Only to and fro on the shore there ran a great white dog, that would let
no man approach it, that would take no food from strange hands. Day and
night, like a lost spirit, to and fro between Eyemouth and St. Abb's
Head trotted the great white hound, never resting. And ever when a sail
hove in sight, or a steamship passed near in, he would run hurriedly to
the farthest projecting point, and throwing back his head, wail
piteously for the drowned sailors, his friends.




GRISELL HOME, A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY HEROINE


The Merse has given many a gallant man to the mother-country, oftentimes
a fighter, now and again a martyr, but no fairer flower has ever
blossomed in that stretch of land that has the North Sea for one of its
boundaries, and looks across fertile plains to the long, blue line of
Cheviots in the south, than one whose name must ever find a sure place
in the hearts of those whom courage and fortitude, sweetness and merry
humour, exquisite unselfishness, and gay uncomplainingness in the face
of dire emergency are things to be honoured and held dear.

Grisell Home was the eldest of eighteen children, two of whom died in
infancy. She was born at Redbraes Castle--now Marchmont--on December 25,
1665. There is a belief that Christmas babies always have an extra large
share of the nature of Him who was born on Christmas Day; and truly
Grisell Home was one of those who never seemed to know the meaning of
Self. Her father, Sir Patrick Home, a man of strong character and large
fortune, was known to be a rigid Presbyterian, no friend to the house of