Leaving my true friends who had so kindly entertained me in Glasgow, I proceeded to Edinburgh, the city where Robert Burns came into prominence.  In the large Waverley Station a stranger, who knew of my coming through word from Brother Ivie Campbell, of Kirkcaldy, stopped me and asked:  “Is your name Don Carlos Janes?” It was another good friend, Brother J.W.  Murray.  He said he told some one he was looking for me, and was told, in return, that he would not be able to find me.  His answer to this was that he had picked out a man before, and he might pick out another one; and so he did, without any difficulty.  After a little time spent in Waverley gardens, I ascended the Walter Scott Monument, which is two hundred feet high.  The winding stairway is rather narrow, especially at the top, and it is not well lighted.  As I was coming down the stairs, I met a lady and gentleman.  The little woman was not at all enthusiastic over the experience she was having, and, without knowing of my presence, she was wondering what they would do if they were to meet any one.  “Come on up and see,” I said, and we passed without any special difficulty, but she said she didn’t believe “two stout ones could” pass.  As she went on up the winding way, she was heard expressing herself in these words:  “Oh, it is a place, isn’t it?  I don’t like it.”  The tourist finds many “places”, and they are not all desirable.  Princess Street, on which the monument is located, is the prettiest street that I have ever seen.  One side is occupied by business houses and hotels, the other is a beautiful garden, where one may walk or sit down, surrounded by green grass and beautiful flowers.

Edinburgh Castle is an old fortification on the summit of a lofty hill overlooking the city.  It is now used as barracks for soldiers, and is capable of accommodating twelve hundred men.  Queen Mary’s room is a small chamber, where her son, James the First of Scotland and the Sixth of England, was born.  I was in the old castle in Glasgow where she spent the night before the Battle of Langside, and later stood by her tomb in Westminster Abbey.  Her history, a brief sketch of which is given here, is interesting and pathetic.  “Mary Queen of Scots was born in Linlithgow Palace, 1542; fatherless at seven days old; became Queen December 8th, 1542, and was crowned at Stirling, September 9th, 1543; carried to France, 1548; married to the Dauphin, 1558; became Queen of France, 1559; a widow, 1560; returned to Scotland, 1561; married Lord Darnley, 1565; her son (and successor), James VI., born at Edinburgh Castle, 1566; Lord Darnley murdered, February, 1567; Mary married to the Earl of Bothwell, May, 1567, and was compelled to abdicate in favor of her infant son.  She escaped from Lochleven Castle, lost the Battle of Langside, and fled to England, 1568.  She was beheaded February 8th, 1587, at Fotheringay Castle, in the forty-fifth year of her age, almost nineteen years of which she passed in captivity.