when, still more to be lamented, the protection of property was so uncertain, that, according to the city-arms, it was but too literally true that— “Unless the _Lord_ the City kept, The _watchmen_ watched in vain!” Another event occurred about the same time in Edinburgh, which was appropriately contemporaneous with the abolition of the City Guard,—namely, the demolishment and final removal of the Tolbooth. This building, which makes so conspicuous a figure in the present Tale, was originally the Town-house of Edinburgh, and afterwards afforded accommodation for the Scottish Parliament and Courts of Justice, and for the confinement of debtors and malefactors. It had been used solely as a jail since 1640. It was not deficient in other interesting recollections, besides being the scene of the Porteous mob. Here Queen Mary delivered, what are termed by John Knox her _Painted Orations_; and on its dreary summits had been successively displayed the heads of a Morton, a Gowrie, a Huntly, a Montrose, and an Argyll,—besides those of many of inferior note. A part of this edifice had been devoted to the use of the City Guard, ever since the removal of their former rendezvous in the High Street. Many will still remember of seeing a veteran or two leaning over a half-door in the north side of the Jail. Could their eyes have penetrated farther into the gloomy interior, a few more indistinct figures might have been perceived smoking round a fire, or reading an old newspaper, while the unintelligible language which they spoke might aid the idea of their resemblance to a convocation of infernals in some of the cinder-holes of Tartarus. In fine weather, a few of the venerable corps might be seen crawling about the south front of the prison, with Lochaber axes over their shoulders, or reposing lazily on a form with the white-haired keeper of the Tolbooth door, and basking in the sun, in all the lubber luxury of mental and corporeal abandonment. But now (_sic transit gloria mundi!_) their ancient Capitol is levelled with the dust, and they themselves are only to be ranked among the “things that were.” All trace of their existence is dispersed over a waste of visioned recollection; and future generations will think of the City Guard, as they think of _the forty-five_, of _the Friends of the People_,—or of the last year’s snow!