STIRLING CASTLE—EDINBURGH.

Grand old Stirling Castle! It is situated on high ground. On one side the land is very precipitous; in fact the walls are on the actual verge of the high bluff, and there is an almost vertical fall of more than two hundred feet. In all directions is a view never excelled. There lie the quiet fields, extending from the base of the hill, while the river, like a serpent of gigantic but graceful proportions, curves across them. Here and there are charming groves and solid woodlands, and on, in the distant west, are the famed Highlands. To the north and east are the Ochil Hills, with their companions, the Campsie Hills, on the south; and on the rear lies Stirling town, naÏvely antique.

How natural is it to look farther over the great landscape. As we face the town, off at our right, on a great hill,—almost a crag,—is the Wallace Monument, of which we will speak by and by. In the distance are the bewitching ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey and the Abbey Craig, the Bridge and the Water of Allan, the Great Carse, the Valley of the Forth, the Field of Bannockburn, and a thousand points of beauty.

It is no wonder that here kings and queens have delighted to stay. The building is open to visitors, and for the small fee of a shilling one may take his fill of delight. The edifice is a thorough castle. Built of brownish stone, it has a subdued look; but its low towers and battlements, its varied outline and its great extent, all impress the beholder with reverence. It would be a work of many chapters to describe in detail the various articles on exhibition,—reminders of remarkable events. Here is the Douglas Room, where James II. assassinated the powerful and aggravating Earl of Douglas in 1440. The windows are shown from which these men leaned and conversed before the bloody work; for they remain precisely as they were more than four hundred years ago. There resided all the king Jameses, from the First to the Sixth inclusive, as did Mary Queen of Scots. The castle is used as barracks for English soldiers, though a portion of the building is fearfully vacant, and one prominent quarter is a museum of antiquities. We return through the large courtyards by which we entered, and through the great arched opening, in which is run up the ponderous portcullis, or strong lattice gateway, whose

"Massive bar had oft rolled back the tide of war."

The home of kings and of the most noted persons of the civilized world! Soil made sacred by the tread of nobility. But we were free men, unhindered observers, at liberty to examine and criticise, in unqualified republican American fashion, things once too sacred for common people to look upon. How changed! What has done this but popular education, and the growth of religious liberty,—elements underlying the Magna Charta, which has discounted royalty, and opened the great doors of civilization? Where are now the kings, the queens? Their places of habitation are our intellectual banquet-hall; their household goods form a museum of curiosities for all who are disposed to visit it.

Our next visit was to Gray Friars Church, founded by James IV. in 1594, and here a strange thing met our view. The edifice is in the usual form of a Latin cross. A large door has been made in the centre of each transept, which are used as large vestibules for the two auditoriums into which the choir and nave of the edifice have been converted. The choir, which is the oldest part and of Norman architecture, is used as a chapel for the soldiers, and the nave as one of the parish churches of the city. Both are in use, and services are held in them at the same hours. The military church is under the English government, and of course the service is Episcopalian; while the other is Scotch Presbyterian. Of course the church was originally Roman Catholic, but in the old times John Knox often preached there. How little endures! One set of people exist and build and occupy. Here their saints are made, die, and are buried, and the stones become sacred to their memory. But by-and-by other people come into possession. In a day the accumulated sanctities are despoiled, and, as it were, evaporate. Nothing but the soil stands secure from mutation and danger. In a place like this we realize the force of the statement: "One generation goeth and another cometh, but the earth abideth forever."

Near by is Guildhall. At the house adjoining we make our desires known, and the young lady attendant, key in hand, accompanies us to the old room, which is perhaps thirty feet wide, fifty feet long, and twenty feet high. The quintessence of antiquity is here. Imagination in full play could conceive nothing more fascinatingly mediÆval. Dimly lighted, the heavy oak finish looked the more quaint and feudalistic. What things of interest we behold! Here are pictures which centuries have mellowed, and here, in the middle of the room, is the pulpit in which John Knox preached a memorable sermon at the coronation of the infant king, James VI., Aug. 29, 1567. It is octagonal, and made of oak; and only the upper part, or that in which the preacher stood, is left, its floor resting upon the floor of the hall. We stood in it, and, like John Knox on a certain occasion, pronounced the text, "Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man in whom there is no help."

Here was an old Crusader's hat, which we tried on. It is large, not much decayed, has a broad brim, and is made of soft felt; in fact it is what is now called a slouched hat. Near by is a burial-ground, unlike anything we had ever seen. It contains some two or three acres, has through the central part a romantic ravine, and in it are monuments and old statues embowered in trees. Adjoining it is a lofty elevation of natural stone, from which are charming views. There are monuments devoted to the martyrs who died in defence of principle. The gravestones are thick, and the place contains but few things that can be paralleled elsewhere. There are fine trees, thick shrubbery, and an atmosphere of romance.

