From Loch Leven Castle our party returned in the coach to the railway station, and thence proceeded to Edinburgh. They crossed the Frith of Forth by a ferry, at a place where it was about five miles wide.

Edinburgh is considered one of the most remarkable cities in the world, in respect to the picturesqueness of its situation. It stands upon and among a very extraordinary group of steep hills and deep valleys. A part of it is very ancient, and another part is quite modern, so that in describing it, it is often said that it consists of the old town and the new town. But it seems to me that a more obvious distinction would be, to divide it into the upper town and the lower town; for there are almost literally two towns, one upon the top of the other. The upper town is built on the hills. The lower one lies in the valleys. The streets of the upper town are connected by bridges; and when you stand upon one of these bridges, and look down, you see a street instead of a river below, with ranges of strange and antique-looking buildings on each side, for banks, and a current of men, women, and children flowing along, instead of water.

The different portions of the lower town, on the other hand, are connected by tunnels and arched passage ways under the bridges above described; and then there are flights of steps, and steep winding or zigzag paths, leading up and down between the lower streets and the upper, in the most surprising manner.

There are twenty places, more or less, in the town, where you have two streets crossing each other at right angles, one fifty feet below the other, with an immense traffic of horses, carriages, carts, and foot passengers, going to and fro in both of them. You come upon these places sometimes very unexpectedly. You are walking along on the pavement of a crowded street, when you come suddenly upon the break, or interruption in the line of building on each side. The space is occupied by a parapet, or by a high iron balustrade. You stop to look over, expecting to see a river or a canal; instead of which, you find yourself looking down into the chimneys of four-story houses bordering another street below you, which is so far down that the people walking in it, and the children playing on the sidewalk, look like pygmies.

At one place, in looking over the parapet of such a bridge, you see a vast market, with carts filled with vegetables standing all around it. At another, you behold a great railway station, with crowds of passengers on the platforms, and trains of cars coming and going; at another, a range of beautiful gardens and pleasure grounds, with ladies and gentlemen walking in them, or sitting on seats under the trees, and children trundling their hoops, or rolling their balls, over the smooth gravel walks.

Sometimes a street of the upper town, running along on the crest or side of a hill, lies parallel with one in the lower town, that extends below it in the valley. In this case the block of houses that comes between will be very high indeed on the side towards the lower street; so that you see buildings sometimes eight or ten stories high at one front, and only four or five on the other. These structures consist, in fact, of two houses, one on top of the other; the entrances to the lower house being from one of the streets of the lower town, and those leading to the one on the top being from a street in the upper town.

The reason why Edinburgh was built in this extraordinary position was, because it had its origin in a castle on a rock. This rock, with the castle that crowns the summit of it, rears its lofty head now in the very centre of the town, with deep valleys all around it. This rock, or rather rocky hill,—for it is nearly a mile in circumference,—is very steep on all sides but one. On that side there is a gradual slope, a mile or more in length, leading down to the level country. A great many centuries ago the military chieftains of those days built the castle on the hill. About the same time the monks built a monastery on the level ground at the foot of the long slope leading down from the castle. The rocky hill was an excellent place for the castle, for there was a hundred feet of almost perpendicular precipice on all sides but one, and on that side there was a convenient slope for the people who lived in the castle to go up and down; and thus, by fortifying this side, and making slight walls on all the other sides, the whole place would be very secure. The level ground below, too, was a very good place for the monastery or abbey; for it was easily accessible from all the country around, and was, moreover, in the midst of a region of fertile land, easy for the lay brethren to till. There was no necessity that the abbey should be in a fortified place, for such establishments were considered sacred in those days, and even in the most furious wars they were seldom molested.

In process of time a palace was built by the side of the abbey. This palace and a part of the ruins of the abbey still remain. Of course, when the palace was built, a town would gradually grow up near it. Many noblemen of the realm came and built houses along the street which led from the palace up to the castle—now called High Street. The fronts of these houses were on the street, and the gardens behind them extended down the slopes of the ridge on both sides, into the deep valleys that bordered them. Little lanes were left between these houses, leading down the slopes; but they were closed at the bottom by a wall, which was built along at the foot of the descent on each side, and formed the enclosure of the town.

