folks in his company, and the first I'll know of it is hearing his voice calling out Johnny! Johnny Bower! and when I go out, I'm sure to be greeted with a joke, or a pleasant word. He'll stand and crack and laugh wi' me, just like an auld wife, and to think that of a man that has sich an awfu' knowledge o' history." Johnny Bower spoke with enthusiasm of Sir Walter Scott, and requested us to sit on the stone seat, where he used to rest, when fatigued with walking about on his lame limb, to exhibit the favorite abbey to his numerous guests. "It was all a trick," said he, "the getting him to be buried at Dryburgh. This was the place. Every body knows that he cam here sax times and mair, to his ance visiting the Dryburgh ruin."
On pointing out the marble slab, which covers the dust of Alexander the Second, some remark was made about the period of his accession, to which Johnny Bower, as he called himself, responded in two lines from Marmion—
"A clerk might tell what years are flown,
Since Alexander filled the throne."
Large portions of the "Lay of the Last Minstrel" were familiar to him, which he recited when any surrounding object awakened them. Directing our attention to a rough, red stone in the wall, on which were the words, "Here lye the race of the house of Year," or Carr, the present Dukes of Roxburgh, he
