pts at rhyme. Life, with Burns, was one long, hard struggle. With
his natural love for the beautiful, the terrible depression of spirits
he suffered from his dreary surroundings was inevitable. The interest
great men took in him, when they awoke to his genius, came too late for
his safety and encouragement. In a glass of whisky he found, at last,
the rest and cheer he never knew when sober. Poverty and ignorance are
the parents of intemperance, and that vice will never be suppressed
until the burdens of life are equally shared by all.

We saw Melrose by moonlight, spent several hours at Abbotsford, and
lingered in the little sanctum sanctorum where Scott wrote his immortal
works. It was so small that he could reach the bookshelves on every
side. We went through the prisons, castles, and narrow streets of
Edinburgh, where the houses are seven and eight stories high, each story
projecting a few feet until, at the uppermost, opposite neighbors could
easily shake hands and chat together. All the intervals from active
sight-seeing we spent in reading the lives of historical personages in
poetry and prose, until our sympathies flowed out to the real and ideal
characters. Lady Jane Grey, Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots, Ellen
Douglas, Jeanie and Effie Deans, Highland Mary, Rebecca the Jewess, Di
Vernon, and Rob Roy all alike seemed real men and women, whose shades or
descendants we hoped to meet on their native heath.

Here among the Scotch lakes and mountains Mr. Stanton and I were
traveling alone for the first time since our marriage, and as we both
enjoyed walking, we made many excursions on foot to points that could
not be reached in any other way. We spent some time among the Grampian
Hills, so familiar to every schoolboy, walking, and riding about on
donkeys. We sailed up and down Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond. My husband
was writing letters for some New York newspapers on the entire trip, and
aimed to get exact knowledge of all we saw; thus I had the advantage of
the information he gathered. On these long tramps I wore a short dress,
reaching just below the knee, of dark-blue cloth, a military cap of the
same material that shaded my eyes, and a pair of long boots, made on the
masculine pattern then generally worn--the most easy style for walking,
as the pressure is equal on the whole foot and the ankle has free play.
Thus equipped, and early trained by my good brother-in-law to long
walks, I found no difficulty in keepi