e passed coming hither all
struck me as poor and comfortless compared with England; but the less
cleanly and tidy habits of the Scotch, and their almost universal
practice of going barefoot--at least the women and children,--give an
impression of greater poverty and discomfort than really exist, I
believe.

I have not yet received my American letters.... I am to act three nights
at Glasgow. I think Kelso is the town nearest Carolside, and that is
fourteen miles distant; the post town or village is Earlston
(Ercildown), a mile from the house. The whole region belongs to poetry
and legend and romance. The Eildon hills overlook it, and Thomas the
Rhymer haunts it, and the Scotch ballads are full of it. Do you know--oh
no, you know no songs, you unfortunate!--"Leader haughs and Yarrow," or
that exquisite melody beloved of Mendelssohn:--

"Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride!
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome _marrow_!"

(isn't that an odd term of endearment to one's mistress?)

"Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride!
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow"?

Then there is that lovely ditty "Gala Water," which I always sing in
honor of my young host, who is a sort of Laird of Galashiel. The whole
place is full of such charming suggestions and associations. The
Leader, a lovely, clear, rapid, shallow, sparkling trout-stream, makes a
sudden bend across the lawn, opposite the drawing-room and dining-room
windows here (last October the pixie got vexed at something and very
nearly rushed in to the house); and early before breakfast this morning
I walked along the banks of the stream, and then knee deep up its bright
waters, and then over the breezy hills, "O'er the hills, amang the
heather," whence I watched its gleaming course between red-colored
rocks, like walls of porphyry or Roman tufa, and through corn-fields,
and by tufted woods, and felt for an hour as if there was no bitterness
in life....

I shall remain here till September 11th, when I go to Glasgow, where I
expect to act on the 13th. I shall be very sorry to go away, but shall
certainly by that time have had enjoyment enough to feel that it would
be unwise to tempt the inevitable decree which makes all pleasure and
happiness short-lived here, and which, when we strive to retain or
detain them, makes us wise through some disappointment or
disenchantment, which it is still wiser to anticipate and avoid.

Farewell, dear Hal.