I had engaged yesterday to breakfast with Dr. Graham. I therefore set off early for that purpose; afterward accompanied him to the Garden, examined the grounds, etc., passed some time in the splendid palm-house. I spent some portion of the morning also with Mr. Nicoll, examining with the microscope his beautiful collection of recent and fossil wood in thin slices; learned how to prepare them. Then arranged my affairs to leave Edinburgh in the morning. In the evening Dr. Greville and myself dined with Mr. Wilson (gentleman naturalist), the brother of the gifted Professor Wilson; himself almost equally gifted, but with a more healthy tone of mind. He interested us so much that our stay was prolonged until nearly the “wee short hour ayont the twal,” when we parted, after a pressing invitation to visit him at his country residence in case I ever visited Scotland at a more pleasant season. Taking leave of my kind friends the Grevilles, I was early this morning on my way to Melrose. I have been received with the utmost kindness, not only by this agreeable and most excellent family, but among all the acquaintance I have made in Edinburgh. I had purchased for you a collection of hymns, etc., edited by Dr. Greville and his pastor, Mr. Drummond, with which I was very much pleased, and doubt not you would like them much. But Dr. Greville saw it, and afterwards insisted on sending a much handsomer copy to Dr. Torrey, which was accordingly placed in my hands for him. Melrose is about thirty-six miles from Edinburgh, on one of the routes to Newcastle. We came upon the Tweed among a rugged range of hills, at first a very small stream; followed it along the sinuous valley for a long way, until it became a pretty considerable river, for Great Britain; at length the valley grew wider, softer, and in the proper season, doubtless very beautiful. A smaller stream joined it at some distance before us, and as its opening vale came into view, the driver--I beg his pardon, coachman--pointed with his whip to the opposite side and said, “Abbotsford; “ and true enough the turrets of this quaint castellated house were distinguishable, in the midst of a grove mostly of Scott’s own planting, near the banks of the Yarrow. We soon after crossed the Tweed, at the place where the White Lady frightened the sacristan in “The Monastery; “ the scene of which, you know, was laid at Melrose and in the neighborhood. The fine old ruin of Melrose Abbey now came into view, half surrounded by a dirty little Scotch village. Here I abandoned the coach until to-morrow, secured a gig, and was soon on my way to Abbotsford.... I walked back from Abbotsford, noticing more particularly the beauty of the valley, and the fine Eildon Hills which rise behind Melrose, from whose summit, it is said, a very beautiful prospect may be obtained. I then spent the remainder of the afternoon about Melrose Abbey, the most beautiful ruin I have ever seen or expect to see; more beautiful than I had imagined,