Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1898-08-02
IN THE LAND OF THE BluE6ELl
AND HEATHER.
NO. l5.
(From the Democrats Foreign Correspondent
ABBoTTsroRD, SCOTLAND, Feb. IL, '9S.

i NO. 10.
(From the Democrats Foreign Correspondent
ABBOTTsfoRD, SCOTLAND, Feb. IL, '9S.
oCale.ioniai stern and Wild
Meet nurse for poetic child
| Land of brown heath and shaggy wood.
Land Of the Mountain and the Flood
Lay Of the Last Minstrel
No wonder this country makes poets OF
It's people, and the people make poetry
OF their country. Scotland has given To
the world more volumes Of poetry than
any country twice Its size on the globe.
In the library at Glasgow are 6000
volumes Of Scottish poetry, represent
ing 5000 authors; and besides the verse
Of this illustrious land there Is no lltera-
ture in the world so musically, tenderly,
vividly poctical as the Scottish literature.
When we think OF the great names 1t has
given to letters-Carlyle, Chalmers,
Hume, R,msey, Thomson, Furgurson,
and greatest Of all, Scott and Burns, II
seems almost marvel that this little
land, not much larger than the State OF
Maine, could contain such gigantic ar
ray Of genius.
And there Is no history that has equal
led 1t In the display Of heroism, and in-
tellectual and moral purpose. Which
ever way you turn, the consciousness
that you are mingling with race Of
beings, intense, original and magnificent,
attracts you at every step, and the ro-
mantle charm Of the Scottish character
leaves its impress on the sensitive mind.
But best OF all Is the innate honesty Of
every individual about you, and the In
tense respect for religion and everything
sacred. No one will cheat you here,
which Is an agreeable contrast to most
foreign countries.
But II Is not OF the Scottish character
In general that we nov have TO speak,
but of its great and illustrious son, Sir
Walter Scott, at the Threshold Of whose
sumptuous dwelling, called Abbottsford,
we pause with bated breath aud gar
spell-bound upon the surrounding scene.
and upon the elegant structure whose
walls once sheltered great genius and
great msn-great because q good msn.
and unspoiled by all the world brought
to him Of fame and wealth and glory.
As we stand here at the entrance To-
this wondrous temple, aud gaze inside
upon its priceless treasures Of art and
letters, the glory OF the setting sun
streaming through It's mullioned win
dows aud lighting up Its castellated
towers and sparkling over the green ter
races dotted here and there with the yell
low dandelion and the mountain daisy,
with the gently flowing Tweed murmur-
ing In our ears, our thoughts 90 back TO
.,a - h.r a tneS In "a xal
city alleywsv where no sunlight ever
falls on the dsrkened window pane, no
priceless paintings sdorn its poverty
haunted walls, no carpet over the bare
door prevents the resounding footfsll,
and no treasures Of literature abound ex-
cept few volumes OF the poets own
works, and We are again In the house
where lived aud died tenderer and
even greater genius than breathed with
10 these haloed walls; and 1t Is with sad
ness that We contrast that sQualid DWELL
ing with the richness and grandeur of
these spacious halls, for the men who In
hsbited both, the two greatest names In
Scottish literature, though in their sur
roundings aud circumstances were wide
~ different, yet In the simplicity OF their
natures they were much alike.
Scott often lamented the conditions
his genious brought about, for he cared
not for what Is called society. at may
be pleasant gale TO sale WITH" said he,
"but il never yet led TO port that |
want TO anchor in" Instead IL was the
height OF his ambition TO be TSeedside
Lsird-to buy farm on the banks Of the
Tweed, this river that Was everything TO
him, with its myriads OF white pebbles
sleeping at the bottom. When he took
possession Of his farm he gave 1t the
name OF the adjoining ford, and TO his
brother he wrote: 81 have bought
property extending one-hslf mile along
the banks Of the Tweed, and | assure
you We are not little proud OF being
called the Laird and Lady Of Abbottsford
We will give grand gala when We take
possession, and As We are very cidnRish
In this corner, all the Scots in the coun-
try from the duke TO the peasant shall
dance on the green to the bagpipes."
One OF his servants said OF him: "Sir
Walter speaks TO every man as IL they
were blood relations" Many OF these
stones were laid with his own hands, for
he was not too proud TO soil his hands
Wltu MANUAL laDOr.
Scott was a great admirer Of Burns,
though the poet died before Scott had
attained much prominence. The only
time he ever saw him was when mere
lad. Ii WAS at dinner, and print was
shown the guests representing soldier
lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting
Ia misery on one side and on the other
his widow with their child ut her breast
-"the child OF misery baptized 10 tears"
Burns actually shed tears over this pa
thetic representation, which made an in
youthful admirer, and 10 all his after life
he revered the tender heart OF his great
predecessor.
The first poetry Scott ever wrote when
but a lad was his Ode to Mt. Etna, be-
ginning:
"Black clouds Of smoke, which, still as they
aspire
From their dark sides then burs, the glowing
fire."
They were found amongst his mothers
possessions carefully preserved and
labelled with these words, my Walters
first lines, l1S2."
Abbottsford has been called the RO-
nance in Stone, and 1t might also be
called the tragedy in Stone, for it was
here the tragedy Of desOlation, of loneli-
ness and unceasing toll was enacted,
after the death of his wife, his Charlotte,
of whom he said: When l contrast what
this place now is, and what 1t has been
not long since, think my heart will
break. Lonely, sged, an impoverished
and embarrassed man, deprived OF the
shsrer Of my thoughts and counsels, oh,
l wonder what shall do with all the
thoughts that have been hers for 80
years. | suspect they will be hers STILL"
And to more than one of US will appeal
these blessed words of hope and consO-
lation: "She Is conscious Of my emo
tions somewhere, somehOw-where We
do not know, how we cannot tell, for all
that this world can give, would not re-
nounce the mysterious but certain hope
that l shall see her 10 better world"
Every one knows of the great tragedy
of experience, when, after years OF toll,
this great house was built, his publish
ers involved him In an immense debt OF
many thousand pounds, and here he
worked and toiled day after day, week
after week, and year after year, early
and late, allowing himself no rest, no
vacation and no recreation, living In the
simplest manner, till every cent Of that
fabulous debt Was paid. Then came the
prolonged season Of weakness and help
lessness, where his labors had at last
| broken him down. and then that final