I arrived at York in the midst of the Grand [Musical] Festival.  It was late at night when I arrived, but the streets were crowded, and continued so for hours.  I never witnessed a city in such an extreme bustle, and so delightfully gay.  It was a perfect carnival.  I postponed my journey from five in the morning to eleven, and by so doing got an hour for the Minster, where I witnessed a scene which must have far surpassed, by all accounts, the celebrated commemoration in Westminster Abbey.  York Minster baffles all conception.  Westminster Abbey is a toy to it.  I think it is impossible to conceive of what Gothic architecture is susceptible until you see York.  I speak with cathedrals of the Netherlands and the Rhine fresh in my memory.  I witnessed in York another splendid sight—­the pouring in of all the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood and the neighbouring counties.  The four-in-hands of the Yorkshire squires, the splendid rivalry in liveries and outriders, and the immense quantity of gorgeous equipages—­numbers with four horses—­formed a scene which you can only witness in the mighty and aristocratic county of York.  It beat a Drawing Room hollow, as much as an oratorio in York Minster does a concert in the Opera House.  This delightful stay at York quite refreshed me, and I am not the least fatigued by my journey.

As I have only been in Edinburgh a few hours, of course I have little to say.  I shall write immediately that anything occurs.  Kindest remembrances to Mrs. Murray and all.

Ever yours,

B.D.

I find Froissart a most entertaining companion, just the fellow for a traveller’s evening; and just the work too, for it needs neither books of reference nor accumulations of MS.

ROYAL HOTEL, EDINBURGH, Sunday.

September 22, 1825.

MY DEAR SIR,

I sent a despatch by Saturday night’s post, directed to Mr. Barrow.  You have doubtless received it safe.  As I consider you are anxious to hear minutely of the state of my operations, I again send you a few lines.  I received this morning a very polite letter from L[ockhart].  He had just received that morning (Saturday) Wright’s letter.  I enclose you a copy of L.’s letter, as it will be interesting to you to see or judge what effect was produced on his mind by its perusal.  I have written to-day to say that I will call at Chiefswood [Footnote:  Chiefswood, where Lockhart then lived, is about two miles distant from Abbotsford.  Sir Walter Scott describes it as “a nice little cottage, in a glen belonging to this property, with a rivulet in front, and a grove of trees on the east side to keep away the cold wind.”] on Tuesday.  I intend to go to Melrose tomorrow, but as I will not take the chance of meeting him the least tired, I shall sleep at Melrose and call on the following morning.  I shall, of course, accept his offer of staying there.  I shall call again at B[oyd]’s before my departure to-morrow, to see if there is any despatch from you....  I shall continue to give you advice of all my movements.  You will agree with me that I have at least not lost any time, but that all things have gone very well as yet.  There is of course no danger in our communications of anything unfairly transpiring; but from the very delicate nature of names interested, it will be expedient to adopt some cloak.