In process of time the town extended down into these valleys, and then to the other hills beyond them. Then bridges were built here and there across the valleys, to lead from one hill to another, and tunnels and other subterranean passages were made, to connect one valley with another, until, finally, the town assumed the very extraordinary appearance which it now presents to view. Besides the hills within the town, there are some very large and high ones just beyond the limits of it. One of these is called Arthur's Seat, and is quite a little mountain. The path leading to the top of it runs along upon the crest of a remarkable range of precipices, called Salisbury Crags. These precipices face towards the town, and together with the lofty summit of Arthur's Seat, which rises immediately behind them, form a very conspicuous object from a great many points of view in and around the town.

Unfortunately, however, none of this exceedingly picturesque scenery could be seen to advantage by our party, on the day that they arrived in Edinburgh, on account of the rain. All that they knew was, that they came into the town by a tunnel, and when they left the train at the station they were at the bottom of so deep a valley that they had to ascend to the third story before they could get out, and then they had to go up a hill to get to the street in which the hotel was situated.

The name of this street was Prince's Street. It lay along the margin of one of the Edinburgh hills, overlooking a long valley, which extended between it and Castle Hill, on which the town was first built. There were no houses in this street on the side towards the valley, but there were several bridges leading across the valley, as if it had been a river. Beyond the valley were to be seen the backs of the houses in High Street, which looked like a range of cliffs, divided by vertical chasms and seams, and blackened by time. At one end of the hill was the castle rock, crowned with the towers, and bastions, and battlemented walls of the ancient fortress.

The boys went directly to their rooms when they arrived at the hotel, and while Mr. George was unstrapping and opening his valise, Waldron and Rollo went to look out at the window, to see what they could see.

"Well, boys," said Mr. George, "how does it look?"

"It looks rainy," said Rollo. "But we can see something."

"What can you see?" asked Mr. George.

"We can see the castle on the hill," said Rollo. "At least, I suppose it is the castle. It is right before us, across the valley, with a precipice of rocks all around it, on every side but one. There is a zigzag wall running round on the top of the precipices, close to the brink of them. If a man could climb up the rocks he could not get in, after all."

"And what is there inside the wall?" asked Mr. George.

"O, there are ever so many buildings," said Rollo—"great stone forts, and barracks, and bastions, rising up one above another, and watch towers on the angles of the walls. I can see one, two, three watch towers. I should like to be in one of them. I could look over the whole city, and all the country around.

"I can see some portholes, with guns pointing out,—and—O, and now I see a monstrous great gun, looking over this way, from one of the highest platforms. I believe it is a gun."

"I suppose it must be Mons Meg," said Mr. George.

"Mons Meg?" repeated Rollo. "I'll get a glass and see."

"Yes," said Mr. George. "There is a very famous old gun in Edinburgh Castle, named Mons Meg. I think it may be that."

"I can't see very plain," said Rollo, "the air is so thick with the rain; but it is a monstrous gun."

Just at this time the waiter came into the room to ask the party if they would have any thing to eat.

"Yes," said Mr. George, "we will. Go down with the waiter, boys, and see what there is, and order a good supper. I will come down in fifteen minutes."

So the boys went down, and in fifteen minutes Mr. George followed. He found the supper table ready in a corner of the coffee room, and Rollo sitting by it alone.

"Where is Waldron?" asked Mr. George.

"He's gone to the circulating library," said Rollo.

"The circulating library?" repeated Mr. George.

"He has gone to get a book about the history of Scotland," said Rollo. "We have been reading in the guide book about the castle, and Waldron says he wants to know something more about the kings, and the battles they fought."

"How does he know there is any circulating library?" asked Mr. George.

