262 NORTHERN MEMOIRS. 



Scotland, but arn glad to discover my native 

 country in any dress : I fancied I felt English 

 air, before I touch'd English earth. 



Arn. Here's another object. 



Tlieoph. What's that ? 



Arn. The ruins and remains of an antient cas- 

 tle, whose beautiful impressions are almost blot- 

 ted out, by the shady strokes and impressions of 

 time, that writes marginal notes on her totter- 

 ing battlements. And such is the town, crazy 

 and weather-beaten, standing upon stilts ; and 

 because besieg'd with an unwieldy wall, makes 

 it look not unlike a pilgrim ; or rather an infirm 

 penitent, that moves slowly and creeps to his 

 grave ; so do her antient ruins slide into dust : 

 these are her ports, if you please let us enter. 

 Near to this Alnwick runs the River Aln, or ra- 

 ther a rivulet. Distant from hence about some 

 seven miles southward, stands Felton-Bridg, 

 built all with stone, under which there glides 

 most limpid streams that accommodate the an- 

 gler. 



Tlieoph. Shall we touch there ? 



Arn. Not now, time won't permit us ; but as 

 we descend these mountains, we discover Mor- 

 peth, whose banks are bath'd with the river Mor, 

 where as yet remain the reliques and ruins of an 

 antient castle, whose beauty is almost blotted 



