perilous office； and the good
Bernard Gilpin was obliged to remove the glove with his own hands；
desiring those who were present to inform the champion that he； and no
other； had possessed himself of the gage of defiance。 But the champion
was as much ashamed to face Bernard Gilpin as the officials of the church
had been to displace his pledge of combat。
The date of the following story is about the latter years of Queen
Elizabeth's reign； and the events took place in Liddesdale； a hilly and
pastoral district of Roxburghshire； which； on a part of its boundary； is
divided from England only by a small river。
During the good old times of RUGGING AND RIVINGthat is；
tugging and tearingunder which term the disorderly doings of the warlike
age are affectionately remembered； this valley was principally cultivated
by the sept or clan of the Armstrongs。 The chief of this warlike race was
the Laird of Mangerton。 At the period of which I speak； the estate of
Mangerton； with the power and dignity of chief； was possessed by John
Armstrong； a man of great size； strength； and courage。 While his father
was alive； he was distinguished from others of his clan who bore the same
name； by the epithet of the LAIRD'S JOCKthat is to say； the Laird's son
Jock； or Jack。 This name he distinguished by so many bold and
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desperate achievements； that he retained it even after his father's death；
and is mentioned under it both in authentic records and in tradition。
Some of his feats are recorded in the minstrelsy of the Scottish Border；
and others are mentioned in contemporary chronicles。
At the species of singular combat which we have described the Laird's
Jock was unrivalled； and no champion of Cumberland； Westmoreland； or
Northumberland could endure the sway of the huge two…handed sword
which he wielded； and which few others could even lift。 This 〃awful
sword；〃 as the common people term it； was as dear to him as Durindana or
Fushberta to their respective masters； and was nearly as formidable to his
enemies as those renowned falchions proved to the foes of Christendom。
The weapon had been bequeathed to him by a celebrated English outlaw
named Hobbie Noble； who； having committed some deed for which he
was in danger from justice； fled to Liddesdale； and became a follower； or
rather a brother…in…arms； to the renowned Laird's Jock； till； venturing into
England with a small escort； a faithless guide； and with a light single…
handed sword instead of his ponderous brand； Hobbie Noble； attacked by
superior numbers； was made prisoner and executed。
With this weapon； and by means of his own strength and address； the
Laird's Jock maintained the reputation of the best swordsman on the
Border side； and defeated or slew many who ventured to dispute with him
the formidable title。
But years pass on with the strong and the brave as with the feeble and
the timid。 In process of time the Laird's Jock grew incapable of wielding
his weapons； and finally of all active exertion； even of the most ordinary
kind。 The disabled champion became at length totally bedridden； and
entirely dependent for his comfort on the pious duties of an only daughter；
his perpetual attendant and companion。
Besides this dutiful child； the Laird's Jock had an only son； upon
whom devolved the perilous task of leading the clan to battle； and
maintaining the warlike renown of his native country； which was now
disputed by the English upon many occasions。 The young Armstrong
was active； brave； and strong； and brought home from dangerous
adventures many tokens of decided success。 Still； the ancient chief
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conceived； as it would seem； that his son was scarce yet entitled by age
and experience to be entrusted with the two…handed sword； by the use of
which he had himself been so dreadfully distinguished。
At length an English champion； one of the name of Foster （if I rightly
recollect）； had the audacity to send a challenge to the best swordsman in
Liddesdale； and young Armstrong； burning for chivalrous distinction；
accepted the challenge。
The heart of the disabled old man swelled with joy when he heard that
the challenge was passed and accepted； and the meeting fixed at a neutral
spot； used as the place of rencontre upon such occasions； and which he
himself had distinguished by numerous victories。 He exulted so much in
the conquest which he anticipated； that； to nerve his son to still bolder
exertions； he conferred upon him； as champion of his clan and province；
the celebrated weapon which he had hitherto retained in his own custody。
This was not all。 When the day of combat arrived； the Laird's Jock；
in spite of his daughter's affectionate remonstrances； determined； though
he had not left his bed for two years； to be a personal witness of the duel。
His will was still a law to his people； who bore him on their shoulders；
wrapped in plaids and blankets； to the spot where the combat was to take
place； and seated him on a fragment of rock； which is still called the
Laird's Jock's stone。 There he remained with eyes fixed on the lists or
barrier； within which the champions were about to meet。 His daughter；
having done all she could for his accommodation； stood motionless beside
him； divided between anxiety for his health； and for the event of the
combat to her beloved brother。 Ere yet the fight began； the old men gazed
on their chief； now seen for the first time after several years； and sadly
compared his altered features and wasted frame with the paragon of
strength and manly beauty which they once remembered。 The young
men gazed on his large form and powerful make as upon some
antediluvian giant who had survived the destruction of the Flood。
But the sound of the trumpets on both sides recalled the attention of
every one to the lists； surrounded as they were by numbers of both nations
eager to witness the event of the day。 The combatants met in the lists。 It
is needless to describe the struggle： the Scottish champion fell。 Foster；
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placing his foot on his antagonist； seized on the redoubted sword； so
precious in the eyes of its aged owner； and brandished it over his head as a
trophy of his conquest。 The English shouted in triumph。 But the
despairing cry of the aged champion； who saw his country dishonoured；
and his sword； long the terror of their race； in the possession of an
Englishman； was heard high above the acclamations of victory。 He
seemed for an instant animated by all his wonted power； for he started
from the rock on which he sat； and while the garments with which he had
been invested fell from his wasted frame； and showed the ruins of his
strength； he tossed his arms wildly to heaven； and uttered a cry of
indignation； horror； and despair； which； tradition says； was heard to a
preternatural distance