"He asked the waiter," said Rollo, "and the waiter told him where there was one. He said he would try to be back before the supper was ready, and that we must not wait for him if he did not come."

"He ought to have asked me if I was willing that he should go," said Mr. George.

In a few minutes Waldron came in with two pretty big books under his arm. They were covered with paper, in the manner usual with the books of circulating libraries. Waldron advanced to the supper table, and laid the books down upon it with an air of great satisfaction.

"Then you found a circulating library," said Mr. George.

"Yes, sir," said Waldron, "and I have got two volumes of the history of the great men of Scotland."

"What did you get two volumes for?" asked Mr. George.

"One for Rollo and one for me," said Waldron. "They are for us to read this evening, because it rains."

"Well," said Mr. George, after a moment's pause. "I am very glad to find that you take an interest in reading about Scotland; but you ought to have asked me, before you went away to get books from a circulating library."

Waldron paused a moment on hearing this remark, and his countenance assumed a very serious expression.

"So I ought," said he. "I did not think of that. And now, if you think I had better, I will go and carry them right back."

"No," said Mr. George, "I don't wish you to carry them back. But I should not have thought they would have intrusted such books to you—a perfect stranger—and a boy besides."

"I made a deposit," said Waldron.

Just at this time the waiter brought the supper to the table, and the party, being all hungry, set themselves to the work of eating it.

"You see," said Waldron, when they had nearly finished their supper, "I thought we should want something to do this evening; it rains, and we can't go out."

"What time in the evening do you suppose it is?" asked Mr. George.

"Why, it is not near dark yet," said Waldron.

"True," said Mr. George; "but it is almost ten o'clock."

"O Mr. George!" exclaimed Waldron.

"It is half past nine, at any rate," said Mr. George.

The boys were greatly surprised at hearing this. They were very slow in learning to keep in mind how late the sun goes down in the middle of June in these extreme northern latitudes.

However, on this occasion it was dark earlier than usual, on account of the clouds and the rain; and the waiter came to light the gas over the table where our party were at supper, before they finished their meal, although it was only a little more than half past nine. This made it very bright and cheerful in the corner, and Mr. George proposed that they should all stay there one hour. "I will write," said he, "and you may read in your books. We will stay here till half past ten, and then, after you have gone to bed, you can talk yourselves to sleep by telling each other what you have read about in your books."

This plan was carried into effect. Mr. George wrote, and the boys read, by the light of the gas for an hour. Then Mr. George put away his papers, and said it was time to go to bed. When the boys went to their bedroom they found two narrow beds in it, one in each corner of the room. Waldron took one of them, and Rollo the other. When both the boys were in bed they commenced conversation in respect to what they had been reading.

"Come, Waldron," said Rollo, "tell me what you have been reading about."

"No," said Waldron, "you must begin."

"Well," said Rollo, "I read about King James the First. There have been a good many King Jameses in Scotland."

"Yes," said Waldron, "six."

"This was King James the First. He was a bad king. He oppressed his people, and they determined to kill him. So they banded together and made a plot. They were going to kill him in a monastery where he stopped on a journey.

"He was going over a river just before he came to the monastery, and a woman, who pretended to be a prophetess, called out to him as he went by towards the bank of the river, and told him to beware, for if he crossed that river he would certainly be killed. The king was very superstitious; so he sent one of his men back to ask the woman what she meant. The man came to him again very soon, and said that it was nothing but an old drunken woman raving, and that he must not mind her. So the king went on.

"He crossed the water, and went to the monastery. The conspirators were there before him. The leader of them was a man named Graham. He had three hundred Highlanders with him. They were all concealed in the neighborhood of the monastery. They were going to break into the king's room in the monastery, at night, and kill him. They found out the room where he was going to sleep, and they took off the bolts from the doors, so as to keep them from fastening them.

"The woman that had met the king on the way followed him to the monastery, and wanted to see the king. They told her she could not see him. She said she must see him. They told her that at any rate she could not see him then—he was tired with his journey. She must go away, they said, and come the next day. So she went away; but she told them they would all be sorry for not letting her in."

