While Bruce and Baliol were contending for the crown in 1296, it was besieged and taken by the English. Robert Bruce then demolished its fortifications, that it might not again fall into the hands of an hostile power. But it was rebuilt and again besieged and capitulated to Cromwell, in 1650. The Crown Room, we learned, contains the old Scottish Regalia. There are yet the Golden Crown, the Sceptre and Sword of State, and the Lord Treasurer's Rod of Office deposited in one and the same old oak chest. But I had neither leisure nor curiosity to apply for an order from the Lord Provost, as the custom is; and so I spent the remainder of my time in surveying the gigantic cannon called "Mons Meg," cast at Mons in Flanders, employed at the siege of Norham; but was finally burst when firing a salute to the Duke of York, in 1682. It is the largest piece of artillery in the world, and would seem to have been, at one time, a host in itself. Indeed. my visit to the Tower of London fully satisfied me with these splendid toys of Kings and States, for which so many wars have been waged, and so many heroes slain. I learned, however, that they are still in good keeping, in the same old oak chest in which they were discovered. Yes, the identical crown for which Bruce liberated his country, and with which his son ruined it; a crown which could not heal the broken heart of Robert III., and which procured the assassination of James I.; a crown which made the heart of Mary ache, and which, when placed upon her son, relieved it not; a crown, which was last worn by Charles II. without honor to himself, or pleasure to the nation. "At last it was safely deposited in a wooden chest, much to the satisfaction of the Monarchs of Europe, and to the prosperity of the nation."* On descending from the hill, a short distance from the Esplanade, the house of Allan Ramsay, "author of * Chambers' Walks in Edinburgh, page 49.

the Gentle Shepherd," appears in full view, a residence of more pleasing associations and reminiscences, to me, at least, than the old castle of Edinburgh.

It

In passing from the castle, through Bank street and opposite the Bank of Scotland, a Gothic edifice of modern date, lifts its lofty spire 241 feet from the earth, seen from almost every point in Edinburgh. This gem of modern architecture is called VICTORIA HALL; because, forsooth, its foundation stone was laid when her Majesty visited the city. But it is, in fact, the hall in which the GENERAL ASSEMBLY, of the Kirk of Scotland, now holds its annual sessions. is in very good keeping, with a hierarchical establishment. To see Presbyterianism at home, I learn, that it is yet necessary to attend one of the great sessions of the General Assembly, when they have in attendance a few representatives of all the "States Ecclesiastic," and, especially, when any case of appeal, of high interest, is to be adjudicated. I had the curiosity to enter the building, and was conducted into its penatralia by the good lady that has it in charge. There were the rooms for committees, the seats for the lawyers, to take depositions, or make notes of evidence in the politico-ecclesiastic causes there adjudicated. It is, indeed, though used as a "church," or "kirk," or house of worship, much on the style of a Supreme Court room; having, indeed, a pulpit for its moderator instead of a bench, and a chair for its prosecutor, instead of a desk for its clerk of sessions. A splendid chapel, truly, as they would call it in England; but not much after our taste, as a house for the pure in heart to worship him who dwells not in temples reared with human hands, and who is infinitely better pleased with "an humble and contrite spirit," than with all the architectural grandeur and sculptured beauty which the ingenuity, the taste, or the pride of man ever yet displayed.

There are many other noble structures in Edinburgh, of which I can say nothing, from my own particular observation, such as Heriot's Hospital, the High School and Parliament House, &c. I cast, indeed, a transient glance at the Royal Institution, one of the handsomest piles in Scotland. I made, also, two or three different walks to the Scott Monument. Sir Walter is honored with one of the most tasteful and splendid monuments I saw, not in Scotland only, but in Europe. There are some things, of the monumental order, truly grand and superbly rich, which might be regarded by some as of superior grandeur. But, in my opinion, as respects fine taste and fine art, beauty, grandeur and magnificence, there are none to equal, certainly none to surpass this splendid pageant, consecrated to one of Scotlands most gifted sons.

