very properly defeated, and confessed his guilt, declaring that he was instigated by the Prince. Thereupon, the King's brother, the Duke of Albany, who had private and political hatred of Rothsay, procured his arrest; commencing thus the enacting of one of the darkest tragedies of Scottish history. Harry Gow came from the fight to a dinner with the Town Council, and to municipal thanks. Meanwhile, Bonthron went to execution. He was, however, during the night, cut down by the confederate apothecary, and restored to life; for, having influential connections, he had been only suspended by trick, and by cords under his dress.

The "Fair Maid" and her lover, thus far escaping ill from the revenge and not strictly virtuous purposes of some high personages, had yet to experience that there were other modes by which these superior beings could then interfere with them. Her connection with the reformative confessor, Father Clement, exposed her and her father to a charge of heresy, a charge of such a nature, and of such an origin in this case, that it could not be disregarded. It caused her father to find refuge in the hills with his former apprentice (as before stated, then become a chief), while the daughter, proposing retreat to Elcho Nunnery (now a ruin not far south-east of the town), was ultimately induced (through what strategy soon appeared) to take refuge, as she supposed, with the Duchess of Rothsay, who lived at Falkland Castle. Ian Eachin used his opportunities to urge upon old Simon his suit for Katie ; only, however, to meet refusal. Meanwhile, the arrested and then confined Duke of Rothsay was also beguiled to Falkland, where, in his characteristic adventurous fancy, disguising himself as his Duchess (after she had been withdrawn from the place), he attempted to obtain possession of his present object of admiration, Katie, on her arrival there. But this was his last adventure, as the story tells us, and as we may read at Falkland, after we leave Perth, where its last scenes were enacted, those of the combat of the two clans, that was, all along, gradually developed, to settle characteristically their feuds.

This combat was on the North Inch, or island, so called because water in some way environs it. It is about a hundred acres in extent, an open, meadow-like common, covered with grass and scattered trees, — situated close to the town, and beside the musically flowing Tay. It is a delightful place for an evening walk. The plain, the wide river and the great hills east, and perhaps

belts of trees southward, are little altered since the time of the story. One sees pleasant villas and houses nestled around; the quaint old arched bridge; and, in the northern vista, two miles distant, the park and modern palace of the Earls of Mansfield, — Scone, where stood that ancient seat of the Kings of Scotland, where, for generations, was that famous stone (described page 210), now at Westminster, on which so many Kings in Britain have been crowned.

Sir Walter's account of the combat can hardly be abridged. The musters of the two opposing clans, Chattan and Quhele, after attending mass, met for encounter. Harry Gow, discovering a man from the former missing, with alacrity seized the opportunity for equalizing the numbers of the combatants, and thus for fighting Eachin, chief of the other, whom, as his rival for Katie, he had held continually as an enemy. The struggle was desperate. Eight foster-brothers and their father, while parrying the attacks of the redoubtable Smith, successively fell in Eachin's defence. One after another died on each side, until but a few wounded Chattans held the field, and Eachin, who had been heroically served by his clansmen, found himself alone, and confronted by his terrible enemy. His heart failed; and the contest closed by his flight across the river. We learn of his final destruction; while Harry Gow, declining the honor of knighthood from Earl Douglas (who had been an admiring spectator of the strong lover's valor), sought his true Valentine.

We may, finally (by slightly changing the order of the scenes in the story), while on our way from Perth to Edinburgh, by the Fife and Kinross Railway, visit the place where the "Fair Maid” was involved in the Duke of Rothsay's last adventure.

Rothsay, it is said, went from Perth to Falkland, by boat down the Tay to "the fishing village of Newburgh," and thence by horse. Now, the easiest route is by the railway just mentioned, about twenty miles, to Falkland-Road station, and thence by a drive of about three miles to the town. It is a very "antique and sequestered" town, "at the head of the beautiful vale known as the Howe of Fife, traversed by the Eden;" and it is, also, "a curious specimen of the Scottish burghs of the sixteenth century." It "consists of a principal street, from which diverge most primitive streets and alleys in all directions." "The old thatched dwellings have never been replaced by more substantial tenements, and only a few are

slated and of modern erection." The inhabitants, mostly weavers, "live contented in the homes of their fathers, practising the same trades, eating the same food, entertaining the same ideas, and at last sharing the same graves."

Of the predecessor of the existing palace, the old castle or "Mar" to which Rothsay went, "no vestige is preserved," "and the precise site is unknown. The building is supposed to have occupied a mound immediately on the north of the present palace," and derived "its only historic notoriety" from associations with him. It was, probably, like some rude, strong towers one sees elsewhere in Scotland. The palace is, however, venerable enough to inspire one, not too analytically antiquarian, to feel it the scene of the ending of the Prince's life. Completed by James V., it became a royal hunting-seat, where several romantic events occurred. The palace, although partially destroyed by fire in Charles II.'s time, still presents a "singularly beautiful fragment, justifying the boast that all the Scottish royal residences, though not of great extent, exhibit remarkable architectural beauties." Its "western front has two round-towers, which are a diminutive imitation of those of Holyrood; and stretching southward is a range of building, with niches and statues, which perhaps bears as close a resemblance to the depressed or perpendicular style of the English semi-ecclesiastical architecture, as any other building existing in Scotland. The east side is diversified by Northern renovation of classical" styles, - the most Northern renaissance,—indeed, slightly French, thus influenced by Scotch relations with that people. The east side, also, is the remaining portion of a former quadrangle.

