The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1882-08-17

scriDtiOns, 1t was queer sight.
We finished our day in Edinburgh
famOusly. Think of hearing dramati-
cation of ScOtt's Rob Roy" played by
Scotch actors on Rob ROy's and Walter
ScOtt's native heath. We went to the
Royal Theater in Edinburgh. You are
put into your seat by neat girl ushers,
and pay them a penny for your pro-
gramme.
The character of Rob Roy was taken
by Mr.. ]. B. Howard, a noble actor of the
part, which he has played with great
success for over one thousand nights
His wife took the part OF Helen Mac
gregOr, and fairly made your hair stand
on end in this fierce, tiger like charac-
| ter. A dozen or more famous Scotch
songs were introduced during the play,
| and the enthusiasm of the audience was
wrought up to the seething pitch.
There is more fire, enthusiasm and TO-
nance in the heart of ScOtchman than
almost ANYBODY else alive. An Eng
J lishman seems commonplace as an OK
beside him. | could not have believed
| it if had not seen 1t for myself, and L
never was more astOnished. Rob Roy
has slept with his fathers for hundreds
of years, and was more of myth than
| a reality anyhow. The ancient kingdom
of Scotland has been a peaceful and
loyal portion of the British Empire for
| hundreds of years, too. But try the eff
| feet of "ROy's Wife, "MacgregOr's Gath
ering," and Bonnie Prince Charlie"
sung by good and well trained voices,
on Scotch audience. They will roar
| and stamp and clap their hands, and
half of them will join in the chorus till
Won expect to see Rob ROy's pipers rise
ont of the ground bodily, crashing their
wild bagpipes to let the fOeman know
the CamDbells are coming. II you want
| to hear the bagpipes played, come to
Scotland. 1t is said that Walter Scott
used to be wrought into uncOntrollable
excitement by the air OF Prince Char
lie." We understood how IL was after
we heard those songs in the Royal Thea
ter at Edinburgh. The effect was like
''Rally Round the Flag" in the loyal
| North in war times. A wild thrOb
stirred the Yankee heart, too, as the
weird. thrilling melodies walked the air
till we fairly agreed with Baillie NicOl
JarYie:
"He's Macgrlgger, I'm a MacgriggSr,
and we're a. Macgriggers.
As we went home from the theater, at
eleven O'Clock at night, the newsgirls
| latest dispatches from the war in Egypt.
| These neWsgirls here look like very
good feminine edition OF the average
newsbOy at home.
| The very toughest experience Of our
| trip, as far as we've got, was getting up
between four and five o'clock next morn
| ing, to come to London. We had rail-
way ride before US from Edinburgh to
London Of 400 miles.
On the way we stopped at Melrose Sta
| tion, to see MelrOse Abbey, and AbbOt5
| ford, the home of Scott, three miles out.
If YOU wish to know what rare and
precious collection of art and history
| treasures the great Wizard of the North
collected in his lifetime, read the books
on the subject. There are plenty Of such
books in America, and they are worth
your reading.
A pimply-faced young man, who left
out his HIS, met us at the door, and con-
Quoted us through the show rooms at
Abbotsford, where Sir Walters books,
manuscripts, the chair he sat in when
he wrote, the historical relics he col
| lected, his family portraits, canes, or
| Sticks" as our British brother calls
them, &C., &c., &C., are to be seen. The
painted windows and wood carving are
| splendid. The pimply-faced young man
kept up a sing-sOng as follows:
"Ere's the keys to the Bawstille." We
| Americans smiled in our sleeves as we
remembered that the genuine big key of
the Bastille the great and only boss
key, as it Were-iS safely lodged in the
| United States, at Mt. Vernon, where it
has hung upon its particular nail ever
since General WashingtOn's time. How
we pitied that deluded young mani
"The air sticking hOut at the hend of
| this paper is the Juke of WellingtOn's
air" continued the sing-sOng.
We passed into a room containing a
pair of magnificent stag horns, crumb-
| ling into dust, so huge that it did not
| seem possible they could have belonged
to any deer of our time.
"Did those antlerJ belong to prehis-
toric deer?" said tourist.
81 don't know, mum, the name Of the
hanimal they was got from" says the
intelligent youth.
But the sight that was worth coming
across the ocean to behold, the beautiful
front view of AbbotsfOTd, we lost alto
gether. 1t was shut completely from
sight by one of those abominable walls
our British brother always hides him
self and his house behind, as though he
was ashamed of both.
From AbbOtsfOrd we went to see that
glorious ruin, MelrOse Abbey, where the
heart of Bruce is buried. 1t is a memory
we shall carry down to our graves with
us. can not describe it to you. Once
more, come and see it for yourself.
E..A.