Stone Boat?

At that time there was no bridge over-the Tweed at Norham, so we crossed to the north side by the ferry-boat at Upsettlington, a little above Ladykirk, the seat of W Robertson, Esq. Our walk on the Scottish side of the river was delightful. On arriving opposite the mouth of the Till, we procured a boat, and pulled across to St. Cuthbert's Chapel. The present structure had been built on the site of the ancient one; but though comparatively modern, it was sadly dilapidated. Doors and windows were gone, the ceiling nearly destroyed, and the floor strewed with rubbish. But where was the celebrated Stone Boat? We had been told at the village on the Scotch side of the river that we should find it—cracked, indeed, but still entire. Some years before, it had been con­verted into a swine's trough by the farmer of the land on which the Chapel stands; now, not a vestige of it was to be seen. Thinking it might have been broken in pieces, I picked up what I hoped was a fragment, and returned to our boat much disappointed.

On landing, we resolved to walk home by the English side of the Tweed. We were here not far distant from Flodden Field (which I had seen in early life), where was fought the famous battle described by Scott with a pen of fire in the marvellous pages of "Marmion"

Close by us was Twizell Castle, begun by a Sir Francis Blake many years before, but never finished, and now actually decaying. Soon afterwards we met an old shepherd, to whom I told the tale of our disappointment, and showed him what I supposed to be a piece of the Boat. " No, no," he said, "the Boat was red sandstone. "(Mine was grey.) "But what has become of the Boat?" "I know," he replied; "the former tenant turned it into a swine's trough, and the pigs cracked it. He never prospered after; lost his leg, and is now herding sheep over yonder. The present farmer broke it in pieces, and used them for draining-tiles in the field where the Chapel stands. This was about three years since. I saw it done, for I was herding there at the time." I told him it was downright sacrilege. The old herd thought so too, and added that "heavy misfortunes had fallen on his family." I felt half inclined to go back and dig up the drain!

But, after all, that was not the end of the famous Stone Boat, in which St. Cuthbert had floated down the Tweed from Melrose Abbey, 1,200 years ago.

A day or two afterwards I was invited to a "kettle," by some of my old friends, the fishermen. To them I related the story of my pilgrimage to St. Cuthbert's Chapel. Old Swinhoe, one of our party (once an active smuggler, shrewd and intelligent), took up the story, and told me that when Sir Francis Blake learnt the fate of the Boat he "waxed exceeding wroth," and commanded the sacrilegious farmer instantly to dig up the precious fragments, and convey them to Twizell House, his seat on the banks of the Till. There they remain. Swinhoe, seeing the interest I took in the old Stone Boat, said one of his nephews was living with Sir Francis, and much in his confidence, and he would send to him for a bit, I thanked him, but thought no more of it. However, on the morning I was preparing to leave for London, Swinhoe appeared with a bit of the boat, nearly as large as my hand, rather rounded, as if broken off between the bottom and the side. I carried it home as a singular relic of antiquity.

There is an interesting account of St. Cuthbert and his Boat in Ridpath's Border History (I believe now a scarce 4to volume). It is there stated that the then Sir Francis Blake (100 years ago), with a party of his friends launched the Stone Boat on the river, where it floated with a man on board ; thus proving, so far, the truth of the old legend. In Chambers' Journal, a few years since, I read an article on the Boat, but the writer was evidently ignorant of its later history; indeed, I believe not many persons are acquainted with the particulars which came to my knowledge during this visit to the Tweed.