to a place named the Old Tower, where he awaits the coming of the
procession. After some little time has elapsed, the procession sets
out from the cathedral; two of the canons bear the shrine in which
the relics of St. Romain are presumed to be preserved. When they
have arrived at the Old Tower, the shrine is placed in the chapel,
opposite to the criminal, who appears kneeling, with the chains on his
arms. Then one of the canons, having made him repeat the confession,
says the prayers usual at the time of giving absolution; after which
service, the prisoner kneeling still, lifts up the shrine three times,
amid the acclamations of the people assembled to behold the ceremony.
The procession then returns to the cathedral, followed by the criminal,
wearing a chaplet of flowers on his head, and carrying the shrine of the
saint. After mass has been performed, he has a very serious exhortation
addressed to him by a monk; and, lastly, he is conducted to an apartment
near the cathedral, and is supplied with refreshments and a bed for that
night. In the morning he is dismissed.

G.W.N.

* * * * *

THE SKETCH-BOOK

* * * * *

ABBOTSFORD,

_And Sir Walter Scott's Study_.

[The following extracts are from the private letter of a distinguished
American gentleman, and form part of one of the most striking articles
in "The Anniversary for 1829," edited by Allan Cunningham. We intended
the whole article for our Supplementary "Spirit of the Annuals;" but
as our engraving will necessarily occupy a few days longer, during
which time this description of _Abbotsford_ will be printed in
fifty different forms, we are induced to take it by the forelock, and
appropriate it for our present number. It is, perhaps, one of the
most, if not the most, graphic paper in the whole list of "Annuals,"
notwithstanding there are scores of brilliant gems left for our
Supplement. Certain arts must have their own pace; but, in our arduous
catering for novelties for the MIRROR, we often have occasion to wish
that _block-machinery_ could be applied to engraving on wood.]

"Stepping westward," as Wordsworth says, from the hall, you find
yourself in a narrow, low, arched room, which runs quite across the
house, having a blazoned window again at either extremity, and filled
all over with smaller pieces of armour and weapons, such as swords,
firelocks, spears, arrows, darts, daggers, &c. &c.