"Our native land, our native vale,
A long, a last adieu,
farewell to bonny Teviot-dale,
And Cheviot's mountains blue!"

The poet was born in the valley below, and one that looks upon its
beauty cannot wonder how his heart clung to the scenes he was leaving.
We saw Jedburgh and its majestic old Abbey, and ascended the valley of
the Jed towards the Cheviots. The hills, covered with woods of a
richness and even gorgeous beauty of foliage, shut out this lovely glen
completely from the world. I found myself continually coveting the
lonely dwellings that were perched on the rocky heights, or nestled,
like a fairy pavilion, in the lap of a grove. These forests formerly
furnished the wood for the celebrated Jedwood axe, used in the Border
forays.

As we continued ascending, the prospect behind us widened, till we
reached the summit of the Carter Fell, whence there is a view of great
extent and beauty. The Eildon Hills, though twenty-five miles distant,
seemed in the foreground of the picture. With a glass, Edinburgh Castle
might be seen over the dim outline of the Muirfoot Hills. After crossing
the border, we passed the scene of the encounter between Percy and
Douglass, celebrated in "Chevy Chase," and at the lonely inn of
Whitelee, in the valley below, took up our quarters for the night.

Travellers have described the Cheviots as being bleak and uninteresting.
Although they are bare and brown, to me the scenery was of a character
of beauty entirely original. They are not rugged and broken like the
Highlands, but lift their round backs gracefully from the plain, while