"Do you suppose she really knew," asked Waldron, "that they were going to kill the king?"

"I don't know," said Rollo. "At any rate, she seemed very much in earnest about warning him."

"Well; go on with the story," said Waldron.

"Why, the conspirators broke into the room that night just as the king was going to bed. He was sitting near the fire, in his gown and slippers, talking with the queen and the other ladies that were there, when, all at once, he heard a terrible noise at the doors of the monastery. It was the conspirators trying to get in."

"Why did not they come right in," asked Waldron, "if the doors were not fastened?"

"Why, I suppose there were guards, or something, outside, that tried to prevent them. At any rate, the king heard a frightful noise, like clattering and jingling of armor, and of men trying to get in. He and the women who were there ran to the door and tried to fasten it; but the bolts and bars were gone. So the king told them to hold the door with all their strength, till he could find something to fasten it with. The king went to the window, and tried to tear off an iron stanchion there was there, but he could not. Then he saw a trap door in the floor, which led down to a kind of dark dungeon. So he took the tongs and pried up the door, and jumped down.

"By the time that he got down, and the door was shut over him, the conspirators came in, and began to look all about for him; but they could not find him. I suppose they did not see the trap door. Or, perhaps, the women had covered it over with something."

"Well, and what did they do?" asked Waldron.

"Why, they were dreadfully angry because they could not find the king, and some of them were going to kill the queen; but the rest would not let them. But there was one of the women that got her arm broken."

"How?" asked Waldron.

"She did it somehow or other holding the door. I suppose she got it wedged in some way. She was a countess.

"After a while," continued Rollo, "the men went away to look in some of the other rooms of the monastery, and see if they could not find the king there. As soon as they were gone the king wanted to get out of the dungeon. The women opened the trap door, but he could not reach up high enough to get out. So he told them to go and get some sheets and let them down, for ropes to pull him up by.

"They brought the sheets, and while they were letting them down, and trying to get the king out, one of the ladies fell down herself into the hole. So there were two to get up; and while the others were trying to get them up, the conspirators came in again."

"Hoh!" said Waldron.

"One of them had a torch," said Rollo, continuing his narrative. "He brought the torch and held it down the trap door, and presently he caught sight of the king. So he called out to the other conspirators that he had found him, and they all came round the place, with their swords, and daggers, and knives in their hands.

"One of them let himself down into the dungeon. He had a great knife in his hand for a dagger. But the king seized him the instant he came down, got his knife away from him, and pinned him to the ground. The king was a very strong man. Immediately another man came down, and the king seized him, and held him down in the same way. Next Graham himself came with a sword. He stabbed the king with his sword, and so disabled him. The king then began to beg for his life, and Graham did not seem to like to strike him again. But the other conspirators, who were looking down through the trap door, said if he did not do it they would kill him. So at last he stabbed the king again, and killed him."

When Rollo had finished the story he paused, expecting that Waldron would say something in relation to it.

"Is that all?" said Waldron, after waiting a moment. He spoke, however, in a very sleepy tone of voice.

"Yes," said Rollo, "that is all. Now tell me your story."

Waldron began; but he seemed very sleepy, and he had advanced only a very little way before his words began to grow incoherent and faltering, and very soon Rollo perceived that he was going to sleep. Indeed, Rollo himself was beginning to feel sleepy, too; so he said,—

"No matter, Waldron. You can tell me your story to-morrow."

In five minutes from that time both the boys were fast asleep.

Chapter XIII.
The Palace of Holyrood

While Mr. George and the boys were in Edinburgh, they went one day to visit the Palace of Holyrood, and they were extremely interested in what they saw there. This palace stands, as has already been stated, on a plain, not far from the foot of a long slope which leads up to the castle.