For the gratification of the amateurs of this great master of Historic Romance, I will copy a history of the Monument, which I found in the city:

"The design was furnished by George M. Kemp, a man of genius and industry, who raised himself from the humble condition of an operative mason, to the proud eminence of successful competitor for the honor of designing the monument erected to the most gifted of Scotland's sons. The architect died before the structure was completed. The foundation was laid on the 15th of August, 1840, and the building was finished in 1844. Its height is 200 feet 6 inches, and its cost was £15,650. A stair of 287 steps conducts to the gallery at the top. In each front of the Monument, above the principal arch, are six small niches, making a total of 24 in the main structure, besides 32 others in the piers and abutment towers. These niches are to be occupied by sculptural impersonations of the characters, historical and fanciful, portrayed in the writings of Sir Walter. The following statues fill the four principal niches which crown the four lowest

arches. In the northern niche, facing Prince's Street, is the statue of Prince Charles (from Waverley) drawing his sword. In the eastern niche, on the side next the Calton Hill, is Meg Merrilees (from Guy Mannering) breaking the sapling over the head of Lucy Bertram. In the southern niche, next the Old Town, is the statue of the Lady of the Lake stepping from a boat to the shore; and, in the western niche,

is the Last Minstrel playing on his harp. Other statutes for the remaining niches are in

progress. The following is the inscription on the plate placed under the foundation stone:This graven plate,

Deposited in the base of a votive building, On the fifteenth day of August in the year of Christ 1840,

And never likely to see the light again, Till all the surrounding structures are crumbled to dust,

By the decay of time, or by human or Eternal violence,

May then testify to a distant posterity that His countrymen began on that day To raise an effigy and architectural monument TO THE MEMORY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. Whose admirable writings were then allowed

better feeling

To have given more delight, and suggested To a larger class of readers in every rank of society

Than those of any other author, With the exception of Shakespeare alone: And which were therefore thought likely to be remembered

Long after this act of gratitude, On the part of the first generation of his admirers,

Should be forgotten.

He was born at Edinburgh 15th August 1771; And died at Abbotsford 21st September 1832.

"Fine though the structure may be, it may be questioned whether the site is the best that could have been chosen; and whether the Old Town would not have been a more congenial atmosphere for such a memorial. In its present situation, the effect of the mass is to the Castle Rock itself not excepted. A marble depress and overpower every surrounding object, statue of Scott, by Steele, for which the sculptor received £2000, was placed in the Monument on the 15th of August 1846.

In our currency, this splendid thing cost some 78,000 dollars; while the marble statue of Scott, said to be the man, a little larger than real life, cost some 10,000 dollars more. A handsome sum, truly, where are thousands almost in a state of absolute want of the real necessaries of life. But the world must do homage to its great men, and worship them that worship it. I could never look at that splendid statue without regretting how the original employed his splendid talent, nor without the impression that he, too, now regretted it, whatever might be his destiny. For if in heaven a painful reminiscence be, it must be

for wasted time and prostituted talent. The last room that I visited, for mere recreation, was that in which Spurzheim taught Phrenology; and in which he prophesied that Edinburgh, with all its hostility to the new theory, would yet become its radiating centre. This, I presume, has been verified in the works of George Combe -books by no means free from great errors, and which, because of the much strong, good sense and sound Phrenology contained in them, have done full as much injury to a good portion of his readers as benefit. There is, indeed, an expurgated development of his grand views, from the pen of Scott, the Phrenologist, and from some other still more recent authors, whom I cannot now

name.

The room was, indeed, a small one; probably, if well packed, it might contain 150 or 175 persons. Still, small though it was, a mighty host has risen out of the few that there listened to that convincing reasoner, and witnessed his admirable dissections of the brain. There are yet two small rooms of skulls, adjoining that in which he lectured, in which Brother Hensnall and myself spent some hour or two; speculating upon all conceivable models of heads, gathered from all the world; from Mexico to China, and from Nova Zembla to the Cape of Good Hope. If men's brains can differ so much from one another, and if the volume, density and tenacity of the organized marrow, are so diverse, in diverse heads, what marvel is it if the character of those minds operated upon, and operating through, greatly diversified machinery, should be marked with corresponding variations of thought, and feeling, and action! But my sheet is full, and I must bid adieu to Edinburgh and hie away to Aberdeen, in the morning.

Yours, as ever,

A. CAMPBELL.

LETTERS FROM EUROPE.

NO. XXVI.

