One by one the Englishmen departed, slamming the door after them, casting a sour look at their persecutor, but he was not disturbed until "the coast was clear," and then quieting down in his usual manner he said he knew these Englishmen, and thought he would give them a chance to abuse the d----d Americans. After long waiting we had a good supper. On the next day, or the day following, we visited the Isle of Wight, and what is misnamed the "New Forest"--which is very old instead of new, and is an open park instead of a forest--in the neighborhood. Like most travelers we soon went to London. This great city impressed me more by the association of great men and women who had lived and died in it than by the grandeur of its buildings and public works. Every street and many houses in it recalled the names of persons whose writings I had read, and of others whose deeds made them immortal. As Parliament was not in session we shortened our visit in London until our return. My trip to Scotland was especially interesting. Mrs. Sherman, a daughter of Judge Stewart, was in her face and affinities a thorough Scotch woman, though her ancestors for several generations were born in America. She was familiar with Scottish history, and with the geography of Scotland. Our visit to Edinburgh and its environs was to her like a return to familiar scenes. In our slow progress towards the lakes we stopped at Callender over Sunday. After looking into the well-filled church we started for Bracklinn bridge, made famous in Scott's "Lady of the Lake." "Bracklinn's thundering wave" is a beautiful cascade made at a place called the Bridge of Bracklinn, by a mountain stream called the Keltie, about a mile from the village of Callender, in Mentieth. Above a chasm where the brook precipitates itself from a height of at least 50 feet, there is thrown, for the convenience of the neighborhood, a rustic foot bridge, of about three feet in breadth, and without ledges, which is scarcely to be crossed by a stranger without awe and apprehension. We were told it was but a short walk, a mile or two, but we soon found that Scottish miles were very long. On the way we encountered an old woman, dressed in Scotch plaid, of whom we inquired the way to Bracklinn bridge. She pointed out the way, and in return asked us where we lived. We told her the United States. She replied, in language we could hardly understand, "Ah, ye maun come a lang way to spay it." She then told us where to leave the road and how to find the bridge. There was nothing remarkable at the bridge, nothing to justify "But wild as Bracklinn's thundering roar," but the genius of Sir Walter invested it with his glamour. "It had much of glamour might To make a lady seem a knight."