Off at a distance of a mile or so, accessible by horse-cars, is the Wallace Monument, standing on Moncrief, like a lone sentinel. Moncrief is a piece of ground quite park-like in its aspect; a good avenue is graded for a quarter-mile through the woods, winding so as to make an easy ascent to the summit, which is a very small level table-land. The entire city is visible, with the castle as a background; and off to the right, in the distance, are the famed Highlands. In the near foreground is the river, with a background of woods. Here and there are villages and hamlets, and Bannockburn is seen to best advantage, and places where battles were fought by Wallace and Bruce. The monument stands at the centre of the table-land, which is 226 feet above the streets of the city. The monument is square in plan, about 40 feet on each side, and 200 feet high. It is built of brown stone, with trimmings that resemble granite. It is of a castellated design, and in appearance is hundreds of years old, though in reality it has been finished but six years. The keeper's house adjoins it, and is incorporated into the structure. Either the castle, the Wallace Monument, the old church, the Guildhall, or near burial-ground amply repay the effort required to make a visit to Stirling. The monument was erected to the memory of Wallace, as its name implies, and a few words concerning him may be of interest.

William Wallace was born in 1276. He had a fierce and warlike disposition, and, while at the high-school at Dundee, he stabbed the son of the English governor of Dundee Castle, and fled. For a long time he was an outlaw and dwelt in the fastnesses of Scotland. He had great personal accomplishments, and many persons became his followers. He organized an army, and held it in readiness for invasions. An insurrection having broken out in 1297, when he was but twenty-one years old, he attacked an English Count at Scone, took many prisoners, and killed many more. Under his direction, Sir William Douglas surprised and compelled the English garrisons of Durisdeer and Sanquhar, which were holding the castles, to surrender. So great was his intrepidity and daring, and so formidable had his army become, that Edward I.—the sovereign against whom he was fighting, and to whom the people of Scotland were opposed—sent 40,000 men and cavalry, under command of Sir Henry Percy and Sir Robert Clifford, to oppose him. Wallace made an attack on them when they arrived, but was repulsed and fell back to Irvine in Ayrshire. Soon after this, however, disputes arose among the Scottish leaders, which resulted in an agreement which Wallace and Murray did not approve; so they retired into the northern countries, quickly recruited a formidable army, and surprised and captured the English garrisons at Aberdeen, Dunnottar, Forfar, and Montrose. Wallace had also begun a siege at Dundee; but being informed of the advance of a large English force in the direction of Stirling, he abandoned the siege, and, gathering adherents as he went, reached Stirling with 40,000 foot and 180 horse. The English mustered 50,000 foot and 1,000 horse, under the Earl of Surrey. Messengers, deserters from the Scottish army, were sent to persuade Wallace to capitulate, and a free pardon was unconditionally offered, but the overtures were rejected. The English crossed the river, and the noted battle of Cambuskenneth was fought near Stirling Bridge, Sept. 10, 1297. The result was that the English were driven to Berwick, almost completely cut to pieces. Inflated by success, Wallace, by general consent,—in the absence of the lawful monarch, King John, who was then confined in the Tower of London,—was declared guardian of Scotland. A severe famine followed, and Wallace, to obtain supplies, invaded the northern counties of England. He laid waste the country, returned with his spoils, and began to reorganize Scotland. Edward, smarting under the terrible defeat, and realizing the insecurity of his possessions near the border, raised an army of 80,000 infantry and 7,000 horse. A portion of the force landed by sea on the northeast coast, and there suffered a reverse; but the main body advanced by land northward, and on July 22, 1298, met the Scottish forces at Falkirk, where a decisive battle was fought, and Wallace's army was defeated with a loss of 15,000. This was really the fall of his remarkable power. He was only 22 years old, and from this time carried on a guerilla warfare for several years, until at length he went to Paris to seek French intervention. In 1304 he was declared an outlaw, large rewards were offered by King Edward for his arrest, and he was immediately betrayed by Sir John Menteith. The day after his arrival in London, the form of a trial was gone through with at Westminster, and in derision of his pretensions he was decorated with a crown of laurel. He was condemned to death, and the same day, Aug. 23, 1305, at the age of thirty-five, he was dragged at the tails of horses to Smithfield, and there hung, drawn, and quartered; his head being sent to London bridge, where it was perched on the top of the Southwark Tower, while his other limbs were exposed to the anathemas of the populace at Newcastle, Berwick, Perth, and at Stirling, the seat of his daring deeds. It is for this patriot that this lofty monument was erected, 570 years after the close of his eventful life, which also gives a basis for Burns's "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled!"

The castle is now used for barracks; and at the time of our visit some hundreds of men were here stationed,—all of that robust nature for which English soldiers are celebrated. A sad waste of the flower of Great Britain, and the day is not far distant when the mistake will be seen. The ambition for increased territory is one of England's elements of weakness. Too much distant territory is breaking her down. Soldiers are everywhere required to maintain possession. This takes her picked men, and the people must be taxed to feed an army of drones.

We were especially interested in one thing here. The ground, within the castle walls, is paved with small cobble-stones, like our gutters. Springing up among them were knot-grass and small weeds. Three or four soldiers, with sharp-pointed case-knives, were digging up this grass, scrupulously removing every trace of it. We asked why this was being done, and were informed that it was a punishment. For infraction of some rule soldiers were sentenced to this menial work—in the presence of comrades and visitors—for a day, or perhaps a week; and some were also deprived of dinner. The misdemeanor might have been not returning at the proper time when off by permission, being drunk while away, insubordination, deceiving officers, uncleanliness, or neglect of accoutrements.

