But this old man, though he
spoke the most unmitigated Scotch, was perfectly intelligible,--perhaps
because his speech so well accorded with the classic standard of the
Waverley Novels. Moreover, he is thoroughly acquainted with the Abbey,
stone by stone; and it was curious to see him, as we walked among its
aisles, and over the grass beneath its roofless portions, pick up the
withered leaves that had fallen there, and do other such little things,
as a good housewife might do to a parlor. I have met with two or three
instances where the guardian of an old edifice seemed really to love it,
and this was one, although the old man evidently had a Scotch
Covenanter's contempt and dislike of the faith that founded the Abbey.
He repeated King David's dictum that King David the First was "a sair
saint for the crown," as bestowing so much wealth on religious edifices;
but really, unless it be Walter Scott, I know not any Scotchman who has
done so much for his country as this same St. David. As the founder of
Melrose and many other beautiful churches and abbeys, he left magnificent
specimens of the only kind of poetry which the age knew how to produce;
and the world is the better for him to this day,--which is more, I
believe, than can be said of any hero or statesman in Scottish annals.
We went all over the ruins, of course, and saw the marble stone of King
Alexander, and the spot where Bruce's heart is said to be buried, and the
slab of Michael Scott, with the cross engraved upon it; also the
exquisitely sculptured kail-leaves, and other foliage and flowers, with
which the Gothic artists inwreathed this edifice, bestowing more minute
and faithful labor than an artist of these days would do on the most
delicate piece of cabinet-work.
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