How laborious you are, my dear Grogram! But every true patriot must suffer in the cause of his country.'

'Yes,' sighed Grogram: 'it often astonishes me, when I think of my labors. I actually rose at half-past two, yesterday - afternoon, understand me - rode to the House at five, and before eleven, assisted in voting away eleven millions of the public money.'

'Your labors merit the peerage.'

'Yes. I have often suggested to the minister, how much better it would be to vote the whole, en masse, than to drivel away the time of honorable members, by peddling at a few hundred thousands per vote, and constantly returning to the charge.'

'It would certainly be much more convenient,' said Mitford, smiling; but the people have such strange notions of economy.'

"Oh, abominable! Only think of that man HUME making such an outcry against an additional half-million for Buckingham Palace, and at those convenient situations of which the only duty is to write a receipt for the salary, and which so many of my own family support the dignity of the constitution by filling. I should not doubt if, in the course of a few centuries, people of condition would actually be obliged to work, like mere clerks, in the discharge of their official duties. Oh, England! how are thy glories flitting! But apropos of labors. Do you know why Hercules was the least busy of accoucheurs?'

'No.'

'Why, he never attended to more than twelve labors, during the whole course of his existence.'

'Ha! ha! ha!'

'Why did Horace fly from the battle of Philippi?'

'I am quite at fault.'

'Merely to show he was no lame poet.'

'Again. Why does a sigh-heaver carry a greater load than a coalheaver?'

'You must solve it.'

'Because a coal-heaver has a load at his back, which he can easily get rid of, but the other has one at his heart, he cannot part with. But a truce to this. Will you go down to Epsom to-morrow?'

'I intend it. And you?"

'Why really, Mitford, it would pleasure me to go; but I have been obliged to throw such a heavy per centage off my rents lately, owing to the depressed state of agriculture, that I cannot, just now, afford to sport five hundred pieces of gold; and I dislike to trouble my friends. Perhaps you have not such a trifle?'

'At your service, Grogram.'

A check was drawn for the amount, which Grogram pocketed, never to refund.

Grogram was one of those cadets of good family, who from time immemorial have been considered to have an imprescriptible right to live on the people. His family had borough interest; thus Grogram found his way to Parliament, a convenient friend lending him, at the return day, the necessary property-qualification, for Grogram himself was quite free from that vulgar species of care which arises from the possession of property, and was inerely celebrated for execrable puns, and borrowing money.

Nevertheless, as may have been observed, Grogram had a convenient habit of talking of his tenants, and his rent-roll. He had so often repeated this story, that he at length began to believe in the fiction as a reality.

Grogram's father was provided with a sinecure in Ireland, which of course neither imposed on him the necessity of his presence, or any trouble. It produced him six or seven thousand a year. To save appearances, and stop clamor, a commission was appointed to inquire into sinecures. They addressed a letter to Grogram, senior, requesting to be informed of the nature of the duties performed by him. He replied:

'GENTLEMEN: You must altogether have misapprehended the nature of the functions delegated to you by parliament. It never could have been intended to require gentlemen to descend to minute explanations, or have been expected that a man in possession of seven thousand a year, should perform the onerous duties of a mere clerk.

To 'the Commissioners,' etc.

'Yours, etc.,

'GROGRAM.'

Parliamentary reform has achieved much, were it only the banishment of such men as the Grograms from places and parliament.

STANZAS.

'WHAT is our life? It is even a vapor, which appeareth but for a little time, and then

vanisheth away.' - ST. PAUL.

FROM ROUGH NOTES OF A VISIT TO ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY.

SCOTLAND.

NUMBER TW0.

- MELROSE

ABBOTTSFORD - EDINBURGH.

MELROSE, JUNE 6, 1836. - In the sanded parlor of 'The George,' where lodged in days of yore that industrious and worthy antiquary, Captain Clutterbuck, I now date my first epistle from the 'land o' cakes.'

The ride from Newcastle to the 'border,' over barren moors and the Cheviot Hills, passing the scene of 'Chevy Chace,' was cold and dreary. But, arrived in Teviotdale, a change came over the face of things, and for three or four miles near Jedburgh, there is a series of lovely pastoral landscapes. Swiss scenery may be more wild and majestic, but it cannot surpass in quiet beauty this charming region about the Tweed rendered so interesting, too, by its 'classical associations,' as some tourist sagely said of Rome. Here, within the space of fifteen miles, are Melrose, Dryburgh, and Jedburgh Abbeys, Abbottsford, the Eildon hills, the scenes of the Monastery, the Lay of the Last Minstrel, and of songs and romances innumerable.

Melrose is situated in a delightful vale of the Tweed, environed on three sides by verdant hills, and flanked by the gloomy, heathcovered peaks of the Eildon, which seem to rise directly in the rear of the village; but I had to walk nearly two miles to the base of them, and the ascent was an afternoon's work. The wind was so strong at

It

the top, that I really feared being blown off. On the summit are the remains of a fortification, chronicled in the books as a Roman prætorium, and I saw no Edie Ochiltree to exclaim, 'I mind the bigging of it.' The view from the top is worth the ascent. extends twenty or thirty miles on each side, and takes in the cream of the region so familiar to Scott and his readers. The path is across a rocky glen, where a 'stream is gently laving,' and through a grove to 'the mountain's brow,' where the sheep are gently grazing!