We have devoted much attention to Stirling, for it is connected with events not only in the history of Scotland, but of England as well.

At 12.30 p. m. the day after arrival, Tuesday, June 4, we took train for Edinburgh, the chief city of Scotland, and in many respects one of the finest cities in the world. The ride from Stirling is through a pleasant country, much like that between Worcester and Springfield. It is but an hour and a half before we see the spreading smoke-cloud, and we know from experience that there is the city. The suburbs remind one of an approach to Baltimore, Washington, and other Southern cities. Most of the houses are brick, and two stories high. All are dingy, though not very ancient or peculiar in design. We are at a central point in Scotland, but we see nothing intensely outlandish.

American tourists mistake in supposing everything to be unlike home. Most things are such as are familiar, or not sufficiently eccentric to arouse astonishment. The press, pictures, and travel compel interchange of ideas and methods. They are common levellers, producing wonderful uniformity in buildings, dress, and habits. All these tend to oneness, and help to make "the whole world kin." Strange objects are exceptional. They belong to other days, and are interesting to their possessors and the present generation—as they are to us, who have come from a longer distance to see them—as curiosities. History is common property. Bunker Hill has an interest to the intelligent Scotchman, that Bannockburn has to us.

But we are at Edinburgh, and ready to say, as was said of Jerusalem of old: "Beautiful for situation is Mount Zion, the joy of the whole earth."

EDINBURGH.

The name was probably given to it by Edwin, king of Northumbria, about the year 449, and for more than four hundred years afterwards it remained little better than a village of mud-and-fagot houses, collected on Castle Hill. In 854, more than a thousand years ago, Simon of Durham speaks of it as a village of importance. In the beginning of the thirteenth century Alexander II. held a parliament here, and this fact gave the place so much importance in the reign of David II. that it was the chief place in Scotland. In 1384, Froissart, a French historian, visited it, and speaks of it as the Paris of Scotland. The assassination of James I. (of Scotland) at Perth, in 1437, led to the selection of Edinburgh as the capital of the kingdom. James II. caused it to be walled in.

The place now has a population of 196,600. It comprises two distinct parts, the old and the new, and these are separated, a half-mile or more, by a deep ravine which, however, is under the highest state of cultivation, and used as a park. As one stands at a central point on the elegant avenue of the new portion, in front of him is this ravine; and beyond this is the Old City with its dark-colored, quaint, ten-storied buildings pierced with many windows. Innumerable gables present themselves, the stories often jutting out over each other; and the compact buildings rise in the rear, generally conforming to the slope of the land. On the extreme right on the further side is the castle, at a very rocky elevation, and forms a fit termination to the aggregation of sombre houses.

At the extreme left of the Old City, and terminating it, are the lofty elevations known as Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat. These seem to be veritable mountains, and their blue haze adds a charm nowhere else to be seen near a great city. At the lower end, in front of the crags, the land is level, and the city extends around to Calton Hill, another grand eminence. The old part of the city and the new are well matched. This new part is covered with important buildings and grand avenues. Among the former are structures of Grecian architecture, for museums and art-galleries. The thoroughfare on which we stand, Princes Street, is one of the finest in the world. It is wide and level, and has fine buildings along its whole length on the side opposite the park, and so facing the old city. At its centre, near the park fence, is the noted monument to Sir Walter Scott.

Throughout the New City many of the brown stone houses are of classic architecture; and while there is an absence of the light effect, in color and design, of the buildings in Paris, yet there is an air of comfort that well compensates for this lack, and speaks distinctly of those traits for which the reliable and thoughtful Scotch are celebrated. The world furnishes no better counterpart to Paris than Edinburgh. The ravine was for centuries a lake; but it was drained in 1788, and afterwards turned into gardens. The foundation of the first house in the New City was laid Oct. 26, 1767, just 106 years ago, by Mr. Craig, who was the general engineer of the New Town. He was a nephew of Thomson the poet, author of "The Seasons." From that time to the present the city has been extending in all directions. We can name but few of its interesting points, for Edinburgh is not only a place of deposit for objects of interest, but is a museum of itself.

Calton Hill is at the lower end of the New Town. There a road winds to the top, a sort of pasture, from which a comprehensive view of Edinburgh is to be had, as well as an extensive view of the country outside. From this eminence is seen the Frith of Forth, an arm of the sea two miles away. The island of Inchkeith nestles cosily in it, and the long pier of Leith, a city of 56,000 inhabitants, stretches itself out into its waters. The imposing Ochil Hills form the background, and in a clear day Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi loom up majestically. The city extends well up and around the base of Calton Hill. At one part of the grounds is an amphitheatre-like spot, given to the citizens by James II. as an arena for tournaments. The sides are called Caltoun Craigs and Greenside. According to the marvel-loving Pennant, it was here that the Earl of Bothwell made his first impression on Queen Mary, by the daring feat of galloping his horse down the precipitous face of the hill. The most prominent objects are Nelson's Monument and the National Monument. The former is on a rocky elevation, 350 feet above the sea. It is a square structure with embattled bastions at the corners, the whole of castellated design; and from the centre rises a round tower, crowned by a circular lantern of less diameter, the whole 100 feet high. At the top is a flagstaff, from which a large ball drops at one o'clock, Greenwich time, moved by mechanism in the Royal Observatory. The time-gun is fired from the castle at the same moment, so that all within seeing or hearing distance are apprised of the hour.