As long as Scotland remained an independent kingdom, the Palace of Holyrood was the principal residence of the royal family. Queen Mary was the last of the Scottish sovereigns—that is, she was the last that reigned over Scotland alone—for her son, James VI., succeeded to the throne of England, as well as to that of Scotland. The reason of this was, that the English branch of the royal line failed, and he was the next heir. So he became James the First of England, while he still remained James the Sixth of Scotland. And from this time forward the kings of England and Scotland were one.

Mary, therefore, was the last of the exclusively Scottish line. She lived at Holyrood as long as she was allowed to live any where in peace; and on account of certain very peculiar circumstances which occurred just before the time that she left the palace, her rooms were never occupied after she left them, but have remained to this day in the same state, and with almost the same furniture in them as at the hour when she went away. These rooms are called Queen Mary's rooms, and almost every body who visits Scotland goes to see them.

The reason why the rooms which Mary occupied in the Palace of Holyrood were left as they were, and never occupied by any other person after Mary went away, was principally that a dreadful murder was committed there just before Mary quitted them. This, of course, connected very gloomy associations with the palace; and while great numbers of persons were eager to go and see the place where the man was killed, few would be willing to live there. The consequence has been, that the apartments have been vacant of occupants ever since, though they are filled all the time with a perpetually flowing stream of visitors. The circumstances of the murder were very extraordinary. Mr. George explained the case briefly to the boys during their visit to the palace, as we shall presently see.

On leaving the hotel they went for a little way along Prince's Street. On one side of the street there was a row of stores, hotels, and other such buildings, as in Broadway, in New York. On the other side extended the long and deep valley which lies between Prince's Street and Castle Hill. The valley was crossed by various bridges, and beyond it were to be seen the backs of the lofty houses of High Street, rising tier above tier to a great height, looking, as has already been said, like a range of stupendous cliffs, lifting their crests to the sky.

There were scarcely any buildings on the valley side of the street, except one or two edifices of an ornamental or public character. One of these was the celebrated monument to Sir Walter Scott.

SCOTT'S MONUMENT.

The party paused a short time before this monument, and then went on. They passed by one or two bridges that led across the valley, and also, at one place, a broad flight of steps, that went down, with many turnings, from landing to landing, to the railway station in the valley. At last they came to the bridge where they were to cross the valley. They stopped on the middle of the bridge, to look down. They saw streets far below them, and a market, and trains of railway carriages coming and going, and beyond at some distance, an extensive range of pleasure grounds, with ladies and gentlemen rambling about them, and groups of children playing. These pleasure grounds extended some way up the slope of the Castle Hill. Indeed, the upper walks lay close along under the foot of the precipices on which the castle walls were built above.

After passing the bridge, Mr. George and the boys went on, until, at length, they came to High Street; which is the great central street of ancient Edinburgh, leading from the palace and abbey on the plain up to the castle on the hill. There, if they had turned to the right, they would have gone up to the castle; but they turned to the left, and so descended towards the palace, on the plain.

At length they reached the foot of the descent, and then, at a turn in the street, the palace came suddenly into view.

There was a broad paved area in front of it. In the centre of the building was a large arched doorway, with a sentry box on each side. At each of these sentry boxes stood a soldier on guard. All the royal palaces of England are guarded thus. There was a cab, that had brought a company of visitors to see the castle, standing near the centre of the square, by a great statue that was there. Another cab drove up just at the time that Mr. George arrived, and a party of visitors got out of it. All the new comers went in under the archway together. The soldiers paid no attention to them whatever.

The arched passage way led into a square court, with a piazza extending all around it. The visitors turned to the left, and walked along under the piazza till they came to the corner, where there was a little office, and a man at the window of it to give them tickets. They paid sixpence apiece for their tickets.

After getting their tickets they walked on under the piazza a little way farther, till at length they came to a door, and a broad stone staircase, leading up into the palace, and they all went in and began to ascend the stairs.

At the head of the stairs they passed through a wide door, which led into a room where they saw visitors, that had gone in before them, walking about. They were met at the door by a well-dressed man, who received them politely, and asked them to walk in.

