THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMUIR.
No. 14.— LUCY ASHTON,
I shall never forget the first reading of the "Bride of Lammermuir." I was staying in the country in one of those large rambling houses, which ought to please a taste for architecture, as they combine every variety. There was enough remaining of hoar antiquity, to contrast strongly with the comforts of modern life. There was a large old hall and spiral staircase of black oak, hung round with family portraits, grim and faded. There were long corridors, suites of rooms which were shut up, and the reputation of the library was far from good. The house had been uninhabited for years, and its present possessor was just come into possession and from the continent, while a few of the rooms had been hastily fitted up for the reception of himself and his wife. It was an odd contrast to go from the drawing-room, crowded with sofas, ottomans, looking-glass, hot-house
