Arthur's Seat: down the High Street, and down Blackfriars Wynd into the Cowgate. Thence, proceed to the Grassmarket, and thence wind your way up to the Bow, to the High Street. But first, go to the Black Friars' Church.View from the Burial Ground.-Walter Scott's House, Castle Street, at present Mr. Macvey Napier's.-Advocates' Library. -College, and Museum of the College." The old town delighted me, especially Holyrood: but, once more, it was the friendship of Mr. Guthrie Wright, (one of Scott's early intimates,) and his charming wife, who behaved to me as if I had been their kinsman,-together with the reception I met with at Newliston Park,-which made this short sojourn in Edinburgh so agreeable.

The mail started in those days in the evening; and I was weak enough to take an outside place to Galashiels in order to get a glimpse of the Laird of Cockpen's tower: but it was too dark to see it. Melrose however, whither I walked to breakfast next morning, (Sunday, 22nd Sept.) would have made up for a greater disappointment. What a classic soil has Scott's genius rendered all that country! Without knowing anything about the locality, it was spirit-stirring to have (or rather, to hear) the Tweed, and Gala, and Abbotsford pointed out to one; and to pick up an acquaintance on the road who could understand the enthusiasm which the very names excited. This was a truly intelligent fellow, by name John Oliver, who had been a gentleman's servant in those parts. He remembered Scott perfectly; and had the border traditions at his fingers' ends. In the evening, he showed me the Poet's last resting-place,-a lovely and romantic spot certainly; and at night conducted me to 'fair Melrose,' which I saw aright,' for the moon was near the full; but it was very unlike what Scott has described. A lantern brought out the 'ebon and ivory' effect, exactly. Next day, Oliver took me a very long walk about the Border: giving me the name and story of every rock and hill, and

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patch of wood or water. There seemed to be a line of a ballad for everything! At Abbotsford, (a truly melancholy sight!) he introduced me to Scott's old domestics, and had many reminiscences: but I can recall only one. It is characteristic of the great novelist's kindly nature. At the house-warming, the guests' servants, (Oliver among the rest,) had assembled at the top of a flight of stairs, so as to obstruct the passage. Supper being announced, Scott went first to ascertain that the coast was clear, and to give some orders. 'I say,' (said he coming up to the crowd of servants,) suppose we all move on a bit; for,' (here he winked and pointed slily over his shoulder,) 'there's all the grand folks a-coming.' So saying, he hobbled forward with them. Oliver insisted on my observing that the host thus identified himself with the humblest of the company. So keen a sense have all ranks of courtesy and consideration! . .

But it is high time to bring this page of reminiscences to a close. We both sat down at last on a hill side,—İ to draw; Oliver, with two deer-hounds at his feet, to read me a border-ballad. The name of the spot I have forgotten: but the scene is printed deep into my memory. The yellow moon, round as a shield, rose grandly above the Cheviots; and the glooming stole over the landscape slowly, silently, beautifully. One by one the peaks of grey and purple faded from my sight. I inquired the name of some silvery hills in the far distance; and learned that they were 'in Northumberland.' There was magic in the word. I had been attending the kirk for six weeks, and devoutly thirsted to hear the 'Te Deum' again. "Among those hills," I secretly said to myself, "it must be repeated every Sunday!". ... John Oliver could no longer see to read, nor I to draw. It was growing quite late, when, with a swelling heart, I wrote in the corner of my sketch-book,-Good-night to Scotland!

U

CHAPTER XIII.

(1839-1842.)

Tytler proceeds with his History-The State Paper Office-His Daughter's account of him among his children-Letters to them and to myself-Second edition of the History-Tytler's piety and playfulness.