At this palace the dying James V. heard of the birth of his celebrated daughter, Mary Queen of Scots, and exclaimed, referring to the kingdom, "It came with a girl, and it will go with a girl." Thence, James the Solomon set out for Perth, to become involved in the Gowrie plot. There, also, Queen Mary sometime lived, even in happiness. "The original garden," says Mr. Mackie, once her "favorite retreat, . . . is situated on the opposite side of a little rill, to the north of the palace, and is now converted into a ploughed field."

The Duke of Rothsay, as intimated on a previous page, made, at Falkland, his experiment upon the susceptibilities of Katie Glover, and found that he could not trifle with them. He then, retired in defeat from this his last adventure, dined with his companion and

master of horse, Sir John Ramorny; and then ensued that memorable act of the Duke of Albany's ambition and "mortal cruelty." Ramorny and the apothecary Dwining, instigated by Albany, drugged Rothsay's wine, and dragged the soon unconscious Prince to a deep dungeon under the old Mar, or tower, there to undergo a predetermined and dreadful death, by which his person should show no mark of violence, but by which he should simply "cease to exist," through the sure but slow process of starvation. It was reported that the Prince was seriously ill of some emaciating and malignant disorder; but the glee-maiden whom he had met at Perth, and whom he had recently encountered and brought with him to Falkland, accidentally strolling near the tower, heard moans, and soon learned the horrible truth. Immediately, she and Katie Glover, two ministering spirits, attempted to succor him; but in vain. The humanity of woman to Rothsay, in his distress, is historical. The glee-maiden, in order to accomplish all that was possible for the Prince, sought and found, through stratagem and disguise, the Earl of Douglas, then not far from Falkland. He, hearing her story, hastened thither, and entered the palace suddenly and decisively, as was his custom; but he found himself too late to save his son-in-law, yet not too late for wild justice. Adopting the good old rule of executing in haste and judging at leisure, he quickly made Ramorny, Bonthron, and Dwining hang as examples of it. Report of the dreadful crime committed on the Prince became public. His failings were forgotten, and his better qualities, not few, were remembered. Great indignation arose against Albany, who desired, through Rothsay's tragic death, to reach high power. But no one dared accuse a man so powerful; and, as time passed, rumors of coming war dispelled these emotions, and Rothsay rested, unrevenged by man upon his real murderer. The story of his sad fate, and, seemingly, his spirit, yet linger in the ruined palace, scene of many departed pleasures, as well as of his suffering, a scene, says Mr. Mackie, "the most curious and interesting, but perhaps the most neglected, haunt in the wide circle of Scotland."

And, finally, Katie Glover, released, and Harry Gow, without a rival, met as true Valentines, and "were married within four months after the battle of the North Inch;" and many a distinguished person has since, with pride, owned descent from "The Fair Maid of Perth."

XXVIII.

"THE ABBOT."

Twelfth Novel of the Series; Written 1819-20; Published September, 1820; Author's Age, 49; Time of Action, 1567-8.

TRAVE

RAVELLERS, moving from Falkland towards Edinburgh, can easily visit the chief scenes of this novel, — Kinross, and Loch-Leven Castle, — by going from Falkland-Road station, twenty miles by rail, to Kinross town, a pretty little place at the western end of the Loch.

Sir Walter Scott told Mr. Lockhart, "that the idea of 'The Abbot' had arisen in his mind during a visit to Blair Adam” (a few miles south of Kinross), the estate of the Right Hon. William Adam (one of Scott's life-long friends, a man with Scott's own bonhommie). There, indeed, nine intimates, forming a "BlairAdam Club," met for many years, Sir Walter with them, from 1816 to 1831. "They usually contrived to meet on a Friday; spent the Saturday in a ride to some scene of historical interest within an easy distance, enjoyed a quiet Sunday at home, duly attending divine worship at the Kirk of Cleish (not Cleishbotham); gave Monday morning to another antiquarian excursion; and returned to Edinburgh in time for the Courts of Tuesday." Thus Scott visited many celebrated scenes. To one of these excursions must be ascribed his dramatic sketch of "Macduff's Cross" (described in chapter xlix.), "and to that of the dog-days of 1819, we owe the weightier obligation of 'The Abbot.'”

This novel is partly a continuation of the one he had written immediately before it, "The Monastery," the localities of which are chiefly in the Southern Midland Border of Scotland, where the action of this one also begins, at a place prominent in that, — Avenel Castle, described from his boyish haunt, Smailholm Tower. It is a place deserving a visit, and is described in chapter xxxiv. There the childless lady of the Knight of Avenel, one sunset time, pacing the battlements and awaiting the knight's coming, saw a boy, who had been playing in a little lake below, rescued from accidental drowning. After her husband's arrival, this boy, Roland Græme, an orphan, was retained as her page. He continued to