appeared the dark, narrow, turret staircase, which Darnley ascended before he rushed into Mary’s presence.  The struggle must have been desperate, for the murder was not effected in that chamber, Rizzio being either dragged, or escaped into an adjoining and very obscure anteroom in which the crime was perpetrated.  They pretend to show you marks of his blood yet visible on the floor.  Although all such horrible vestiges have been most probably long since obliterated, it is yet just possible that some may remain.  To believe so, at the moment, was a lawful indulgence of my previous illusion.  I could have followed the train of associations thus created much further, had not the person appointed to act as Cicerone hurried me through the apartments.  Their doors closed against me, and the spell was broken.

Edinburgh is full of interesting localities; particularly the old town.  In its ancient “wynds and closes,” now tenanted by the veriest of the plebeian race, in former days resided men of the most distinguished rank and celebrity.  Before the stupendous improvements of later times had justly entitled the Scottish metropolis to the appellation of the modern Athens, the princes and nobles of the land, its judges and senators, were obliged to dwell in those dirty streets and alleys, from which “Auld Reekie” derived its then appropriate appellation.  When in progress of time they removed to more splendid and suitable abodes, their abandoned tenements became habitations of wretchedness.  Much however remained in them to remind posterity of their former proprietors; and whoever is not afraid of encountering the spectacle of a swarming population in a state of abject and squalid poverty, will find an abundant field for his antiquarian researches in the old town of Edinburgh.  Like Switzerland, and other mountainous countries, Scotland is by nature formed to be a land of romantic associations; but how wonderfully have her historians, poets, and novelists contributed to create and preserve them!  The author of Waverley has thrown a classic halo around the wild beauties of his native land, and communicated to stranger minds a national enthusiasm which his soul alone could have felt, his pen alone inspired!  In Scotland, almost every step we take is on hallowed ground, and the lover of historical recollections may enjoy to its full extent the delight of visiting places immortalized by the achievements of her heroes, or the pen of her poets.

To a man fond of localities, travelling either on the continent or in England, will furnish numerous opportunities of indulging the reveries to which they give birth.  It would be hardly possible to name a town, or a village, utterly destitute of local interest.  In almost every instance, some memento would be discovered to hallow its site, and to engage the observation of an intelligent traveller.  With a mind predisposed to enjoy mental associations, they will crowd on us wherever we go, and be suggested by the veriest trifles.