am beneath
us, once a broad shallow, now affords depth for the heaviest ships. Away
on the northern bank the Roman wall lies hid, its arrowy route just
marked by a burial heave of the turf. Before us stands the massive keep,
with sturdy Norman walls--the trains of the North-Eastern are scrunching
on the curve within a yard of it. Stephenson's engine looks down on
Elizabethan gables;" and so on. Near Newcastle--at Wylam and
Killingworth--the first locomotive engines were born which changed the
country and revolutionised travelling.

The warders at Berwick no longer look out from the castle walls to
descry the glitter of Southern spears. The bell-tower from which the
alarm was sounded is now silent--the only bell heard within the
precincts of the castle being that of the railway porter, announcing the
arrival and departure of trains. The Scotch express passes along the
bridge, and speeds southward on the wings of steam. But no alarm spreads
across the Border now.

We shall cross the Tweed presently, and pass through the country of the
Moss-troopers and the territories of the Lords Marchers, the scene of so
many conflicts and fatal raids. We first cross the Coquet, "the stream
of streams," the poet calls it:--

"There's mony a sawmon lies in Tweed,
An' mony a trout in Till;
But Coquet--Coquet aye for me,
If I may have my will!"

We get a view of the Cheviots; and Tweed-mouth passed, we cross the
"Royal Border Bridge," and run into Berwick.

What a record of battle has Berwick! In these peaceful times at home we
can hardly picture the old walls on which we walk manned with armoured
soldiery, and King John within his house, a burning torch in his hand,
setting fire to the town, or hanging up the people by the feet till they
told where their money-bags were hidden. In those days and in Edward's
time, the "Flying Scotchmen" were Highlanders who were dispersed by the
English king. Wallace avenged the slaughter, and seized Berwick; Robert
Bruce and Douglas climbed into the town with their trusty men. Half
Wallace's body was sent here as a trophy, and the Countess of Buchan was
hung out from the walls in a cage!

Beacons again burn in the bell-tower, and Edward and Bruce again engage,
and Berwick was only finally deprived of its warlike appearance when
James the First united England and Scotland. These are some of the tales
the old stones tell us as we pause in Berwick, which within our own
memory was so spec