away into the blue mountains on the west—–­Ben Venue, Ben Ledi and Ben Lomond of “The Lady of the Lake”—­eastward the rich lowlands, running for miles and miles down the fertile valley of the Forth, dotted with many towns and villages; the wooded hills to the north with the massive tower of the Wallace monument and the dim outlines of the ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey; or, near at hand, the old town under your very eye and the historic field of Bannockburn just adjoining, will make ample amends.  The story of “The Lady of the Lake” pictures Stirling in its palmiest days, and no one who visits the castle will forget the brilliant closing scene of the poem.  Here too,

    “The rose of Stuart’s line
    Has left the fragrance of her name,”

for Mary was hurried for safety to the castle a few days after her birth at Linlithgow Palace, and as a mere baby was crowned Queen of Scotland in the chapel.  The parish church was also the scene of many coronations, and in the case of James VI, later James I of England, John Knox preached the sermon.

One cannot go far in Scotland without crossing the path of Prince Charlie or standing in the shadow of some ancient building associated with the melancholy memory of Queen Mary, and, despite the unquestioned loyalty of the Scottish people to the present government, there seems to linger everywhere a spirit of regret over the failure of the chevalier to regain the throne of his fathers.  Perhaps it is scarcely expressed—­only some word dropped in casual conversation, some flash of pride as you are pointed to the spots where Prince Charlie’s triumphs were won, or some thinly veiled sentiment in local guide-books will make it clear to you that Scotland still cherishes the memory of the prince for whom her fathers suffered so much.  Passing Falkirk, now a large manufacturing town, dingy with the smoke from its great furnaces, we were reminded that near here in 1746 the prince gained one of his most decisive victories, the precursor of the capture of Edinburgh by his army.  A few miles farther on is Linlithgow with its famous palace, the birthplace of the Queen of Scots.  This more accords with our idea of a royal residence than the fortified castles, for it evidently was never intended as a defensive fortress.  It stands on the margin of a lovely lake, and considering its delightful situation and its comparative comfort, it is not strange that it was a favorite residence of the Scottish kings.  It owes its dismantled condition to the wanton spite of the English dragoons, who, when they retreated from Linlithgow in face of the Highland army in 1746, left the palace in flames.

From Linlithgow the broad highway led us directly into Edinburgh by the way of Princess Street.

XI

FROM EDINBURGH TO YORKSHIRE