in ceaseless flow, Upon the precipice
below."

We passed the mouth of the river Tyne, south of which stands Dunbar.
The next place of interest we came off was Fast Castle, of which two
tall towers remain close to the cliffs,--in former days the stronghold
of the Homes. It is supposed to be the original of Wolfs Crag in _The
Bride of Lammermoor_. We looked through our glasses at the spot where
the unhappy Master of Ravenswood sank with his steed into the
treacherous quicksand.

About fifteen miles farther on, we passed the bluff promontory Saint
Abb's Head, and soon afterwards arrived off Berwick, which, I need
hardly say, stands at the mouth of the Tweed, the river dividing England
from Scotland. So close does the railway run to the cliffs, that we
could hear the trains passing as clearly as if we were on shore, and
could see them shooting by at a speed which made us jealous. As the
wind was fair, we did not put into the Tweed, but stood close enough to
Berwick to have a cursory view of it. As all the world knows, Berwick
is not within any county, for although really in Berwickshire, it
belongs to England. It is a county in itself. A portion is still
surrounded by walls erected in the time of Elizabeth; and it is defended
by several bastions, with batteries commanding the entrance to the
harbour. We could see the remains of an ancient castle, which is now a
heap of ruins, but above it stands the Bell Tower, still almost perfect.
A number of vessels passed in and out of the harbour while we were off
it, showing that the place has a good deal of trade. As we looked
through our glasses, we saw a number of churches and public buildings.
A long stone pier runs out on the north side of the Tweed, with a
lighthouse at its end.

We now stood on towards Holy Island, a few miles south of Berwick, off
the Northumbrian coast; and as we had still several hours of daylight,
we hove-to off the island. Here, in the early days of Christianity, was
a college of evangelists, who went forth to preach the simple gospel
through the northern portions of the country, to its heathen kings, as
well as to the people over whom they held sway. Ultimately, monasteries
were built here, famous for the supposed piety of their inmates.

We pulled on shore to visit the ruins of the celebrated Abbey of
Lindisfarne. If the pilgrim visitors arrived at low water, they could
get across by following the sandbank which connects it with the
mai