told me, not a tree between the road and the river; but "time and I against any two," was ever his cheerful motto. And so it proved. In 1830, when I stopped at the outer gate, it was a forest of wood, out of which arose the turrets of his "dreamlike mansion," like one of his own magic creations. To me, indeed, it was a magic scene; it was like the dark power of "gramarye;" for on the right arose the Eildon hills with their triple rent, and at their foot among the ruins of holy Melrose slept that wizard priest, to whose words of power by art that none may name," that rent was attributed. Beyond the house, and partially seen, rolled the Tweed with its dark waters; and beyond was Newark's birchen hill and riven tower, and all the associations of the minstrel's lay. If such was the influence of the scene, what was that of the mansion? ""Twere long to tell," and not here the place. Within that noble mansion then all was joyous, now alas! is its light quenched, and Abbotsford can be henceforth to the traveller but the scene of reverential musings; "sic transit." And of that dreamlike mansion, how like a dream is now the recollection. Its stately towers and storied halls, seem to me but like some splendid vision of the night, when thoughts and forms not of mortal mould, fill the heart with feelings to which waking life is a stranger. "To meet and part, is mortals lot," such were Sir Walter Scott's farewell words to me. Alas! but too prophetic. One is gone, then my companion; and he now is gone, then my honored host. Such is life, a watch in the night for its duration, a dream for its substance, and shadows for its actors; with nothing real in it, save the duties of life and the consolations of religion.

Such gentlemen, was one whom it requires an abler pen than mine rightly to delineate: but he is gone! milder skies were tried in vain; even soft Parthenope with its genial breezes failed to revive him, than whom it never received a

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more honored guest, for in the language of one who wrote as a poet, while he felt as a friend.*

"The might

Of the whole world's good wishes with him goes.
Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue

Than sceptered kings or laurel'd conqueror knows,
Follow this wondrous Potentate."

He traveled in serenity, yet without hope; and it is pleasing to think that that serenity was founded on its only firm basis, christian faith. It is his own language-that "the sincere and earnest approach of the christian to the throne of the Almighty, teaches the best lesson of patience under affliction ;" and doubtless he proved it, for to a friend at Rome, from whose lips the words have been received, he addressed in calmness and solemnity this parting acknowledgment of his faith. "We have none of us any thing to depend upon but the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ." He lived but to revisit his native shores, and pressed to reach them with a zeal and resolution which bore up his enfeebled body under all the fatigues of travel. To reach England was not enough, Scotland was his home. 66 My own Tweed," was his constant speech; there he longed to close his eyes, where nature loves to close them, surrounded by the scenes on which the heart at that moment most fondly dwells, the flowers of his childhood and the sports of his youth, amid the friends of his manhood and the children fo his love. He was borne to the grave by his own sorrowing household; he was laid in it by the hands of his own children; and his dying head was supported by one whom affection had made a son, kindred talent a choice companion, and to whom the world won

Wordsworth, who was among the last visitors at Abbotsford previous to Sir Walter's journey.

looks with confidence for a faithful portraiture of one whom he knew so well and loved so much.

And in conclusion, let me ask, what tribute shall we, my fellow-citizens, pay to him to whose genius we owe so much? Monument we can erect none; his works are his monument, all else will crumble; but may we not by some national act of justice in reference to those works,* redeem a debt which in honor we long have owed, but which in sorrow alone we now can pay, and make the name and claims of Scott, the foundation of a wiser and more liberal policy towards the literature of our common language? It is due to England by reciprocity; it is due to ourselves by an enlightened selfinterest; and to crown all, it was the suggestion of one who was himself the soul of honor, and whose memory we now seek to embalm.

* That the author may not himself be charged with a tardy acknowledgment of a rightful claim, he would state, that this proposition, with the grounds of it, were immediately, upon his return in January 1831, laid before the departments of the government, to which he considered the subject belonged; and also communicated to the chairman of the committee of congress, on the subject of patent rights; but their report had already been made, and it was deemed unadvisable to attempt at so late a period so important an alteration in its principle. Col. Coll. Dec. 8, 1832.