Three Years in Europe, 1868 to 1871/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
Scotland and the English Lakes.—July to September, 1869.
We left London by steamer for Scotland at about quarter past 10 a. m., on the 21st July 1869. Coming down from London, for miles and miles together, the Thames is quite as dirty as at London, ships and steamers without number steaming up and down the river, while on the banks you could see nothing but wharfs and factories and traders' establishments, and smoke and dust; everything, in fact, indicating the expensive commerce of London. As however we sailed down the scene changed, and on both sides of us we could see extensive agricultural and pasture lands, green fields, rich meadows, beautiful rows of trees and green undulating hills with sheep and kine grazing on them by the hundred. Now and then, a big factory or a big hotel loomed out from a distance, or perhaps a long train of railway carriages rolled along through the quiet villages and fields. As we sailed down, the Thames became wider and the waters blue. By half-past two we had come out of the river, and were fairly on the German Ocean, and at nine in the evening we saw the busy town of Yarmouth with her numerous lights streaming on the blue waters, and her distant steeples and churches forming, as it were, a picture on the dusky canvas of an evening sky. Within an hour more we lost sight of land. The first thing that we saw the next morning was the bold rocky projection of the Flamborough Head with the ocean ever and anon beating against its adamant base. Soon after we passed by the towns of Scarborough and Whitby, fine watering places both, annually visited by numerous visitors and tourists from different parts of England. The whole coast of Yorkshire seems to consist of a row of yellowish rocks boldly rising from the ocean. In the afternoon we could see the coast of Scotland, the purple and grotesque-formed rocks rising abruptly from the sea. At the entrance of the Frith of Forth there is a beautiful and picturesque rock, called the Bass Rock, which is inhabited by an immense number of Sea-birds, and is therefore called the "Habitation of sea-birds." On this rock are the ruins of a very ancient castle or dungeon; some covenanters seem to have been imprisoned here sometime or other. I forgot to tell you that while coming along the coast of Northumberland we saw the ruins of several ancient castles—nests of robber-chiefs, which were very useful in the days of border warfare between the Percies and the Douglases, but which have now fallen to disuse and decay. They look noble even in their decay, and the associations of hundreds of years fling a charm round their ruins. We landed at Granton and reached Edinburgh in half an hour's time at about quarter-past-eight in the evening, 22nd July.
Edinburgh, with hardly one-tenth the extent, one-fifteenth the population, or one-twentieth the commerce of London, is a far prettier town. Edinburgh.The houses are built in a very tasteful style, steep hills rise in the midst of houses and trees, while the numerous steeples and spires of Edinburgh form not the least important portion of the beauty of this beautiful place. The Calton Hill and the Castle Hill are situated in the heart of the town,—Arthur's seat (800 ft.) and the Salisbury crags are only a few minutes' walk from the town, while far off the Pentland Hills and the Lemmer Moor Hills encircle the view. A magnificent spiral monument has been erected in one of the principal streets in memory of Sir Walter Scott. It is 200 feet high, but the stairs do not lead quite to the top but only 180 ft. From that height we had an extensive view of the beautiful town. On the Calton Hill we saw the monuments of Nelson, Playfair, and Dugald Stewart, as well as the "National Monument," an unfinished piece of architecture intended to commemorate the heroes of this country who fell at Waterloo. Near this hill is the tomb of David Hume. The Calton Hill is 224 ft. high. The view from that height is really beautiful. On the north you see the blue waters of the Firth of Forth, with busy towns on its southern shore,—Granton, Leith, Porto Bello, and Preston Pans, and on the other shore the high mountains of Fifeshire glimmering at a distance. Just at your foot lies the town of Edinburgh with its many towers and steeples and buildings, some of them nine or ten stories high. And on the south you see the far-off hills of Pentland and Lemmer Moor, forming an extensive range and stretching as far as the eye can reach.
The St. Giles Church, some distance from the Calton Hill, is a very ancient one, where Knox used to deliver his sermons, and his attacks on Mary Queen of Scots. A single square piece of sand-stone marks the spot where the stern reformer lies buried. Very near this church is the Scotch Parliament House, where the members used to meet before the Union in 1707. It is a large hall with several beautiful oil-paintings in it, and among others one of Lord Brougham. Near the Calton Hill is a fine building—a monument erected in memory of Robert Burns. Within it we saw many curious things connected with the life and history of the national poet of Scotland. The walls all round are hung with the letters of the poet. We saw, too, the wine-glass, the earthen jug and the drinking quaigh of the poet. There were also a piece of bread prepared by Mrs. Burns, the sword stick which Burns used when an exciseman at Dumfries, the horn snuff-box which belonged to the father of "Highland Mary," and above all a lock of hair of the "lassie with the lint white locks." There was the three-legged stool on which the poet used to sit when he corrected his poems, as also a hundred other curious things which cannot but be interesting to every admirer of Robert Burns.
