Morning journal and courier., 1886-09-18

eyes of the rustic visitor and lingering glan-
 ces of the bashful maiden by his side.
 Statues of George w., William Pitt,
 Thomas Chalmers and other prominent men have been erected on George street, while at | ure of Prince Albert is situated. The design is quite elaborate, including paneled sides to I the pedestal with groups of workingmen, sailors, children and other persons carved upon it, who present flowers to the prince. Melrose Abbey proved place full of his- toric interest. The Rip Van Wrinkle village | usually bears the name of the abbey in wri- ting or printing its name, the ruin in fact I constituting its chief attraction. A quiet, | restfu1 atmosphere seems to pervade the place. Few people are astir. Marks of | haste and hustle are happily absent. l The crumbling walls of the abbey, over grown with ivy and other traces of vegeta- ble life, present indeed a mournful picture. l A flock of jackdaws, disturbed by our pres ence, flew from their lonely nests in the l crevices of the gray walls as we approached. Founded by David I. in 1136, in the inter est of the Cisterian Order of Monks, it was finally dedicated about ten years later. Fire and sword have since wrought terrible havoc with the beautiful and venerable structure. In 1929 Edward II. ruthlessly, in spirit of absolute vandalism, robbed it of its sacred ! treasures, and the Church of St. Mary, iden- IL, was again rebuilt at the expense of Robert the Bruce. By the incendiary act of Richard H., in 1885, it was partially destroyed by fire. During the struggle of the Reformers it's final ruin was achieved, and for more than two l centuries the stones of which it was com posed were carried away, and now form DOT tions of many public and private buildings in the vicinity.
 Here the heroic and warlike Douglasses slumber. William, Lord of Liddesdale, | murdered during the reign of David I. while on hunting expedition, was buried within ] it's sombre walls. The heart of Robert the Bruce was brought back from the bloody battlefield in Spain and here inferred. On the day of our arrival a wreath of wild flow CTS with some lines in writing rested over his buried heart. Some children on the previous Sabbath, from the fresh perusal of history, had made this tribute to his memory, five hundred years after his death. Michael Scott, the reputed wizard, was also buried within the enclosure. The fol- lowing lines refer to the fact:
 II buried him on St. MichaeI's night, When the bell tolled and the moon was bright; And dug him a chamber among the dead When the floor of the chancel was stained red, That his patrons cross might over him wave And scare the fends from the wizards grave" Sir Walter Scott came frequently from his mansion at Abbottsford, two and half miles distant, when preparing certain of his works for the press, spending hours amid the associations of the spot.
 Arriving at Abbottsford after a pleasant walk from the abbey, we found few visitors present, the hour was comparatively early. The building is a substantial stone structure. We'll kept grounds with 8 profusion of flow CTS and foliage surround it. few yards from the premises the Tweed goes murmur- ing by in it's serpentine pathway to the sea. By process of architectural evolution the house has grown since the period of it's erec | lion n until present ample proportions were reached in 1891 under Sir Walters immediate supervi- sion.
 The interior is practically a museum, so numerous are the curiosities which accumu- lated during the life time of the distinguished author. Space can only be spared for the mention of a few of them.
 The library, sixty by fifty feet, has roof of carved oak and contains nearly twenty thousand volumes, many of them being e1- ceedingly rare and valuable. I was allowed to sit in the vacant armchair of the great writer as special favor, a privilege seldom accorded to visitors, lest the leathern cover ing should wear out prematurely. Among other curiosities were Highland broad swords, targets, matchlocks of the if teenth century, bugle horns and ancient in struments of torture, Rob Roy's gun, Napo- and the iron mask worn by George Wishart when burned at the stake. There are also two elbow chairs, the gift of Pope Plus, an ebony writing nesk presented by George III. and silver urn sent by Lord Byron from Greece. The garments last worn by the il- lustrious and indefatigable writer are also shown, consisting of the plaid trousers, striped vest, blue coat, broad brimmed white hat and pair of well brushed walk ing shoes. By them lies his walking stick one of a dozen more collected by him. New canes were frequently selected by Sir hiS n bp forest The guide described him as a bad shot, but observed that he excelled as fish erman.
 A large chest strongly bound with metal bands was also shown, which it was soberly declared was the identical one in which the bride playfully hid herself at the wedding feast-and the spring lock preventing her escape, it became her coffin. Since then the tale has been told in many forms alike in po- etry and prose. The chest is said to have beer subsequently presented to Sir Walter, who was well known antiquarian.
 His remains rest at Dryburgh Abbey. The massive granite shaft bears the simple in- scription, ''Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, died September 21st, 1882" By his side sleep his wife, his son, Lieutenant Colonel Scott, who died at sea, and Lockhart, his son-in- law.
 ''So there in solemn solitude,
 In that sequestered spot,
 The dust of Walter Scott!
 The glowing dreams of bright romance
 That, teeming, filled his ample brow;
 Where is his daring chivalry?
 Where are his visions now?
 The flashing eye is diD1ned for aye;
 The stalwart limb is stiff and cold;
 No longer pours his trumpet note
 To wake the jousts of old!
 The generous heart, the open hand,
 The ruddy cheek. the silver hair,
 Are meuldering in the silent dust
 All, all is lonely there"
 An additional walk from the mansion of mile over a smooth road, between neatly trimmed hedge rows, brought me to the banks of the Tweed. No bridge was there, but rowboat did good service and con- veyed me to the opposite shore, the oars being vigorously piled by the ferry woman, ,vbo rooo;vad tyu,, oents from aaoh rassen-