The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-10-05

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have been upward of 200, are comrosed of
. five members of cornice, supported by palm
boughs, terminating at the foot in a point
with triple roll. The tracery of
THE WINDOW MILLIONS
Is in foliage The pedestals aud canopes
of the buttress inches are all ornamrnted in
garlandS of flowers. In the arch of the door
once leading 10 the c'oisterS the work upon
the fillet is of marvellous conception and eX
ecution, the flowers and foliage being separ-
ated from the stone behind and suspended
in a twisted garland. There is no more
superb StOne-WOrk in Europe than in the
holdings. pinnacle work aud foliage of the
remaining seats of the ciotster. The side
ases Fare formed by light-custered pillars,
richly capitalized, with garlands of flowers
and foliage depressed delicately in the mold
ings One might safely say that the entire
decoration OF this mlrvelOuS Interior is simply
an unsurpassed nature study OF foliage, plants
and flowers, wrought ID stone 10 as accuratea
semblance as though under the most perfect
representation by pencil To my mind,
solemn magnifcence and sPlendor has never
elsewhere been more perfectly welded to
the very incarnation of the beautiful through
art. Setting entirely aside the religious as
sociationS, those Impressive emotions which
ever arise at the SeDulCher of the mighty
dead, or still those more touching and eX-
quisite emotions which are the outgro of
a consciousness that the eyes and hearts of
countless men and women Of transcendent
genius have Toasted upon the splendid shrine,
as have yours and mine, know Of 10 other
spot ID the three Kingdoms where one may
come and so worship alone. with the I'M
mortal soul of art whispering sweetly
through the silent lips Of chseled stone.
If Merose Abbey furnishes examples of
art almost as bewitching as the most deli
cate expressions of nature ITSELF Dryburgh
Abbey. but four miles distant, down the
Iwead, holds and faSeinat-s the wanderer
with a far more tender and subtle charm.
The founding Of Dryburgh is Of remoter an
tiquity than even that of the original Culdee
house of old Melrose. Before the advent
of Christian missionaries the place was re-
sorted to by the Dru{ds for the celebration
of their mystic rit S-as Darach-bruach, or
burgh, 1.-THE bank cluster of sacred oaks"
Dryburgh's Celtic name, implies. Modan,
Culdee presbyter, set up the first Christian
establishment of Dry buIgh. in 500 For
62S years thereafter its history is insignti-
cant. Then monks from Alnwick, under
the patronage OF Sir Hugh de M0rYile, Con-
stable for Scotland under King David !,
founded here Premonstrateutlan Abbey of
splendid dimensions. This was burned
along with Melrose Abbey, by Edward ii.
and restored by aid granted by King Rob
eTt Bruce. Twice, in 1885 and in 1854. it
was pllaged and devastated by the English.
The reformation of doughty John Knox,
sIXTEEN YEARS LATER,
Did the rest. The ruins Of Dryburgh Abbey
show that the walls of the completed edifice
stood on different levels and :hat'the struc-
ture illustrated at least four different styles
of architecture This is seen in the mas
sive Roman arch. With its ample, square
sides, the deep played and always impress
siye Saxon arch, the pillared and intersccted
Norman arch and the carly English pointed
arch The church was originally in the
form of cross, with short transepts and a
small but eXqulSltely decorated choir while
the interior was divided by light AMI grace
full col0nnades into central space and side
alsles. OF the traDsepts, portion of but
one-the north, called st. Mary's Aisle-iS
still standing; but there is no more beauti-
full specimen OF the early Gothic to be found
in Scotland than Is this, the solemn and
secluded burial-place Of SeOtia's greatest
minstrel, the noble author of "Waverly."
The chapter-h0use, tiny chapel of st.
Modan, a Norman arch which formed the
western doorway, are still standing. A
stately yew, over 800 years DID, still stands
upon the lawn, opposite where once the
abbots sat at their parlor easements, to mock
the huge pile of stone us it crumbles into
the earth.
You feel more than you can see at Dry
burgh. The whole place is instinct with
rep0Se The horizon is close, not half
mile away in any direction. 1t is frnged
with the b0ughs and vendure OF sheltering
trees, save where far to the south. the Eli
donS peer down from above their cloud
mists into the sunny copse. The Tweed,
moving in silence for miles above. here
sweeps wide and grandly over cleaning
shadows. and sings its endless song just at
the edge of the abbey. You come to the
place through hushed and silent avenue,
ankle-deep in the spring-time with haw-
thorn blossoms white as snow. In these
grazing days their place is filed by the
browns and puces of rustliDg drift from
the beach, elm and sycamore. Only the
lodge-keeper's habitation reminds of earthly
activities. Nature alone holds sway.
Bloom and birds, era ,ses and vines, odor
and song, russell walls and emerald masses
of mess. .orels of ivy, fllets Of vines, pointed
arches Of roses. towers of tres leaping from
the old walls themselves, reach the eve and
sense tenderly, slunberously, pulsing with
hush and balm. Melrose exats. Dryburgh
soothes. The entire spot is ruin merged
into Elysium, hallowed by one humble
grave. And so sweet aud hushed is all that
even your reverence for the ever silence dis
appears; for you feel that your mighty
friend lies here as on the bosom of the land
he so loved and immortalized and that Scott
only sleeps while sweetly all nature-Songs
to him are sung. EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
tCopyrfght.