The cries, if possible, were still louder and more persistent; they must have a speech and they would have a speech, and what could I do about it?  I saw but one way of pacifying a crowd as noisy and long-breathed as that which for about the space of two hours cried out, “Great is Diana of the Ephesians!” So I stepped to the front and made a brief speech, in which, of course, I spoke of the “perfervidum ingenium Scotorum.”  A speech without that would have been like that “Address without a Phoenix” before referred to.  My few remarks were well received, and quieted the shouting Ephesians of the warm-brained and warm-hearted northern university.  It gave me great pleasure to meet my friend Mr. Underwood, now American consul in Glasgow, where he has made himself highly esteemed and respected.

In my previous visit to Edinburgh in 1834, I was fond of rambling along under Salisbury Crags, and climbing the sides of Arthur’s Seat.  I had neither time nor impulse for such walks during this visit, but in driving out to dine at Nidrie, the fine old place now lived in by Mr. Barclay and his daughters, we passed under the crags and by the side of the great hill.  I had never heard, or if I had I had forgotten, the name and the story of “Samson’s Ribs.”  These are the columnar masses of rock which form the face of Salisbury Crags.  There is a legend that one day one of these pillars will fall and crush the greatest man that ever passes under them.  It is said that a certain professor was always very shy of “Samson’s Ribs,” for fear the prophecy might be fulfilled in his person.  We were most hospitably received at Mr. Barclay’s, and the presence of his accomplished and pleasing daughters made the visit memorable to both of us.  There was one picture on their walls, that of a lady, by Sir Joshua, which both of us found very captivating.  This is what is often happening in the visits we make.  Some painting by a master looks down upon us from its old canvas, and leaves a lasting copy of itself, to be stored in memory’s picture gallery.  These surprises are not so likely to happen in the New World as in the Old.

It seemed cruel to be forced to tear ourselves away from Edinburgh, where so much had been done to make us happy, where so much was left to see and enjoy, but we were due in Oxford, where I was to receive the last of the three degrees with which I was honored in Great Britain.

Our visit to Scotland gave us a mere glimpse of the land and its people, but I have a very vivid recollection of both as I saw them on my first visit, when I made an excursion into the Highlands to Stirling and to Glasgow, where I went to church, and wondered over the uncouth ancient psalmody, which I believe is still retained in use to this day.  I was seasoned to that kind of poetry in my early days by the verses of Tate and Brady, which I used to hear “entuned in the nose ful swetely,” accompanied by vigorous rasping of a huge bass-viol.  No wonder that Scotland welcomed the song of Burns!