pulpits, now preaching to the dead walls, instead of, as in the days of their flesh, preaching to stony hearts enshrined in living bodies. The whole place was begirt with long grass and untrodden nettles; pools of water threatened wet feet; and damp walls and chill air threatened rheumatism and catarrh. But these, and various other difficulties, serve only to increase the pleasure to the real amateur; and an enthusiast, unless he chooses to lose caste, must, moreover, ascend the crazy steeple, tell how many counties can from thence be descried, and make a sketch in his portfolio of the surrounding country.

"It must be a very old building," said the Marquis.

"Ay, that I'll warrant ye," said the guide; "aulder than most of us, I trow; I daresay it's as ancient as the hills. I've shewn this place noo for mair than forty years; I have seed mony a stane. fa', yet the place is as auld like as ever. stane in the corner there, fell in the forty-five, the very day Prince Charlie landed."

That

"I wish there was no such epoch as the fortyfive," said the Marchioness; "I'm quite sick of the subject; some people seem to think that to have been born in that year, makes them heroes at once."

"I quite agree with you," said Sir Philip Hum; "although I believe there were many well-mean

ing brave fellows taken in by the unfortunate circumstances, and the polished manners, of the freethinking, licentious Charles."

"I feel these walls very damp," said the Marchioness, with a shrug, and drawing her shawl more closely around her.

"These old buildings are all unwholesome," said Sir Adolphus Wilde.

"I am afraid of these horrid nettles-but don't let that nettle your ladyship," said Lord Francis Selby.

"Ha! ha!" broke from Lady Jane, who always did justice to her husband's joke, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

"I assure you, even in England, that pure Gothic window would not be despised," said Dr Spleen Harris ;" and since punning is the fashion, if it would not ruin me, I would build a ruin like it at Harris Hall."

easily done as said," "This must origin

"That would not be so observed Sir Philip Hum. ally have been a noble edifice, the fruit of inspiration-for architecture, you know, is one of the nine-but when it was finished, she gave up the fabric to be softened, to be perfected, to receive that most touching grace from the mellow hand of time, which art may strive to emulate, but never can equal,”

"Time is certainly a finishing master," said Spleen Harris; "yet he does not seem in vogue either amongst elderly ladies or gentlemen; and instead of imitating his touches, they strive to cover him up and hide him. Though the matter is much mistaken; for a fine-looking old head is certainly much superior to one that can boast the charms of neither youth nor age."

"Remember there are ladies here," said Sir Philip, " and don't be too severe-walls, you know, have ears."

"How do you do?" cried a shrill voice, that appeared to come from the clouds. They all looked up, and discovered Jane Pert at the top of a high turret, with the guide. "Come all up here, continued she.

and you will see Roe Park,"

"We have seen that without climbing so high," bawled back Dr Spleen Harris. "That girl is really a restless Flibbertigibbet," said he. None of the gentlemen were gallant enough to offer to escort her down, so she had, as the Scotch say, "to cum back the gait she went."

They now emerged from the ruins, and were on their way to the church. They found Lady Amelia, who had been waiting for them, on a rustic seat in their path.

"You have lost a great deal," said Sir Philip, "in not staying to examine the ruins."

"I am no judge of architecture," said she, “and never enjoyed walking through decayed buildings, and yielding to the melancholy impressions they create. There is something in this frame of mind so sad, so gloomy, and so selfish, that I never wish to be under its influence."

"Then you will not sing," said Sir Philip;

"Hail, thou Goddess, sage and holy;

Hail, divinest Melancholy."

CHAPTER IX.

"Having prepared the ample, prolific blessing of the Gospel, he committed it, not to angels, but to men."

THE appearance of the church, a building of the present day, exhibited a complete contrast with that of the cathedral they had just quitted, for it was fashioned by the strictest rules of Presbyterian architecture. It was a square unornamented building, with a double row of windows, intended for the simple purpose of giving light, and a door for the simple purpose of giving entrance; and if anything about the masonry could be said to have made a sacrifice to taste, it was a pointed, wellproportioned, straight ascending spire. At the door there were placed two large pewter plates, for the purpose of collecting alms for the poor, at which stood two of the elders, Davie Dowie, the baker, and John Marrow, the grocer, in Dinther

out.

A correspondent simplicity reigned in the interior. The front galleries were the seats of honour,