of the House of
Yair" as a tombstone--had a grand roll in it. In the churchyard of the
old Abbey my people on the Spence side lay buried. In the square or
market place there no longer stood the great tree described in The
Monastery as standing just after Flodden Field, where the flowers of
the forest had been cut down by the English; but in the centre stood
the cross with steps up to it, and close to the cross was the well, to
which twice a day the maids went to draw water for the house until I
was nine years old, when we had pipes and taps laid on. The cross was
the place for any public speaking, and I recalled, when I was
recovering from the measles, the maid in whose charge I was, wrapped me
in a shawl and took me with her to hear a gentleman from Edinburgh
speak in favour of reform to a crowd gathered round. He said that the
Tories had found a new name--they called themselves Conservatives
because it sounded better. For his part he thought conserves were
pickles, and he hoped all the Tories would soon find themselves in a
pretty pickle. There were such shouts of laughter that I saw this was a
great joke.

We had gasworks in Melrose when I was 10 or 11, and a great joy to us
children the wonderful light was. I recollect the first lucifer
matches, and the wonder of them. My brother John had got 6d. from a
visiting, uncle as a reward for buying him snuff to fill his cousin's
silver snuffbox, and he spent the money in buying a box of lucifers,
with the piece of sandpaper doubled, through which each match was to be
smartly drawn, and he took all of us and some of his friends to the
orchard, we called the wilderness, at the back of my grandfather
Spence's house, and lighted each of the 50 matches, and we considered
it a great exhibition. 'MY grandfather (old Dr. Spence) died before the
era of lucifer matches. He used to get up early and strike a fire with
flint and steel to boil the kettle and make a cup of tea to give to his
wife in bed. He did it for his first wife (Janet Park), who was
delicate, and he did the same for his second wife until her last fatal
illness. It was a wonderful thing for a man to do in those days. He
would not call the maid; he said young things wanted plenty of sleep.
He had been a navy doctor, and was very intelligent. He trusted much to
Nature and not too much to drugs. On the Sunday of the great annular
eclipse of the sun in 1835, which was my brother John's eleventh
birthday, he had a large