MY DEAR CLARINDA.-In company with brother John Dron, of Auchtermuchty, and brother John Ingles, of Banff, I left the city of Edinburgh, Saturday morning, 14th of August, for the city of Aberdeen, north of Edinburgh one hundred and nine miles, and distant from London 501 miles. It was the first Sabbatic Saturday that I had enjoyed for some time, and never did I need one more. The evening before I had made a two hours speech, in response to the allegata of Rev. James Robertson, in the Waterloo Rooms. It often seemed, during the speech, as though I were addressing a mob, rather than a calm, deliberate and moral assembly. I retired at a late hour, and awoke at a very early one in order to secure my seat in the omnibus that carried us to the steamer. I, therefore, soon as I got aboard sought repose, and occasionally found a little in a crowd of some hundred and fifty passengers. We had a beautiful day, a smooth sea, along a rocky coast, where, for miles on miles, we saw a wall of rock worn into every form by the continual attrition of waves lashed by fierce winds, and sometimes bearing in their bosoms masses of ice. steamer kept, during most of the day, so near the coast as to afford a clear view of many a projecting cliff; of many an overhanging rock, and of many a curious cave that might have made an Ossian eloquent, in setting forth their claims upon our admiration.

The

We arrived at the mouth of the river Don a little before sunset. This river forms a convenient haven, and quite accessible in good weather. In a quarter of an hour we were within the precints of Old Aberdeen. Brother Dunn, of the Baptist Church, was anxiously waiting our arrival ; and, in a few minutes, we found ourselves more comfortably lodged, in his delightful mansion, in the bosom of

his very kind and hospitable family. There is no passport to the human heart comparable to that which Christianity confers upon its true disciples. Christians have a common key to the hearts of all the children of their Father. They know one another the moment they recognize the relationship. We feel ourselves always at home, always safe and happy in the bosom of a Christian family. I wonder not to hear the Messiah say, that whosoever forsaketh father or mother, wife or children, houses or lands, for the kingdom of heaven's sake, shall receive a hundred fold more -fathers, brothers, houses, lands, &c. in the present world, as an earnest of the life everlasting to be enjoyed in the next. True, our natural and political relations of husbands and wives, of parents and children, &c. remain as before; but we receive from our Christian relatives all that kindness, attention and comfort which our fathers, or our children, our husbands, or our wives could bestow upon us.

A very refreshing and profound repose, during the night, so much invigorated me that I addressed a large and respectable audience twice on the Lord's day, morning and evening, besides meeting with the brethren in the afternoon and delivering an exhortation. On Monday morning we hastened, by stage, to Banff, almost due north some 45 miles distant from Aberdeen. It was a pleasant day and a pleasant ride, on the top of a staunch coach, through a highland looking country, not at all highly cultivated, but rather bleak. We saw not much to relieve us save now and then an Inverness Mountain on our west, and the Ocean on the east. But everything and every place in Scotland is interesting to any one well acquainted with its religious and political history, and with the leading characteristics of its ancient and modern population.

The Earl of Fife's rich estate is the

only highly cultivated vicinity I noticed, from Aberdeen to Banff, with, perhaps, a single exception. This solitary old gentlemen lives in a castle of large dimensions, yet unfinished and likely to be so for another generation, in the midst of what we would call a very extensive and rich domain. But rising from bed at five in the evening, and retiring to repose at five in the morning, one cannot conceive why he should live in the midst of such fine gardens and groves, ornamented with beautiful walks, summerhouses, alcoves, bowers, jetteaus, &c. as environ his splendid residence, to be surveyed by himself for an hour or two in the evening of the day. Such, however are the eccentricities of man. There is one excuse for him. His good lady, bitten by her own rabid lap-dog, fell a prey to canine madness; and in the midst of all that could gratify the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life, left her lord the Earl, childless and alone, the solitary occupant of his large estate and splendid residence.

The noble Earl has, however, acted the nobleman in a very prominent respect. His domain and gardens, running up to the very precincts of the town of Banff, though surrounded with ten feet walls of solid stone, are generously thrown open to the citizens to walk through them, and to enjoy all their beauty and comforts, and they are neither few nor trivial; only that they are not allowed to handle or injure any thing adhering to the soil. To walk through them is, indeed, a feast to both body and soul; for if there be the sentiment of piety in the human heart, the combined beauties of nature and art, so well displayed here, are admirably calculated to rouse into an ecstacy that sentiment, and to awaken every grateful emotion to the Giver of all good. I was gratified to learn, that the privilege was not abused, by the citizens of Banff, by any improper liberties taken, as respected either the flowers and