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Containing the Story of the Bagman’s Uncle

           Herehestoppedforaminute,tolookatthestrange,irregularclustersoflightspiledoneabovetheother,andtwinklingafaroffsohigh,thattheylookedlikestars,gleamingfromthecastlewallsontheonesideandtheCaltonHillontheother,asiftheyilluminatedveritablecastlesintheair;whiletheoldpicturesquetownsleptheavilyon,ingloomanddarknessbelow:itspalaceandchapelofHolyrood,guardeddayandnight,asafriendofmyuncle’susedtosay,byoldArthur’sSeat,towering,surlyanddark,likesomegruffgenius,overtheancientcityhehaswatchedsolong.Isay,gentlemen,myunclestoppedhere,foraminute,tolookabouthim;andthen,payingacomplimenttotheweather,whichhadalittleclearedup,thoughthemoonwassinking,walkedonagain,asroyallyasbefore;keepingthemiddleoftheroadwithgreatdignity,andlookingasifhewouldverymuchliketomeetwithsomebodywhowoulddisputepossessionofitwithhim.Therewasnobodyatalldisposedtocontestthepoint,asithappened;andso,onhewent,withhisthumbsinhiswaistcoatpockets,likealamb.

           ‘WhenmyunclereachedtheendofLeithWalk,hehadtocrossaprettylargepieceofwastegroundwhichseparatedhimfromashortstreetwhichhehadtoturndowntogodirecttohislodging.

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Roboto Lora
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