GRETNA GREEN.

Taranaki Daily News, 4 July 1925, Page 17

GRETNA GREEN.

SCENE OF ROMANCES. JEAN SCOTT AND JOHN EDGAR, AN ESCAPE BY BOAT. Not all the desperate couples who “flew” to Gretna —what would they not have given for aeroplanes in those days! —were of distinguished or even recognized families. For the capacity for kicking over the parental traces was inherent in all and sundry; and only by the outcome of the elopement is it possible, for philosophic purposes, to discriminate.

There were those, for example, whose flight was a “walkover” with no more, adventure in it than in the more or. less recent Gretna wedding of Air. Tom Hearne (the “lazy juggler”) and Miss Nellie Wheelef, of which, parenthet-' ically, the artless, artiste stated to the’ Press that “in order to keep the thing quiet, we resolved to make a dash for Gretna.” Then there were the elopements which were intercepted and which history has disdained to record; and those, finally, which—but the best example of these last is the Cumberland farmer’s daughter and the yeoman lover whom her father considered beneath his daughter’s notice; and we may classify it when the story is done. Having no douibt whatever that her father was egregiously mistaken in resisting her choice of a husband, Miss Jean even in those days, would knowingly have faced an elopement in the peculiar form which hers was destined to take. Jean Scott was reputed the “winsoriiest wench” in all Cumberland. And John Edgar was blinded by his dazzling prospects; or even he might have cooled in his heart and reverted to a long view of things before their adventure had run the half of its course. “I SHAUL BE THERE!” It is a hundred and fifty years ago that maidens like Jean were carried away in the flesh and in the spirit. The spirit was so willing that they would avow (with a resolution that must have been dear to the eighteenth century lover) “I shall be there!” And it may be that with the spirit thus already gone into Cupid's keeping, the carrying away of a slender little body seemed the daintiest, the dearest, but, above all, the merest detail of the whole impassioned enterprise. “I held her hand, and ‘To'-night at ten I’ I whispered, with lips in her golden hair; And I whispered it over and over again, For love of her answering ‘I shall be there!’ ”

If Ogilvie didn’t mean his verse for Jean Scott and John Edgar, it is not less appropriate for that reason. But Jean and John were cut off, on the main road out of Cumberland. Old man Scott, his friends and all his hinds — a regular cohort of head-hunters—had gained upon the runaways by a clever flanking movement; and the furious farmer hadn’t a doubt that he would intercept them where he and his party were posted. But for the merest fluke he must have done so. Jean, however, with her everyday senses sharpened by the instinct of self-preservation, had seen a glimmer of light two miles ahead,..as it proved. ■'Look!” she said affrightedly, and turned suddenly pale as she clutched at John’s right arm. It was nothing, he. told her ; and was about to embrace her for re-assurance, when a second light flickered , in the same place, and then of a third; as if between swaying houghs of a tree. They stopped, scarce daring, even at that, safe distance, to breathe; and quietly as they knew how, they dismounted and walked, their horses into a spinney in a nearby field. At. least, they argued, the party, who would expect to hear horses’ hoofs at a gallop, should be unaccommodated in that particular. And now there was no-end of lights. Some one was searching the little woods at the cross-roads ahead of them. And Why? For what, “or for whom ? Jean seemed so certain that the party was her father’s. John hated to think it .possible, and with ah aching heart, watched Jean grow paler still with apprehension. She didn’t know it; for the last thought in her mind was surrender; but the effect of her strangely white face and quivering body upon John as, standing by their horses, he held her close in his arms —trying, harder and harder, to think what to do —was that of a nervous sentry on an outpost reporting trouble out of shadows.

“Look!” was all she could manage to repeat. John looked, though he wanted only to' think, and saw—this time—a curious shuffling figure coming towards the spot at which they had dismounted. John decided to chance it. He left tile girl and walked out to meet —what ever it might be —alone. “Thank Heaven!” he muttered fervently; and encountered the harmless eighteenth-century equivalent of a tramp “Good Gracious!” was his next comment, audible this time, as he heard from the tramp a story of an old fanner and “scores” of men and horses on the road beyond, “looking for a runaway wench,” or so he “should swear.” “Tut tut!” said John, and yawned most realistically; as though the old, old story was void of interest, and bidding the tramp “Good-night,” John walked in the opposite direction, repeating his noisy yawns at intervals as the space between them lengthened, till, at last, the shuffling foot falls were no longer to lie heard. But Jean could hear the yawns. She thought it passing strange; but stranger still—and this was lucky—that by no stir or sound had the horses betrayed her presence in the spinney. Panting still, she saw next the outline of the tall well-knit figure, with the broad shoulders and the high-held head, other sweetheart. He was approaching her from the back of the field, and had stopped that incomprehensible yawning business altogether. “Jean.” he whispered. “’Let’s away. We’ll walk till I tell you what to do.” But lie found the time to kiss her once more, before he led bis horse away and beckoned her to follow.

