No such tragic misfortune, however, occurred. The old gentleman forced himself, after much squeezing and puffing off steam, through the narrow aperture, and very gallantly lent a hand to assist Flora on to the leads. “This is a strait gate, on a narrow way,” he cried. “But tell me, if it does na’ gie ye a glimpse o’ heaven?” The old man was right. Flora stood entranced, as it were, with the glorious spectacle which burst upon her sight, the moment she stepped upon the roof of that old house. Edinburgh, and the world of beauty that lies around it, lay at her feet, bathed in the golden light of a gorgeous June sunset. To those who have beheld that astonishing panorama, all description must prove abortive. It is a sight to be daguerreotyped upon the heart. “Weel, was it not worth toiling up yon weary stair, to get sic a glimpse as that, of the brave auld town?” said honest P. Gregg. “I’m jest thinkin’ I must enlarge the stair, or diminish mysel, before I can venture through that narrow pass again. An’, my dear leddy, I can do neither the one nor the other. So this mayhap may be my last glint o’ the bonnie auld place.” Then he went on, after his quaint fashion, to point out to Mistress Lyndsay all the celebrated spots in the neighbourhood, which every Scot knows by heart, and Flora was so much amused and interested by his narration, that she was sorry when the deepening shades of approaching night warned the old man that it required daylight to enable him to descend the narrow stair, and they reluctantly left the scene. CHAPTER XXV. FLORA’S DINNER. Lyndsay had some literary friends in Edinburgh, whose kindly intercourse greatly enhanced the pleasure of a month’s residence near the metropolis of Scotland. The foremost among these was M——, the poet, who, like Lyndsay, was a native of the Orkney Islands. Having been entertained at the house of this gentleman, he naturally wished to return his courtesy. “Flora,” said he, addressing his wife, the day after their visit to the Greggs, “do you think you could manage a dinner for a few friends?” Flora dropped her work, and opened her eyes in blank dismay at the very idea of such a thing. “What, in these poor lodgings? and Mrs. Waddel such an impracticable, helpless old body? My dear John, it is impossible!”