The poor man may roost up there in the centre of Edinburgh, and yet have a peep of the green country from his window; he shall see the quarters of the well-to-do fathoms underneath, with their broad squares and gardens; he shall have nothing overhead but a few spires, the stone top-gallants of the city; and perhaps the wind may reach him with a rustic pureness, and bring a smack of the sea or of flowering lilacs in the spring.
It is almost the correct literary sentiment to deplore the revolutionary improvements of Mr.Chambers and his following.

It is easy to be a conservator of the discomforts of others; indeed, it is only our good qualities we find it irksome to conserve.

Assuredly, in driving streets through the black labyrinth, a few curious old corners have been swept away, and some associations turned out of house and home.

But what slices of sunlight, what breaths of clean air, have been let in! And what a picturesque world remains untouched! You go under dark arches, and down dark stairs and alleys.

The way is so narrow that you can lay a hand on either wall; so steep that, in greasy winter weather, the pavement is almost as treacherous as ice.