A few yards from the bridge alluded to, the Elevand or Allan water discharges itself into the Tweed. It is this little mountain brook (rising from Allan-shaws on the boundary of Melrose parish towards the north,) that forms the beautiful valley of Glendearg, described in the romance. Advancing from the strath of the river in the northern direction from Melrose, we discern the stream meandering in crystal beauty through Langlee Wood, the property of Lord Somerville. The serpentine turns of its course oblige the traveller frequently to pass and repass it, in the line of the foot-track; but this is attended with no inconvenience, from the number of rustic bridges which are thrown over it. Emerging from the wood, the glen opens to the view. On one side of it (to the east,) rises a precipitous bank or _scaur_,[70] of a reddish colour, with here and there small patches of green sward. On the opposite side the eminences do not swell so high, but form a perfect contrast to the other. They have yielded their bosom to the industry of man, and repay his labour with the rich fruits of autumn. This improvement, however, is recent, as thirty years have scarcely elapsed since they displayed an aspect almost as barren as the opposite ridge. The little brook which runs below is not perceptible from either height, so deeply is its channel embosomed in the narrow dell. As we proceed onwards under a shade of alders, the glen gradually widens, and, about 400 yards from whence it opens, a singular amphitheatre meets the eye. It is somewhat in the shape of a crescent, through which the water passes, leaving a pretty large channel. The opposing precipices are thickly belted with copse-wood and several mountain shrubs, which entwine with the branches of the beech and birch trees. This place is called the Fairy or Nameless Dean, from some curiously-shaped stones, which are said to be found after great falls of rain.[71] But perhaps a better reason for the appellation arises from the situation itself, which afforded a hidden rendezvous for the elfin race, with which superstition peopled many parts of this district during the grandeur of the Abbacy. No one, however, will deny that the White Lady of Avenel might here have fixed her residence, and delivered her responses to young Glendinning, or that it might have served as a secluded corner for deadly strife. Though the holly bush cannot be discovered, yet the spring of water may easily be conjectured, by the curious observer, in the swampiness of portions of the ground now covered with sward. The scenery of the remainder of the glen is extremely picturesque, but unmarked by any striking varieties. The brook, like “Streamlet of the mountain north, Now in a torrent racing forth,” often dashes and foams over small interjecting rocks, and forms some beautiful cascades. At other times, “Winding slow its silver train, And almost slumbering o’er the plain,”