having settled weather!' It is a pathetic optimism, beautiful but
quite groundless, and leads one to believe in the story that when
Father Noah refused to take Sandy into the ark, he sat down
philosophically outside, saying, with a glance at the clouds,
`Aweel! the day's just aboot the ord'nar', an' I wouldna won'er if
we saw the sun afore nicht!'

But what loyal son of Edina cares for these transatlantic gibes, and
where is the dweller within her royal gates who fails to succumb to
the sombre beauty of that old grey town of the North? `Grey! why,
it is grey or grey and gold, or grey and gold and blue, or grey and
gold and blue and green, or grey and gold and blue and green and
purple, according as the heaven pleases and you choose your ground!
But take it when it is most sombrely grey, where is another such
grey city?'

So says one of her lovers, and so the great army of lovers would
say, had they the same gift of language; for

`Even thus, methinks, a city reared should be, . . .
Yea, an imperial city that might hold
Five time a hundred noble towns in fee. . . .
Thus should her towers be raised; with vicinage
Of clear bold hills, that curve her very streets,
As if to indicate, `mid choicest seats
Of Art, abiding Nature's majesty.'

We ate a hasty breakfast that first morning, and prepared to go out
for a walk into the great unknown, perhaps the most pleasurable
sensation in the world. Francesca was ready first, and, having