running stream. The scenery was still picturesque, in some places
very grand and romantic. There was one great amphitheatre just
before reaching the village of Stow which was peculiarly
interesting. It was a great bowl full of earth's glory up to the
very rim. The circular wall was embossed with the best patterns and
colors of vegetation. The hills of every tournure showed each in a
fir setting, looking, with their sloping fields of grain, like
inverted goblets of gold vined with emerald leafwork. In the valley
a reaping machine was at work with its peculiar chatter and clatter,
and men and women were following in its wake, gathering up and
binding the grain as it fell and clearing the way for the next
round. Up and down these hills frequently runs a stripe of Scotch
firs or larches a few rods wide; here and there they resemble those
geometrical figures often seen in gardens and pleasure grounds. The
sun peeping out of the clouds, and flooding these features with a
sudden, transient river of light, gives them a glow and glory that
would delight the artist. After a long walk through such scenery, I
reached, late in the evening, Auld Reekie, a favorite home-name
which the modern Athenians love to give to Edinburgh. Being anxious
to push on and complete my journey as soon as practicable, I only
remained in the celebrated Scotch metropolis one night, taking staff
early next morning, and holding northward towards the Highlands.

Edinburgh has made its mark upon the world and its place among the
great centres of the world's civilization. On the whole, no city in
Great Britain, or in Christendom, has ever attained to such well-
developed, I will not say angular, but salient individuality. This
is deep-featured and ineffaceable. It is, not was. Edinburgh has
reared great men prolifically and supplied the world with them, and
kept always a good number back for itself to give a shaping to