TYTLER lingered behind in the Highlands for another month. On the 27th September, he writes in his pocketbook,-" Walked over the hill by Glach Ossian to Antfield: taking leave of dear Jeanie, and sweet Moniack. It was a lovely day, and the view from the hill above Dochfour, enchanting, the whole country bathed in a rich golden air tint, and Loch Ness stretching out in a sheet of silver. I was happy, and very grateful to GOD for my eyes. Benedicite omnia opera, came into my mind." A yet earlier entry may be perused with interest :-" 20th Sept. Drove into Inverness with Sir J. Mc Neill and Mr. Wedderburn and the ladies, and visited Culloden Moor. Mr. Wedderburn's grandfather and father were both in the battle on Prince Charles' side, in Ogilvy's regiment. The grandfather (Sir John Wedderburn of Blackness) was tried and executed on Kennington Common. The father, then a mere youth of 16, escaped from the field and after lurking about, got clear off. The madness of the Prince's troops in fighting, is most extraordinary. There was strong ground too, in the neighbourhood."

Soon after my return home, Mr. Tytler addressed me as follows:

"Moniack, 26th Sept. 1839. "My dear Johnny.-I have not yet quite recovered your leaving me, but I comfort myself with the idea that we shall soon, please GOD, meet again; and in the meantime, I con

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verse with Sir Thomas Gresham, with whom as far as I have yet gone, I am much delighted; but old Mrs. Fraser pays him such devoted attention that often I cannot get a peep at him. She clings to him as closely as old Lazarus Tucker did to his ducats, and not only by day, but takes him to her bedroom at night,-which is wrong. From all this I augur that the old boy is a pleasant companion, and far from so dry a stick as a certain little * used to represent him.

"I am in hopes that before leaving this, I shall hear something precise and definite regarding the manuscripts of the Scots' College at Paris, reported to have been brought to the Roman Catholic College near Aberdeen.-The other day I plucked up courage and rode to Eskadale, (you remember the beautiful situation of the little Chapel built by Lord Lovat, and the priest's cottage beside it?) where I was received very hospitably by the Rev. Mr. Mac Swein, and learned from him that he had seen some of the original letters from Mary to her Ambassador; that Dr. Kyle, the Catholic Bishop, had transcribed some of them; and that the rest were either in his possession, or at the College at Blairs. I hope when we meet again to be able to give you some account of these interesting stores. And yet, after all, they may turn out to be only a portion of the letters of the Scots' College, already published by Keith. Nous verrons.

To-day, I leave this sweet place for Antfield; whence I shall proceed south. We passed lately a delightful day in the woods of Aldourie, William showing us where he meant. to build his new house, and the whole family circle listening to his plans, and suggesting their own emendations. I will not tell the little what was said about him, or how often his name rose to our lips, lest it should make him more of a than he is already."

The seventh volume of his History of Scotland provided * One of the many ludicrous names he used layfully to bestow upon myself.

my friend with abundant occupation all the ensuing winter, which he spent in Devonshire Place in the manner most congenial to him,-surrounded by his children and his books. He had now, in fact, reached the most picturesque and interesting part of his great subject,-that juncture in Scottish History over which the great novelist has flung the splendid mantle of his genius; causing it to glow with all the gorgeous hues of Romance. But, what is remarkable, when Truth, (ever 'stranger than Fiction,') comes to relate the most striking passages in Queen Mary's fortunes,—her escape from Lochleven Castle, for instance, the novelist finds himself surpassed in the strangeness and picturesqueness of the narrative which History is instructed to deliver. Tytler had been put in possession of many new and important documents; partly, by his diligent examination of the treasures in the State Paper Office, until then wholly unexplored; partly, by documents which had been communicated to him by Prince Labanoff. His VIIth volume begins by establishing the implication of John Knox in Riccio's murder, (1565;) and carries on the eventful story of the Scottish Queen, down to the year 1574, when her cause became desperate; throwing new light on Darnley's murder, Bothwell's Trial, the Marriage of Mary with Bothwell, and the plots of Queen Elizabeth against the life of the Scottish Queen. The volume, when it appeared in the Autumn of 1840, attracted great attention; but, as might have been anticipated, the historical proof that the stain of blood rests on the name of the great Scottish Reformer, was regarded as little short of blasphemy in Scotland, among the Presbyterians. A long, severe, and unfair review of the History appeared, in consequence, in the North British Review-a Free-Church and rigid Presbyterian Quarterly. The originality of Tytler's work was impugned his many discoveries were ignored; and his conscientious conviction of John