historical
importance. The road much of the way skirts the ocean and is a
magnificent highway leading through a number of quaint towns famous in
Scotch song and story. Numerous battlefields are scattered along the
way, but we found it difficult to locate a battlefield when we passed
it, and generally quit trying. In fact, in the days of border warfare
the whole south of Scotland was the scene of almost continuous strife,
and battles of greater or less importance were fought everywhere with
the English in the centuries of fierce hatred which existed between the
two nations. The Scots held their own wonderfully well, considering
their greatly inferior numbers and the general poverty of their country.
The union, after all, was brought about not by conquest but by a Scotch
king going to London to assume the crown of the two kingdoms. The famous
old town of Berwick-on-Tweed bore the brunt of the incursions from both
sides on the eastern coast, as did Carlisle on the west. The town of
Dunbar, situated on the coast about midway between Edinburgh and
Berwick, was of great importance in border history. It had an extensive
and strongly fortified castle, situated on the margin of a cliff
overhanging the ocean, and which was for a time the residence of Queen
Mary after her marriage with Darnley. Nothing now remains of this great
structure save a few crumbling walls of red sandstone, which are
carefully propped up and kept in the best possible repair by the
citizens, who have at last come to realize the cash value of such a
ruin. If such a realization had only come a hundred years ago, a great
service would have been done the historian and the antiquarian. But this
is no less true of a thousand other towns than of Dunbar. No quainter
edifice did we see in all Britain than Dunbar's Fifteenth Century town
hall. It seemed more characteristic of an old German town than of
Scotland. This odd old building is still the seat of the city
government.

[Illustration: TOWN HOUSE, DUNBAR, SCOTLAND.]

Our route from Dunbar ran for a long way between the hills of Lammermoor
and the ocean and abounded in delightful and striking scenery. We were
forcibly reminded of Scott's mournful story, "The Bride of Lammermoor,"
as we passed among the familiar scenes mentioned in the book, and it was
the influence of this romantic tale that led us from the main road into
narrow byways and sleepy little coast towns innocent of modern
progress and undisturbed b