“Puir Mary was born and was cradled in tears,
  Grief cam’ wi’ her birth, and grief grew wi’ her years.”

In the crown-room are to be seen the regalia of Scotland, consisting of the crown, scepter, sword of state, a silver rod of office, and other jewels, all enclosed in a glass case surrounded by iron work.  St. Margaret’s Chapel, seventeen feet long and eleven feet wide, stands within the castle enclosure and is the oldest building in the city.  A very old cannon, called Mons Meg, was brought back to the castle through the efforts of Walter Scott, and is now on exhibition.  I visited the Hall of Statuary in the National Gallery, the Royal Blind Asylum, passed St. Giles Cathedral, where John Knox preached, dined with Brother Murray, and boarded the train for Kirkcaldy, where I as easily found Brother Campbell at the station as Brother Murray had found me in Edinburgh.

I had been in correspondence with Brother Campbell for some years, and our meeting was a pleasure, and my stay at Kirkcaldy was very enjoyable.  We went up to St. Andrews, and visited the ruins of the old Cathedral, the University, a monument to certain martyrs, and the home of a sister in Christ.  But little of the Cathedral remains to be seen.  It was founded in 1159, and was the most magnificent of Scottish churches.  St. Rule’s Tower, one hundred and ten feet high, still stands, and we had a fine view from the top.  The time to leave Kirkcaldy came too soon, but I moved on toward Wigan, England, to attend the annual meeting of churches of Christ.  Brother Campbell accompanied me as far as Edinburgh, and I then proceeded to Melrose, where I stopped off and visited Abbotsford, the home of Sir Walter Scott.  It is situated on the River Tweed, a short distance from Melrose, and was founded in 1811.  By the expenditure of a considerable sum of money it was made to present such an appearance as to be called “a romance in stone and lime.”  Part of this large house is occupied as a dwelling, but some of the rooms are kept open for the numerous visitors who call from time to time.  The young lady who was guide the day I was at Abbotsford, first showed us Sir Walter’s study.  It is a small room, with book shelves from the floor to the ceiling, the desk on which Scott wrote his novels sitting in the middle of the floor.  A writing-box, made of wood taken from one of the ships of the Spanish Armada, sits on the desk, and the clothes worn by the great novelist a short time before his death are kept under glass in a case by the window, while a cast of his face is to be seen in a small room adjoining the study.  We next passed into the library, which, with the books in the study, contains about twenty thousand volumes.  In the armory are numerous guns, pistols, swords, and other relics.  There is some fine furniture in one of the rooms, and the walls are covered with paper printed by hand in China nearly ninety years ago.  Perhaps some who read these lines will recall the sad story of Genivra, who