The following is from the same MS., and gives an account of the 
      visit to Bothwell Castle here alluded to:
<BR><BR>
        "It was exceedingly delightful to enter thus unexpectedly upon 
      such a beautiful region. The castle stands nobly, overlooking the 
      Clyde. When we came up to it, I was hurt to see that flower-
      borders had taken place of the natural overgrowings of the ruin, 
      the scattered stones, and wild plants. It is a large and grand 
      pile of red freestone, harmonising perfectly with the rocks of the 
      river, from which, no doubt, it has been hewn. When I was a little 
      accustomed to the unnaturalness of a modern garden, I could not 
      help admiring the excessive beauty and luxuriance of some of the 
      plants, particularly the purple-flowered clematis, and a broad-
      leafed creeping plant without flowers, which scrambled up the 
      castle wall, along with the ivy, and spread its vine-like branches 
      so lavishly that it seemed to be in its natural situation, and one 
      could not help thinking that, though not self-planted among the 
      ruins of this country, it must somewhere have its native abode in 
      such places. If Bothwell Castle had not been close to the Douglas 
      mansion, we should have been disgusted with the possessor's 
      miserable conception of 'adorning' such a venerable ruin; but it 
      is so very near to the house, that of necessity the pleasure-
      grounds must have extended beyond it, and perhaps the neatness of 
      a shaven lawn, and the complete desolation natural to a ruin, 
      might have made an unpleasing contrast; and, besides being within 
      the precincts of the pleasure-grounds, and so very near to the 
      dwelling of a noble family, it has forfeited, in some degree, its 
      independent majesty, and becomes a tributary to the mansion: its 
      solitude being interrupted, it has no longer the command over the 
      mind in sending it back into past times, or excluding the ordinary 
      feelings which we bear about us in daily life. We had then only to 
      regret that the castle and the house were so near to each other; 
      and it was impossible 'not' to regret it; for the ruin presides in 
      state over the river, far from city or town, as if it might have a 
      peculiar privilege to preserve its memorials of past ages, and 
      maintain its own character for centuries to come. We sat upon a 
      bench under the high trees, and had beautiful views of the 
      different reaches of the river, above and below. On the opposite 
      bank, which is finely wooded with elms and other trees, are the 
      remains of a priory built upon a rock; and rock and ruin are so 
      blended, that it is impossible to separate the one from the other. 
      Nothing can be more beautiful than the little remnant of this holy 
      place; elm-trees (for we were near enough to distinguish them by 
      their branches) grow out of the walls, and overshadow a small, but 
      very elegant window. It can scarcely be conceived what a grace the 
      castle and priory impart to each other; and the river Clyde flows 
      on, smooth and unruffled, below, seeming to my thoughts more in 
      harmony with the sober and stately images of former times, than if 
      it had roared over a rocky channel, forcing its sound upon the 
      ear. It blended gently with the warbling of the smaller birds, and 
      the chattering of the larger ones that had made their nests in the 
      ruins. In this fortress the chief of the English nobility were 
      confined after the battle of Bannockburn. If a man 'is' to be a 
      prisoner, he scarcely could have a more pleasant place to solace 
      his captivity; but I thought that, for close confinement, I should 
      prefer the banks of a lake, or the seaside. The greatest charm of 
      a brook or river is in the liberty to pursue it through its 
      windings; you can then take it in whatever mood you like; silent 
      or noisy, sportive or quiet. The beauties of a brook or river must 
      be sought, and the pleasure is in going in search of them; those 
      of a lake or of the sea come to you of themselves. These rude 
      warriors cared little, perhaps, about either; and yet, if one may 
      judge from the writings of Chaucer and from the old romances, more 
      interesting passions were connected with natural objects in the 
      days of chivalry than now; though going in search of scenery, as 
      it is called, had not then been thought of. I had previously heard 
      nothing of Bothwell Castle, at least nothing that I remembered; 
      therefore, perhaps, my pleasure was greater, compared with what I 
      received elsewhere, than others might feel."--"MS. Journal."