From this place we went to the Holyrood Palace and Chapel. The most interesting part of the palace is the part built by James V. and where his daughter the lovely Queen of Scots passed the most eventful portion of her singularly unfortunate life. Holyrood Palace.On the first floor are the picture gallery and Lord Darnly's apartments; on the second floor Queen Mary's rooms. The picture gallery is a large hall containing the pictures of 106 sovereigns of Scotland from Fergus I., 320 B. C. to Charles II. On the first floor is a small room in which are private stairs leading to Queen Mary's supping room. It was through this passage that Darnly led up his infuriated followers to the supping room of Queen Mary on the second floor to murder Riccio. On the top of the staircase there is a discoloration of the floor, which is pointed out as the mark of Riccio's blood.
From the Palace we went to the Edinburgh Castle. Castle.The castle is a very ancient one and built on a high hill, and is accessible only from one side.
"There watching high the least alarms
Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar,
Like some bold vet'ran grey in arms
And marked with many a seamy scar,
The pond'rous wall and massy bar,
Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock
Have oft withstood assailing war,
And oft repelled th' invader's shock."—Burns.
Before artillery was invented such a castle must have been impregnable. In the castle we saw the regalia of Scotland, consisting of a crown placed on a splendid cushion, a sword with its scabbard, a sceptre, a rod, a chain and two or three ornaments of rubies and pearls. The regalia, properly so called, consists only of the crown, the sword and the sceptre. It was with much difficulty that the Scotch preserved their regalia safe when their country was overrun by the republicans and regicides of England. It was removed from Edinburgh Castle to Dubberton Castle before the former was closely invested, and when the latter was invested, and there were no hopes of safety, a lady of high rank asked and obtained permission of the besiegers to see a friend of hers in the Dubberton Castle, and on her return brought away the regalia with her concealed under her gown. When the castle was taken, the English were disappointed at not finding the regalia, and though several persons connected with this plot were persecuted and imprisoned, they kept the secret well, and the regalia was kept buried under the pulpit of a church. When Charles II. came to the throne they gave out the secret and were handsomely rewarded for the safety of the regalia. At the time of the Union (1707) they were put in a large chest and kept in a room in the castle and locked up. For a hundred and ten years they were never seen by any one, and were supposed to have been lost, or taken away to England. At last in 1818, several persons (Sir W. Scott among others) got a commission to see whether they were really lost. The room was searched, the chest was broken open, and they found the regalia to the immense joy of the people. The populace all round the hill who were awaiting the result of the search shouted out with joy. The Scotch are deservedly proud of these emblems of their unconquered independence, the regalia of a long line of kings, beginning with the victor of Bannockburn.
Thence we went to another room in the castle which was the audience-chamber of the Queen of Scots, when she removed from Holyrood to the Castle, and by its side we saw her bed-room where she had given birth to James VI.
The gallery of national paintings contains a beautiful statue of Burns, and busts of Wellington, Brougham and others, beside many beautiful paintings.
On the morning of the 27th we left Edinburgh for Linlithgow. Linlithgow is a small town consisting of a cluster of houses surrounded by hills and extensive pasture fields. But the chief interest of the place lies in the ruins of an ancient palace built four or five centuries ago.
"Of all the palaces so fair
Built for the royal dwelling
In Scotland, far beyond compare
Linlithgow is excelling"—Marmion.
It is a large and spacious building, and considering the age in which it was built, must have been, at one time, one of the finest edifices in the country. And when you add to this its delightful situation, with a small lake just at its foot, green fields and undulating shrub-crowned hills all round it and high and distant mountains looming out from beyond the blue waters of the Firth of Forth, you need not at all wonder if at one time it was the most favorite residence of the Scottish Kings.
We went up to the Queen's bed-chamber, a large and beautiful room with windows looking down on the lake below. It was here that the queen of the unfortunate James V. gave birth to the celebrated Queen of Scots, while her husband who was lying in the adjoining room, when he heard that his wife had given birth to a female child, exclaimed that the kingdom had come with a woman and would go with one, and immediately breathed his last.
