One sees nothing of a town from a railroad station, since it seems to be an invariable rule, not only here, but all over Europe, to locate them so that you can see nothing from them.

By the by, I forgot to say, among the historical recollections of this place, that it was the first stopping-place of Queen Mary, after her fatal flight into England.  The rooms which she occupied are still shown in the castle, and there are interesting letters and documents extant from lords whom Elizabeth sent here to visit her, in which they record her beauty, her heroic sentiments, and even her dress; so strong was the fascination in which she held all who approached her.  Carlisle is the scene of the denouement of Guy Mannering, and it is from this town that Lord Carlisle gets his title.

And now keep up a bright lookout for ruins and old houses.  Mr. S., whose eyes are always in every place, allowed none of us to slumber, but looking out, first on his own side and then on ours, called our attention to every visible thing.  If he had been appointed on a mission of inquiry he could not have been more zealous and faithful, and I began to think that our desire for an English cicerone was quite superfluous.

And now we pass Gretna Green, famous in story—­that momentous place which marks the commencement of Scotland.  It is a little straggling village, and there is a roadside inn, which has been the scene of innumerable Gretna Green marriages.

Owing to the fact that the Scottish law of marriage is far more liberal in its construction than the English, this place has been the refuge of distressed lovers from time immemorial; and although the practice of escaping here is universally condemned as very naughty and improper, yet, like every other impropriety, it is kept in countenance by very respectable people.  Two lord chancellors have had the amiable weakness to fall into this snare, and one lord chancellor’s son; so says the guide book, which is our Koran for the time being.  It says, moreover, that it would be easy to add a lengthened list of distingues married at Gretna Green; but these lord chancellors (Erskine and Eldon) are quoted as being the most melancholy monuments.  What shall meaner mortals do, when law itself, in all her majesty, wig, gown, and all, goes by the board?

Well, we are in Scotland at last, and now our pulse rises as the sun declines in the west.  We catch glimpses of the Solway Frith, and talk about Redgauntlet.

One says, “Do you remember the scene on the sea shore, with which it opens, describing the rising of the tide?”

And says another, “Don’t you remember those lines in the Young Lochinvar song?—­

  ‘Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide.’”

I wonder how many authors it will take to enchant our country from Maine to New Orleans, as every foot of ground is enchanted here in Scotland.

The sun went down, and night drew on; still we were in Scotland.  Scotch ballads, Scotch tunes, and Scotch literature were in the ascendant.  We sang “Auld Lang Syne,” “Scots wha ha’,” and “Bonnie Doon,” and then, changing the key, sang Dundee, Elgin, and Martyrs.