shapes, conical, pyramidical, and tabular, some of them of steep ascent, some presenting a dark mass of planting, others quite bare, or merely dotted with

trees.

But though among these latter were some old oaks and elms, the bushes and brakes were in far greater abundance, full of wild berries, not unpicturesque at this time of year, but altogether left to nature, without a glimpse of art. There was certainly nothing like "meadows trim and daisies pied;" but there were shallow brooks with fringed banks in plenty, and two or three large fish-ponds in succession, the abode of carp, tench, and wildducks, flocks of which last flew up as we passed, so that I thought I was on a shooting excursion on the wastes of an extensive manor, instead of approaching the mansion of a great nobleman. Even the carriage road, which had once been gravelled, had been allowed to cover itself with grass, docks, and thistles, and the quartering was desperate. The deer were as wild as all the rest, just shewing their horns and looking at us through the glades that led up the hills, and then precipitately retreating to the covert on their tops.

And yet, though not what I expected so near to the dwelling of a grandee, and what all Browns and Reptons would have been shocked with, and Price, perhaps, have written a book to prove a

solecism in taste, there was something in it that pleased me. It was certainly no more than in unison with a massive, antique, and neglected tower, which looked down upon me, with no hospitable or friendly air, from the top of a steep and rocky mount, which it cost my horses infinite toil, not without danger, to ascend.

The castle itself was, however, interesting in this, that it was a real old border strong-hold, erected in the time of Edward II, and appeared, externally at least, just as it had been left in the days of Henry VII., when the ancestor of the marquess succeeded to it. It stood, as I said, upon a craggy hill, rising suddenly at the end of the park, and overlooking the sea, with a distant view of the Tweed, the white sails upon which proceeding to Berwick could in a clear day be seen. Like the Tantallon, immortalized by Scott, on the land side,

"Its varying circle did combine

Bulwark, and bartizan, and line,

And bastion, tower, and antage coign."

But seaward there was no need for these, for, in the language of the same poet,

"The far projecting battlement,

The steepy rock and frantic tide,
Approach of human step denied ;
And thus these lines and ramparts rude
Were left in deepest solitude."*

* Marmion.

Deep indeed; for, unless when thronged with a numerous border garrison, its inhabitants must have led,

"In high baronial pride,

A life both dull and dignified."

This indeed struck me potently, when I had scaled the steep on which the Tower was situated, and saw not a creature, any more than in the long drive I had taken through the park, to give sign of habitation.

The evening was grey and solemn, the Tower looked sullen, and the union flag, which in general spread itself out to the winds that almost constantly sweep over these heights, had now dropt listlessly down, and closely lapt itself round the staff, as if from very feebleness.

I know not why the gloom, which the loneliness of the scene occasioned, got such hold of me; but I have often thought of it since, and was carried instantly back to it, when, many 'years afterwards, I read in the poet I have just quoted,

"St. George's banner, broad and gay,
Now faded, as the fading ray

Less bright, and less was flung;

The evening gale had scarce the power
To wave it on the donjon tower,
So heavily it hung.'

Although, therefore, there was still a sort of grandeur about the place, it was an uncheerful

* Marmion.

one; and what I at first thought a pert phrase of my friend Parrot, in calling it Castle Dull, did not now appear to be absolutely unjust.

Having surmounted the steep, my chaise drove up to the massive oak gate in the Tower, studded with knobs of iron, of apparently a pound weight each. Above was a groove, in which the ribs of an old portcullis, now no longer sliding, but fixed, were still visible.

What was remarkable, instead of a bell, a huge brazen trumpet, as large as any speaking trumpet, hung by an iron chain at the side of the gate, which the post-boy, who had been more than once here since the marquess came, said was to be sounded to bring people to the door. I bade him therefore give a blast, which he did, but it brought no one; its only effect being to produce the ferocious baying of more than one blood-hound.

Except for this, and the roaring of the sea below, the stillness was uninterrupted and awful. My postillion began to misgive himself, particularly as the twilight sunk and darkness approached.

"I have always heard strange things of this here castle," said he, " for no one lived in it for a hundred years, before the marcus came; and they say, in the warring times with the Scotch, prisoners have been sometimes starved to death, by being left in the vaults under this here Tower."

“Well, I hope,” answered I, "this won't be our

fate; but it is odd that everybody seems to have left the house."

"It will be aukurd," replied the boy, thinking of his own situation, " to find the way back down that sharp twist, and through the dark wood.”

"Try again at the trumpet," said I.

"It's no use," he returned, "for the marcus, they say, do walk, often till supper time, up and down by the sea-shore, and then Mister Simcoe, the butler, he always go down to our house at Belford to be among his freinds. None's the wonder, for he have none here."

The tramp of a horse coming up the hill was now heard, which seemed to give the boy some relief; nor was I without it myself, for I too began to have misgivings; not as to ghosts of starved prisoners, but lest some change or caprice in the marquess might have made him abandon his Tower, which seemed certainly sufficiently denuded of comfort to make such a measure not unreasonable.

To the postillion's great joy, the horseman, who had now come up, was Mr. Simcoe himself; not from Belford, but from Berwick, where he had been sent by his lord, on business to the bank, and had been absent all day. As soon as he arrived, I recognised him as Lord Rochfort's major-domo in town, and he me, as one of his master's visitors. This made us acquainted, and learning from whom I came, he civilly, but doubtingly, said he believed