The place seems to have had four watch towers, on one of which is the celebrated "Lady's Bower." When the restless and warlike James IV. employed himself preparing for his battles with the English, or was spending his time in frivolous occupations, chatting and toying with the sultanas of his immoral court, it was here that
"His own Queen Margaret
In 'Lithgow's bower
All lonely sat
And wept the weary hour."—Marmion.
The lines are inscribed on the walls of the room. We saw the spacious parliament room, the dining hall, and the ruins of the old chapel. Sauntering through these lonely roofless rooms, one almost feels that the shades of departed monarchs and august queens are stalking invisibly across the wide courtyard or along the deserted chapel, or lingering in a thoughtful mood near the ruins of what was once the seat of their splendour and power.
Stirling is a small town containing about 12,000 inhabitants. After we had some tea we went out for a walk which was insensibly prolonged to eight or ten miles! Stirling.We passed by the old bridge, built on the Forth several centuries ago, which can be very easily distinguished from its more modern neighbour. The Forth which is very broad indeed near Linlithgow is a narrow river near Stirling. On the other side of the river we saw a magnificent monument built on the top of a high and craggy hill,—it was the monument of William Wallace! Well has the place been chosen for the great mountain-warrior, the defender of Scotland, and the martyr for her independence. A lofty column standing on a high and rugged rock, it seems to aspire to reach the skies, and is seen from places all round miles and miles afar; while at its foot stretches the field of Stirling, the scene of Wallace's first and most important victory.
The Stirling Castle is built on a high and precipitous rock and must have been impregnable before fire-arms and artillery were invented. There is a room in the castle called the Douglas room, where James II. invited a Douglas to a feast and then stabbed him there, and threw the corpse out of a window.
"Dread towers within whose circuit dread
A Douglas by his sovereign bled."—Lady of the Lake.
The very corner in which the murder took place as well as the window through which the body was thrown out were pointed out to us. We also saw the strong tower where, we were assured, Rhoderic Dhu was really imprisoned by James V. and where he breathed his last! But the chief interest lies not in the rooms within the castle but in the celebrated fields surrounding it. Standing on the highest point of the castle with your face to the south-east, you see on your left the field of Stirling,—the scene of Wallace's greatest victory while on your right, about three miles off, is the scene of Bruce's greatest victory,—the field of Bannockburn. Further off you see the spot where James III. was defeated and slain at Sanchiburn, while beyond the high range of mountains behind you lies the celebrated field of Sheriff Muir. Just at the foot of the hill, on your right stretches a level plain which was at one time the favorite spot for mock battles, the tilts and tournaments of olden times, while fronting the plain is a rock called the "ladies' rock," because ladies used to sit there to watch the deeds of knights and warriors. There too is the "rocks of ages,"—a square pyramid built over the graves of some covenanters. On your left you would see the ancient Cambuskenneth Abbey and on your right the beautiful Church of Grey Friars with its extensive cemetery.
About an hour's walk brought us to the field of Bannockburn. We sat on the "bore stone" on which the Scottish standard is said to have been erected, Bannockburn.and looked on the field where the Scots who had bled with Wallace, and whom Bruce had often led, found—not a gory bed, but a victory glorious indeed. In a few moments a noble commander and a noble army secured the independence of the country. With the exception of the "bore stone" not a single relic of the battle is to be found. I forgot to tell you that coming from Linlithgow we saw the field of Falkirk where Wallace was beaten by the English. On the 28th we left Stirling and reached Callandar.
This little town is bosomed in the midst of high and bleak mountains. Callandar.Here we saw for the first time the really wild and mountainous scenes of Scotland and perceived how very "stern and wild" Caledonia is. Standing on an eminence you see around yon nothing but high hills, craggy precipices and long chains of lofty mountains. Here and there perhaps you see some small village in a valley or some acres of green pasture fields, but beyond them again, eternal mountains and ridges raise their lofty heads to the skies. Meet indeed is this country to nurse a poetic child.
"Bracklinn's thundering fall" near Callander is an object well worth seeing. From the falls we went to the top of a hill and saw the distant peak of Benledi rearing its head to the skies. It is, 2,882 feet high. We also saw Loch Lubnaig from which issues the river Lubnaig and joins the slow and sluggish Teith near Callander. The Teith itself issuing from Loch Katrine, passes through Lochs Achray and Vennachar, joins the Lubnaig near Callander and after a long and serpentine course joins the Forth near Stirling. Callander is a small town or rather village with the sluggish Teith running along it, while high craggy mountains surround it on all sides.
