THE FRITH OF FORTH. 7 



and thunderings, like those which issued of old from 

 oehind the veil, that tell us how this world, with all its 

 little interests, must pass away ; but that for those who 

 fight the good fight, and keep the faith, there abideth a 

 rest that is eternal. In a few hours, if the breeze does 

 not fail, we shall be within sight of Edinburgh. And 

 there, my Lydia, I must enter on a new scene of life, a 

 scene for which my previous habits have little fitted me. 

 But I shall think of you, and bend all my mind to my 

 untried occupation. The sun has just sunk behind the 

 Pentlands, and the coast looks dim and blue through 

 the twilight. One part of the line, about three miles in 

 extent, is entirely blotted from the landscape, by the 

 smoke of Edinburgh and Leith. And now the Isle of 

 May light is beginning to twinkle behind, and the 

 Inchkeith light to twinkle before. A few short hours, 

 and our voyage shall have come to its termination. The 

 various objects around me the hills, the islands, the 

 buildings recall a hundred recollections of my residence 

 here of ten years ago, which have lain buried in my 

 memory ever since. There was a double row of trees 

 beside the cottage in which I lodged, through which I 

 used to see the Inchkeith light twinkling every evening. 

 I remember the dark, lonely road which led past the 

 door to Edinburgh ; and how, when travelling on it in 

 the night-time, which I did often, 1 used to grasp my 

 stick every time I heard footsteps approaching. I must 

 strive to ascertain whether my old landlady is yet alive, 

 and what has become of my companion, John Wilson.' 

 A little touch this last, but characteristic. Hugh, at 

 this rather exciting moment, thinks more of old friends, 

 however humble, than of new. 



' Edinburgh, Monday. 



' Our vessel got into harbour this morning, about 