The National Monument was begun in 1816, the proposition being to erect a structure in imitation of the Parthenon at Athens, as a memorial of soldiers who fell at Waterloo. Thirty thousand dollars were subscribed at the first public meeting. An attempt was made to place the affair under the patronage of George IV., and the interest declined. The foundation was laid in 1822, and remained untouched till 1824,—when, with $67,500 on hand, work was resumed. All the money was expended, as was the case with the New York Court-house in the structure of white marble, the three colossal steps, and the ten columns in front, with the two flanking pillars on each side, together with the architrave, or horizontal stones, upon them. To this day it remains in this condition. The general sentiment seems to be that this unfinished building, mute in its solitary grandeur, is a more appropriate memorial than a completed building could be.

There is a monument to Dugald Stewart, the distinguished professor of mathematics, and afterwards of moral philosophy, in Edinburgh University; and another to John Playfair, also a professor of mathematics, well known the civilized world over.

The Burns Monument at the base of the hill is a stone structure some forty feet square, surmounted by a circular section surrounded by Corinthian columns, on which is a pedestal, crowned by a low dome and terminated by four griffins. For a small admission fee we were admitted, and were charmed by the relics exposed to view, once the property of the Scottish Bard. It is useless to attempt to name them, but many were linked with a melancholy interest to a poet, whose life, like that of Keats, "was writ in water."

Sir Walter Scott's Monument is doubtless the finest in the world. It is built of brown sandstone, in elaborate Gothic architecture, and is two hundred feet high. It was erected in 1844, at an expense of $80,500, from a competitive design furnished by George Meikle Kemp, a young self-taught architect of great promise, who died before the monument's completion, he having been drowned in the Union Canal, when going home one dark night. Beneath the open Gothic rotunda, with its groined arches, is the colossal marble statue of Sir Walter, in a sitting posture, by John Steell. Many of the niches on the exterior are occupied by statues of characters in Scott's romances. At the centre of the great monument, and up 100 feet from the base, is a room in which are relics of the great bard; and near the top, at the height of 175 feet, is a gallery on the outside of the monument, from which are fine views of the city. As one looks down on the busy mass below; when he sees the ruins of this animated map spread out beneath him,—hills, ravine, parks, monuments, princely edifices, as the busy hum of life surges up to him,—he loses sight of "the good time coming," and is satisfied with that which has come already.

Holyrood Palace is situated on the level ground between Calton Hill and Salisbury Crags, the portion connecting the old and new parts of the city. The edifice is built of a brown freestone, and the palace is open to visitors for a small fee. The only portion of great antiquity is the northwest tower, in which are the original Queen Mary apartments, erected by James V., who died in 1542. Long ago abandoned as a place of royal residence, this palace, when it is now used at all, is occupied by the clergy of the Presbyterian, or the established Church of Scotland, at the time of their annual convocation, which lasts about two weeks. Here the ministers are entertained during their stay. How passing strange! The home of rulers distinguished for hostility to anything but a ceremonial religion is now used as the house of convocation for strong Dissenters! Much of it is vacant. We go first into the picture-gallery, which was the banquet-hall. It was in this room that Charles I., when but a prince, held grand levees. The room is 150 feet long and 27 feet wide, elegantly finished in oak. Here are pictures of 106 Scottish sovereigns, from Fergus to James VII. They are mostly fancy portraits, and painted by order of Charles II. to flatter the vanity of the pleasure-seeking king. Their merits are delicately hinted in the wonderment of Christopher Croftangier, that each and all of the Scottish kings should have "a nose like the knocker of a door." The paintings more recently added are genuine. There are rooms which remain furnished as they were centuries ago. Among them is Lord Darnley's Chamber, and here are many relics of Queen Mary, and a portrait of Darnley when a youth. From this room is the private staircase by which Rizzio's assassins ascended to Mary's apartments above. The murder of Rizzio is conspicuous in the annals of Scotland.

Henry Stuart Darnley was the second husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. When it became known that the queen proposed to marry again, Darnley, who was possessed of a very handsome person and accomplished in many of the fine arts of the day, proceeded to Scotland, urged his suit, and was accepted. The marriage took place in the chapel of Holyrood, adjoining the palace, July 29, 1565. "He was," says Randolph, "conceited, arrogant, and an intolerable fool." He was overbearing, and towards Mary was petulant and insolent. He repaid her kindness by profligacy and infidelity, and finally alienated her affections by participating in the murder of her secretary, the Italian Rizzio, March 9, 1566, within a year after marriage.

