In visiting this place, we passed close by the monument of Sir Walter Scott.  This is the most exquisite thing of the kind that I have seen since coming to this country.  It is said to be the finest monument in Europe.  There sits the author of “Waverley,” with a book and pencil in hand, taking notes.  A beautiful dog is seated by his side.  Whether this is meant to represent his favourite dog, Camp, at whose death the Poet shed so many tears, we were not informed; but I was of opinion that it might be the faithful Percy, whose monument stands in the grounds at Abbotsford.  Scott was an admirer of the canine tribe.  One may form a good idea of the appearance of this distinguished writer, when living, by viewing this remarkable statue.  The statue is very beautiful, but not equal to the one of Lord Byron, which was executed to be placed by the side of Johnson, Milton, and Addison, in Poets’ Corner, Westminster Abbey; but the Parliament not allowing it a place there, it now stands in one of the Colleges at Cambridge.  While viewing the statue of Byron, I thought he, too, should have been represented with a dog by his side, for he, like Scott, was remarkably fond of dogs, so much so that he intended to have his favourite, Boatswain, interred by his side.

We paid a short visit to the monuments of Burns and Allan Ramsay, and the renowned old Edinburgh Castle.  The Castle is now used as a barrack for Infantry.  It is accessible only from the High Street, and must have been impregnable before the discovery of gunpowder.  In the wars with the English, it was twice taken by stratagem; once in a very daring manner, by climbing up the most inaccessible part of the rock upon which it stands, and where a foe was least expected, and putting the guard to death; and another time, by a party of soldiers disguising themselves as merchants, and obtaining admission inside the Castle gates.  They succeeded in preventing the gates from being closed, until reinforced by a party of men under Sir Wm. Douglas, who soon overpowered the occupants of the Castle.

We could not resist the temptation held out to see the Palace of Holyrood.  It was in this place that the beautiful, but unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, resided for a number of years.  On reaching the palace, we were met at the door by an elderly looking woman, with a red face, garnished with a pair of second-hand curls, the whole covered with a cap having the widest border that I had seen for years.  She was very kind in showing us about the premises, especially as we were foreigners, no doubt expecting an extra fee for politeness.  The most interesting of the many rooms in this ancient castle, is the one which was occupied by the Queen, and where her Italian favourite, Rizzio, was murdered.

But by far the most interesting object which we visited while in Edinburgh, was the house where the celebrated Reformer, John Knox, re-resided.  It is a queer-looking old building, with a pulpit on the outside, and above the door are the nearly obliterated remains of the following inscription:—­“Lufe.  God.  Above.  Al.  And. your.  Nichbour.  As you.  Self.”  This was probably traced under the immediate direction of the great Reformer.  Such an inscription put upon a house of worship at the present day, would be laughed at.  I have given it to you, punctuation and all, just as it stands.