CHAPTER XV.
"Proud relic of the mighty dead!
Be mine with shuddering awe to tread
Thy roofless weedy hall,
And mark, with fancy's kindling eye,
The steel-clad ages, gliding by,
Thy feudal pomp recall."
I closed my last in the ancient town of Melrose, on the banks of the Tweed, and within a stone's throw of the celebrated ruins from which the town derives its name. The valley in which Melrose is situated, and the surrounding hills, together with the monastery, have so often been made a theme for the Scottish bards, that this has become the most interesting part of Scotland. Of the many gifted writers who have taken up the pen, none have done more to bring the Eildon Hills and Melrose Abbey into note than the author of "Waverley." But who can read his writings without a regret that he should have so woven fact and fiction together that it is almost impossible to discriminate between the one and the other?
We arrived at Melrose in the evening, and proceeded
