2110-7-5-3

[embossed letterhead] 45, St. Georges Square London, S.W.1.

28th June 1935.

My Lord,

As admirers of your writing since the orginal appearance of "No Man's Land" in Blackwood we beg your acceptance of this humble tribute to your genius. It has been a labour of love though the inclusion of so many

titles presented some difficult problems.

Please accept our sincere congratulations on the honours you have recently received.

We are, my Lord your obedient servants.

Beatrix May Dunning

Reginald Dunning

The Right Honble Lord Tweedsmuir G.C.M.G. Elsfield Manor Oxon.

A Phantasy

It was midwinter but despite the fact that the Watcher by the Threshold reported Grey Weather preparations were afoot in Castle Gay for the Half-Hearted search for the Lost Lady of Old Years. Perhaps the younger people would have discontinued it but Sir Walter the Laird insisted on this annual commemoration of the day when his ancestor John Burnet of Barns, that Sir Quixote of the Moors, set out to seek his love in the Grove of Ashtaroth.

You proably know the story, how the romantic maiden, ever quoting the Rime of True Thomas and loving to array herself in a Green Mantle was so beguiled by one of the wantering Kings of Orion with his tales of the Far Islands that when her lover returned from the Riding of Nine Mile Burn, having been delayed on his journey At the Rising of the Waters, he was met by a white faced Herd of Strulan with the news that the night before at the Outgoing of the Tide the Black Fishers had seen the glib tongued stranger with a lady cloaked in green making their way by the shore towards the mouth of the Green Glen. John Burnet followed in the Path of the King and his dupe to what is now the South African Colony, but it was a Journey of little Profit. After many days he came to the edge of a No Man's Land impossible to cross. There he built him A Lodge in the Wilderness and dwelt solitary save for a Green Wildebeest which he had tamed, giving Salute to Adventurers who might happen to pass that way seeking their fortune. It is reported, with what truth one knows not, that at the Article of Death his lost love sent him a message asking his forgiveness.

The party assembled included Sir Walter, long a widower. Of the Three Hostages he had given to fortune his eldest son had brought several friends from The Runagates Club to aid in the search. The two younger, relieved to escape from the campaigns of Julius Caesar were eager to join the party. Sir Walter's own crony Lord Ardwell of Nuntingtower was as usual at that season of the year a guest at the castle. An old soldier of

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long experience he had by the merest chance escaped being with Gordon at Kartoum. In the pages of A History of the War will be found an account of his command of those astonishing veterans the Company of the Marjolaine. While they were waiting young Walter's great friend, Andrew Jameson was peering through a Space left by a Gap in the Curtain over the library window and which two elderly gentlemen seated within deep in conversation. The one, Mr Standfast, the tutor a Scholar Gypsy reduced to sedentary occupations by chronic rheumatism, the other, affectionately known as Prester John, the Chaplain. "What are they talking about?" asked Andrew. "Probably Some Eighteenth Century Byways or the Taxation of Foreign Income", replied his friend, "because if it had been the respective merits of the Marquis of Montrose and Oliver Cromwell we should have had to wait a long time for such a Lucid Interval as this. Old Prester John is writing A History of Brasenose College in any moments he can spare from Homilies, and Recreations such as Politics and the Mayfly. He has A Reputation for being a strong party man but in the spring the Earlier (*your pardon) Affection triumphs and he leaves for the Chalk Streams of Water in the South" at this moment John Macnab the factor came to report that all was ready for a start, The Free Fishers in attendance with their nets to drag the pools. Headed by Sir Walter the party crossed the policies and leaving the Power House to one side they passed the basin of a Fountain, Blue in summer weather as the sky it reflected but now ruffled by the wintry wind. They then descended The Thirty Nine Steps leading to the path through the Green Glen. Here they scattered and searched every yard, dragging the deeper pools of the burn and there on again to the recesses of Witchwood where the trees grew so close it was always An Oasis in the Snow. The traditional practices having now been completed and the track of the search brought Full Order Sir Walter gave the word to return and as they reached the foot of the steps he solemnly intoned the old Moor - Song : -

"Thro' Flower-moss and heather Mid snaw and mirk weather,"

"We seek thee Urith While Moon Endureth."

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Approaching the castle the eerie notes of the Wind in the Portico was heard presaging a further fall of snow. As they passed through the the hall Walter pointed out to his friend some of the family treasures, The Lemnnian pottery, so seldom seen; the portrait of the King's Grace, James IV; that truly noble Prince of the Captivity James I and a fine battle piece The Last Crusade. Later in the evening a merry party assembled for dinner, Dr Lartius arriving with his wife and daughters and other neighbours. After dinner they adjourned to the ball-room which boasts the finest Dancing Floor in Tweedsmuir. In obedience to a whim of the Laird's the only illumination permitted was that from the rays of the moon shining through the lofty windows. Even on such an occasion as this local jealousies and dislikes seem unavoidable and the charming elder daughter of Dr Lartius instead of being led out by Andrew Jameson as partner in a reel found herself facing The Loathly Opposite Divus Johnston, a neighbouring bonnet laird. This Comedy in the Full Moon was observed by old Mr. Standfast who with Prester John was watching the dance. The younger boys clustered round John Macnab were listening to his stories which were as good as A Book of Escapes and Hurried Journeys. Perhaps their two favourites were how he took Ship to Tarshish and his adventure with The Frying Pan and The Fire in his camp on Skule Sherry. When the time came, little Alec took his way to bed whistling Sing a Song of Sixpence and later, when silence had fallen on the scene, The Blanket of the Dark veiled the Courts of the Morning till the breaking of another day.