At noon on the 23d of June we left for Edinburgh, stopping over night at York, where we found close by the station an excellent hotel, and where the next morning we got one of the best breakfasts we had in our whole travelling experience.  At York we wandered to and through a flower-show, and did the cathedral, as people do all the sights they see under the lead of a paid exhibitor, who goes through his lesson like a sleepy old professor.  I missed seeing the slab with the inscription miserrimus.  There may be other stones bearing this sad superlative, but there is a story connected with this one, which sounds as if it might be true.

In the year 1834, I spent several weeks in Edinburgh.  I was fascinated by the singular beauties of that “romantic town,” which Scott called his own, and which holds his memory, with that of Burns, as a most precious part of its inheritance.  The castle with the precipitous rocky wall out of which it grows, the deep ravines with their bridges, pleasant Calton Hill and memorable Holyrood Palace, the new town and the old town with their strange contrasts, and Arthur’s Seat overlooking all,—­these varied and enchanting objects account for the fondness with which all who have once seen Edinburgh will always regard it.

We were the guests of Professor Alexander Crum Brown, a near relative of the late beloved and admired Dr. John Brown.  Professor and Mrs. Crum Brown did everything to make our visit a pleasant one.  We met at their house many of the best known and most distinguished people of Scotland.  The son of Dr. John Brown dined with us on the day of our arrival, and also a friend of the family, Mr. Barclay, to whom we made a visit on the Sunday following.  Among the visits I paid, none was more gratifying to me than one which I made to Dr. John Brown’s sister.  No man could leave a sweeter memory than the author of “Rab and his Friends,” of “Pet Marjorie,” and other writings, all full of the same loving, human spirit.  I have often exchanged letters with him, and I thought how much it would have added to the enjoyment of my visit if I could have taken his warm hand and listened to his friendly voice.  I brought home with me a precious little manuscript, written expressly for me by one who had known Dr. John Brown from the days of her girlhood, in which his character appears in the same lovable and loving light as that which shines in every page he himself has written.

On Friday, the 25th, I went to the hall of the university, where I was to receive the degree of LL.D.  The ceremony was not unlike that at Cambridge, but had one peculiar feature:  the separate special investment of the candidate with the hood, which Johnson defines as “an ornamental fold which hangs down the back of a graduate.”  There were great numbers of students present, and they showed the same exuberance of spirits as that which had forced me to withdraw from the urgent calls at Cambridge.