It is our last day in `Scotia's darling seat,' our last day in Breadalbane Terrace, our last day with Mrs. M'Collop; and though every one says that we shall love the life in the country, we are loath to leave Auld Reekie.
Salemina and I have spent two days in search of an abiding-place, and have visited eight well-recommended villages with that end in view; but she disliked four of them, and I couldn't endure the other four, though I considered some of those that fell under her disapproval as quite delightful in every respect.
We never take Francesca on these pilgrimages of disagreement, as three conflicting opinions on the same subject would make insupportable what is otherwise rather exhilarating. She starts from Edinburgh to-morrow for a brief visit to the Highlands with the Dalziels, and will join us when we have settled ourselves.
Mr. Beresford leaves Paris as soon after our decision as he is permitted, so Salemina and I have agreed to agree upon one ideal spot within thirty-six hours of our quitting Edinburgh, knowing privately that after a last battle-royal we shall enthusiastically support the joint decision for the rest of our lives.
We have been bidding good-bye to people and places and things, and wishing the sun would not shine and thus make our task the harder.
We have looked our last on the old grey town from Calton Hill, of all places the best, perhaps, for a view; since, as Stevenson says, from Calton Hill you can see the Castle, which you lose from the Castle, and Arthur's Seat, which you cannot see from Arthur's Seat.
We have taken a farewell walk to the Dean Bridge, to gaze wistfully eastward and marvel for the hundredth time to find so beautiful a spot in the heart of a city. The soft-flowing Water of Leith winding over pebbles between grassy banks and groups of splendid trees, the roof of the little temple to Hygeia rising picturesquely among green branches, the slopes of emerald velvet leading up to the grey stone of the houses,--where, in all the world of cities, can one find a view to equal it in peaceful loveliness? Francesca's `bridge-man,' who, by the way, proved to be a distinguished young professor of medicine in the University, says that the beautiful cities of the world should be ranked thus,--Constantinople, Prague, Genoa, Edinburgh; but having seen only one of these, and that the last, I refuse to credit any sliding scale of comparison which leaves Edina at the foot.
It was nearing tea-time, an hour when we never fail to have visitors, and we were all in the drawing-room together. I was at the piano, singing Jacobite melodies for Salemina's delectation.
When I came to the last verse of Lady Nairne's `Hundred Pipers,' the spirited words had taken my fancy captive, and I am sure I could not have sung with more vigour and passion had my people been `out with the Chevalier.'
`The Esk was swollen sae red an' sae deep, But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep;
Twa thousand swam owre to fell English ground, An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
Dumfounder'd the English saw, they saw, Dumfounder'd they heard the blaw, the blaw, Dumfounder'd they a' ran awa', awa', Frae the hundred pipers an' a', an' a'!'
By the time I came to `Dumfounder'd the English saw,' Francesca left her book and joined in the next four lines, and when we broke into the chorus Salemina rushed to the piano, and although she cannot sing, she lifted her voice both high and loud in the refrain, beating time the while with a dirk paper-knife.
`Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'!'
Susanna ushered in Mr. Macdonald and Dr. Moncrieffe as the last `blaw' faded into silence, and Jean Dalziel came upstairs to say that they could seldom get a quiet moment for family prayers, because we were always at the piano, hurling incendiary sentiments into the air,--sentiments set to such stirring melodies that no one could resist them.
