the little street urchins still cry in shrill disapproval as the “chapels” skale.[30] The antagonism was in its early days political and temperamental as well as ecclesiastical, for the Episcopalians were royalists and cavaliers to a man. In the eighteenth century the terms Episcopalian and Jacobite were held as almost synonymous. The two classes were diametrically opposed in their dispositions and ways and ideals; and yet each represented many of the finest characteristics of the Scottish character, and each can lay claim to a goodly number of the Scotsmen and Scotswomen of whom Scotland is proudest and fondest. But the feeling betrays itself even yet where education has tended to sharpen the angles of temperament instead of rounding them off. “This is Edinburg,” a Cockney youth with a tourist ticket was overheard to say, as the train approached the Northern Capital. “Oh, Edinboro’, is it?” answered his companion, letting down the window. “Oh, I s’y, this ain’t town,--I can smell the ’y!” “That is the fimous Castle of Edinburg,” said the first, and both gazed out at the Calton jail. A little old woman, shrivelled with age, and neat and clean as a russet apple in her white mutch and her shawl, gave a restless movement, but said nothing. No one noticed her. “Wasn’t it at Edinboro’ that Janie Gedds lived?” asked the second youth, drawing in his head. “Janie Gedds?--’oo was she?” “W’y, Janie Gedds, that threw a stool at a dean’s ’ead and stopt a Church service.” “Threw a stool at a dean’s ’ead and stopt a Church service? W’y, w’atever did she do that for? W’at imperence!” And then suddenly the little old woman whom no one had noticed leant forward, a flash of fire in the deep-set eyes under the white mutch, and a brown wrinkled fist thrust out from the folds of the shawl. “Indeed, an’ she was verra richt, sirs! Verra richt, she was!--An’ _I’d dae the same mysel’!_” The two Cockney youths collapsed as completely as ever did the dean.