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followed by a report bursts from the half…moon battery at 

the Castle。  This is the time…gun by which people set 

their watches; as far as the sea coast or in hill farms 

upon the Pentlands。 … To complete the view; the eye 

enfilades Princes Street; black with traffic; and has a 

broad look over the valley between the Old Town and the 

New: here; full of railway trains and stepped over by the 

high North Bridge upon its many columns; and there; green 

with trees and gardens。



On the north; the Calton Hill is neither so abrupt 

in itself nor has it so exceptional an outlook; and yet 

even here it commands a striking prospect。  A gully 

separates it from the New Town。  This is Greenside; where 

witches were burned and tournaments held in former days。  

Down that almost precipitous bank; Bothwell launched his 

horse; and so first; as they say; attracted the bright 

eyes of Mary。  It is now tesselated with sheets and 

blankets out to dry; and the sound of people beating 

carpets is rarely absent。  Beyond all this; the suburbs 

run out to Leith; Leith camps on the seaside with her 

forest of masts; Leith roads are full of ships at anchor; 

the sun picks out the white pharos upon Inchkeith Island; 

the Firth extends on either hand from the Ferry to the 

May; the towns of Fifeshire sit; each in its bank of 

blowing smoke; along the opposite coast; and the hills 

enclose the view; except to the farthest east; where the 

haze of the horizon rests upon the open sea。  There lies 

the road to Norway: a dear road for Sir Patrick Spens and 

his Scots Lords; and yonder smoke on the hither side of 

Largo Law is Aberdour; from whence they sailed to seek a 

queen for Scotland。





'O lang; lang; may the ladies sit;

Wi' their fans into their hand;

Or ere they see Sir Patrick Spens

Come sailing to the land!'





The sight of the sea; even from a city; will bring 

thoughts of storm and sea disaster。  The sailors' wives 

of Leith and the fisherwomen of Cockenzie; not sitting 

languorously with fans; but crowding to the tail of the 

harbour with a shawl about their ears; may still look 

vainly for brave Scotsmen who will return no more; or 

boats that have gone on their last fishing。  Since Sir 

Patrick sailed from Aberdour; what a multitude have gone 

down in the North Sea!  Yonder is Auldhame; where the 

London smack went ashore and wreckers cut the rings from 

ladies' fingers; and a few miles round Fife Ness is the 

fatal Inchcape; now a star of guidance; and the lee shore 

to the east of the Inchcape; is that Forfarshire coast 

where Mucklebackit sorrowed for his son。



These are the main features of the scene roughly 

sketched。  How they are all tilted by the inclination of 

the ground; how each stands out in delicate relief 

against the rest; what manifold detail; and play of sun 

and shadow; animate and accentuate the picture; is a 

matter for a person on the spot; and turning swiftly on 

his heels; to grasp and bind together in one 

comprehensive look。  It is the character of such a 

prospect; to be full of change and of things moving。  The 

multiplicity embarrasses the eye; and the mind; among so 

much; suffers itself to grow absorbed with single points。  

You remark a tree in a hedgerow; or follow a cart along a 

country road。  You turn to the city; and see children; 

dwarfed by distance into pigmies; at play about suburban 

doorsteps; you have a glimpse upon a thoroughfare where 

people are densely moving; you note ridge after ridge of 

chimney…stacks running downhill one behind another; and 

church spires rising bravely from the sea of roofs。  At 

one of the innumerable windows; you watch a figure 

moving; on one of the multitude of roofs; you watch 

clambering chimney…sweeps。  The wind takes a run and 

scatters the smoke; bells are heard; far and near; faint 

and loud; to tell the hour; or perhaps a bird goes 

dipping evenly over the housetops; like a gull across the 

waves。  And here you are in the meantime; on this 

pastoral hillside; among nibbling sheep and looked upon 

by monumental buildings。



Return thither on some clear; dark; moonless night; 

