ABBOTSFORD. 103 



the waters. All these outward pictures he might see 

 and feel ; but he could see no farther : the lore had not 

 spread its witchery over the scene, — the legends slept in 

 oblivion. The stark moss-trooper, and the clanking 

 stride of the warrior, had not again started into life ; 

 nor had the light blazed gloriously in the sepulchre 

 of the wizard with the mighty book. The slogan 

 swelled not anew uj)on the gale, resounding through 

 the glens, and over the misty mountains ; nor had the 

 minstrel's harp made music in the stately halls of 

 Newark *, or beside the lonely braes of Yarrow. 



Since that time I have seen the cottage of Abbots- 

 ford with its rustic porch, lying peacefully on the 

 haugh between the lone hiUs ; and have listened to the 

 wild rush of the Tweed as it hurried beneath it. As 

 time progressed, and as hopes arose, I have seen that 

 cottage converted into a picturesque mansion, with every 

 luxury and comfort attached to it, and have partaken 

 of its hospitality : the unproductive hills I have viewed 

 covered with thriving plantations, and the whole aspect 

 of the country ci\'ilised, without losing its romantic 

 character. But, amidst all these revolutions, I have 

 never perceived any change in the mind of him who 

 made them, " the choice and master-spirit of the age." 

 There he dwelt in the hearts of the peoj^le, diffusing 

 life and happiness around liim : he made a home beside 

 the border river, in a country and a nation that have 

 derived benefit from his presence, and consequence from 

 his genius. From his chambers he looked out upon 



* The tower of Newark stands near Bowhill. 

 H 4 



