THE WONDROUS CAVE. 317 remodel Eildon. The command was speedily obeyed, and for one peak there appeared three, and the familiar was only baffled at last by an order to twist ropes out of sea-sand. Another version represents Michael himself as the perpetrator: when attempting to carry away the hill on a spade, it fell and broke into three. What says the aged monk to Deloraine down there in that abbey concerning the Wizard? "Some of his skill he taught to me; The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone." And that which befell at the hill of Richmond in Yorkshire, and in other places of King Arthur's dominion, has also befallen here. Once upon a time, as the story runs, an ancient man clad in strange fashion walked up the hill, followed by a roystering borderer, who not content with getting good red gold in exchange for his horses, wished to moisten his bargain with whisky. They come to a cave in the hillside the venerable stranger repeats a warning against cowardice, and of the fearful sights within; but the chapman is resolute and will on. Then entering the hill they see long ranges of stables, a coal-black steed in every stall, and a knight in black armour and a drawn sword in his hand lying by every horse, but all silent and motionless as statues. A few torches shed uncertain light, and show at the farther end of the great cavern a table with a sword and a horn lying thereon. Then spake Thomas the Rhymer, that ancient man, declaring that he who should have the courage to sound the horn and draw the sword should be king over all Britain. The chapman would fain have retreated: he came for whisky not magic; and he knew not which to take first though everything depended thereon. He took the bugle; blew a timorous blast; but the echoes rolled as thunder, horses and knights started to life, he thought to seize the sword to defend himself when a furious wind drove him from the cave, while a voice uttered "Wo to the coward that ever he was born Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn." The luckless wight was hurled away down the stony slope, and only lived long enough to relate the adventure to the shepherds who found him lying next morning at the foot of the hill. But older than the most ancient legend is the history which Mr. Robert Chambers finds written on the hills themselves, as set forth in his interesting work Ancient Sea-Margins. He shows that eight parallel lines or terraces are traceable along the north-western front of the Eildons, beginning at an elevation of 542 feet, and occuring at unequal intervals up to within fifty feet of the summit; and these terraces he shows to be correspondent with similar lines or levels on the hills of the other side of the vale, each line being, as he supposes, the margin of an ancient sea. Gradually the rays fade from the heights, to linger, as it seems, for a few moments here on the highest peak of Eildon where we sit; but the shadows creep ever upward and ere long twilight prevails on the hilltop and in the valley. I quit my turfy seat, and follow a track which with many a turn and rise and fall on the great slope, brings me down to Melrose. And in the loneliness of the summit, and this quiet walk in the AN AMERICAN QUAKER. 319 gloaming, the sense of confusion produced by the crowding incidents of the day, disappears from my mind; my heart selects its proper share, and tranquillity ensues. "I am an American, I am;" said the only other guest in the coffee-room of the George Inn, as we sat loitering over our tea; as if his first nasal greeting had not betrayed him as surely as it does an Australian. In fact, residence in a colony and nasillation belong now to cause and effect. But though a young man, the American did not exhibit certain weaknesses for which his countrymen are remarkable: he did not boast that his father was a colonel in the army, or the first merchant of his city, or worth two hundred thousand dollars, or the owner of forty thousand acres up in Michigan. On the contrary, he confessed himself a clerk in a silk-house at Philadelphia," with salary sufficient to enable him to cross the Atlantic and see Europe. Presently, as we warmed in our talk, and became somewhat confidential, he said "I am a Quaker, I am." 66 Good, thought I, and praised his candour, and the courage with which he used what some regard as a term of reproach. 'Well," he answered, "if a man is a Quaker, I don't see why he should hesitate to say so." Neither do I. He had however his weak points: he could not trust. himself to use Quaker phraseology and say thee and thou, except among his own people; but in the matter of dress he did not feel called on to attire himself different from other citizens. On the other hand, there was one American weakness which he had in per : fection he would travel at the greatest cost, and visit the most expensive hotels. His notion of seeing Europe was very simple: too much so, as I ventured to suggest. He had taken a trip to Paris, had visited London, journeyed thence by rail to Glasgow, had come from Edinburgh yesterday, was going on to Newcastle, and thence back to London, with perhaps a halt at York by the way. No, he had not seen Winchester, nor Plymouth, nor Salisbury, nor Edgehill, nor Warwick, nor Derbyshire, nor the Lakes. No, he felt homesick, and wanted to get on; and now that he had seen Abbotsford, and Scott's chair, and table, and habiliments, his task was accomplished, and he should be glad when the remaining ten days were past, and he could start for home. "What air you smiling at?" he said, as he looked across at me. "I can't help smiling," I answered, "at the thought of any one wanting to go back to that country." Then he talked about the Abbey, and said he meant to go presently and see it by moonlight. After what Scott had written, it would not do to leave Melrose without a moonlight visit to the ruin. And he refused to believe that moonlight on any other abbey ruin would look as well, though perhaps there might be something in what the singer sings: "Oh, hae ye seen the Tweed while the moon shone bright, If ye haena' seen it, then Half its sweets ye canna' ken; Oh, gae back and look again On a shining night." Unfortunately, when he went forth at half-past ten the |