EVENING. - At dusk, I went alone to 'the ruins gray' of 'fair Melrose.' The cicerone, (a son of the 'honest Johnny Bower,' who escorted Mr. Irving there,) has the history of the Abbey and the Lay of the Last Minstrel all by heart; and he repeated several passages fluently and feelingly, as he guided me through the ruins. We stood on the tomb of Michael Scott, which William of Deloraine so valorously explored at midnight. A 'wizard figure' is carved on it. We trod on the graves of the Douglas and of the Heart of the Bruce. One window only remains entire; indeed the whole of this once splendid fabric is in ruins; but the very ruins are beautiful; they are just in the state to be most interesting; and the specimens of ornamental stone work which yet survive, are the admiration of those skilled in such matters. The sculptured hand holding a bouquet, is, as Lockhart remarks, most exquisite. It is wonderful to me, that so much perfection and taste in architecture should have existed at the time these cathedrals and abbeys were built. It would be difficult in these days even to raise the funds for an edifice of this extent and magnificence.

I was not sure, until my guide told me, that Melrose was 'the Monastery' of the Novel. Here, then, Abbott Boniface, Father Eustace, and their two hundred 'brethren,' counted their beads, and feasted on venison. A mile distant, is the bridge over the Tweed, and the place where the 'white lady' frightened the Sacristan. Glendearg is three miles farther, near the 'banks of Allan Water.'

MIDNIGHT. - In order to be in the fashion, I have just been again

to see

'Fair Melrose aright,

By the pale moonlight,'*

or rather starlight, for there is no moon now. It is truly an excellent time for visiting such a place. I was quite alone, and all was still as death. Not even

'The distant Tweed was heard to rave,
Or the owlet to hoot, o'er the dead man's grave.'

The flapping of the night-birds' wings on the towers was the only sound. I walked round the venerable pile, (which is now almost obscured, on the village side, by a cluster of unromantic cottages,) and found myself in the grave-yard, under the noble oriel window of

* I was told that Scott himself never saw Melrose by moonlight. He had a moonlight picture of it, which I saw at Abbottsford.

the chancel. A fine scene and hour is this for a believer in ghosts ! But what a place it is to cogitate in !

1.

TUESDAY. - I have spent the whole forenoon at Abbottsford! Is not that saying enough? It is easy to understand the feeling which prompts one to say nothing, when it is so impossible to express the thrilling delight or the thousand associations which a place like this calls up. But there is no place like this. It is unique in its situation and beauty; it stands alone, in every point of view; a hallowed shrine, to pilgrims of all nations, for ages to come.

*

*

I set

It was a fine clear morning the air as bracing and pure as that of our favorite Brattleboro', (Vt.) and indeed Melrose greatly resembles Brattleboro' in its situation and appearance. off after breakfast, and had a charming ride of two miles over the hills and dales which the poet was wont to frequent, the Tweed being now and then in view, until the turrets of the house, or castle, as you please, are distinguishable amidst a grove, near the banks of the river. The building is then lost sight of, until you arrive at the very gate - or as a Frenchman says, vous tombez sur le chateau — which is approached by a circular carriage-path through the grove. The arched gate-way is very handsome, and is substantially built, as is the whole edifice, of a native gray stone. The house cannot be mistaken. The pictures of it are so accurate, and the architecture so unique, that it looked quite familiar. It is shown to visitors by an intelligent house-keeper, who seems to be the solitary tenant. The entrance-hall recalls all the visions of chivalry and romance. A mere catalogue of its curiosities would fill a volume. Crossing a small closet, in which are figures of knights in armor, I entered the study-the sanctum sanctorum - from whence proceeded those splendid productions, which have delighted and instructed the world. The books, chairs, and every article all over the house, remain as Scott left them, and every thing is kept in the nicest order. I seated myself in the large easy chair by the table where he wrote, and marvelled at my own presumption. There is about this sacred spot a singular air of melancholy, which every one must feel. Even the cicerone seemed impressed with it. An Edinburgh lady, of a party here with me, remarked: 'How differently one regards this and Newstead! There we may be interested, but here, every thing is venerated. Scott left no poison for his fellow men: his works may be read by old and young, both with pleasure and profit.'

Adjoining the study, is a little holy of holies, a closet in the northwest tower, where is preseved the last coat Scott wore, together with his arms, swords, etc., neatly arranged. Next, we enter the library, the largest and most splendid apartment, where, with other things elsewhere described, is a fine bust of Scott, by Chantrey - the best likeness, it is said, ever taken. I should like to spend a month in that library. What treasures there are on those shelves! - the rarest and choicest gems of the bibliographer, and presentationcopies from authors, all over the world, for the last thirty years. We proceeded to the drawing-room, which contains some beautiful ebony chairs, presented to Scott by George IV.; a copy of the Warwick Vase, and some fine paintings; next, to the breakfast-room,