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statuary and sculpture must have been very great. In one corner a narrow winding stair has led to the top of the abbey, but the upper part being destroyed, I could only ascend half way. At one of the landing places on this stair a large flat stone covers a little vault, in which the monks deposited their treasures. Near the foot of the stair, a little below ground, is the vault in which the wax candles were kept. Skillful artists must -have been employed in the construction of this wonderful edifice; and it seemed remarkable to me, accustomed as I have been to so much wood being used in our American erections, to see a building of this prodigious size, without a single piece of wood in or about it. Floor, walls, ceiling, window sashes, are all of stone. There are some very old grave-stones in the church-yard. One of them appeared to me so beautiful and striking, that I transcribed it:—
"The earth goeth on the earth,
Glistering like gold,
Sooner than it wold,
Castles and towers,
All things are ours."
This abbey was founded by David I., by whom it was munificently endowed. The foundation was laid in 1136, and finished in 1146, when it was dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The monks were of the reformed class called Cistertians. It now belongs to the Duke of Buccleuch, to whom great credit is due for rescuing it from decay.
Near Melrose we passed the Eildon Hills, which, it is said, were formerly but one cone, till divided, as they are at present, into three peaks, by the wizard Michael Scott. On the summit of one of them may still be traced the marks of a Roman encampment, while down its steep side is distinctly seen the ridge built by the Romans as a road, to enable them to ascend. It was a well chosen site for their purpose, as it commands an extensive view of the surrounding country. The ancient Britons were a comparatively feeble race, and soon gave way before the Roman Eagle; but the hardy Picts and Scots were not so easily subdued; and, in fact, were never conquered.
From Melrose I drove to Abbotsford, where once dwelt the great magician of the North, Walter Scott. It is about three miles from Melrose. "It was a painful thing to see
Trim Abbotsford so gay,
And he, their lord, away."
I passed through a little gate, down a steep bank, to the house, about an hundred and fifty yards from the road. I was shown by the housekeeper into a hall, round which hung many antiquities and curiosities, collected by a hand that delighted in the work, and was indefatigable in it. They consisted chiefly of ancient armor, military implements, &c.; among other things, were a complete set of Sikh armor, a suit of chain mail, and a set of Chinese armor, made of silk, thickly padded. In this room are also the body clothes last worn by Sir Walter—his white hat, brown coat, light vest, plaid pantaloons, and shoes ; they are enclosed in a glass case. I was next shown into his study, where his armchair, covered with black leather, and his desk, stand as when he last used them. The next room is the library, containing some twenty thousand volumes of valuable books, and is the largest room in the house. In the drawingroom are the black ebony chairs and cabinet presented to him by George IV. The armory is a small room, full of curiosities; into which, however, the housekeeper does not allow visitors to enter, they being only permitted to look through between the brass bars which are across the door. In this room is Rob Roy's gun; the shield made of bull's hide, studded with large brass nails, as described in the Lady of the Lake, &c. In several of the rooms are fine paintings, many of which illustrate scenes in Scott's works; among those of a miscellaneous character, one of the most striking represents the head of Queen Mary in a charger, the day after she was beheaded. There are also portraits of Cromwell, Claverhouse, Charles II., Walter Scott's grandfather, &c. The Tweed flows past the house, and through the surrounding grounds are many beautiful winding walks, with benches and bowers, where Sir Walter often sat. The housekeeper hurried me so rapidly through the house, (the whole time allowed me was but fifteen minutes,) and took so little pains to explain the nature and names of things, that my visit was much less satisfactory than I expected.
It was with melancholy feelings that I walked through these deserted halls, once the abode of Scotland's mighty minstrel, whose magic strains have been borne to the most distant climes, and still awaken a responsive echo in unnumbered hearts.
"Bosomed in woods where mighty rivers ron,
Kelso is distant from Earlstown twelve miles. The day on which I visited it was remarkably fine. From every bush and tree the little birds were carroling their melodious songs. Early in the morning it had been raining, and as the sun burst forth from the passing cloud, all seemed gay and joyous beneath his sparkling beams. My road lay through the garden of Scotland. On both sides of the way the hedges were profusely covered with beautiful blossoms, and the air was richly perfumed with their delightful fragrance.
Kelso stands in one of the most lovely spots on the banks of that most romantic of rivers, the Tweed, just where its waters unite with those of the Teviot. It is surrounded on all sides by an amphitheatre of hills, whose summits are clothed