"The startled echoes of the rock were at length silent, and so were the voices above. The adventurers paused, listening breathless; no sound was heard but the sighing of the wind, and the measured tread of the sentinel who had resumed his walk. The men thought they were in a dream, and no wonder; for the incident just mentioned, which is related by Barbour, was one of the most singular coincidences that ever occurred. The shout of the sentinel and the missile he had thrown, were merely a boyish freak; and while listening to the echoes of the rock, he had not the smallest idea that the sounds which gave pleasure to him carried terror and almost despair into the hearts of the enemy. "The adventurers, half uncertain whether they were not the victims of some illusion, determined that it was as safe to go on as to turn back; and pursuing their laborious and dangerous path, they at length reached the bottom of the wall. This last barrier they scaled by means of their ladder; and leaping down among the astonished check-watches, they cried their war-cry, and in the midst of answering shouts of 'treason! treason!' notwithstanding the desperate resistance of the garrison, captured the Castle of Edinburgh." Sit down here on the edge of this parapet. That huge cannon there is called Mons Meg, from being cast at _Mons_, in Flanders, and reminds us, somewhat significantly, of the terrible use to which all the arrangements of the Castle are applied.[12] How singular, that men have to be governed and controlled like bull-dogs, that castles and dungeons, halters, and cannon, are necessary to keep them from stealing each other's property, or cutting each other's throats! Surely mankind have ills enough to bear without turning upon each other like tigers. [Footnote 12: At present it is used as a barracks for soldiers and a magazine of arms.] "Many and sharp the numerous ills, Inwoven with our frame! More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse, and shame; And man, whose heaven-erected face The smiles of love adorn, Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn." BURNS. But all is quiet now. The tendency of the times is to peace; and Edinburgh Castle, Mons Meg, and the whole array of cannon bristling over the precipice, are but objects of natural curiosity or of poetical interest.