tion has ever been paid. But, alas I the deep
tones of the venerable old Principal Baird, whose voice was heard in
earnest and impressive prayer, came upon us through an opposite door,
from the library beyond; and the affecting allusions which he uttered
again brought us back to the afflicting truth, that Sir Walter Scott was
gone from us for ever!

The prayer was no sooner ended, than the company began to issue from
the house. The carriages had been previously assembled on the haugh
below, and were so arranged there, that they drove up in a continued
line; and as each passed the great gateway, it took up its owners,
and then proceeded. There certainly were not less than seventy
gentlemen's carriages of all descriptions, two-wheeled as well as
four-wheeled,--besides which there were a number of horsemen. The public
road runs along the face of the hill, immediately above the house, in a
direction from west to east; and the avenue leading from the gate of the
courtyard runs up the hill in a westerly direction, entering the public
road so obliquely as to produce a very awkward turn for carriages going
eastward towards Melrose. Until we had passed this point some little way
we could form no notion of the extent of the procession; but when we
were thus enabled to form some judgment of it, we perceived that it had
extended itself over about a mile of road.

Ere yet we had left the immediate vicinity of the house, we discovered a
mournful group of women-servants weeping behind the hedge on our left,
whither they had hurried to take their last look of that hearse which
was carrying to the grave a kind and indulgent master, whose like they
had no hope ever to look upon again.

The elevation of the road on the hill-side was such as to give us a full
view of the valley, and we could observe that the summit of many of the
little knolls at a distance, even those beyond the Tweed, were covered
with small clusters of rustic gazers, all intent upon a spectacle
equally calculated to move persons of every rank and description; and
every now and then we found a little knot of spectators assembled by the
way-side, whose motionless countenances and unbroken silence
sufficiently testified the nature of their feelings.

As we approached the neat little village of Darnick, our attention was
forcibly arrested by a very striking token of woe. On the top of an
ancient tower--one of those, we believe, which Sir Walter has rendered
classical--w