Edgar chose the drastic one of flying westward, as soon as their horses’ hoofs should be out of earshot, and then of skirting the shore of Solway Firth, tide or no tide, until it should become possible to cross over the sands to Scotland. If the plan succeeded it would show that two could, play at flanking movements and Jean would be his wife. If it failed, the lovers, would be dead, or worse off still. A kiss, then; and “Let’s away.’’ To Providence the rest. “Unluckily: for them, however,” proceeds this chronicle,, “the tide had begun to flow; and: their only hope now lay in being able to induce the boatmen in the vicinity of Burgh-pn-Sands to row them across. Darkness was setting in, and the night: was not a promising one on which to be out iu an open boat on the Solway. The: tide was coming up the Firth 'with a:, hoatse roar, and rushing over the sands with tlie swiftness of a river in flodd-rtouH in the open there were treaeheroiis vyhirling currents, and the ever-sliitti«gl,,banks of sand' to contend With. Truly, anyone, let alone a timid maiden,' plight well flinch from such a journey. But, like Lord Ullin’s daughter, this Cumberland lassie made her choice, and she preferred. “To meet ijife raging, of the skies But mil an ungr’y father.” “Some diilicnlty was experienced in securing a! boat and crew. “Ah wadn’t dae’t for nowt; better wait till t’mornin,’ ” was the first reply received. but whether or not tho pleading look on the face of the “winsome lady,” or the prospect of reward and a good spree at Joseph Paisley’s proved the incentive, the lovers at length

succeeded in engaging a couple of sturdy oarsmen. Not a minute too soon, either; for the pursuers, having scented the manoeuvre of the pair, had followed up quickly; and arrived on the spot.... as the frail craft of the fugitives passed out into the darkness! “In a frenzy of rage, the father shouted to those who were watching on the beach to put out another boat, but his Oji’der met with no response. Laying hold himself of one of the boats, with the assistance of his friends, he launched, it into the tide. A few strokes into the bailing current, and they found themselves in trouble. The boat heeled over, and they were all in the water up to thpir necks. One man, unfortunately, was washed off his feet and drowned; while the others were glad to scramble back tq the shore a-s best they could. Meantime, how were the lovers faring? They were in good hands, certainly, so far as their boatmen were concerned, for these bad been accustomed to the Solway all their lives. In fighting their way across .the strong current, however, they ran the greatest danger of .being swamped, the waves constantly washing over the boat and drenching tjieni.io ,the skin; and all the whilp they had to keep a wary eye lest they fell foul of those treacherous sandbanks, wli ich, liavp sealed the fate of many a good man in the Solway, By full tide they were not much more than halfway across, and when the ebb set in they had the same dangers to contend with. They were carried a good two miles down the Firth, but eventually, more dead than alive, they effected a landing at the village of Browhbuses on the Scottish side,”

WHILE FATHER DRIEDIt is the only possible explanation* to wit, that youth bade fair to win in this struggle because youth evaporates so much more quickly than age. For whereas Jean and John had had several hours of soaking and required the eare and hospitality of the good villagers of Browhouses before they should recover, old man Scott, on the other hand, was unable, with all these hours in his favour, to double back around the shore and get to Gretiia before them. It ought to have been easy, but it may be that the wetting he had received, besides necessitating a prolonged and artificial drying-process, had percolated his spirit and reduced him to a condition of moral pulpiness. The fact is, in any case, that Jean and John presented themselves to Joseph Paisley, the priese, at Gretna Green, and were bound together without further let or hindrance. And' if naughty, beautiful Jean and brave, handsome John Edgar had never a moment of regret it has not been recorded in any subsequent history. Rut. 177’1 is a far far cry.