The village of Duddingston reposes under the wing of Arthur's Seat—the hill shewn in our view—and lies to the right. In the village is the house in which Prince Charles Edward lodged before the battle of Prestonpans. In former times, Duddingston was famous for 'sheep's head' dinners, and its fruit gardens were also a favourite resort in summer. The parish church, seen amidst the bare trees, is of architectural interest because of several portions of Norman work still extant, and also from the fact that at the gate of the churchyard are to be seen the 'jougs', an iron collar used as a pillory, and also a curious relic, a 'loupin' on stane,' placed considerately there so that persons attending church on horseback should reach their saddle with the least trouble. In the comfortable manse, which lies away to the right, there lived for a time the Rev. John Thomson, one of Scotland's greatest landscape painters, who was minister of the parish, and died there in 1840. The roadway running between the rocky knoll and the main hill is called the 'Windy Gowl,' and in certain directions of the wind is almost impassable. The precipitous rocks standing to the left of the hill are known as 'Samson's Ribs,' and consist of basaltic columns of the same formation as Fingal's Cave and the Giant's Causeway. Viewed as we see it from the east end of Duddingston Loch, Arthur's Seat loses the fine leonine form it presents in every other direction. It is a noble hill, and although little more than eight hundred feet high, its position as a solitary eminence gives it much grandeur of appearance, and the view from its summit is nowhere surpassed. On a clear day, the eye may wander from the Cheviot Hills on the Border, to the Grampians in the north-west, and while the city of Edinburgh lies spread out below, the varied landscape of the Lothians and the sparkling waters of the Firth of Forth come in to make up a panorama of varied beauty, amply repaying the slight toil of the ascent.
[LINLITHGOW LOCH.]
We reach here a quiet loch, of no great extent, but presenting a beauty of its own, and famous from its association with the ancient palace that crowns the peninsula in its centre. The tale of Flodden Field is closely associated with this palace, for in the small turret at the right hand corner furthest in our view there sat Queen Margaret in her bower, watching the turn of the road by which the king ought to be seen on his return, and weeping in secret misgiving as to the result of an enterprise which had been preceded by such a singular warning. The scene described by Lindsay of Pitscottie, and better known through 'Sir David Lindsay's Tale' in Marmion, took place in the old parish church, closely adjoining the palace, the square tower of which is seen over the trees. The king was in the practise, on each anniversary of his father's death, to proceed to St. Katherine's aisle,—still shown—and there to manifest his contrition for the share he had had in that sad act. When
'In Katherine's aisle the monarch knelt
With sackcloth shirt and iron belt
And eyes with sorrow streaming'
there stepped out from the crowd a mysterious stranger, 'in azure gown with cincture white,' who warned the king not to go to the intended war, more especially warning him, if he went, to guard himself against
'Woman fair
Her witching wiles and wanton snare.'
Every one knows that as regards both branches of the warning, the king proved regardless, and much of the disastrous result of Flodden arose from the king's fatal dalliance with a renowned Border lady.