Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays, Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing, That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compared with this how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace except the heart; The Power incensed the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; But haply in some cottage far apart, May hear well pleased the language of the soul, And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll." [Footnote 4: Withered cheeks.] These are the elements of a people's greatness. These are the perennial sources of their ruth and loyalty, their freedom and virtue. These guard the domestic graces, these bind the commonwealth in holy and enduring bands. Better than splendid mausoleums and gorgeous temples, better than costly altars and a pompous ritual, better than organ blasts and rolling incense, better by far than mass and breviary, confessional and priestly absolution! For while the most imposing forms of Religion are often heartless and dead, these sacred rites of a Christianity pure and practical, ever possess a vital power,--a power to quicken and save. "From scenes like these auld Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad; Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 'An honest man's the noblest work of God.' * * * * * O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, Be blest with health and peace and sweet content! And oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much loved Isle." But we have dwelt long enough on general topics. If the reader will accompany us, we will ramble together in some particular scenes, meditating, as we go, on things new and old, and chatting, in lively or in sombre mood, as the humor may seize us. First of all then, let us visit "Auld Reekie," as the inhabitants often call it, or more classically, "the modern Athens," the beautiful and far famed metropolis of Scotland. CHAPTER II. The city of Edinburgh--Views from Arthur's Seat--The Poems of Richard Gall--"Farewell to Ayrshire"--"Arthur's Seat, a Poem"--Extracts--Craigmillar Castle--The Forth, Roslin Castle and the Pentland Hills--Liberty.