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scription, and had in its time received good store of bootie, taken in the predatory excursions of its lords into the neighbouring county of Cumberland. Near this point the murmuring Tiviot crosses the turnpike-road, but continues to run for several miles parallel with it through the narrow valley of that name, bounded on each side by high downy hills, speckled here and there with a few Scotch firs, whose sober green gives additional solemnity to this sequestered spot, far removed from the busy haunts of men. The castle of Bronscolumn, fitted up by the Duke of Buccleugh, and built on a field that hangs over the road to the right hand, intro- duces the idea of society into a piclure of the deepest seclusion, sacred to solitude and silence. Shortly af- terwards the river again crosses the road, but still continues its parallel direction; affording a good em- blem of the consistency of those great political charac- ters which history lias told us of, who, although they change sides , can truly say that their object and -pursuit are si ill the same. Our acquaintance with the Tiviot, however, was soon to have an end; for on reaching the ten-mile stone, this celebrated dale makes a sweep from the road, and carries off the river in its bosom.
Entering Dumfriesshire, we were received by another deep vale of similar description and appear-
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