John Buchan

John Burnet of Barns John Buchan

The house of Barns stands on a green knoll above the Tweed, half-way between the villageof Stobo and the town of Peebles. Tweed here is no great rolling river, but a shallow, prattling stream, and just below the house it winds around a small islet, where I loved to goand fish; for it was an adventure to reach the place, since a treacherous pool lay not a yardbelow it. The dwelling was white and square, with a beacon tower on the top, which onceflashed the light from Neidpath to Drochil when the English came over the Border. It hadnot been used for half a hundred years, but a brazier still stood there, and a pile of rottenlogs, grim mementoes of elder feuds. This also was a haunt of mine, for jackdaws and owlsbuilt in the corners, and it was choice fun of a spring morning to search for eggs at the riskof my worthless life. The parks around stretched to Manor village on the one side, and nighto the foot of the Lyne Water on the other. Manor Water as far as Posso belonged to us, andmany a rare creel have I had out of its pleasant reaches. Behind, rose the long heathery hillof the Scrape, which is so great a hill that while one side looks down on us anotheroverhangs the wood of Dawyck. Beyond that again came Dollar Law and the wild fellswhich give birth to the Tweed, the Yarrow, and the Annan