and suffer, if
need be, for the rights of Christ's crown and the liberties of His
Church."

The learning and accomplishments of Sir George Mackenzie were forgotten
amid the religious animosities of his day, and he came down to posterity
as the terror of nursery-maids and a portentous bugaboo under the name
of Bloody Mackenzie. It is related that the boys of the town were in the
habit of gathering at nightfall about his tomb and shouting in at the
keyhole,

Bluidy Mackenzie, come out if ye daur:
Lift the sneck and draw the bar!

after which they would scatter, as if they feared the tenant might take
them at their word. The tomb is a handsome circular Roman temple, now
much dilapidated by weather and soot, and so dark and sombre as to make
it very uncanny in the gloaming, especially to one approaching it with
the view of shouting "Bluidy Mackenzie" through the keyhole. This
popular superstition was once turned to account by a youth under
sentence of death for burglary. His friends aided him in escaping from
prison, and provided him with a key to this mausoleum, where he passed
six weeks in the tomb with the Bluidy Mackenzie--a situation of horror
made tolerable only as a means of escape from death. Food was brought to
him at night, and when the heat of pursuit was over he got to a vessel
and out of the country.

[Illustration: MACKENZIE'S TOMB.]

The New Town of Edinburgh is separated from the Old Town by the ravine
of the North Loch, over which are thrown the bridges by which the two
towns are connected. The loch has been drained and is now occupied by
the Public Gardens and by the railway. The New Town is substantially the
work of the last half of the past century and the first half of the
present one--a period which sought everywhere except at home for its
architectural models. In some of the recent improvements in the Old Town
very pretty effects have been produced by copying the better features of
the ancient dwellings all around them, but the grandiloquent ideas of
the Georgian era could not have been content with anything so simple and
homespun as this. Its ideal was the cold and pompous, and it succeeded
in giving to the New-Town streets that distant and repellent air of
supreme self-satisfaction which makes the houses appear to say to the
curious looker-on, "Seek no farther, for in us you find the perfectly
correct thing." The embodiment of this spirit may be seen in the bronze
statue of George IV