Robroyston, which sheltered Sir William Wallace), plain symptoms that this is no place for company. On either side of the fireplace there are shelves filled with duodecimos and books of reference chiefly, of course folios; but except these there are no books save the contents of a light gallery which runs round three sides of the room, and is reached by a hanging stair of carved oak in one corner, There are only two portraits, an original of the beautiful and melancholy head of Claverhouse, and a small full length of Rob Roy. Various little antique cabinets stand round about, each having a bust on it; Stothard's Canterbury Pilgrims are on the mantlepiece. There is only one window pierced in a very thick wall, so that the place is rather sombre; the light tracery work of the gallery overhead harmonizes with the books well. It is a very comfortable looking room, and very unlike any other we ever were in. We should not forget some Highland claymores, clustered round a target over the Canterbury people, nor a writing box of carved wood, lined with crimson velvet, and furnished with silver plate of right venerable aspect, which

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looked as if it might have been the implement of old Chaucer himself, but which, from the arms on the lid must have belonged to some Italian prince of the days of Leo the Magnificent at the furthest.

CLOSET.

In one corner of this sanctum there is a little holy of holies, in the shape of a closet, which looks like the oratory of some dame of old romance, and opens into the gardens; and the tower which furnishes this below, forms above a private staircase accessible from the gallery and leading to the upper regions. Lying upon a table, locked up in a glass case, are the body clothes of Sir Walter, worn by him previous to his decease. The mind carried us back to the days which are now for ever gone, when that great and good man occupied this very place, and conveyed to the world the overflowings of his mighty genius; but he is now no more, the darkness of the tomb has closed over him.

His yeomanry accoutrements, staffs with which he travelled, and weapons of the forest craft are suspended from the wall. The person who conducted us through the apart

ments told us that, since his death, they had missed several of the antiques and rarities; and so anxious were certain individuals to possess themselves of relics of the Great Unknown, that they were under the necessity of locking up his clothes, to prevent them from being carried away piece-meal, by worshippers at the shrine.

The view to the Tweed from all the principal apartments is beautiful. You look out from among bowers, over a lawn of sweet turf, npon the clearest of all streams, fringed with the wildest of birch woods, and backed with the green hills of Ettricke Forest. The rest you must imagine. Altogether, the place destined to receive so many pilgrimages, contains within itself beauties not unworthy of its associations. Few poets ever inhabited such a place; none, ere now, ever created one. It is the realization of dreams; it has been called "a romance in stone and lime."

A FAREWELL TO ABBOtsford.

Home of the gifted! fare thee well,

And a blessing on thee rest;

While the heather waves its purple bell
O'er moss and mountain crest;

While stream to stream around thee calls,
And banks with broom are drest,

Glad be the harping in thy halls—
A blessing on thee rest!

While the high voice from thee sent forth,
Bids rocks and cairn reply,
Wakening the spirits of the North,
Like a chieftain's gathering cry;
While its deep master-tones hold sway,
As a king's o'er every breast,
Home of the Legend and the Lay!

A blessing on thee rest.

Joy to thy hearth, and board, and bower;
Long honours to thy line!

And hearts of proof, and hands of power,
And bright names worthy thine!
By the merry steps of childhood still

May thy free sward be prest!—

While one proud pulse in the land can thrill, A blessing on thee rest!

Mrs Hemans.

KELSO.

THIS beautiful town is delightfully situated on the banks of the Tweed, nearly opposite the confluence of that noble stream, with the Teviot. Its origin is unknown, and its name is supposed to be derived from Chalkheugh, Calco or Keilsowe, from a chalk cliff on which part of the town is built. It is mentioned in old records by these names. It was a constant scene of strife during the border conflicts, and was thrice burnt down by the English. It was burned in 1545 by the Earl of Hertford, during an incursion of the English, and it has suffered many conflagrations in more recent times.

Kelso is only a burgh of barony, and the duke of Roxburghe is the superior and appoints its magistrates in consequence of being lord of the manor. The town consists of four streets, branching at right angles from the market-place, which is a large