The abbey was founded by David I. in 1136, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary ten years after. It was occupied first by monks of the Cistercian order, who had come from Yorkshire. In 1322, after a peaceable occupancy of 176 years, its quiet was disturbed by the invasion of an army under the authority of Edward II., and the building was greatly injured. Robert Bruce soon after commenced its rebuilding, after the present design. It was not favored, however, with long repose, for in 1385 it suffered again; but it was again repaired, and then enjoyed a rest of 160 years. In 1545 it once more suffered severely from English invaders. Again repaired, it remained quiet for a time, but during the Reformation, under Cromwell, its choicest sculptures were mutilated. To the shame of human nature be it said, in later times many of its stones have been carried away for the erection of other buildings; but yet, after full five centuries have flown, it remains one of the few grand and satisfying examples of Gothic architecture in the world. We leave the ruins for a ramble over the town. In the business parts there is neatness and a limited commercial life. Then we go to the rear, through one of the most romantic roads imaginable, and up the hillside for the views already described. We had arranged to leave town that night, but the entire hill seemed to beseech us to "Come up hither." We halted "between two opinions." One of the hard questions was to decide whether to go or to stay. Body and spirit were in antagonism; but remembering a long line of good places ahead, we urged our unwilling feet to descend this hill of Zion, which yielded "a thousand sacred sweets." If anything makes travelling companions mute, it is such a condition. No jokes, no attempts to say smart things, no more eulogistic talk about fine scenery are in order; the effort is to try and forget we are losing it. The walk to a station is not a Galop, but is rather a Dead March in such a mood. At 5 P. M. we take cars for Newcastle-on-Tyne, and so in a few hours shall be out of Scotland, for we are on the border. Dundee, Dunfermline, Aberdeen, are unvisited,--and Dryburgh Abbey, where Scott's ashes repose, though it is but five miles away. Jedburgh Abbey also is unseen; but we trust the reader will some day go over this ground, and then he can really sympathize with our loss. ENGLAND. CHAPTER XV. NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE--DURHAM. We arrived in Newcastle at 10 P. M., after a five hours' ride from Melrose. The city has quite a history, and as we desired to break the long ride to Durham, we were ready to stop here over night, for we made it a rule to refrain from night travel.