THE ROGERS ELL.

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near by, its walls covered with ivy, and shaded by the spreading branches of ancient trees, stood the low, weather-worn church of Ezekiel Rogers. It was built, indeed, a hundred years before his time; and its massive stone walls and substantial stone tower stand the same as when erected.

The rector's house, in which I was warmly entertained, is a large brick structure, which has buffeted the storms of a century. The ell of this house, with its curious finish of the olden time, sheltered for seventeen years the venerable divine and his family, who, for opinion's sake, turned their backs upon its sacred walls, and set sail from Hull in ships which Rogers had ordered from London. A cemetery, according to the ancient custom of the country, surrounds this sacred church edifice; but I could not decipher the names of any of the early settlers of Rowley, Mass., on the tombstones. I could read no inscription which had existed more than a hundred and fifty years, and the exodus from this Rowley to that in the Bay State took place two hundred and forty-five years ago.

But my researches were satisfactory beyond measure. I had found "Rowley, in Yorkshire;" I had found the sanctuary of the Puritan immigrant of 1638; I had found where my ancestor (Leonard Harriman) was born and reared; I had been on the ground which his youthful feet had

trodden, and where all his first associations were centered; I had stood on the spot where he stood, when, an orphan lad of sixteen, he turned from the enchanting view for the last time.

The face of the country in this parish is rolling, the soil is productive, and the highest elevations are wooded. In short, the sun seldom shines on a fairer land; and nothing but a sense of stern religious duty could have driven these ancestors from such a home across the trackless seas. A single fact shows how warm was their attachment to the place they surrendered for the wilds of America. They brought the name of their parish with them. Besides, there is an eminence in our New-England Rowley, called Hunsley's Hill; and, within three miles of the old Rogers church in Yorkshire, there is a low mountain by the same name.

Beneath the stone floors of this old churchedifice, a number of eminent personages have been inurned; and the places of their rest are indicated by tablets, with proper inscriptions, in the floors and walls. I copied one of the oldest of these, which I thought it likely enough my ancestor might have committed to memory some day when the preaching was unusually dull. This inscription is in the words following:

"Near this Place

Lyeth the Remains of Sir Ralph Elleker, whose Grandfather John Elleker of Elleker married the Daughter & Heiress of William Risby of Risby Esqr. anno 1401.

A QUAINT INSCRIPTION.

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"The said Sir Ralph Elleker with his 3 sons Ralph William & Robert, for their gallant Behavior at Flodden Field were there made Knights he died Jan'y 4, 1540.

"Sir Ralph the eldest Son attended King Henry yet into France at his own Expense; he commanded the Siege of Bollogn, where he took the Dauphin of France's Standard, & was made Marshall Governor of the said Town, & lies buried in St. Mary's Church in Bollogn."

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[Here is carved the device of the “Dauphin."]

'Henry ye 8th for his gallant Behavior gave this Device of the Dauphin Standard to him & his Posterity. He married the Daughter of Thomas Arding of Kettlethorp Esqr."

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THE LAND OF SCOTT.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ON TO SCOTLAND. —SIGHTS IN EDINBURGH.—THE CITY OF GLASGOW. — FLAX-MILLS OF JOHNSTONE. — JOURNEY IN THE HIGHLANDS. — KATRINE AND LOMOND. — WINDERMERE LAKE. ON BOARD THE

"GALLIA."- -THE FOURTH OF JULY. — ENTERING NEW-YORK HARBOR. -HOME AGAIN. THE PROMISE OF OUR FUTURE. — LONGFELLOW's

EULOGY.

CONTINUING my journey northward, I passed through Darlington, Durham, and Newcastle (the great coal and iron regions of England), crossed the Tweed at Berwick, and was in Scotland. The train made no halt, except for night, till we arrived at Edinburgh, -a city throned on crags, and overlooking the sea. It is distant from London four hundred miles. Its authentic history dates from the seventh century of the Christian era, when Edwin, the Saxon king of Northumbria, built a fort where the present castle buildings stand. Here Sir Walter Scott was born; and it is no exaggeration to say, that he, by his immortal works, has made the whole of Scotland, from the English borders to "where the Shetland Isles stud the melancholy main," the land of Scott. It is especially true that such is the case in regard to Edinburgh, the Vale of the Tweed, and the lake-district of the Highlands. A majes

tic monument to his memory stands in the city; and not far from it, on the shoulder of a hill, stands another, to Robert Burns, overlooking the Canongate.

In one part of the city, there is a quaint little building, which, according to popular tradition, was Queen Mary's bath-house, where, to preserve her rare beauty, she royally, at stated times, indulged in the luxury of a bath in white wine.

On High Street, there is yet to be seen a picturesque house of many gables and projections, which is to millions invested with the loftiest interest; for here lived and died John Knox the Reformer, who "never feared the face of man." The cathedral, with its crowned tower, and its pillared and groined interior, is one of the striking objects of interest in Edinburgh. From its pulpit John Knox poured forth his burning streams of eloquence, and made "the licentious, gentle folks quake in their shoes, as he lashed unsparingly their vices." Under the shadow of this cathedral, Montrose, Huntly, Warriston, the Argyles, and a host of other illustrious victims to political dissension, were "dismissed to Hades" by the hangman's hands.

Holyrood Abbey and Palace must not be overlooked. We enter and explore the ruins of the abbey, within the walls of which kings and nobles were once inurned, and within the area of which Charles I. was crowned King of Scotland, and