Return fond muse frae haunts sae fair,
To Lothian's shore return ance mair,
And let thy lyre he sweetly strung,
For peerless Esk remains unsung.
Romantic stream, what sweets combine
To deck ilk bank and bower o' thine!
For now the sun, wi' cheerfu' rays
Glows soft o'er a' thy woody braes,
Where mony a native wild flower's seen,
Mang birks and briars, and ivy green,
An' a' the woodland chorists sing
Or gleesome flit on wanton wing,
Save where the lintie mournfully
Sabs sair 'aneath the rowan tree,
To see her nest and young ones a'
By thoughtless reaver borne awa.'

*The reference here is to the residence, or rather imprisonment of Mary in Lochleven Castle.

† Roslin Castle, on the banks of the Esk, about seven miles from Edinburgh.

‡ Brow, in Scotland, is often pronounced as if spelt brue.

While steel-clad vassals wont to wait
Their chieftain at the portalled gate;
And maidens fair, in vestments gay,
Bestrewed wi' flowers the warrior's way.
But now, ah me! how changed the scene!
Nae trophied ha', nae towers remain;
Nae torches bleeze wi' gladsome light,
A guiding star in dead o' night;
Nae voice is heard, save tinkling rill,
That echoes from the distant hill."

How exquisite, and how entirely and peculiarly Scottish is the following:

"Now tent the Pentlands westlin's seen,
O'erspread wi' flowery pastures green;
Where, stretching wide, the fleecy ewes*
Run bleating round the sunny knowes,
And móny a little silver rill

Steals gurgling down its mossy hill;
And vernal green is ilka tree

On bonny braes o' Woodhouselee."

The genius of Scotland is one of freedom, of independent thought, and unfettered action in matters civil and religious. This produced the Reformation; this generated the recent secession from the Kirk' this characterizes the literature of the nation. We cannot, therefore, refrain from making one more quotation, which breathes the lofty spirit of freedom:

"Alas! sic objects to behold,

Brings back the glorious days of old,
When Scotia's daring gallant train,
That ever spurned a tyrant's chain,

* Ewes, pronounced as if it were yowes.

For dearest independence bled,
And nobly filled their gory bed-

So o'er yon mountains stretching lang,
Their shields the sons of Freedom rang,
When Rome's ambition wild, burst forth,
An' roused the warriors of the north,
When CALGACH urged his dauntless train,
And freedom rush'd through ilka vein,
And close they met the haughty foe,
And laid fu' mony a tyrant low;
As fierce they fought, like freemen a',
Oh! glorious fought-yet fought to fa'!
They fell, and thou sweet LIBERTY,

Frae Grampia's blood-stained heights did flee,
And fixed thy seat remote, serene,
Mang Caledonia's mountains green.
Fair Maid! O may thy saftest smile
For ever cheer my native isle !"

CHAPTER III.

Walk to the Castle-The old Wynds and their Occupants—
Regalia of Scotland-Storming of the Castle-Views from its
Summit-Heriot's Hospital-Other Hospitals-St. Giles's Ca-
thedral-Changes-The Spirit of Protestantism.

LET us now descend into the city. We will not linger long in old Holyrood Palace, interesting as it is, nor dwell upon "the stains" of Rizzio's blood in Queen Mary's room, as these have been described a thousand times, and are familiar to every one. Neither will we spend time in gazing upon the spot where once stood that quaint old gaol, called "The Heart of Midlothian," made classic by the pen of Scott, in the beautiful story of Jeanie Deans. Neither will we visit the old "Parliament House" and the "Advocates' Library;" but we will pass right up through High Street, amid those colossal buildings, rising, on either side, to the height of six, seven, and even eight and ten stories, swarming with inhabitants; and dive into one or two of those close, dark wynds, where reside, in countless multitudes, the poorest and most vicious of the people. Here, it must be confessed, are some strange sights and appalling noises. Yet it is not quite so bad as some have represented it. All large cities have their poor and vicious inhabitants, and although those of the Scottish metropolis are tolera

bly dirty and vastly degraded, they bear no comparison to the lazzaroni of Naples and the beggars of Rome. Some of the streets and wynds are narrow enough and vile enough, but they contain, after all, many worthy people, who own a Bible, and read it too; and were you only to become thoroughly acquainted with them, you would be surprised to find how much of honesty and kindly affection still dwell in their hearts. In ancient times the houses in these very "closes" or "wynds" were inhabited by the nobility and gentry. Hence Grey's Close, Morrison's Close, Stewart's Close, &c. They built their houses in these narrow streets in order to be more secure from the attacks of their enemies, and to be the better able to defend the principal thoroughfares into which they opened. In Blythe's Close may be seen the remains of the palace of the Queen Regent, Mary of Guise. In another stand the old houses of the Earls of Gosford and Moray. One of the largest old palaces is now inhabited by beggars and rats.

It would be a great improvement if these miserable dwellings could be removed, and replaced by better streets and houses; a still greater one, if the people could only be induced to abandon the use of whiskey, for then they would abandon their hovels as a matter of course. Their besetting sin is the love of strong drink, though this has been gradually diminishing for the last few years throughout Scotland. It is to be hoped that the pious and moral portion of the community will unite in a strong effort to reclaim this degraded class of their fellow