of the cottages seemed to be standing in
their doors, bowing and smiling, and expressing their welcome in a
gentle, kindly way, that was quite touching.

As we were walking towards the Tweed, the Eildon Hill, with its three
points, rose before us in the horizon. I thought of the words in the Lay
of the Last Minstrel:--

"Warrior, I could say to thee,
The words that cleft Eildon Hill in three,
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone."

I appealed to my friends if they knew any thing about the tradition; I
thought they seemed rather reluctant to speak of it. O, there was some
foolish story, they believed; they did not well know what it was.

The picturesque age of human childhood is gone by; men and women cannot
always be so accommodating as to believe unreasonable stories for the
convenience of poets.

At the Tweed the man with the skiff was waiting for us. In parting with
my friend, I said, "Farewell. I hope we may meet again some time."

"I am sure we shall, madam," said he; "if not here, certainly
hereafter."

After being rowed across I stopped a few moments to admire the rippling
of the clear water over the pebbles. "I want some of these pebbles of
the Tweed," I said, "to carry home to America." Two hearty, rosy-cheeked
Scotch lasses on the shore soon supplied me with as many as I could
carry.

We got into our carriage, and drove up to Melrose. After a little
negotiation with the keeper, the doors were unlocked. Just at that
moment the sun was so gracious as to give a full look through the
windows, and touch with streaks of gold the green, grassy floor; for the
beautiful ruin is floored with green grass and roofed with sky: even
poetry has not exaggerated its beauty, and could not. There is never any
end to the charms of Gothic architecture. It is like the beauty of
Cleopatra,--

"Age cannot wither, custom, cannot stale
Her infinite variety."

Here is this Melrose, now, which has been berhymed, bedraggled through
infinite guide books, and been gaped at and smoked at by dandies, and
been called a "dear love" by pretty young ladies, and been hawked about
as a trade article in all neighboring shops, and you know perfectly well
that all your raptures are spoken for and expected at the door, and your
going off in an ecstasy is a regular part of the programme; and yet,
after all, the sad, wild, sweet beauty of the thing comes down on one
like a cloud; even for the sake of being original you coul