with a ring of frost in the air; and only a star or two 

set sparsedly in the vault of heaven; and you will find a 

sight as stimulating as the hoariest summit of the Alps。  

The solitude seems perfect; the patient astronomer; flat 

on his back under the Observatory dome and spying 

heaven's secrets; is your only neighbour; and yet from 

all round you there come up the dull hum of the city; the 

tramp of countless people marching out of time; the 

rattle of carriages and the continuous keen jingle of the 

tramway bells。  An hour or so before; the gas was turned 

on; lamplighters scoured the city; in every house; from 

kitchen to attic; the windows kindled and gleamed forth 

into the dusk。  And so now; although the town lies blue 

and darkling on her hills; innumerable spots of the 

bright element shine far and near along the pavements and 

upon the high facades。  Moving lights of the railway pass 

and repass below the stationary lights upon the bridge。  

Lights burn in the jail。  Lights burn high up in the tall 

LANDS and on the Castle turrets; they burn low down in 

Greenside or along the Park。  They run out one beyond the 

other into the dark country。  They walk in a procession 

down to Leith; and shine singly far along Leith Pier。  

Thus; the plan of the city and her suburbs is mapped out 

upon the ground of blackness; as when a child pricks a 

drawing full of pinholes and exposes it before a candle; 

not the darkest night of winter can conceal her high 

station and fanciful design; every evening in the year 

she proceeds to illuminate herself in honour of her own 

beauty; and as if to complete the scheme … or rather as 

if some prodigal Pharaoh were beginning to extend to the 

adjacent sea and country … half…way over to Fife; there 

is an outpost of light upon Inchkeith; and far to 

seaward; yet another on the May。



And while you are looking; across upon the Castle 

Hill; the drums and bugles begin to recall the scattered 

garrison; the air thrills with the sound; the bugles sing 

aloud; and the last rising flourish mounts and melts into 

the darkness like a star: a martial swan…song; fitly 

rounding in the labours of the day。







CHAPTER IX。

WINTER AND NEW YEAR。







THE Scotch dialect is singularly rich in terms of 

reproach against the winter wind。  SNELL; BLAE; NIRLY; 

and SCOWTHERING; are four of these significant vocables; 

they are all words that carry a shiver with them; and for 

my part; as I see them aligned before me on the page; I 

am persuaded that a big wind comes tearing over the Firth 

from Burntisland and the northern hills; I think I can 

hear it howl in the chimney; and as I set my face 

northwards; feel its smarting kisses on my cheek。  Even 

in the names of places there is often a desolate; 

inhospitable sound; and I remember two from the near 

neighbourhood of Edinburgh; Cauldhame and Blaw…weary; 

that would promise but starving comfort to their 

inhabitants。  The inclemency of heaven; which has thus 

endowed the language of Scotland with words; has also 

largely modified the spirit of its poetry。  Both poverty 

and a northern climate teach men the love of the hearth 

and the sentiment of the family; and the latter; in its 

own right; inclines a poet to the praise of strong 

waters。  In Scotland; all our singers have a stave or two 

for blazing fires and stout potations:… to get indoors 

out of the wind and to swallow something hot to the 

stomach; are benefits so easily appreciated where they 

dwelt!



And this is not only so in country districts where 

the shepherd must wade in the snow all day after his 

flock; but in Edinburgh itself; and nowhere more 

apparently stated than in the works of our Edinburgh 

poet; Fergusson。  He was a delicate youth; I take it; and 

willingly slunk from the robustious winter to an inn 

fire…side。  Love was absent from his life; or only 

present; if you prefer; in such a form that even the 

least serious of Burns's amourettes was ennobling by 

comparison; and so there is nothing to temper the 

sentiment of indoor revelry which pervades the poor boy's 

verses。  Although it is characteristic of his native 

town; and the manners of its youth to the present day; 

this spirit has perhaps done something to restrict his 

popularity。  He recalls a supper…party pleasantry with 

something akin to tenderness; and sounds the praises of 

the act of drinking as if it were virtuous; or at least 

witty; in itself。  The kindly jar; the warm atmosphere of 

tavern parlours; and the revelry of lawyers' clerks; do 

not offer by themselves the materials of a rich 

existence。  It was not choice; so much as an external 

fate; that kept Fergusson in th

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