It was a delightful journey by stage coach from Callander to the Trossachs. Slowly our coach rolled on over hills and by lakes and ravines, and through beautiful glens. During the first part of our journey we saw nothing around us but bleak ridges of high mountains, like giants guarding the land. Mountain brooks we crossed without number with their pure crystal waters foaming and clattering on their beds of rocks. We crossed the Lubnaig and came to the spot where the Teith issues from Loch Vannachhar. This is the spot called Coilantogle's Lord where the knight of Snowdon fought with Rhoderic Dhu.
We passed by the high peak of Ben Ledi, and came to the spot where Rhoderic sounded his whistle, and
"Instant, through copse and heath, arose,
Bonnets, and spears, and bended bows."
Loch Vennachar is five miles long and about a mile and a half in breadth. Its shores are very pretty with clusters of huts every here and there. As we went on
"Duncraggon's huts appeared at last,
And peeped, like moss grown rocks, half seen,
Half hidden in the copse so green."
Soon after we entered the beautiful glen, called Glenfinlas, and neared the spot where stood and still stands
"the copse wood grey
That waved and wept on Loch Achray,
And mingled with the pine trees blue
Of the bold cliffs of Benvennue."
In a few minutes we passed over the "Brigg O'Turk" and saw the bold peak of Benvennue which in its stately majesty is scarcely surpassed by any other mountain in Scotland.
Soon after we reached Loch Achray and the Trossachs. The Trossachs as well as Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond are certainly the most beautiful spots in Scotland, and among the most beautiful spots in the world. Trossachs.Crag over crag, hill over hill, and high peaks towering over all with mountain, trees and plants waving in the breeze form a noble scene indeed; while little silver streams rumbling and leaping now from a mass of rocks and now through a shady glen add to the wildness of the scene. We walked about for an hour through the Trossachs. Immense masses of rocks seemed almost suspended in the air, and creepers, plants, and wild flowers were to be seen in abundance.
"The rocky summits, split and rent
Formed turret, dome, or battlement,
Or seemed fantastically set
With cupola or minaret,
Wild crests as pagod ever decked
Or Mosque of Eastern architect.
Nor were these earth-horn castles bare,
Nor lacked they many a banner fair;
For from their shivered brows displayed,
Far o'er the unfathomable glade,
All twinkling with the dewdrops sheen
The briar rose in steamers green,
And creeping shrubs of thousand dies,
Waved in the west wind's summer sighs."
In about an hour's time we came to Loch Katrine and a beautiful panorama suddenly burst upon our sight. Loch Katrine.On all sides high rugged hills rise abruptly from the banks of the lake, while beneath, the calm waters of the lake stretch out in a thousand gulfs and bays and inlets. Mountain rills roll down in crystal torrents glistening and leaping and dancing from crag to crag and seeming almost like a continuous shower of diamonds and molten silver, and at last mingling with the tranquil waters of the lake. Beautiful islands
"Empurpled bright
Float amid the livelier light,
And mountains, that like giants stand,
To sentinel enchanted land."
Silence reigns over the calm waters and on the fairy scene and every tree and every shrub, and indeed every ripple of the waters seem to lie under the influence of some mighty enchanter. On the south
"huge Ben Vennue
Down on the lake in masses threw
Crags knells, and mounds, confusedly hurled,
The fragments of an earlier world."
But I shall never finish if I go on quoting from the Lady of the Lake.
In the evening we had a row on the beautiful Loch Achray. Next morning we went by a steamer to the other end of Loch Katrine. We saw the beautiful "Ellen's Isle" and "the Silver Strand" (so called because of the beautiful and wonderful whiteness of the pebbles on the shore;) where Ellen Douglas stood on her little skiff, startled at the sound of a bugle while the "Knight of Snowdon" stood hid by the neighbouring thicket. Loch Lomond.In about three quarters of an hour we reached the other end of the Loch. A stage coach was waiting there, which conveyed us over hills and through vales to Loch Lomond. We saw the beautiful Falls of Inversnaid, the waters foaming and rushing from a height of about 16 ft., and spreading in foams among wild masses of rocks on the shores of Loch Lomond. A steamer conveyed us to the other end of Loch Lomond in about two hours. Loch Lomond is quite as beautiful though not so wild and romantic as Loch Katrine. The shores are rich and beautiful and the green emerald isles on the bosom of the lake are passing fair—
"Like Highland maiden softy fair,
The snood and rosebud in her hair,
Yon emerald isles, how calm they sleep
On the blue bosom of the deep,
How bright they throw with waking eye,
Their lone charms on the passers by."
