eel as if I could take wing and fly!"

"I say! keep hold of her!" cried Jack Ryan. "Our little Nell is too good
to lose. I feel just as you describe though, myself, when I have not
left the pit for a long time."

"It is when we no longer experience the oppressive effect of the vaulted
rocky roof above Coal Town," said James Starr, "that the spacious
firmament appears to us like a profound abyss into which we have, as it
were, a desire to plunge. Is that what you feel, Nell?"

"Yes, Mr. Starr, it is exactly like that," said Nell. "It makes me feel
giddy."

"Ah! you will soon get over that, Nell," said Harry. "You will get used
to the outer world, and most likely forget all about our dark coal pit."

"No, Harry, never!" said Nell, and she put her hand over her eyes, as
though she would recall the remembrance of everything she had lately
quitted.

Between the silent dwellings of the city, the party passed along Leith
Walk, and went round the Calton Hill, where stood, in the light of the
gray dawn, the buildings of the Observatory and Nelson's Monument. By
Regent's Bridge and the North Bridge they at last reached the lower
extremity of the Canongate. The town still lay wrapt in slumber.

Nell pointed to a large building in the center of an open space, asking,
"What great confused mass is that?"

"That confused mass, Nell, is the palace of the ancient kings of
Scotland; that is Holyrood, where many a sad scene has been enacted! The
historian can here invoke many a royal shade; from those of the early
Scottish kings to that of the unhappy Mary Stuart, and the French king,
Charles X. When day breaks, however, Nell, this palace will not look
so very gloomy. Holyrood, with its four embattled towers, is not unlike
some handsome country house. But let us pursue our way. There, just
above the ancient Abbey of Holyrood, are the superb cliffs called
Salisbury Crags. Arthur's Seat rises above them, and that is where
we are going. From the summit of Arthur's Seat, Nell, your eyes shall
behold the sun appear above the horizon seaward."

They entered the King's Park, then, gradually ascending they passed
across the Queen's Drive, a splendid carriageway encircling the hill,
which we owe to a few lines in one of Sir Walter Scott's romances.

Arthur's Seat is in truth only a hill, seven hundred and fifty feet
high, which stands alone amid surrounding heights. In less than half
an hour, by an easy winding path, James Starr and his