matchless scene formed of the castle and the old town seen from the new

"Its ridgy back heaved to the sky,

Piled deep and massive, close and high,"

burst at once upon the King's view. What he felt, thought, said-what he must have felt, was the busy speculation of thousands who had him in view, all more proud, at that moment, of “ their own romantic town" than they had ever before been. This panorama was in front. One turn to the left, and the Place des Victoires, as the French would have termed it, came full in view!-the street of Waterloo, and the pillar of Trafalgar!—the cliffs of the Acropolis, whose summit was already prepared for the Parthenon.*

If any one should ask, what have these

The ground was broke for the national monument on the 12th of August, his Majesty's birth-day. A foreign traveller, familiar with Greece, visited Edinburgh about twenty years ago, long before the project was conceived of building a temple, on thè model of the Parthenon, on the Calton Hill. In his description of the scene, he observes the singular resemblance of Edinburgh to Athens, and adds, “I looked for the Parthenon!" "Je cherchois le Parthenon!"

externals, of city, trophy, and mountain scenery, to do with the feelings, on which is built the argument of these Letters,the answer is obvious. The King's presence enhanced the charm of every striking natural object, and mingled, with irresistible power, our pride of Country, with our love of King. Both feelings go to the en semble of the effect, and form legitimate fact for the theory of the moral power, of the Sovereign's visit to any portion of his people who admire the beauties of nature by which they are surrounded. The King's eye was on these, and, at the moment, they were new in their interest to the oldest inhabitant.

The view which the Calton Hill now presented, defies adequate description.*

The gentleman formerly alluded to, who, from his place, had the enviable advantage of seeing the different objects as they successively opened to the view of the King, has repeatedly told the author, that no description can give an adequate idea to those who did not see it, of the Calton Hill, as it rose covered with a nation's population. "Wonder was exhausted! I never did," said he, "and certainly never shall again, behold so perfectly sublime a spectacle !"

Vast as were the numbers that had hailed their King, for two miles which he had already advanced, all that had yet been seen was as nothing to what was now opening up to view on "the mountain's living side." The first face of the eminence rose abrupt on the sight, a pyramid of human beings-bold, instant, imminent, as if they had been formed in magic phalanx to bar the path. It was so near, that a vast pavement of human faces, in living mosaic, seemed to gaze with one steady eye, and hail with one heart and one tongue. The precipitous slope rendered motion dangerous, so that the immobility of the closely stationed thousands had something in it martially grand and solemn. It was the sublime almost wound up to the terrific; and truly, if ever vast concourse of human beings, with passions bearing on one common object, with intense application, was sublime, it was now that the Royal Stranger looked up to a spectacle which no

event in his life could ever have presented to him before. The King's feelings were no secret. By a sudden movement, not to be misinterpreted, he told them to thousands. His words were heard by few when, it is said, he exclaimed, "Good God! what a sight!" The movement, however, was enough; and, like the fresh gust of the gale on the redoubling conflagration, when it seizes some new and more stupendous mass of prey, it did rouse a feeling, and call forth an echo, yet unsurpassed on that triumphant day.

A short circuit here of the finest of ways, whether we approach or leave the town, gave to view a change of striking objects. New "hills lifted up their heads and rejoiced;" while the sea, beautifully embayed, was before the King. He was in the land of the mountain and the flood,”-in "the land of his sires," for old Holyrood was in sight. An amphitheatre of hills seemed to inclose him. The southern slopes of the densely-peo

pled Calton, varying every moment as the progress brought reach after reach of the living masses into view, were on his left, so close that he could see the countenances which gazed from them. On his right, beyond the ancient city and the palace, rising abruptly in indescrib able majesty, shone a landscape of green mountain and craggy rock, not exceeded in beauty, scarcely in grandeur, by the choicest portions of Highland scenery. It was well imagined to crown all the visible heights with cannon, tents, and standards. Every summit was thus connected with every other in one and the same feeling; and a soul was given to those enduring monuments of nature, in full sympathy with the exulting generation that awoke their echoes with their cheers.

The King was now out of the new city, and approaching his palace at the extremity of the old. It was a farther cause of exultation, when the watchful popular eye caught the moment, for