We had intended to go to Dryburgh Abbey; but as the weather more than
threatened rain, . . . . we gave up the idea, and so took the rail for
Berwick, after one o'clock. On our road we passed several ruins in
Scotland, and some in England,--one old castle in particular, beautifully
situated beside a deep-banked stream. The road lies for many miles along
the coast, affording a fine view of the German Ocean, which was now blue,
sunny, and breezy, the day having risen out of its morning sulks. We
waited an hour or more at Berwick, and J----- and I took a hasty walk
into the town. It is a rough and rude assemblage of rather mean houses,
some of which are thatched. There seems to have been a wall about the
town at a former period, and we passed through one of the gates. The
view of the river Tweed here is very fine, both above and below the
railway bridge, and especially where it flows, a broad tide, and between
high banks, into the sea. Thence we went onward along the coast, as I
have said, pausing a few moments in smoky Newcastle, and reaching Durham
about eight o'clock.
DURHAM.
I wandered out in the dusk of the evening,--for the dusk comes on
comparatively early as we draw southward,--and found a beautiful and
shadowy path along the river-side, skirting its high banks, up and adown
which grow noble elms.
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