side, so clean and white in its unsmoked newness, will repay much of the outlay of our railway ticket. And, in little more than three hours after we have left Peterborough Cathedral behind us, we shall see the beautiful towers of York Minster, looking so grey and cold, even in the glare of this hot sun; and, two hours after that, we shall see the triple towers of Durham Cathedral, standing high upon the rock above the Wear, and looking proudly down upon castle, and city, and river. That central tower, whose cemented form had for so long been an offence to us, is now admirably restored; and at this distance of two miles, we can plainly discern it; for, this sunny August afternoon, we see the glorious old cathedral standing out against the western sky, like some pictured saint of Byzantine art, against his background of gold. . Then if we have a fancy for old English castles, shall we not see Newark Castle, where died King John of England (for Shakspeare's King John died in the orchard of Swinstead Abbey); and the grand old Castle of Durham, once the home of bishop-princes, and now the temporary abode of embryo mitre-wearers, the students of University College; and the square keep at Newcastle-on-Tyne; and ruined Morpeth Castle, looking over its pleasant vale; and Warkworth, towering over its wooded height; and that haven for shipwrecked mariners, rocky Bamborough, breasting the sea; and Dunbar Castle, once so valiantly defended by a woman, where the beautiful and unfortunate Queen of Scots twice sought refuge, one of those times being in man's attire? Yes! we see one and all. And this portion of our northward journey is exceedingly picturesque. For fifty miles the railway runs at a short distance from 1 the sea; so that while on the left hand we have a fine HOLY ISLAND-THE FARN ISLES. 21 stretch of landscape, backed by the long range of the Cheviots, to the right hand we have the boundless blue of the German Ocean, flecked by sails, and here and there dotted by islands. Holy Island, for example, where, in addition to more interesting attractions (as my companion informs me), the entrochi, commonly called Cuthbert's Beads, are found; and the Farn Isles, where the scene of Grace Darling's heroism is plainly visible. CHAPTER III. TARTAN-LAND. The Border Town of Berwick-upon-Tweed-Rival Races— THE \HE approach to Scottish ground through the old barrier-town of Berwick-upon-Tweed predisposes us to favourable impressions of the Lowland scenery. The river itself, wide and winding, is spanned by the longest railway bridge in the United Kingdom, and connects 'The beautiful banks of the Tweed,' and England and Scotland, by an iron link of civilisation. The viaduct crosses the river at a curve, and sweeps by the battlemented walls and ruined ramparts of this old frontier town. From the railway we see the long narrow bridge that spans the Tweed's waters, with its fifteen arches doubled in the clear stream. Close upon our right we see the town with its confused mass of buildings, from which rises a solitary spire-but it is a secular spire, and does not belong to the church, which was built by Cromwell, who was no friend to such a sign of episcopacy as a tapering spire. The port is crowded with shipping, the river flows merrily on to the German Ocean, and the town stands pleasantly on BERWICK-UPON-TWEED. 23 a gentle seaward slope-so pleasantly and conveniently situated, indeed, that it is no wonder that Dane, Pict, and Saxon, Their homes turned their backs on, A to try their luck at winning so pretty a property. true Berwick-upon-Tweed man must surely be a descendant of the two rival races, and in his own person represent the union of the two kingdoms. The town was so banded about between the two countries, the English and the Scotch element alternately being in the ascendant, that when at last it was left to shift for itself, and to settle down on its own responsibility, its inhabitants must have had no small difficulty to determine whether they should assign the honour of their extraction to North or South, or whether they should sink into a degenerate race of half breeds, or whether they should boldly soar to that proud height of lineage that should combine the best characteristics of the two nations. The question of the lineage of a Berwickupon-Tweed man thus resolves itself into three heads, as naturally as if Mr. Gladstone himself had looked at the subject from his Cerberæan point of view; and, doubtless, the last-mentioned of the three divisions of the question would be that which would be most acceptable to a genuine native of this barrier town of Berwickupon-Tweed. His ancestors must have been as attached to the place as a minister to office, or a monkey to nuts; and, in good truth, must have found it a most attractive and convenient spot, and one which, after its own fashion, could do a rare stroke of business. For if there was no compensative return of this kind, why should these border-people have continued to lead the dreadfully hazardous and uncomfortable lives they must necessarily have been compelled to lead in a place where they were always chopping and changing their masters, even if they were sufficiently fortunate themselves to escape a chopping of a more personal and painful nature? At length, then, we are 'over the Border,' where the Blue Bonnets have gone before us; we have crossed the Tweed, and are on Scottish ground, in little more than nine hours from the time that a London cab conveyed us to the King's Cross Station. The Tweed and the twilight came together, and now it is getting dusk. But if we return to England by the same route-which in fact we shall do, as we do not care for the dreary journey from Edinburgh to Carlisle we shall see that the promise of fine Lowland scenery held out to us on our entrance into Scotland is faithfully kept as we are whirled further North; now dashing somewhat inland, then emerging on the very verge of the cliffs that breast the German Ocean; now hurrying over rugged ravines and gloomy glens; then pausing at Dunbar, with its rocky harbour and its once-dreaded fortress; then obtaining a distant view of the Bass Rock rising out of the battling waves; then over the field of Prestonpans, and by Colonel Gardiner's house, and by other places whose names are redolent of historical associations, Carberry-hill and Pinkie; then by Portobello, the Margate of the Modern Athens, with the Firth of Forth and the opposite coast in full view; then under the shadow of Arthur's Seat, and hard by Holyrood, into Edinburgh itself. Premising (to continue the supposition with which I started) that you left London by the 90 express,' you will have reached the Waverley Station by '8.30;' |