There is a ponderous old two-handed sword kept here, said to have belonged to Sir William Wallace.  It is considerably shorter than it was originally, but, resting on its point, it reached to the chin of a good six foot gentleman of our party.  The handle is made of the horn of a sea-horse, (if you know what that is,) and has a heavy iron ball at the end.  It must altogether have weighed some ten or twelve pounds.  Think of a man hewing away on men with this!

There is a well in this cavern, down which we were directed to look and observe a hole in the side; this we were told was the entrance to another set of caverns and chambers under those in which we were, and to passages which extended down and opened out into the valley.  In the olden days the approach to these caverns was not through the house, but through the side of a deep well sunk in the court yard, which communicates through a subterranean passage with this well.  Those seeking entrance were let down by a windlass into the well in the court yard, and drawn up by a windlass into this cavern.  There was no such accommodation at present, but we were told some enterprising tourists had explored the lower caverns.  Pleasant kind of times those old days must have been, when houses had to be built like a rabbit burrow, with all these accommodations for concealment and escape.

After exploring the caverns we came up into the parlors again, and Miss S. showed me a Scottish album, in which were all sorts of sketches, memorials, autographs, and other such matters.  What interested me more, she was making a collection of Scottish ballads, words and tunes.  I told her that I had noticed, since I had been in Scotland, that the young ladies seemed to take very little interest in the national Scotch airs, and were all devoted to Italian; moreover, that the Scotch ballads and memories, which so interested me, seemed to have very little interest for people generally in Scotland.  Miss S. was warm enough in her zeal to make up a considerable account, and so we got on well together.

While we were sitting, chatting, two young ladies came in, who had walked up the glen despite the showery day.  They were protected by good, substantial outer garments, of a kind of shag or plush, and so did not fear the rain.  I wanted to walk down to Roslin Castle, but the party told me there would not be time this afternoon, as we should have to return at a certain hour.  I should not have been reconciled to this, had not another excursion been proposed for the purpose of exploring Roslin.

However, I determined to go a little way down the glen, and get a distant view of it, and my fair friends, the young ladies, offered to accompany me; so off we started down the winding paths, which were cut among the banks overhanging the Esk.  The ground was starred over with patches of pale-yellow primroses, and for the first time I saw the heather, spreading over rocks and matting itself around the roots of trees.  My companions, to whom it was the commonest thing in the world, could hardly appreciate the delight which I felt in looking at it; it was not in flower; I believe it does not blossom till some time in July or August.  We have often seen it in greenhouses, and it is so hardy that it is singular it will not grow wild in America.