It was no feast of reason, at the honest Greggs; the entertainment was of the most animal kind, and Flora felt relieved when it was over, and the whole party issued once more into the pure air.
She was just hastening to a parterre, gay with roses, to rifle some of its sweets, when the old gentleman came panting hard upon her track. “Ye must come an’ see my raree-show, before the sun gangs doun,” he cried; and Flora turned and followed him back into the house. In the hall the whole family party were collected.
“I’ll gang first, father, and open the door,” cried a merry boy of fourteen, and beckoning to Jim, they both clattered after each other up the old-fashioned stairs.
Old houses in Edinburgh and its vicinity are so high, one would think the people in those days wished to build among the stars; at least to emulate the far-famed wonders of that language-confounding tower, which caused the first emigration, by scattering the people over the face of the earth.
They went up, and up, and up, until there seemed no end to the broad, short steps. On the last flight, which led to the roof, the staircase had so greatly contracted its proportions, that fat Mr. Gregg could scarcely force himself up it, and he so completely obscured the light which peered down upon them from a small trap-door, opening upon the leads, that Flora, who followed him, found herself in a dim twilight, and expected every moment the panting mountain, which had come between her and the sky, would lose the centre of gravity, and suffocate her in its fall.
No such tragic misfortune, however, occurred. The old gentleman forced himself, after much squeezing and puffing off steam, through the narrow aperture, and very gallantly lent a hand to assist Flora on to the leads.
“This is a strait gate, on a narrow way,” he cried. “But tell me, if it does na’ gie ye a glimpse o’ heaven?”
The old man was right. Flora stood entranced, as it were, with the glorious spectacle which burst upon her sight, the moment she stepped upon the roof of that old house. Edinburgh, and the world of beauty that lies around it, lay at her feet, bathed in the golden light of a gorgeous June sunset. To those who have beheld that astonishing panorama, all description must prove abortive. It is a sight to be daguerreotyped upon the heart.
“Weel, was it not worth toiling up yon weary stair, to get sic a glimpse as that, of the brave auld town?” said honest P. Gregg. “I’m jest thinkin’ I must enlarge the stair, or diminish mysel, before I can venture through that narrow pass again. An’, my dear leddy, I can do neither the one nor the other. So this mayhap may be my last glint o’ the bonnie auld place.”
Then he went on, after his quaint fashion, to point out to Mistress Lyndsay all the celebrated spots in the neighbourhood, which every Scot knows by heart, and Flora was so much amused and interested by his narration, that she was sorry when the deepening shades of approaching night warned the old man that it required daylight to enable him to descend the narrow stair, and they reluctantly left the scene.