— 381 — 



T'is indeed a grand old shrine for pilgrims of every 

 nation, though a ruin. Let us recall its palmy days of 

 yore. 



• " Imagine the roofs of Melrose Abbey, its flying but- 

 tresses and gothic pinnacles all entire ; the tower whole, 

 surmounted by its open balustrade, and reverberating 

 with its harmonious chimes of bells ; imagine the win- 

 dows perfect, and filled, with their many coloured glass, 

 — and you have before you, what was in former ages 

 an object af unbounded reverence and admiration, to 

 the brave — the good and the true land which Bruce had 

 rescued from the hands of the destroyer ; the land which 

 Wallace had trod " — the land dear to many here to- 

 night " auld Scotland." {Loud applause.) 



We took an open carriage at the George, to reach 

 from Melrose to Abbotsford, a very beautiful drive of 

 three miles, following the windings of the Tweed, Sir 

 Walter's cherished Tweed, through an undulating, 

 pastoral country. Owing to a depression in the land 

 and an intervening grove of trees, Abbotsford is not 

 seen except when you arrive close by ; there it sits, 

 graceful and picturesque, on a terrace facing the Tweed. 

 The Mansion, as we all know, was built up at different 

 times, and more in accordance with Scott's fancies than 

 any regular plan. After waiting some time for the 

 return of the porter, absent escorting a party of Ameri- 

 can tourists, through the Castle, our turn came. It was 

 shall I confess it, with most indescribable feelings, I 

 ascended the stone steps of the narrow staircase, lead- 

 ing to the once busy haunt of thought above. Curiosity, 

 joy, regret, each seemed successively to claim mastery 

 over my mind. Often had I heard it stated that Abbots- 

 ford does not come up to the ideal embalmed in Lock- 

 hart's pages. It may be so, for some ; especially for 

 those accustomed to the quasi-regal design of many 

 mansions of the Plutocracy in the old and in the new 

 world. I cannot say I experienced any disappoint- 

 ment, especially when I looked out on the rushing 



