The Book-Hunter | Page 7

appearance. I met a man, and asked him if it always
rained here. 'Ou ay, sir,' replied he, 'it's the parish o' Rayne.' I was
content with the answer, and asked nothing more. In a condition you
may easily imagine, I reached Elgin and dried myself. The rain stopped,
but the clouds did not clear. I went and visited the cathedral, and
wandered about the ruins for an hour or two. It is a noble and beautiful
building, but I will not begin to speak about it, as the post leaves in a
few minutes. On Saturday afternoon I left Elgin for Forres, with the
hope of better weather. During the walk I could hardly persuade myself
I was out of Aberdeenshire, the country is so very like, but it is rather
flatter. Next morning was clear and cloudless, and the sun shone bright
over a country drenched and covered with water. I wished that day to
reach Inverness, but a new difficulty appeared. I was told that the
Findhorn was so swollen that no mortal man could get across. I saw the
boatman going to his ferry-house, and I followed him to see how the
matter stood. I soon came to a deep and rapid sweep of water, which
appeared to spread far beyond two narrow banks which might have
formerly bounded it. This I thought to be the Findhorn, but ere I went
many paces farther another sight met my eyes--the real river itself
dashing through the glen with an awful majesty, and carrying roots,
trees, and herbage of every description hurriedly over its broad breast.
In the midst of this scene of devastation appeared the ruins of a noble
bridge, nothing but the piers remaining, and these dashing to pieces in

the furious current. The stream I had seen at first was the river flowing
down the road. The river fell in the evening, and I crossed the ferry. I
had two days of most delightful weather, and yesterday evening I had a
sunset and moonlight walk by the side of Loch Ness, among the most
noble scenery I ever beheld. The sky was perfectly clear, and without a
single cloud.
"I must now finish, as the post is going away. If you see Joseph [i.e.,
the late Joseph Robertson, a constant companion and attached friend],
tell him I will write to him soon and have a deal to say to him,
particularly of my discovering a sculptured stone in Elgin Cathedral.
Notwithstanding the fineness of the evening, this day is determinedly
rainy. If you see any of the H.'s, give Mrs Grant's compliments.--Adieu
for the present; and I remain, my dear mother, your affectionate and
dutiful son,
"J. HILL BURTON."
The writer has heard many farther details of the excursion of which this
letter records the beginning. The temporary clearing up of the weather
referred to was but a hollow truce in the tremendous elemental warfare
of that memorable autumn. The flood described in the Findhorn was
but a faint precursor of the wave sixty feet high, which, a week or two
later, burst through the splendid girdle of rock which at Relugas
confines that loveliest of Scotch rivers, and spread over the fertile plain
beneath, changing it into a sea. At some points in Morayshire, the
enormous overflow of the rivers broke down the banks which bound
the ocean, and permanently changed the coast-line of the country. The
most striking and extraordinary part of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder's
description of this flood is an extract from the log of a sailing packet--a
sea-going vessel--which directed its course over and about the plain of
Moray, picking the inhabitants off the roofs of their houses, or such
other elevations as they could reach.
Dr Burton had the good fortune to see the Fall of Foyers during this
great flood, and had the temerity to cross its stream, which lay on his
road, upon a remaining parapet of the fallen bridge!

CHAPTER II.
EDINBURGH.
Apprenticeship in lawyer's office--Grandfather's letter--J.H. Burton's
letters to his mother, conveying first impressions of Edinburgh, and
account of passing Civil Law trial.
On the completion of his studies, John Burton was apprenticed to a
writer in Aberdeen. He has talked of this period as one of the most
painful of his life. He was utterly unable to master the routine of
office-work, or to submit to its restraints; and one of his most joyful
days was that in which his indentures were, by mutual desire,
cancelled.
A piece of yellow old paper was found in Dr Burton's desk when he
died. It was a letter written some fifty-five years before, and had
probably lain there during all these years. As it refers to this period of
Dr Burton's life, it may be given. It seems fully