s then a great and populous place, and, from the loveliness of
its situation, the chosen residence of royalty. (It is a pity but that our
princes and princesses saw it now, and they would hardly be again charmed
with the cold, dead, and bare beach of Brighton.) An old writer (I forget
whom) has stated, in describing the magnitude of Jedburgh in those days,
that it was six times larger than Berwick. This, however, is a mistake, for
Berwick, at that period, was the greatest maritime town in the kingdom, and
surpassed London, which strove to rival it.

On the same day that King Alexander and his splendid retinue reached
Jedburgh, his bride, escorted by the nobles of France and their attendants,
also arrived. The dresses of the congregated thousands were gorgeous as
summer flowers, and variegated as gorgeous. The people looked with wonder
on the glittering throng. The trees had lost the hues of their fresh and
living green--for brown October threw its deep shadows o'er the
landscape--but the leaves yet trembled on the boughs from which they were
loath to part; and, as a rainbow that had died upon the trees, and left its
hues and impression there, the embrowning forest appeared.

The marriage ceremony was performed in the Abbey, before Morel, the Lord
Abbot, and glad assembled thousands. The town and the surrounding hills
became a scene of joy. The bale-fires blazed from every hill; music echoed
in the streets; and from every house, while the light of tapers gleamed,
was heard the sounds of dance and song. The Scottish maiden and the French
courtier danced by the side of the Jed together. But chief of all the
festive scene was the assembly in the hall of the royal castle. At the
farther end of the apartment, elevated on a purpled covered dais, sat King
Alexander, with the hand of his bridal queen locked in his. On each side
were ranged, promiscuously, the Scottish and the French nobility, with
their wives, daughters, and sisters. Music lent its influence to the scene,
and the strains of a hundred instruments blended in a swell of melody.

Thrice a hundred tapers burned suspended from the roof, and on each side of
the hall stood twenty men with branches of blazing pine. Now came the
morris dance, with the antique dress and strange attitudes of the
performers, which was succeeded by a dance of warriors in their coats of
mail, and with their swords drawn. After these a masque, prepared by Thomas
the Rymer, who sat on the right