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the breeze that gently agitates the wood.” Under the mansion are various subterraneous caves, hewn out of the solid rock, and connected by long passages, one of them leading to a well of great depth, in the court-yard. These caverns must have been the result of long and patient labor, and were probably made as places of refuge in troublous times, when the ordinary habitations were unsafe. One of them, called the “ Library,” is curiously excavated, the walls all around being dug out like shelves for books. In one of these caverns, we were shown what is said to have been the sword of King Robert the Bruce—a long ponderous blade of great weight, which must have required some mighty arm like his to wield. The building, like many other old Scottish mansions, consists of a square vaulted tower, the walls of which are enormously thick. At the end of the mansion, on the verge of a lofty precipice, is a summer seat, hewn out of the solid rock, overlooking the river. The tablet to the memory of the poet, which is in the wall of the house, has the following appropriate motto from Young :

“O! sacred solitude ! divine retreat !

Choice of the prudent, envy of the great;

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By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade,
I court fair wisdom, that celestial maid ;
There, from the ways of men laid safe ashore,
I smile to hear the distant tempest roar ;
There, blest with health, with business unperplexed,
This life I relish, and secure the next."

Without returning to the main road, which is at quite a distance, we were permitted to pass over the estate by a beautiful and romantic little foot-path, running along the course of the river to Roslin. The distance is about a mile, and the path passes through scenery of the grandest description. At one time we would wind through a little meadow, as the hills opened ; anon, the hills drawing nearer together, we would find ourselves on the summit of a towering precipice looking down to the Esk, flowing in the deep ravine below ; again descending, our path would conduct us to the water's edge. At one place the action of the waters of a spring on the side of the hill has drilled little holes in an overhanging rock, through which they are continually dripping, thus forming a natural shower-bath. The bed of the river abounds with beautiful pebbles, of various colors, some of which I picked up, and brought with me.

The mouldering ruins of Roslin Castle, with its tremendous triple tier of vaults, stand on a peninsular rock, overhanging the picturesque glen of the Esk. The origin of this castle is involved in obscurity, but it was long the property of the proud family of the St. Clairs, Earls of Caithness and Orkney. The upper part of the Castle is all a ruin, but the vaults beneath remain in their original perfection. These are divided off into different cells, each of which is arched separately. These cells on the side of the Esk are above ground, and have small round apertures in the walls, probably for the purpose of discharging arrows.

A little way from the ruins of the castle is the chapel of Roslin, which is one of the most entire and exquisitely decorated specimens of ecclesiastical architecture in Scotland. It was founded in 1446, by William St. Clair, Lord of Roslin. As we were entering the sacred enclosure, we met a tall, awkward looking fellow, whose business it is to show the chapel to strangers. He led the way through the venerable edifice, armed with a slim pole of considerable length, to point out the more elevated objects, describing, as he proceeded, the most interesting ones, in a sing-song, preaching kind of voice, which sounded very ridi. culous, and appeared as though the whole thing was delivered by rote. Queen Victoria visited this chapel last summer, and I had the curiosity to ask this accomplished Cicerone as to the manner in which he did the honors on that occasion. He assured me that he went through precisely the same routine with her Majesty that he had with us, and that he found it impossible to get through with his task correctly in any other voice.

Every one, on entering this chapel, must be struck with the profusion and variety of its ornaments, the magnificence of its lofty roof, which is a vast semicircular arch in five compartments, formed by four large ribs springing from the walls, that rest on the arches of the side-aisles below. These compartments are profųsely and richly ornamented with a great variety of foliage. The upper part of the building is lighted by five arched windows on each side, between which are canopies and brackets, supposed to have been for the twelve Apostles. In the east end is a very lofty arched window, below which is an elegant niche, probably intended for the Virgin Mary. The stately roof of the chapel is supported by sixteen clustered Gothic

columns, seven at each side, and two at the east end. All the arches of the side-aisles are elaborately ornamented with curious mouldings. The capitals of the columns and the friezes are decorated with foliage, and a great variety of emblematic figures, principally consisting of scriptural representations. At the base of one of the pillars there is a large flat stone, which, it is supposed, covers ten Barons of Roslin, who were buried in full armor, and all of whom died before 1690. According to an ancient tradition, this chapel was supernaturally illuminated on the death of any member of the family of Roslin. Walter Scott alludes to this in his exquisite ballad of Rosabelle. This lady, according to the ballad, while attempt. ing to cross the Frith, in the night, was drowned :

“O’er Roslin all that dreary night

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
Twas broader than the watch-fire light,

And redder than the bright moonbeam.
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,

It ruddied all the copsewood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,

And seen from cavernd Hawthornden.
Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,

Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie;
Each baron, for a sable shroud,

Sheathed in his iron panoply,

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