WHEN he visited Creehope-Linn, in Dumfries-shire, at every turn of the stream and bend of the wood he was called loudly upon to admire the shelving sinuosities of the burn, and the caverned splendour of its all but inaccessible banks. It was thought by those with him that he did not show rapture enough.
“I could not admire it more, sir,” said the poet, “if He who made it were to ask me to do it.”