quitting the abbey and the palace, we turned into the canongate, and passed thence into high street, which, i think, is a continuation of the canongate; and being now in the old town of edinburgh, we saw those immensely tall houses, seven stories high, where the people live in tiers, all the way from earth to middle air. they were not so quaint and strange looking as i expected; but there were some houses of very antique individuality, and among them that of john knox, which looks still in good repair. one thing did not in the least fall short of my expectations,—the evil odor, for which edinburgh has an immemorial renown,—nor the dirt of the inhabitants, old and young. the town, to say the truth, when you are in the midst of it, has a very sordid, grimy, shabby, upswept, unwashen aspect, grievously at variance with all poetic and romantic associations.

from the high street we turned aside into the grass-market, the scene of the porteous mob; and we found in the pavement a cross on the site where the execution of porteous is supposed to have taken place.