Tweed

In 1838 I again visited the Tweed. On that occasion, accompanied by my dear father, I made a pilgrimage to Lindisfarne, the celebrated Holy Island. A flat sand, about two miles wide, separates it from the coast of Northumberland during low water; but when the tide rises, the sand is overflowed, and Lindisfarne is then truly an island. Many have been drowned in attempting to cross when the tide was rising.

We got over safely, but barefooted; for the sand is in many places not merely wet, but full of shallow pools, which must be crossed. There are small heaps of stones and poles at intervals, to mark the way for travellers across the sands.

The island is highly interesting, locally and historically; of course there are legends also. The Cathedral is a grand ruin. There are remains also of the old Monastery.

St. Cuthbert is the patron saint, not of Holy Island only, but of all Northumbria. His body, after many adventures, now rests in Durham Cathedral. The Danes had ravaged the island more than once. There is a fine stone cross in the centre of its only village. I made rather copious notes of this visit, which were afterwards expanded and preserved in a "luminous, learned, and lengthy Log."

A few days afterwards (Sept. 4), with two of my nephews, I made a journey to Norham Castle, and St. Cuthbert's Chapel at the junction of the Till and the Tweed. It proved a very wet day, but our spirits were not damped. In Norham churchyard I visited the grave of my maternal grandmother, and copied the inscription on her tombstone. The vicar, the Rev. Dr. Gilly, author of the Life of Felix Neff, was from home, but his son courteously showed us his beautiful garden, which had been laid out by the sculptor Chantrey. The square tower of Norham Castle is still in a fair state of preservation: it is about 100 feet high. In and around it are occasionally dug up relics of antiquity. In the village is a fine old stone cross.