CHAP. V. 



"And far beneath in lustre wan 



Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran." 



Lay of the Last Minstrel. 



My first visit to the Tweed was before the Minstrel of 

 the North had sung those strains which enchanted the 

 world, and attracted people of all ranks to this land of 

 romance. The scenery therefore at that time, un- 

 assisted by story, lost its chief interest; yet was it all 