We passed by the lofty peak on Ben Lomond, and soon reached Balloch, whence we were conveyed to Glasgow by train.
Glasgow is a much larger city than Edinburgh, and contains about 500,000 inhabitants. Glasgow.It is m fact the commercial capital of Scotland, and has the aspect of a big commercial town. One of the finest squares in the town is George Square. At one end of this square is the statue of Queen Victoria, and at the other end that of the late Prince Consort. In the centre is a lofty monument erected to the memory of Sir W. Scott.
At about 7 a. m., on the 22nd August, we left Glasgow in an excellent steamer for Oban, a sea-side place in Argyleshire. The Clyde, which is as dirty near Glasgow as the Thames is near London, became limpid as we sailed down, until it mingled with the blue waters of the sea. It was a sunny day and the sea was calm, and on both sides we could see beautiful hills with the sun and shade alternately playing on their green surface. We issued out of the Firth of Clyde and turned northwards, having the peninsula of Cantire on our left and the mainland on our right. We crossed the peninsula near Adrishaig and reached the open sea, where a steamer was waiting, which conveyed us to Oban. I can hardly convey to you any idea as to how very barren, rugged, broken, and mountainous the western coast of Scotland is. Oban.Everywhere you see creeks and inlets of sea, a hundred barren rocky islands, and long chains of high mountains precipitously rising from the Ocean. We reached Oban in the evening. It is a small yet pretty place, and viewed from the see has an imposing appearance with the high hills rising behind the town.
Next morning we went to the island of Iona, celebrated as an early seat of Christianity. Even before that religion was introduced among the Anglo-Saxons (597 A.D.) Columba, an Irish Christian, lived and preached in this island. Iona.The ruins of the ancient religious edifices consist of a church, a nunnery and a chapel, of which the last is said to have been built by the Norwegians and is the most ancient. The church, "St. Mary's Church," as it is called, is said to have been built in the 12th century, though some portions of it were built at a much earlier date, it is supposed in the 7th century. In this island are also the graves of several kings and knights, men, says Dr. Johnson, who did not expect to be so soon forgotten. The Macleen's Cross is the only one left out of the 360 which are said to have stood in this island before the reformation.
From Iona we went to the small uninhabited island of Staffa, containing several wonderful caves, of which Fingal's Cave is the most magnificent. Fingal's Cave.This cave with its splendid arch 70 feet high, supporting an intablature of 30 feet additional,—its dark basaltic pillars, its arching roof above and the sea ever and anon rushing and roaring below,—is a most wonderful sight indeed. The sea being calm we went in a boat to the inner end of the cave. The walls consist of countless gigantic columns, sometimes square, often pentagonical and hexagonical, and of a dark purple color which adds to the solemnity of the aspect of the place. The roof itself consists of overhanging pillars; and every time that the waves come in with a roaring sound, the roof, the caverns and the thousand pillars return the sound increased tenfold, and the effect is imposing.
Before we left Oban we saw Dunolly Castle, now all in ruins, about which Sir W. Scott says, that "a more delightful and romantic spot can scarcely be conceived;" as well as the ruins of the Dunstaffnage castle, situated on a bold rock, about three or four miles from Oban, which is said to have been the seat of the Scottish monarchy until the overthrow of the Picts.
On the 5th we left Oban and went by steamer to Glencoe, the scene of the terrible massacre in the reign of William III. Glencoe.We passed by the spot where the massacre was perpetrated, and reached a most magnificent glen with stupendous mountains on both sides of us. On the 6th we left Glencoe, and sailing through Loch Eil, we reached Banvie, four miles to the north of Fort William. Ben Nevis.From that place we saw the magnificent Ben Nevis, about 4,400 feet high, being the highest peak in Scotland, the circumference of its base being 24 miles. In the evening we went to Fort William, and saw the ruins of that fort first erected by General Monk, during the Protectorate, to overawe Cameron of Locheil, who was determined to set at defiance the power of the Protector long after every other chieftain had been subdued.
