On one side of the church, within an arched recess, are the monuments of
Sir Walter Scott and his family,--three ponderous tombstones of Aberdeen
granite, polished, but already dimmed and dulled by the weather. The
whole floor of the recess is covered by these monuments, that of Sir
Walter being the middle one, with Lady (or, as the inscription calls her,
Dame) Scott beyond him, next to the church wall, and some one of his sons
or daughters on the hither side. The effect of his being buried here is
to make the whole of Dryburgh Abbey his monument. There is another
arched recess, twin to the Scott burial-place, and contiguous to it, in
which are buried a Pringle family; it being their ancient place of
sepulture. The spectator almost inevitably feels as if they were
intruders, although their rights here are of far older date than those of
Scott.

Dryburgh Abbey must be a most beautiful spot of a summer afternoon; and
it was beautiful even on this not very genial morning, especially when
the sun blinked out upon the ivy, and upon the shrubberied paths that
wound about the ruins. I think I recollect the birds chirruping in this
neighborhood of it. After viewing it sufficiently,--sufficiently for
this one time,--we went back to the ferry, and, being set across by the
same Undine, we drove back to Melrose. No longer riding against the
wind, I found it not nearly so cold as before. I now noticed that the
Eildon Hills, seen from this direction, rise from one base into three
distinct summits, ranged in a line. According to "The Lay of the Last
Minstrel," they were cleft into this shape by the magic of Michael Scott.
Reaching Melrose . . . . without alighting, we set off for