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LETTER LI.

TO THE SAME.

OMAN'S.

AFTER passing the town of Dalkeith, and all along the skirts of the same lovely tract of scenery on the Fsk, which I have already described to you, the road to Ad leads for several miles across a bare and sterile district, where the progress of cultivation has not yet been able to change much of the general aspect of the country. There are, however, here and there some

beautiful little valleys cutting the desert-in one of which, by the side of a small mountain stream, whose banks are clothed everywhere with a most picturesque abundance of blooming furze, the old Castle of Borthwick is seen projecting its venerable Keep, unbroken apparently, and almost undecayed, over the few oaks which still seem to linger like so many frail faithful vassals around the relics of its grandeur. When I passed by this fine ruin, the air was calm and the sky unclouded, and the shadow of the square massy pile lay in all its clear breadth upon the blue stream below; but Turner has caught or created perhaps still more poetical accompaniments, and you may see it to at least as much advantage as I did, in his magnificent delineation.* *

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Shortly after this the view becomes more contracted, and the road winds for some miles between the hills-while, upon the right, you have close by your side a modest little rivulet, increasing, however, every moment in breadth and boldness. This is the infant Gala Water

In the first Number of the Provincial Antiquities of Scotland.

so celebrated in the pastoral poetry of Scotland -flowing on to mingle its tributary stream with the more celebrated Tweed. As you approach, with it, the great valley of that delightful river, the hills become more and more beautiful in their outlines, and where they dip into the narrow plain, their lower slopes are diversified with fine groupes of natural wood-hazel-ash-and birch, with here and there some drooping, mouldering oaks and pines, the scanty relics of that once mighty Forest, from which the whole district still takes its name. At last, the Gala makes a sudden turn, and instead of

"The grace of forest-charms decayed,
And pastoral melancholy,"

you have a rich and fertile vale, covered all over with nodding groves and luxuriant verdure, through which the Gala winds proudly towards the near end of its career. I crossed it at the thriving village of Galashiels, and pursued my journey for a mile or two on its right bank -being told, that I should thus save a considerable distance-for the usual road goes round about for the sake of a bridge, which, in the placid seasons of the Tweed, is quite unnecessary.

I saw this far-famed river for the first time, with the turrets of its great poet's mansion immediately beyond it, and the bright foliage of his young larches reflected half-way over in its mirror.

You cannot imagine a more lovely river-it is as clear as the tiniest brook you ever saw, for I could count the white pebbles as I passed-and yet it is broad and deep, and above all extremely rapid; and although it rises sometimes to a much greater height, it seems to fill the whole of its bed magnificently. The ford of which I made use, is the same from which the house takes its name, and a few minutes brought me to its gates. Ere I came to it, however, I had time to see that it is a strange fantastic structure, built in total defiance of all those rules of uniformity to which the modern architects of Scotland are so much attached. It consists of one large tower, with several smaller ones clustering around it, all built of fine grey granite-their roofs diversified abundantly with all manner of antique chimney-tops, battlements, and turrets-the windows placed here and there with appropriate irregularity, both of dimension and position,and the spaces between or above them not unfrequently occupied with saintly niches, and chivalrous coats-of-arms. Altogether it bears a close

resemblance to some of our true old English manor-houses, in which the forms of religious and warlike architecture are blended together with no ungraceful mixture. But I have made a sketch with my pencil, which will give you a better notion of its exterior, than any written description. The interior is perfectly in character-but I dare say, you would turn the leaf were I to detain you any longer from the lord of the place, and I confess you are right in thinking him "metal more attractive.”

I did not see Mr S-, however, immediately on my arrival; he had gone out with all his family, to shew the Abbey of Melrose to the Count von B, and some other visitors. I was somewhat dusty in my apparel, (for the shandrydan had moved in clouds half the journey,) so I took the opportunity of making my toilet, and had not quite completed it, when I heard the trampling of their horses' feet beneath the window. But in a short time having finished my adonization, I descended, and was conducted to Mr S, whom I found by himself in his library. Nothing could be kinder than his reception of me,--and so simple and unassuming are his manners, that I was quite surprised, after a few minutes had elapsed,

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