desperate, and determined to persevere. I called Pompey to my side.

"You perceive that aperture, Pompey. I wish to look through it. You
will stand here just beneath the hole -- so. Now, hold out one of
your hands, Pompey, and let me step upon it -- thus. Now, the other
hand, Pompey, and with its aid I will get upon your shoulders."

He did every thing I wished, and I found, upon getting up, that I
could easily pass my head and neck through the aperture. The prospect
was sublime. Nothing could be more magnificent. I merely paused a
moment to bid Diana behave herself, and assure Pompey that I would be
considerate and bear as lightly as possible upon his shoulders. I
told him I would be tender of his feelings -- ossi tender que
beefsteak. Having done this justice to my faithful friend, I gave
myself up with great zest and enthusiasm to the enjoyment of the
scene which so obligingly spread itself out before my eyes.

Upon this subject, however, I shall forbear to dilate. I will not
describe the city of Edinburgh. Every one has been to the city of
Edinburgh. Every one has been to Edinburgh -- the classic Edina. I
will confine myself to the momentous details of my own lamentable
adventure. Having, in some measure, satisfied my curiosity in regard
to the extent, situation, and general appearance of the city, I had
leisure to survey the church in which I was, and the delicate
architecture of the steeple. I observed that the aperture through
which I had thrust my head was an opening in the dial-plate of a
gigantic clock, and must have appeared, from the street, as a large
key-hole, such as we see in the face of the French watches. No doubt
the true object was to admit the arm of an attendant, to adjust, when
necessary, the hands of the clock from within. I observed also, with