One of the ingenious devices on which the worthy little man prided
himself, was to place a visitor opposite to the Abbey, with his back to
it, and bid him bend down and look at it between his legs. This, he
said, gave an entire different aspect to the ruin. Folks admired the
plan amazingly, but as to the "leddies," they were dainty on the
matter, and contented themselves with looking from under their arms. As
Johnny Bower piqued himself upon showing everything laid down in the
poem, there was one passage that perplexed him sadly. It was the
opening of one of the cantos:

"If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight:
For the gay beams of lightsome day,
Gild but to flout the ruins gray." etc.

In consequence of this admonition, many of the most devout pilgrims to
the ruin could not be contented with a daylight inspection, and
insisted it could be nothing unless seen by the light of the moon. Now,
unfortunately, the moon shines but for a part of the month; and, what
is still more unfortunate, is very apt in Scotland to be obscured by
clouds and mists. Johnny was sorely puzzled, therefore, how to
accommodate his poetry-struck visitors with this indispensable
moonshine. At length, in a lucky moment, he devised a substitute. This
was a great double tallow candle stuck upon the end of a pole, with
which he could conduct his visitors about the ruins on dark nights, so
much to their satisfaction that, at length, he began to think it even
preferable to the moon itself. "It does na light up a' the Abbey at
since, to be sure," he would say, "but then you can shift it about and
show the auld ruin bit by bit, whiles the moon only shines on one