"This, gentlemen," said he, "was Lord Darnley's audience chamber. That," he continued, pointing through an open door at the side, "was his bedroom; and there," pointing to another small door on the other side, "was the passage way leading up to Queen Mary's apartments."

Having said this, the attendant turned away to answer some questions asked him by the other visitors, leaving Mr. George and the boys, for the moment, to look about the rooms by themselves.

The rooms were large, but the interior finishing of them was very plain. The walls were hung with antique-looking pictures. The furniture, too, looked very ancient and venerable.

"Who was Lord Darnley?" asked Waldron.

"He was Queen Mary's husband," replied Mr. George.

"Then he was the king, I suppose," said Waldron.

"No," replied Mr. George, "not at all. A king is one who inherits the throne in his own right. When the throne descends to a woman, she is the queen; but if she marries, her husband does not become king."

"What is he then?" said Waldron.

"Nothing but the queen's husband," said Mr. George.

"Hoh!" exclaimed Waldron, in a tone of contempt.

"He does not acquire any share of the queen's power," continued Mr. George, "because he marries her. She is the sovereign alone afterwards just as much as before."

"And so I suppose," said Rollo, "that when a king marries, the lady that he marries does not become a queen."

"Yes," said Mr. George, "the rule does not seem to work both ways. A lady who marries a king is always called a queen; though, after all, she acquires no share of the royal power. She is a queen in name only. But let us hear what this man is explaining to the visitors about the paintings and the furniture."

So they advanced to the part of the room where the attendant was standing, with two or three ladies and gentlemen, who were looking at one of the old pictures that were hanging on the wall. It was a picture of Queen Mary when she was fifteen years old. The dress was very quaint and queer, and the picture seemed a good deal faded; but the face wore a very sweet and charming expression.

"I think she was a very pretty girl," whispered Waldron in Rollo's ear.

"She was in France at that time," said the attendant, "and the picture, if it is an original, must have been painted there, and she must have brought it with her to Scotland, on her return from that country. She brought a great deal with her on her return. There were several vessel loads of furniture, paintings, &c. The tapestry in the bedroom was brought. It was wrought at the Gobelins."

Mr. George went into the bedroom, to look at the tapestry. Two sides of the room were hung with it.

"It looks like a carpet hung on the walls," said Waldron.

"Yes," said Mr. George; "a richly embroidered carpet."

The figures on the tapestry consisted of groups of horsemen, elegantly equipped and caparisoned. The horses were prancing about in a very spirited manner. The whole work looked very dingy, and the colors were very much faded; but it was evident that it must have been very splendid in its day.

After looking at the tapestry, and at the various articles of quaint and queer old furniture in this room, the company followed the attendant into another apartment.

"This," said he, "is the room where Lord Darnley, Ruthven, and the rest, held their consultation and formed their plans for the murder of Rizzio; and there is the door leading to the private stairway where they went up. You cannot go up that way now, but you will see where they came out above when you go up into Queen Mary's apartments."

"Let us go now," said Waldron.

"Well," said Mr. George, "and then we can come into these rooms again when we come down."

So Mr. George and the boys walked back, through Lord Darnley's rooms, to the place where they came in. Here they saw that the same broad flight of stone stairs, by which they had come up from the court below, continued to ascend to the upper stories. There was a painted inscription on a board there, too, saying, "To Queen Mary's apartments," with a hand pointing up the staircase. So they knew that that was the way they must go.

As they went up, both Rollo and Waldron asked Mr. George to explain to them something about the murder, so that they might know a little what they were going to see.

"Well," said Mr. George, "I will. Let us sit down here, and I will tell you as much as I can tell in five minutes. Really to understand the whole affair, you would have to read as much as you could read in a week. And I assure you it is an exceedingly interesting and entertaining story.

"Darnley, you know, was the queen's husband. Her first husband was the young Prince of France; but he died before Queen Mary came home. So that when she came home she was a widow; very young, and exceedingly beautiful. There is a very beautiful painting of her, I am told, in the castle."