From Banvie to Inverness we went through the Caledonian Canal. There are three lakes here, Loch Lochy, Loch Oich, and Loch Ness, and these are joined by artificial canals. Caledonian Canal.As we were going through the Caledonian Canal the scene around was gloomy but magnificent. On both sides of us were continuous chains of mountains, and it being very bad weather, dark clouds hanging over our heads served as a gloomy canopy extending from the ridges on our right to those on our left. As far as the eye could reach, before or behind, there was nothing but this gloomy vista,—the dark clouds above, the dark waters below, and high mountains on both sides of us. The scene was grand, and I would not have changed that gloomy scene of highland grandeur for the neatest and prettiest spot in the earth, not for the sunniest sky, the dark rolling clouds which added to the sublimity of the scene. We landed at Foyers to see the "Fall of Foyers;" which I will describe in the words of Burns.
"High in air bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below;
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewless echo's ear astonished rends;
Dim seen through rising mists and ceaseless showers,
The hoary cavern wide surrounding lowers,
Still through the gap the struggling river toils;
And still below the horrid cauldron boils."
Soon after we reached Inverness.
Inverness is a small town containing about 12,000 inhabitants. Inverness.We stopped here two days and started for Aberdeen on the morning of the 9th August. Aberdeen is considered the third city in Scotland, and is really a very beautiful place (population 80,000). It is called the "granite city," as almost all the houses are built of that stone, Aberdeen.a circumstance which gives the city an air of freshness and beauty such as you do not find in any other place. There are immense granite mountains in the adjoining country.
In Aberdeen we saw the spacious market, the noble pier stretching far into the sea as well as some other places worth visiting. On the 10th of August we left Aberdeen and reached Edinburgh by train at 10 p.m.
On the 15th September I went from Edinburgh to Loch Leven, in the midst of which is the Loch Leven Castle, where Mary, Queen of Scots, was imprisoned for a time. Loch Leven.From Kinros, a town on the shores of the Loch, I went by a boat to the island in which are the ruins of the ancient castle. From a distance you can see the tower of the castle, peeping out from among the luxuriant vegetation that covers and beautifies the little island. And when you reach there you are at once impressed with the loneliness of the place. There is not a single living creature to be seen, and the only sound to be heard is the ceaseless voice of the ever-rolling waves beating against the rocks and pebbles of the island, or the occasional rustling of the thick wood of the oak, the elm, the fir, and the ash, and various other trees that cover this lonely isle. The building seems to have been five stories high, and as you walk past the mouldering ruins, or enter into the deserted rooms, you cannot help calling to mind the history of the unfortunate Queen whose imprisonment in this castle has been so ably depicted by Sir W. Scott in his Abbot. I returned to Edinburgh the same evening, and on the 17th September we left Edinburgh.
Half an hour's travel by rail brought us to Hawthornden, once the delightful residence of the poet Drummond of the 17th century. We saw the castle and the subterranean caves where Bruce is said to have lived for some time. Rosslyn.From Hawthornden we went through a deep glen to Rosslyn. It is impossible to conceive of any thing more romantic or wild than this deep glen, with the mountain rivulet Esk clattering and rushing swift as an arrow over its bed of rocks,—with the huge rocks rising abruptly on both sides, leaving a deep chasm between, and with the luxuriant wood of mountain trees shedding a deep gloom on the whole scene. Issuing out of this glen we came to Rosslyn, where there is a ruined castle as well as an ancient chapel said to have been built in the 12th century. The walls and the roof of this chapel are of stones, all exquisitely carved, and are still in a very good condition, and service is still held here.
From Rosslyn we went by train to Melrose, which, since the publication of Scott's Last Minstrel, has become a favourite haunt of tourists from all parts of the world. Melrose.But few, however, can "mark it by the pale moon-light," for the moon seldom makes her appearance here, and on the night that we reached the place it was any thing but fair. However, though we saw the Abbey by the "gay beams of lightsome day," we could not fail being impressed with the grandeur of this ruined edifice with its lofty and imposing windows, its venerable ivy-covered walls, its beautifully carved and ornamented columns, its fretted vaults and the lonesome graves all around. After the lapse of ages, after all the ravages of time, and the cruel ravages of war what remains still challenges the admiration of visitors; the outlines are still sharp on account of the hardness of the stone, and the carvings are wonderfully fine.
