onoured more and more; and curling, being a
creature of the national genius, is little likely to be disregarded. The
patriotism that leads a man to eat Scots bun will scarcely desert him at
the curling pond. Edinburgh, with its long, steep pavements, is the
proper home of sliders; many a happy urchin can slide the whole way to
school; and the profession of errand-boy is transformed into a holiday
amusement. As for skating, there is scarce any city so handsomely
provided. Duddingston Loch lies under the abrupt southern side of
Arthur's Seat; in summer, a shield of blue, with swans sailing from the
reeds; in winter, a field of ringing ice. The village church sits above
it on a green promontory; and the village smoke rises from among goodly
trees. At the church gates is the historical _jougs_, a place of penance
for the neck of detected sinners, and the historical _louping-on stane_,
from which Dutch-built lairds and farmers climbed into the saddle. Here
Prince Charlie slept before the battle of Prestonpans; and here Deacon
Brodie, or one of his gang, stole a plough coulter before the burglary
in Chessel's Court. On the opposite side of the loch, the ground rises
to Craigmillar Castle, a place friendly to Stuart Mariolaters. It is
worth a climb, even in summer, to look down upon the loch from Arthur's
Seat; but it is tenfold more so on a day of skating. The surface is
thick with people moving easily and swiftly and leaning over at a
thousand graceful inclinations; the crowd opens and closes, and keeps
moving through itself like water; and the ice rings to half a mile away,
with the flying steel. As night draws on, the single figures melt into
the dusk, until only an obscure stir and coming and going of black
clusters is visible upon the loch. A little longer, and the first torch
is kindled and begins to flit rapidly across the ice in a ring of yellow
reflection, and this is followed by another and another, until the whole
field is full of skimming lights.

CHAPTER X

TO THE PENTLAND HILLS

On three sides of Edinburgh, the country slopes downward from the city,
here to the sea, there to the fat farms of Haddington, there to the
mineral fields of Linlithgow. On the south alone, it keeps rising, until
it not only out-tops the Castle, but looks down on Arthur's Seat. The
character of the neighbourhood is pretty strongly marked by a scarcity
of hedges; by many stone walls of varying height; by a fair amount of
timber