While she and Rizzio were together in the Queen's apartment, Darnley rushed in, and held the Queen while Ruthven, George Douglas, and other conspirators stabbed Rizzio. Mary pleaded with loud cries for the life of her favorite secretary; but, hearing that he was dead, she dried her tears and said: "I will now have revenge. I will never rest till I give you as sorrowful a heart as I have at this present." Darnley afterwards repented, and aided Mary in driving his confederates from the kingdom; but his vices and follies were deep-seated, and the breach widened. On the 19th of June of this same year their son James (afterwards James I. of England) was born. In the next January, Darnley was taken with the smallpox, and removed to a house which stood by itself at a place called the Kirk of Field, near Edinburgh, it being feared that if he remained at Holyrood Palace he might communicate the disease to the young prince. The Queen visited him a few times during his sickness, and manifested apparent sympathy. On the night of February 9 the house was blown up with gunpowder, and the dead bodies of Darnley and his servant were found in a mangled condition not far from the ruins. Bothwell, already the Queen's lover, was the chief actor in this tragedy, and in three months they were married. The room of most interest is the apartment of Queen Mary. This, like some of the other rooms, is finished with a heavy-panelled oak ceiling, and has an uncarpeted oak floor. There is also rich panel-work about the deeply recessed windows and doors. The room is not large,—about 18 feet by 20 feet square, and 12 feet high. It contains a few chairs, a table, and bed,—the latter with high corner posts, square framework at the top, and a canopy of red tapestry silk. Though three hundred years have passed since their owner died, the furniture, together with the mattress and richly embroidered quilts, are still in a fair state of preservation, and the bed appears ready for instant use. It was in this room that the Queen held many angry disputations with her hated opponent, John Knox. She is reported at one time to have demanded of the reformer, "Think you that subjects, having the power, may resist their princes?" and to have received the bold reply, intrepid as the heart of him whose brain conceived it, "If princes exceed their bounds, madam, no doubt they may be resisted with power."

At another interview the Queen turned her back in derision of her faithful attendants. Knox, who never let slip a chance to fight the "beasts at Ephesus," addressed himself to the maids of honor and remarked: "O fair ladies, how pleasing were this lyfe of yours if it would always abyde, and then in the end we might pass to heaven with all this gay gear. But fye upon that knave Death, that will come, wheddir we will or not."

On the adjoining premises are ruins replete with interest. Both Holyrood palace and chapel are thought-inducing. Beneath this roof, within these walls, have been concocted schemes which have influenced the destinies of the world. That chapel, now a glorious ruin, was consecrated a thousand years ago by the prayers and resolves and sacrifices of pious monks, and later by deposits of dust, which once made the world tremble. There is an impassable gulf between that day and this. Scarcely more appreciative than the mantling ivy or the crumbling stones, or the inanimate dust of regal sleepers, are we concerning past realities. At best we but "see through a glass darkly."

The abbey ruins at Holyrood, and almost adjoining the palace, are enchanting. The walls of the building are nearly whole, and reasonably free from decay, and have been in their present condition for centuries. Ivy clambers over large portions of it. The rich door-work is almost entire, and many windows, save the glass, are perfect, and the carpet is of thick grass.

Here Charles I. was crowned king of Scotland, and also James II. and James III. Mary and Darnley were married here; and within these walls the Papal Legate presented to James IV., from Pope Julius II., the sword of state, which is preserved among the regalia of Scotland.

The last time the chapel was used for worship was in the reign of James VII., who had Mass celebrated in it,—which excited the populace to its destruction at the Revolution. Several of the kings of Scotland were buried in the monastery, but the remains were desecrated by the mob of 1688; and it is doubtful whether the bones of David II., who died Feb. 22, 1370, James II., who died in 1460, James V., who died Dec. 13, 1542, Darnley, who died Feb. 9, 1567, are now in the royal vault. Rizzio, by command of Queen Mary, was at first interred in this tomb, but, to prevent scandal, he was afterwards removed to that part of the chapel nearest the palace.

In the centre of the square in front of the palace is a large and elaborate fountain, a copy of one that stood in the court of Linlithgow Palace. The spot was once occupied by a statue of the Queen, which is said to have been so ugly that, at her majesty's request, it was buried six feet deep in the courtyard of the royal stables. Perhaps it will some day be exhumed, and become a puzzle to the archÆologists of distant centuries. In the garden is a curious sun-dial, described as Queen Mary's, but really of later date, for it was constructed in the reign of Charles I. The apex of the pedestal has twenty sides, on each of which is a dial. Outside the palace gate is a circular building known as Queen Mary's Bath, where she is reported to have enhanced her charms by bathing in white wine. It was by this lodge that Rizzio's assassins made their escape. During some repairs in 1789 a richly inlaid dagger was found sticking in a part of the roof. It was of very antique form, and corroded with rust. The presumption is that it was concealed there by the conspirators.

Next demanding attention are the highlands near the lower end of the city, and back of the older part. These are within a few minutes' walk of the main streets, and make a lofty background called Salisbury Crags. They are very bluff-like on the side towards the town; but the top and rear are more level, and covered with grass, and a grand avenue is graded circuitously to the table-land, from which there are remarkable views of the entire city, for this point is 576 feet above the level of the sea. As one looks at this elevation from the city, it has a dark appearance, and is enveloped in that blue haze, or atmosphere, so peculiar to our Blue Hills at Milton. In the rear of this table-land, perhaps an eighth of a mile away, is Arthur's Seat, 822 feet above the sea-level,—247 feet higher than the table-land of the Crags. The macadamized avenue continues as far as this, and from the summit are visible twelve counties and innumerable mountain peaks, and among them the Grampian Hills.

