the gifts," said he, "that pleased them, as the idea that the laird
should think of them when so far away."

The old man in question, I found, was a great favorite with Scott. If I
recollect right, he had been a soldier in early life, and his straight,
erect person, his ruddy yet rugged countenance, his gray hair, and an
arch gleam in his blue eye, reminded me of the description of Edie
Ochiltree. I find that the old fellow has since been introduced by
Wilkie, in his picture of the Scott family.

* * * * *

We rambled on among scenes which had been familiar in Scottish song,
and rendered classic by pastoral muse, long before Scott had thrown the
rich mantle of his poetry over them. What a thrill of pleasure did I
feel when first I saw the broom-covered tops of the Cowden Knowes,
peeping above the gray hills of the Tweed: and what touching
associations were called up by the sight of Ettrick Vale, Galla Water,
and the Braes of Yarrow! Every turn brought to mind some household air
--some almost forgotten song of the nursery, by which I had been lulled
to sleep in my childhood; and with them the looks and voices of those
who had sung them, and who were now no more. It is these melodies,
chanted in our ears in the days of infancy, and connected with the
memory of those we have loved, and who have passed away, that clothe
Scottish landscape with such tender associations. The Scottish songs,
in general, have something intrinsically melancholy in them; owing, in
all probability, to the pastoral and lonely life of those who composed
them: who were often mere shepherds, tending their flocks in the
solitary glens, or folding them among the naked hills. Many of these
rustic bards have passed away, without leaving a name behind them;