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unded by various hordes, carrying tea-kettles Il of nasty flip, and bottles with spirits. I at ngth met a young lady of my acquaintance alking with her brother, who appeared to have artaken of the snioking beverage in the streets.
could not resist so tempting an opportunity -doing the honours of the new-born day-I -ized her in
and kissed her, mouth | mouth, all in a tremble.”
A few years ago, a number of young men +rmed the infernal scheme of making the
reets of Edinburgh the scene of midnight decredations on New Year's Eve. They knocked own anil robbed every respectable person iey met, killed several whom they could not therwise strip of their valuables, and succeeddin collecting a great deal of money-most f them paid the forfeit of their crimes. It is emarkable that these reprobates belonged to espectable families, but had met with great isses at the gaming table and houses of illame.
CORNWALL's Marcian Colonna.
Edinburgh, January 20, 1819. An interesting writer has observed, that no man in Edinburgh can for a moment forget
that he is in Scotland; he is in the “ land of the mountain and flood," and these, in their greatest beauty, are continually feeding his eyes. The city is embosomed in the centre of an amphitheatre of mountains, which rear their mighty heads in solitude and silence; on one side the castle lifts itself high above the build. ings of the metropolis, on the other Holyrood house presents itself ruined, but majestic in its ruins; Calton Hill affords an agreeable contrast by the beautiful verdure with which it is clothed; the eternal rock of Arthur's Seat appears to sleep in the stillness of nature, and to be wrapped in a perpetual hue of mystery; while the magnificent terrace of Prince's street forms the boundary of a splendid amphitheatre.
In the middle of the day I often walk to the summit of Calton Hill, which is circled all
The monument erected to Lord Nelson at the summit of the hill, is not very remarkable; but the inscription, from the pen of Dr. Gregory, is worth preserving:
To the memory of
Have erected this Monument,
But, by bis noble example,
To teach their sons
A. D. 1807.
sound by a walk; the views from this promeade
vary every step. The new town, a rich lain, the surrounding rocks and the town of eith, are gradually unfolded to the eye as you roceed up the hill. The scenery soon changes
a smiling valley to a gloomy burial round, in which stands the monument of Daid Hume. The city may be viewed as if tracd on a map; at a distance the Frith recedes nd opens into the German Sea, and its edge s bordered by the sea port town for a small listance. The singular houses of Old Town nark their bold outlines on the revolving louds; the old edifices are contrasted with the plendid mansions of the new part of the city, and with the bright green vale of North Loch, urmounted with its aerial bridge.
Nothing can present a more striking picture of the decay of human grandeur, and of the instability .of worldly greatness than a view of Holyrood. The picture gallery into which I was first conducted, contains a number of antique portraits, few in a state of tolerable preservation, “A long, low and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures, affirmed to be the portraits of kings who, if they ever flourished at all, (says the great enchanter of the North,) lived several hundred years before the invention of painting in oil colours, served as a vestibule to the apartments occupied by Charles Edward.” From this saloon, I walked into Queen Mary's council-chamber, in which are kept the bed of state and the royal chairs; here
I was showed the anti chamber in which that savage, John Knox, insulted his Queen in his vile puritanical jargon. Near the bed room is the passage through which Darnley and his associates rushed to murder David Rizzio—and adjoining, is the small closet in which Mary was at supper with her favourite and the countess of Argyle. The old woman who accompanied me, pointed out the spot where Rizzio fell, and said that the stains on the floor are the indelible marks of poor David's blooa!
The count d'Artois and his sons lived for several years in this palace, with a pension of 30001.; notwithstanding, they were continually getting into debt-but, happily for them, insolvent debtors find an asylum from the persecution of creditors in Holyrood house. I noticed the Prie-dieu used by Monsieur, and some other specimens of Bourbon sense and devotion!
Yesterday I paid a visit to the Edinburgh Castle, which appears to grow from the rock at its basis. From a view of this fortress, one would be apt to conclude that it was impreg. nable. “The pond'rous wall and massy bar, (says Burns,) grim rising o'er the rugged rock,” have often withstoood the most formi. dable attacks, and during the troubles which agitated the kingdom, when Queen Mary was in captivity, the brave Kirkaldy, with a few determined associates, defended the Castle against the Regent. The buildings on the east were formerly used as royal apartments, and,
in one of them, Mary was delivered of her only son, whom she had soon afterwards baptized, according to the rites of the Romish church. The castle is now used for barracks. The new buildings, erected for that purpose, are extremely well calculated for the accommodation of soldiers; but the picturesque effect of the ancient works, is much hurt by the regular appearance of the barracks.
From whatever side you approach Edinburgh, the Castle appears the centre of attraction, and its frowning fragments are seen clearly in all their minuteness; in every point of view can be distinguished
" Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem
The relics of a splendid dream.” To the north the shattered blocks of granite frown in sullen pomp over patches of deep green moss, which afford a relief to the eyebut on the southern side, the citadel is “cased in the unfeeling armour of old time.” Whether the sky is cluudless, or the mist circle around the fissured rocks, the effect is always sublime, and the image lofty and imposing. At break of day, in the still reposing beauty of every thing around, the veteran pile seems to awake from its sleep, and look up with freshness into the almost visible air which hangs about it. When the sun sinks his golden disk below the top of Arthur's seat, the hoary brow of the citadel appears to kindle into an orb of glory; but it is at night that the Castle-rock