The Old City lies stretched out from the highlands, and it is entertaining to the most ardent antiquary, although great changes have taken place. Here are buildings varying from four to ten stories in height, with gables to the street, and over-jutting stories in abundance. We think of this main street as it must have been in the days of the Stuarts, when these projecting gables, over-jutting windows, and hanging stairs were gayly decorated with flags and streamers, and the roadway was thronged with spectators as some royal pageant passed along.

Peculiar to this street are its closes, or wynds. These are spaces in the rear of the front buildings, surrounded by tenements, and having a contracted opening from the main street. They are occupied by a low class of people, but were formerly the residences of distinguished persons.

Riddle's Close is one, in which David Hume began his History of England, though he finished it in another part of the city, Jack's Land, in the Canongate. At the end of the place is a house once belonging to Bailie MacMoran, who was shot dead by the high-school boys in 1598, when he was attempting to restore subordination during a barring-out.

Farther down is Brodie's Close, named for Deacon Brodie, who was executed for a daring burglary in 1788. Till the very eve of his trial he was a citizen of renown, considered exemplary and pious; but it was proved beyond question that for years he had been concerned in extensive robberies.

Lady Stair's Close is near by, and is named for Lady Elizabeth Stair. While her first husband, Viscount Primrose was abroad, that singular event happened which is so well described in Sir Walter Scott's story, "My Aunt Margaret's Mirror." She occupied the house in the close where the date, 1622, is over the doorway.

Baxter's Close contains the first lodging occupied by Robert Burns, in 1786. He stayed with his friend John Richmond, who was a law student and clerk, and they two were the only persons in the house. On the opposite side is a house, bearing on its front, in Gothic letters, one of those legends that the custom of those days sanctioned:

Blisst—be—the—Lord—in—His—giftis—for—nov—and—Evir.

Near this spot is the chapel called the Maison Dieu. It was in this that the General Assembly met in 1578, when perpetual banishment was given to high ecclesiastical titles. The act was as follows:—

It is here concludid that Bischopes sould be callit be thair awin names, or be the names of Breither in all tyme coming, and that lordlie name and authoritie be banissed from the kirk of God, quhilk hes bot ae Lord Chryst Jesus.

In this chapel, in 1661, the martyred Marquis of Argyle lay in state for some days, till at length his body was buried at Kilmun and his head affixed to a gable of the Tolbooth, an old building, once the Parliament House, but then a prison.

The church of all churches in Edinburgh is St. Giles's. Many repairs and restorations have been made upon it, so that only a portion of the tower retains its original design. The first mention of the venerable edifice is in the charter of David II., in 1359. The structure was large and cruciform, and after the Reformation the four parts were appropriated to various uses. One was devoted to religious services, and it was here that the Solemn League and Covenant of the Scotch Covenanters was sworn to and subscribed by the Parliament, the General Assembly, and the Commissioners, in 1643. Another part was used as a prison. The town council used to meet in it; the town clerk held his office here, and a transept was used for the police. A writer says of it:—

The city corporation treated it like a carpet-bag, which could never be crammed so full but that room might be made for something more, which could not be put elsewhere.

So earnest were they to utilize—we may say secularize—the old structure, that even the spaces on the outside, between the butresses, were from a. d. 1555 down to 1817, a period of 262 years, filled in with small shops, whose chimneys belched smoke against the old edifice.

This was the parish church of Edinburgh at the Reformation, and is celebrated as the place where John Knox made his appeals to the piety and patriotism of the metropolis,—appeals which, more than all other means, established the Reformation not only in this country, but the civilized world over. An exciting scene took place here in 1637. Archbishop Laud had arranged for the introduction of the liturgy, to establish by authority the service of the Church of England. As the custom was, Jenny Geddes brought a stool with her to church, and when the obnoxious prayers were begun, and the Bishop of Edinburgh had just requested the Dean to read the Collect for the day, Jenny arose and exclaimed: "Colic, said ye; the Devil colic the wame o' ye; wud ye say Mass at my lug?" and she sent her stool flying at the Dean's head. The famous stool is still preserved in the Antiquarian Museum.

The ancient cemetery of the church is now covered by the second House of Parliament, and used as a court-house. John Knox died Nov. 24, 1572. He was buried in the burial-ground not far from the church. This large area is now the approach to the court-house, and is paved with large flagstones. As nearly as can be ascertained, this burial-place is designated by the letters J. K., cut in one of these stones; and this is the only monument that Edinburgh can show for one of her greatest citizens. Over the grave of Knox was once a stone with that celebrated epitaph by Regent Morton:—

Here lies he who never feared the face of man.

On the outer walls of St. Giles's is a monument to John Napier, who died here April 4, 1617, and was celebrated as the inventor of logarithms.

The Tolbooth was originally a parliament house, and at last a prison. It is referred to in Sir Walter Scott's "Heart of Midlothian," and is marked as the northwest corner of St. Giles's by the figure of a heart cut in the pavement.

