i wandered out in the dusk of the evening,—for the dusk comes on comparatively early as we draw southward,—and found a beautiful and shadowy path along the river-side, skirting its high banks, up and adown which grow noble elms. i could not well see, in that obscurity of twilight boughs, whither i was going, or what was around me; but i judged that the castle or cathedral, or both, crowned the highest line of the shore, and that i was walking at the base of their walls. there was a pair of lovers in front of me, and i passed two or three other tender couples. the walk appeared to go on interminably by the river-side, through the same sweet shadow; but i turned and found my way into the cathedral close, beneath an ancient archway, whence, issuing again, i inquired my way to the waterloo hotel, where we had put up.

items.—we saw the norham castle of marmion, at a short distance from the station of the same name. viewed from the railway, it has not a very picturesque appearance,—a high, square ruin of what i suppose was the keep.—at abbotsford, treasured up in a glass case in the drawing-room, were memorials of sir walter scott's servants and humble friends,—for instance, a brass snuff-box of tom purdie,—there, too, among precious relics of illustrious persons.—in the armory, i grasped with some interest the sword of sir adam ferguson, which he had worn in the peninsular war. our guide said, of his own knowledge, that "he was a very funny old gentleman." he died only a year or two since.

july 11th.—the morning after our arrival in durham being sunday, we attended service in the cathedral. . . . we found a tolerable audience, seated on benches, within and in front of the choir; and people continually strayed in and out of the sunny churchyard and sat down, or walked softly and quietly up and down the side aisle. sometimes, too, one of the vergers would come in with a handful of little boys, whom he had caught playing among the tombstones.