earth in the first days of spring, in the house of Doctor Monro (the
second), whose house stood in a small field entering from Nicolson
Street, within less than a hundred yards from the college.'

The New Town was in progress when Sydney Smith and his pupil took refuge
in 'Auld Reekie.' With the rise of every street some fresh innovation in
manners seemed also to begin. Lord Cockburn, wedded as he was to his
beloved Reekie, yet unprejudiced and candid on all points, ascribes the
change in customs to the intercourse with the English, and seems to date
it from the Union. Thus the overflowing of the old town into fresh
spaces, 'implied,' as he remarks, 'a general alteration of our habits.'

As the dwellers in the Faubourg St. Germain regard their neighbours
across the Seine, in the Faubourg St. Honoré, with disapproving eyes, so
the sojourners in the Canongate and the Cowgate considered that the
inundation of modern population vulgarized their 'prescriptive
gentilities.' Cockburn's description of a Scottish assembly in the olden
time is most interesting.

'For example, Saint Cecilia's Hall was the only public resort of the
musical; and besides being our most selectly fashionable place of
amusement, was the best and most beautiful concert-room I have ever
seen. And there have I myself seen most of our literary and fashionable
gentlemen, predominating with their side curls and frills, and ruffles,
and silver buckles; and our stately matrons stiffened in hoops, and
gorgeous satin; and our beauties with high-heeled shoes, powdered and
pomatumed hair, and lofty and composite head-dresses. All this was in
the Cowgate; the last retreat now-a-days of destitution and disease. The
building still stands, through raised and changed. When I last saw it,
it seemed to be partly an old-clothesman's shop and partly a brazier's.'