The house in which Knox resided is one of the quaintest imaginable. It is not far from St. Giles's, and is very irregular in outline, of a dark brown color, three and a half projecting stories in height. He occupied it from 1560 to 1572, when he died in the 67th year of his age. Over the door is the inscription:—

Lufe God abuf all, and ye nychtbour as yiself.

One can imagine some of the remarkable questions here considered, for matters pregnant with great issues were held in this building. At one time the care of all the Scotch churches, and even of the nation itself, rested heavily on the spirit of John Knox; but he was not often the morose fanatic he is sometimes represented. Few men enjoyed social intercourse more than he, or more readily availed themselves of an opportunity for its enjoyment. A few days before his death he desired his servant to tap a cask of wine that had been presented to him, that he might share it with friends who were paying him a visit, remarking that he was "not likely to tarry till it be finished." We must content ourselves with an extract from the Diary of James Melville, in which he gives a graphic description of his preaching, and more especially that of his last days:—

In the opening of his text he was moderat the space of an halff houre: but when he enterit to application, he made me sa to grew and tremble, that I could nocht hald a pen to wryt. Mr. Knox wald sumtyme come in and repose him in our college-yard, and call us scholars to him, and bless us, and exort us to know God and His wark in our country, and to stand by the guid caus. I saw him every day in his doctrine [preaching] go hulie and fear [cautiously] with a furring of martriks about his neck, a staff in the ane hand, and guid godlie Richart Ballenden, his servand, holdin up the other oxtar, from the abbey to the paroche kirk, and by the said Richart and another servand, lifted up to the pulpit, where he behovdit to lean at his first entrie, but or he had done with his sermon, he was sa active and vigorous that he was like to ding that pulpit in blads and flee out of it.

As early as 1746 a theatre was established in Edinburgh, and the church of those days, intensely conservative though it was, rather encouraged than opposed it, for Dr. Carlyle says:—

When Mrs. Siddons first appeared in Edinburgh during the sitting of the General Assembly, the court was obliged to fix all its important business for the alternate days when she did not act, as the younger members of the clergy, as well as the laity, took their stations in the theatre on those days by three in the afternoon.

On St. John Street near by, Smollett, the historian and novelist for a time resided with his sister, Mrs. Telfer. The next building to this was the Canongate Kilwinning Lodge, where Robert Burns, poet-laureate to the lodge, was made a Royal Arch Mason. At No. 13 lived Lord Monboddo and his beautiful daughter, Miss Burnet, whose death Burns so touchingly commemorated. Lord Monboddo anticipated Darwin, for he propounded the theory that the human family had ascended from the monkey. His contemporaries were not disposed to favor his opinions, which exposed the noble lord to the jocular request, "Show us your tail, Monboddo." At No. 10 was the residence of James Ballantine, the printer of the first editions of the Waverley Novels, whose commercial failure involved Sir Walter Scott, as a partner, in the anxieties which beclouded the best years of his life, and compelled him to overtask his strength in the honorable ambition to "owe no man anything." Ballantine was in the habit of giving a great dinner at this house on the occasion of every new publication by Sir Walter, and therefore it is linked with the memory of most of Scott's literary contemporaries, who, with the Duke of Buccleuch, were usually invited to the feast. At Panmure Close the celebrated Adam Smith lived for twelve years, and died July 8, 1790.

Before closing this account of places of especial interest—and we have spoken of but one of a thousand—we must name what is called the Abbey Sanctuary, the only one remaining in Scotland. This is a large territory, in the vicinity of Holyrood Palace, and includes the whole range of Arthur's Seat, Salisbury Crags, and the Queen's Park. It was set apart centuries ago, as a district into which poor but honest debtors might flee for safety from imprisonment. So long as they could prove that they were not fraudulent bankrupts, they were safe in this land of refuge, and on the Sabbath they could go over the city, wherever they pleased, until sunset. This freedom naturally tempted some of them to transgress the hour, and they were then in peril of the bumbailiffs; but history says that "as the bailiffs would no more dare to cross the sacred strand than a witch can pursue its victim over a running stream, there were often tremendous treats at the foot of Canongate." On one such occasion the fugitive fell just as he was at the strand, or boundary line. His body was on the safe side, but his legs were captured, and held by the bailiffs till an arrangement was made for his temporary relief. The question of jurisdiction came up in Parliament, and after much grave discussion it was decided and resolved that, "as the bailiff could do nothing with a man's legs unless he had the body they belonged to, the debtor must be allowed to take his legs along with him."

Sir Walter Scott's residence for some years was No. 39 Castle Street, and a literary Frenchman has remarked that "it was a right number for Sir Walter, as it was fitting that the Three Graces and Nine Muses should take their station there." It was in this house that occurred the ludicrous incident which Sir Walter utilizes in the "Bride of Lammermoor," when he represents the faithful Caleb Balderstone as excusing the non-appearance of dinner by the fact of a fall of soot down the chimney. Sir Walter had invited numerous guests to dinner. As they were chatting together the butler entered with a face like that of him "who drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night." Beckoning to his master he informed him of the catastrophe which had taken place. Sir Walter carried his guests to Oman's Hotel in Charlotte Square, where the mishap added zest to the banquet thus speedily prepared.

