The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . of one enfolding the other, into whatlooked like a hole in the wall; andas I hurried to the spot and stoodthere, at the entrance, I received myfirst impression of one of the rat-holes of Edinburgh. The entrance was a little higherand not much wader than an ordin-ary doorway, but its depths were ex-tensive and mysterious and cavern-ous. The time was not late, so Iventured a closer acquaintance, andhad it not been for the sea of child- ren that came at me like a swarmof bees I might have made at leasta fai

The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . of one enfolding the other, into whatlooked like a hole in the wall; andas I hurried to the spot and stoodthere, at the entrance, I received myfirst impression of one of the rat-holes of Edinburgh. The entrance was a little higherand not much wader than an ordin-ary doorway, but its depths were ex-tensive and mysterious and cavern-ous. The time was not late, so Iventured a closer acquaintance, andhad it not been for the sea of child- ren that came at me like a swarmof bees I might have made at leasta fai Stock Photo
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The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . of one enfolding the other, into whatlooked like a hole in the wall; andas I hurried to the spot and stoodthere, at the entrance, I received myfirst impression of one of the rat-holes of Edinburgh. The entrance was a little higherand not much wader than an ordin-ary doorway, but its depths were ex-tensive and mysterious and cavern-ous. The time was not late, so Iventured a closer acquaintance, andhad it not been for the sea of child- ren that came at me like a swarmof bees I might have made at leasta fair survey of the coastline. Thesurging mass shouted almost as onemouth, Poor oot! Poor oot!which was intended as a mild intima-tion for me to pour out of my abun-dance upon their unoffending heads.I had started as one Avho acts thephilanthropist in a humble way, andthus far I had had some of the joysand exaltations of giving, withouthaving given much. Here, however, . WHITEHORSE CLOSE. LOOKING TOWARDS THE ESTRAXCE was rare opportunity, and yet I fledfrom it. But the rabble pursued me, and I soon interpreted their jargonas a volunteer competition in the re-cital of local history. The difficultyfrom my standpoint was that all talk-ed with a broad lowland accent, andall together, and all with the samelingo, just as if they had memoriseda chapter from some guide-book. All this might have been expected, because High street is steeped in his-tory, and the children are steeped inHigh street—in its wynds and itscloses and its courts, characteristicsthat have made it difterent from allother thoroughfares and that nowmake permissible the appellation.The Rat-holes of Edinburgh. Be-cause they are little more than holesin the wall in comparison with themaguifient parallel promenade ofPrinces street, scarcely more than astone s-throw away. Poor oot! Poor oot! The young historians thus inter-rupted their recital in order that theone purpose of their enthusiasm mi