field, they were
followed or rather met by men and women, each with an allotted beat,
who rushed in behind and gathered up the fallen from the standing
grain so as to make a clear path for the next round. There seemed
to be no reason for this singular and awkward practice, except the
adhesion to an old custom of reaping. The grain was not very stout,
nor was it lodged.

From Northallerton I hastened on to Newcastle-upon-Tyne in order to
attend, for the first time in my life, the meetings of the British
Association. I reached that town on the 25th of August, and
remained there a week, enjoying one of the greatest treats that ever
fell to my lot. I will reserve a brief description of it for a
separate chapter at the end of this volume, if my Notes on other
matters do not crowd it out.

CHAPTER XVI.

HEXHAM--THE NORTH TYNE--BORDER-LAND AND ITS SUGGESTIONS--HAWICK--
TEVIOTDALE--BIRTH-PLACE OF LEYDEN--MELROSE AND DRYBURGH ABBEYS--
ABBOTSFORD: SIR WALTER SCOTT; HOMAGE TO HIS GENIUS--THE FERRY AND
THE OAR-GIRL--NEW FARM STEDDINGS--SCENERY OF THE TWEED VALLEY--
EDINBURGH AND ITS CHARACTERISTICS.

On Thursday, Sept. 3rd, I left Newcastle, and proceeded first
westward to the old town of Hexham, with the view of taking a more
central route into Scotland. Here, too, are the ruins of one of the
most ancient of the abbeys. The parish church wears the wrinkles of
as many centuries as the oldest in the land. Indeed, the town is
full of antiquities of different dates and races,--Roman, Scotch,
Saxon, Danish and Norman. They all left the marks of their glaived
hands upon it.

From Hexham I faced northward and followed the North Tyne up through
a very picturesque and romantic valley, thickly wooded and studded
with baronial mansions, parks, castles and residences of gentry,
with comfortable farm-houses looking sunny and cheerful on the green
hill slopes and on the quiet banks of the river. I saw fields of
wheat quite green, looking as if they needed another month's sun to
fit them for harvesting. Lodged in a little village about eight
miles from Hexham. The next day walked on to the little hamlet of
Fallstones, a distance of about twenty miles. As I ascended the
valley, the scene changed rapidly. The river dwindled to a narrow
stream. The hills that walled it in on either side grew higher and
balder, and the clouds lay cold and dank upon their bleak and sullen
brows. The hamlets edged in here and there grew