The castle is not only interesting to Scotland, but to the civilized world. Burns says of it:—

"There, watching high the least alarms,
Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar;

Like some rude veteran, gray in arms,
And marked with many a seamy scar;

The ponderous wall and massy bar,
Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock,

Have oft withstood assailing war,
And oft repelled the invader's shock."

Castle Rock, on which it is built, is a very high elevation at the upper end of the Old City, and has the almost undisputed honor of having been occupied by a native tribe long before the Roman Conquest. St. Margaret's Chapel is older than 1373, in which year Sir William Kirkcaldy, who held the fortress for Queen Mary, was compelled by his garrison to surrender to the combined forces of the Scotch and English, but not till after the fortress was laid in ruins. The barracks adjoining the castle—now a portion of the structure, an ugly pile, half house and half factory in appearance—was erected in 1796. This structure being one of the four fortresses of Scotland which, by the Treaty of Union, were to be kept fortified, is always occupied by a regiment of the line. There is but one approach to it, and that is by the main avenue up from the old part of the city, which ends in a square called the Half Moon Battery. This is a level plain of the form indicated by its name, and contains an acre graded with clean gravel. Salutes are fired on public occasions, and a daily gun, at 1 p. m., marks the Greenwich time. This is fired by means of a wire stretching over the city from the Royal Observatory at Calton Hill. The sound can be so distinctly heard on a calm day that it is the regulator of time for a circle of forty miles' diameter. Admittance is gained by passing over a drawbridge across the moat, once filled with water, but now used as a playground by the soldiers. The castle is open to the public on payment of a shilling. The old dark stone walls tower up, castle-like, before us,—sombre, massive, aged, and varied in outline. The structural assemblage is what we had imagined a large castellated fortress to be. We walk over the bridge, and through the Portcullis Arch, above which is the old State Prison, where the Marquis of Argyle and other illustrious captives were confined previous to their execution. The last state prisoners lodged here were Watt and Downie, accused of high treason in 1794, the former being executed. The gate passed, we are met by one of the guides, who leads us through the contracted grounds and into the building. First comes the Crown Room, where the regalia are kept. These consist of a crown, a sceptre, a sword of state, and a silver rod-of-office, supposed to be that of the Lord Treasurer. They were long thought to be lost; but, after lying in an oak chest from the date of the union with England in 1707, they were restored to the light in 1818, chiefly through the instrumentality of Sir Walter Scott, the Prince Regent having granted a commission for a search of the Crown Room. The Scotch people are justly proud of these symbols of their independence, these relics of a long line of monarchs, beginning with the hero of Bannockburn. A part of the crown, at least, was worn by Robert Bruce; and, not to mention other sovereigns, it encircled the brows of Queen Mary, her son James VI., and her grandson Charles I. The sword was a gift from Pope Julius II. to James IV.

In Queen Mary's Room that lady was delivered, June 19, 1566, of her son James VI. of Scotland, afterward James I. of England. This part of the castle was built by the Queen the year preceding, for her palace, and so is 317 years old. There is a vaulted dungeon below this room, partly excavated in the solid rock; and at the south side of the castle there are other dungeons, in which were confined prisoners taken in the wars of the First Napoleon.

The miniature chapel of Queen Margaret stands on the highest part of the castle rock. The pious queen of Malcolm Canmore probably erected the chapel, and she certainly worshipped there till her death, Nov. 17, 1093, almost eight hundred years ago. It is a complete church, but measures only 16½ feet long, and 10½ feet wide within the nave. It looks inexpressibly ancient, but is in excellent preservation.

The old cannon, Mons Meg, stands on the battery. It is large and peculiarly formed, with a heavy wooden carriage, considerably decorated with carvings. It is commonly reported to have been made at Mons, France, in 1476; but several authorities in archÆology, including Sir Walter Scott, maintain that there is good evidence of its having been made in Scotland, and that it was forged at Castle Douglas for James II. by McKim, a local blacksmith, when the king was besieging the Castle of Thrieve. The maker called the cannon Mollance Meg, the first word being the name of the estate given him by the grateful monarch because of its manufacture, and Meg being the name of his wife. It was injured when firing a salute in honor of the Duke of York's visit in 1682. In 1684 it was removed to the Tower of London, but it was restored to the castle in 1829, by order of George IV.

As may readily be imagined, there are good views of the entire city and its surroundings. The Castle Esplanade was for centuries the promenade of the citizens of Old Edinburgh; and as such it is referred to, with King's Park and Leith Pier, in various acts for the better observance of the Lord's Day. It has often been the scene of public executions. Foret, the vicar of Dollar, and others of the early Reformers were here burnt at the stake during the persecution raised by Mary of Guise and the Romish hierarchy. Language does not suffice to express our regret as we think of what we have not spoken of, as the suburbs also are full of charms; but we must forego all, and take the train for Melrose, where we arrived at 12 o'clock Thursday, June 6, after a ride of an hour and a half. We are now on our way back to London by a somewhat circuitous route, and mainly in a southerly direction, on the east side of England.