It
is a strange-looking edifice, with gables on high, projecting far, and
some sculpture, and inscriptions referring to Knox. There is a
tobacconist's shop in the basement story, where I learned that the house
used to be shown to visitors till within three months, but it is now
closed, for some reason or other. Thence we crossed a bridge into the
new town, and came back through Prince's Street to the hotel, and had a
good dinner, as preparatory to fresh wearinesses; for there is no other
weariness at all to be compared to that of sight-seeing.
In mid afternoon we took a cab and drove to Holyrood Palace, which I have
already described, as well as the chapel, and do not mean to meddle with
either of them again. We looked at our faces in the old mirrors that
Queen Mary brought from France with her, and which had often reflected
her own lovely face and figure; and I went up the winding stair through
which the conspirators ascended. This, I think, was not accessible at my
former visit. Before leaving the palace, one of the attendants advised
us to see some pictures in the apartments occupied by the Marquis of
Breadalbane during the queen's residence here. We found some fine old
portraits and other paintings by Vandyke, Sir Peter Lely, Sir Godfrey
Kneller, and a strange head by Rubens, amid all which I walked wearily,
wishing that there were nothing worth looking at in the whole world. My
wife differs altogether from me in this matter; .
Pages:
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755