The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . OLD PLAYHipL SK (LU.SK street and the environment. I soonlearned that they were permittingRobert Louis to rest peacefully in hisgrave, but I had yet to know thatthey werent even discussing the in-delicacy of Smollett, whose novel-writing had been done in a house ap-proached through one of the holes inthe wall. I didnt even know thatthey werent at fever heat over thefact that criminals ears had been cutoff and nailed to the gallows hard bythe old market cross. They used to 125 do that away back in 1600: a
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The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . OLD PLAYHipL SK (LU.SK street and the environment. I soonlearned that they were permittingRobert Louis to rest peacefully in hisgrave, but I had yet to know thatthey werent even discussing the in-delicacy of Smollett, whose novel-writing had been done in a house ap-proached through one of the holes inthe wall. I didnt even know thatthey werent at fever heat over thefact that criminals ears had been cutoff and nailed to the gallows hard bythe old market cross. They used to 125 do that away back in 1600: at least, they nailed something to the gallows, but whether it was the ears or what re-mained I couldnt discover. These things were all new to me, and when I asked an amenable look-ing civilian who was standing slight-ly apart from one of the groups—when I asked him, as courteously asI thought was necessary, whether itwas true that old John Knox used topreach three times on week-days andonly twice on Sundays, he took me. GENTLES CLOSE aside, saying that he had had nothingto eat since morning. Then he tookme in. The groups in the street had got onmy nerves. They stood here andthere all the way down the mile thatleads from the Castle to HolyroodPalace. But while they were on mynerves, the characters who used tofrequent these haunts were in mymind. In fancy I could see Sir WalterSeott standing on the Heart of ]Iid-lothian, a spot in this street that isnow marked by the form of a heartoutlined with granite inlaid in thepavement. But surely the groupswerent discussing that. Every fewsteps I took I passed a rat-hole, andheard tunes lilted here and the pipesskirled there and a fiddle stroked alittle farther on. Into and out fromthese closes and wynds bedraggledlooking folk went singly and in pairs. 12fi Sometimes they flitted in like a sha-dow, and I followed them with myeyes, to see their unattractive formsmelt into the mists and glooms ofthose mysterious recesses. Who wouldnot lament