some famous saints. We
read of trances, illuminations, and miraculous beatifications; and of
one abbot in particular, who exhibited the odor of sanctity so strongly
that it is said the mere opening of his grave, at intervals, was
sufficient to perfume the whole establishment with odors of paradise.
Such stories apart, however, we must consider that for all the
literature, art, and love of the beautiful, all the humanizing
influences which hold society together, the world was for many ages
indebted to these monastic institutions.

In the reformation, this abbey was destroyed amid the general storm,
which attacked the ecclesiastical architecture of Scotland. "Pull down
the nest, and the rooks will fly away," was the common saying of the
mob; and in those days a man was famous according as he had lifted up
axes upon the carved work.

Melrose was considered for many years merely a stone quarry, from which
materials were taken for all sorts of buildings, such as constructing
tolbooths, repairing mills and sluices; and it has been only till a
comparatively recent period that its priceless value as an architectural
remain has led to proper efforts for its preservation. It is now most
carefully kept.

After wandering through the inside we walked out into the old graveyard,
to look at the outside. The yard is full of old, curious, mouldering
gravestones; and on one of them there is an inscription sad and peculiar
enough to have come from the heart of the architect who planned the
abbey; it runs as follows:--

"The earth walks on the earth, glittering with gold;
The earth goes to the earth sooner than it wold;
The earth, builds on the earth, castles and towers;
The earth, says to the earth, All shall be ours."

Here, also, we were interested in a plain marble slab, which marks the
last resting-place of Scott's faithful Tom Purdie, his zealous factotum.
In his diary, when he hears of the wreck of his fortunes, Scott says of
this serving man, "Poor Tom Purdie, such news will wring your heart, and
many a poor fellow's beside, to whom my prosperity was daily bread."

One fancies again the picture described by Lockhart, the strong, lank
frame, hard features, sunken eyes, and grizzled eyebrows, the green
jacket, white hat, and gray trousers--the outer appointments of the
faithful serving man. One sees Scott walking familiarly by his side,
staying himself on Tom's shoulder, while Tom talks with glee of "_our_
trees," and