in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. She used to say that in the
new world into which she was come nothing had disappointed her so much as
trees and woods; she complained that they were lifeless, silent, and,
compared with the grandeur of the ever-changing ocean, even insipid. At
first I was surprised, but the next moment I felt that the impression was
natural. Mr. Scott said that she was a very sensible young woman, and
had read much. She talked with endless rapture and feeling of the power
and greatness of the ocean; and with the same passionate attachment
returned to her native island without any probability of quitting it
again.

The valley of the Jed is very solitary immediately under Ferniehurst; we
walked down the river, wading almost up to the knees in fern, which in
many parts overspread the forest-ground. It made me think of our walks
at Allfoxden, and of _our own_ park--though at Ferniehurst is no park at
present--and the slim fawns that we used to startle from their
couching-places among the fern at the top of the hill. We were
accompanied on our walk by a young man from the Braes of Yarrow, an
acquaintance of Mr. Scott's, {266} who, having been much delighted with
some of William's poems which he had chanced to see in a newspaper, had
wished to be introduced to him; he lived in the most retired part of the
dale of Yarrow, where he had a farm: he was fond of reading, and well
informed, but at first meeting as shy as any of our Grasmere lads, and
not less rustic in his appearance. He had been in the Highlands, and
gave me such an account of Loch Rannoch as made us regret that we had not
persevered in our journey thither, especially as he told us that the bad
road ended at a very little distance from the place where we had turned
back, and that we should have come into another good road, continued all
along the shore of the lake. He also mentioned that there was a very
fine view from the steeple at Dunkeld.

The town of Jedburgh, in returning along the road, as it is seen through
the gently winding narrow valley, looks exceedingly beautiful on its low
eminence, surmounted by the conventual tower, which is arched over, at
the summit, by light stone-work resembling a coronet; the effect at a
distance is very graceful. The hills all round are high, and rise
rapidly from the town, which though it stands considerably above the
river, yet, from every side except that on which we walked, appears to
stand in a