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Environs of Edinburgh.


but not Ames',) I walked seven miles to Hawthornden, the seat of Drummond the poet, and now occupied by his des cendant.

"Who knows not Melville's beechy grove,

And Roslyn's rocky glen:

Dalkeith, which all the virtues love,

And classic Hawthornden ?"

It was here that Ben Johnson came on foot from London, to visit his brother bard. It is on the banks of the Esk, in a romantic and beautiful situation. From the rear of the house, there is a private walk along the lofty, fir-covered, and picturesque banks of the river, to Roslyn chapel and castle :

"Sweet are the streams, oh passing sweet!

By Esk's fair banks that run;

O'er airy steep, by copsewood deep,

Impervious to the sun."

This chapel is another of those fine ancient ruins with which Scotland abounds. It is remarkable, that so costly and elaborate an edifice should have been erected as a private chapel to a single baronial establishment. The castle is also in ruins-very little of it being left; but the views from its site are very pretty. A mile or two below, is Woodhouslee, the seat of the late A. Fraser Tytler, (created Lord Woodhouslee,) author of Universal History.' Above is Melville Castle, Newcastle-Abbey, and Dalhousie Castle. Scott's cottage of Lasswade, it will be remembered, was on the banks of the Esk.

Sunday, June 12.-Went to the HIGH CHURCH of St. Giles, where the authorities' attend officially.

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preacher was Dr. Gordon, an elderly man, considered, was told, next to Dr. Chalmers as a pulpit orator and theologian. They have no organ, and the church, as well as the service, in strong contrast to the imposing splendor of the English cathedrals, is as plain as the most zealous puritan could wish. They use the quaint old Scotch version of the psalms, and sing, sitting, the real old-fashioned 'down-east' tunes. The Magistrates,' alias the Common Council of the city, with the Lord Provost, occupy the front gallery seat, near the pulpit, on one side, and on the other, are the judges and chief justice. Jeffrey was not among them; I presume he escapes to the Episcopal church. The Magistrates' wear crimsoned robes, and three-cornered caps, and are escorted to and from the church in procession, by men in uniform, with lances, and two in black, who bear the sword and the mace. Before taking their seats, the magistrates and judges bow to each other, as if to intimate the harmony between the makers and executors of the laws.

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Afternoon.-Attended St. John's Episcopal Church. The building is very handsome, the singing and organ very fine, and the preaching very dull. Dined with Mr. M It is remarkable how many of the middle classes, even of the mechanics and tradesmen, in England and Scotland, support the tory principles. I had supposed the tories were only found among the wealthy and the nobility; but this is a great error. O'Connell and his measures are denounced, even by the majority of the Whigs. None but the ultra-radicals go the whole figure' in reform, with


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Scotland's Benefactor.


him. It is singular, too, that so few of the intelligent people have seen their own fine scenery and curiosities. I asked a young lady here, who had painted a view from the Lady of the Lake,' if she had been to Loch Katrine. 'Oh, no!' she replied, in a tone which implied that such an expedition would be considered quite uncommon. They would think as much of it as we should of going to Ohio.

When The Lady' first appeared, the continent was blockaded by the armies of Napoleon; so that English tourists, now first hearing of the romantic scenery painted in this poem, were attracted in swarms to Scotland. What a benefactor was Scott to his country! The good she will derive from his works, for centuries to come, is incalculable. It is already felt in every part of the land. New roads, hotels, and even villages, have sprung up in hitherto solitary places among the hills and valleys of which he has written, supported almost entirely by inquiring visiters from every quarter of the civilized world.



Tour to the Highlands-Lochleven-Perth-Dundee-Dr. DickPalace of Scone-Dunkeld-Ossian's Hall-Stirling Castle-Bannockburn--Ride to the Trosachs.

Tuesday, June 15.-At 7 o'clock, on a fine morning, I left Edinburgh for the lakes and highlands. My route for the day was the same as that of the Antiquary and Lovel.* The coach, however, was much more prompt than in the days of Mrs. Macleuchar, and started off while the clock of St. Giles was striking, from Waterloo-place instead of High-street. Arrived at Queensferry, seven miles, after a beautiful ride, modern improvements were again visible; for, instead of waiting for the tide, as did Oldbuck and his friend, we drove down a stone pier, at the end of which the water is always deep enough, and transferring our luggage and ourselves to a sail-boat, just sufficiently large to contain the coach's company, guard and coachee included, the canvass was spread, and in a few minutes we were at North Queensferry, on the other side of the Frith of Forth. Here we breakfasted; the landlord, who could produce a dinner peremtorie,' has been succeeded by one who has it already on the table at the moment the coach drives up. The ride from this place to Kinross is not particularly


* See 'The Antiquary,' by Scott.

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interesting; neither is the scenery around Loch-Leven. I stopped, however, of course, at the village, and walking down to the lake, over some marshy flats, made a bargain with a couple of fellows to row me over to the castle, on the same side from which Queen Mary escaped. There is a boat, it seems, kept by the cicerone of the place, who charges five shillings sterling to each visiter-a great imposition. My men had to keep out of sight. lest they should be fined for trespass! The whole lake is owned by one person-Lord Somebody, who leases the privilege of angling in it, for 500l. per annum, and the lessee charges a guinea per day for sub-privileges! It abounds with fine. trout. The castle, which is quite a ruin, only one tower remaining entire, looks more like a prison than a place of residence.

"No more its arches echo to the noise

Of joy and festive mirth; no more the glance
Of blazing taper through its window beams,
And quivers on the undulating wave:

But naked stand the melancholy walls,

Lashed by the wintry tempests, cold and bleak,

Which whistle mournfully through the empty halls,
And piecemeal crumble down the tower to dust."

The door of the chamber pointed out as Queen Mary's is not more than four feet high, so that you have to stoop in entering it. The gate through which she escaped with Douglas, is on the opposite side of the castle from her apartments, and not the usual place for leaving the island. The spot where she landed is yet called Queen Mary's Knoll.*

* See 'The Abbott,' by Scott.

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