ed
to Gala Water, a pretty stream, but much smaller than the Tweed, into
which the brook flows from the glen I have spoken of. Near the Gala is a
large modern house, the situation very pleasant, but the old building
which we had passed put to shame the fresh colouring and meagre outline
of the new one. Went through a part of the village of Galashiels,
pleasantly situated on the bank of the stream; a pretty place it once has
been, but a manufactory is established there; and a townish bustle and
ugly stone houses are fast taking place of the brown-roofed thatched
cottages, of which a great number yet remain, partly overshadowed by
trees. Left the Gala, and, after crossing the open country, came again
to the Tweed, and pursued our way as before near the river, perhaps for a
mile or two, till we arrived at Melrose. The valley for this short space
was not so pleasing as before, the hills more broken, and though the
cultivation was general, yet the scene was not rich, while it had lost
its pastoral simplicity. At Melrose the vale opens out wide; but the
hills are high all round--single distinct risings. After breakfast we
went out, intending to go to the Abbey, and in the street met Mr. Scott,
who gave us a cordial greeting, and conducted us thither himself. He was
here on his own ground, for he is familiar with all that is known of the
authentic history of Melrose and the popular tales connected with it. He
pointed out many pieces of beautiful sculpture in obscure corners which
would have escaped our notice. The Abbey has been built of a pale red
stone; that part which was first erected of a very durable kind, the
sculptured flowers and leaves and other minute ornaments being as perfect
in many places as when first wrought. The ruin is of considerable
extent, but unfortunately it is almost surrounded by insignificant
houses, so that when you are close to it you see it entirely separated
from many rural objects, and even when viewed from a distance the
situation does not seem to be particularly happy, for the vale is broken
and disturbed, and the Abbey at a distance from the river, so that you do
not look upon them as companions of each other. And surely this is a
national barbarism: within these beautiful walls is the ugliest church
that was ever beheld--if it had been hewn out of the side of a hill it
could not have been more dismal; there was no neatness, nor even decency,
and it appeared to be so damp, and so com