By the small hamlet of Melrose runs the celebrated Tweed, and the banks of the Tweed arc beautiful indeed; cultivated fields and extensive pasture grounds and green hills with sheep and kine reposing on them, a quiet meandering river sleeping under the shades of evening, a few neat cottages peeping out from among the trees here and there, a lonely bridge on the Tweed, and now and then a lonely villager wending home after the toils of the day;—do not all these suggest ideas of quiet and repose and rural tranquillity,—do not all these call up in your mind a lovely picture?
Next morning we went to see the seal of Sir W. Scott, at Abbotsford, about three miles from Melrose. The beautiful and extensive building stands on the banks of the Tweed. Abbotsford.In his study room there is still the chair as well as the table used by Scott when he wrote his novels. His library contains about 20,000 volumes, which have been preserved with great care. In the drawing-room we saw the likeness of Scott, as well as those of his eldest son and two daughters. Among the many curious things which we saw in this room was a collection of beautiful presents which Sir Walter had received from various quarters. In his armoury there were arms and weapons of warfare of different countries and different ages, including the Persian scimitar and the Indian sword, as well as a large number of arms connected with the border warfare of the Middle Ages—a subject in which Scott took such a deep interest, and which he has depicted so well.
From Abbotsford we went to Scott's tomb at Dryburgh about four miles from Melrose, and six or seven miles from Abbotsford. The Dryburgh Abbey is hardly second to any other building that I have yet seen in the degree of veneration which it inspires by its hoary antiquity and its aspect of desolated grandeur. It is said to have been built in the 12th century. Gloomy cypresses, and the yet more gloomy yew trees, some of them said to be as ancient as the Abbey itself, have overshaded these ivy-covered ruins, and seem befitting sentinels to guard this scene of hoary desolation. Only here and there a cracked vault, a venerable ivy-covered wall, or a mouldering aisle rears up its head among the surrounding ruins. Under such an aisle lie buried the sacred remains of Sir Walter Scott. On one side of his tomb lies his wife, and on the other his son, while crossway lie the remains of Lockhart.
We left Melrose on the evening of the 18th for Carlyle. As our train rolled on, the fertile lowlands of Scotland were grateful objects to our sight after we had seen so much of the barren rocks and heaths and mountains of the highlands. We crossed the "sweet Tiviot," on whose silver tide
"The glaring bale fires blaze no more,
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along her wild and willowed shore."
The first idea that comes into one's mind is that of calmness and repose, and he cannot help contrasting the present with the olden times of turmoil and warfare,—he cannot help exclaiming with Scott,—
"Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
As if thy waves, since time was born,
Since first they rolled upon the Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
Nor started at the bugle horn."
The scene, however, changed again, and we were transported from a fine fertile country into the midst of barren and bleak mountains. Soon again we left the Cheviots behind and reached Carlyle at 8 p. m.
Carlyle is a neat and pretty town, the houses being neatly and tastefully built. From Carlyle we went to Penrith and thence to Keswick to see the English lakes. English Lakes.Cumberland is in England what Switzerland is in Europe, the realm of mountains and lakes. Keswick is situated on the lake of Derwentwater, and is surrounded by rocks, mountains, and lofty ridges which almost rival the highlands of Scotland in their gloomy grandeur and dark sublimity. The night, too, on which we reached Keswick was dark, as dark as it could be, the wind blew shrill and loud, and on whichever side we turned, dark purple peaks loomed at a distance in the midst of darkness and heavy clouds rolling on their tops and shrouding their sides, while the rapid and meandering Greta at our side thundered at every fall. Next morning we had a pleasant row on the Derwentwater, the lake of the lake-poets, and a very pretty lake too, surrounded by mountains and interspersed with lovely little islets. We rowed to the other end of the lake to see the celebrated falls of Lodore, of which Southey has given, as you must know, a very wordy description. The falls are very magnificent, the stream descends from a great height with the sound of thunder, while huge masses of rocks make it foam and dash down with great violence. On the same day we returned to Penrith, where we caught the express train and reached London at about 1 p. m., the 20th September. I must say I was very glad to come back to old London, unromantic as it is, with its busy shops and markets, its huge and unshapely omnibusses, clattering over stony streets, and its thousand haunts of business or pleasure,—such as you will seek for in vain in any other town in the world. Associations exercise a great influence over the human mind, and I could not look on the very streets and houses of old London without feeling a strange sort of pleasure, such as one feels on meeting an old acquaintance after a long absence.