ABBOTSFORD |
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Page 11
... Sir Walter Scott as the most representative Border man the world has seen . He was not born in the Border Country , but practically all his life was spent there . His environment throughout was that of a 11 2-2 CHAPTER III.
... Sir Walter Scott as the most representative Border man the world has seen . He was not born in the Border Country , but practically all his life was spent there . His environment throughout was that of a 11 2-2 CHAPTER III.
Page 25
... born at the manse of Kenmore , in 1747 , and in his twenty- third year was presented to the parish of Galashiels , where he laboured till his death in 1820. He has been styled the Father of Galashiels . Much of his money - he inherited ...
... born at the manse of Kenmore , in 1747 , and in his twenty- third year was presented to the parish of Galashiels , where he laboured till his death in 1820. He has been styled the Father of Galashiels . Much of his money - he inherited ...
Page 66
... Born at Blackhouse in Yarrow , November , 1780. Died at Contin , May 18 , 1845. ' No account of the Abbotsford life can fail to take notice of the extraordinary number of visitors , who , even at that early date , flocked to the shrine ...
... Born at Blackhouse in Yarrow , November , 1780. Died at Contin , May 18 , 1845. ' No account of the Abbotsford life can fail to take notice of the extraordinary number of visitors , who , even at that early date , flocked to the shrine ...
Page 125
... born in the manse of Cambusnethan , June 12 , 1794. * He came of an ancestry of which he might well be proud . Some of the best blood of Scotland ran in his veins . Lockhart of Lee , in Lanarkshire , was probably the source of his ...
... born in the manse of Cambusnethan , June 12 , 1794. * He came of an ancestry of which he might well be proud . Some of the best blood of Scotland ran in his veins . Lockhart of Lee , in Lanarkshire , was probably the source of his ...
Page 141
... Born in Edin- burgh in 1821 , his days were few and evil , however . Smitten with spine disease , he was barely eleven when God's finger touched him , and he slept . ' Seldom - hardly ever , indeed — does Lockhart un- burden his own ...
... Born in Edin- burgh in 1821 , his days were few and evil , however . Smitten with spine disease , he was barely eleven when God's finger touched him , and he slept . ' Seldom - hardly ever , indeed — does Lockhart un- burden his own ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abbots Abbotsford ABBOTSFORD CHAPTER afterwards Ashestiel Baillie Ballantyne beautiful Bemersyde Biography Border born Cadell Cartleyhole Castle Street Cauldshiels Chiefswood cottage Cowdenknowes Darnick daughter delight desk died dogs Douglas Douglas tombs drawing-room Dryburgh Dryburgh Abbey earth Edgeworth Edinburgh Eildon Hill favourite feet ford Gala Water Galashiels grave guests hand heart Hogg honour Hope Scott Huntlyburn inscriptions interest James Jedburgh Jedburgh Abbey Joanna Baillie John JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART Kelso Lady Scott Laidlaw laird land letters literary lived Lock London look Lord Maida Melrose Abbey morning never once Painter unknown picturesque present Purdie quaigh Rhymer's Glen River Tweed Rob Roy's Robert romance ruin Sandyknowe says Lockhart scene Scotland Scott's day Scottish second Sir Walter Selkirkshire Sir Walter Scott snuff-box stone sweet sword Terry things thou Tom Purdie trees Tweedside visitors Waverley wife William writes Yarrow
Popular passages
Page 122 - Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day — so warm, that every window was wide open — and so perfectly still, that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his eyes.
Page 135 - I have been watching it — it fascinates my eye — it never stops — page after page is finished and thrown on that heap of MS., and still it goes on unwearied — and so it will be till candles are brought in, and God knows how long after that. It is the same every night — I can't stand a sight of it when I am not at my books.
Page 122 - I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man — be virtuous — be religious— be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here.
Page 126 - FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ...
Page 61 - Tom Purdie and his subalterns had preceded us by a few hours with all the greyhounds that could be collected at Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant Maida had remained as his master's orderly, and now gambolled about Sibyl Grey, barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy. The order of march had been all settled, and the sociable was just getting under weigh, when the Lady Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed, " Papa, papa, I knew you could never think of going...
Page 84 - Down from that strength had spurrM their horse, Their southern rapine to renew, Far in the distant Cheviots blue, And, home returning, fill'd the hall With revel, wassail-rout, and brawl.
Page 62 - He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general cheers. Poor piggy soon found a strap round...
Page 92 - I have been for some time in the rich scenery about Edinburgh, which is like ornamented garden land, I begin to wish myself back again among my own honest grey hills ; and if I did not see the heather at least once a year, I think I should die!
Page 134 - I shall be well enough presently, if you will only let me sit where you are, and take my chair; for there is a confounded hand in sight of me here, which has often bothered me before, and now it won't let me fill my glass with a good will.
Page 80 - To have done things worthy to be written, was in his eyes a dignity to which no man made any approach, who had only written things worthy to be read.