Rosslyn Glen was a lovely place, almost like a fairy scene, and we
wondered if Burns had it in his mind when he wrote:
Their groves of sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
Far dearer to me yon lone glen of green bracken,
Wi' the burn stealing under the long yellow broom.
[Illustration: PENNICUICK HOUSE COURT]
We walked very quietly and quickly past the gunpowder works, lest
conversation might cause an explosion that would put an end to our
walking expedition and ourselves at the same time, and regained the
highway at a point about seven miles from Edinburgh. Presently we came
to the Glencorse Barracks, some portions of which adjoined our road,
and, judging from the dress and speech of the solitary sentinel who was
pacing to and fro in front of the entrance, we concluded that a regiment
of Highlanders must be stationed there. He informed us that in the time
of the French Wars some of the prisoners were employed in making Scotch
banknotes at a mill close by, and that portions of the barracks were
still used for prisoners, deserters, and the like. Passing on to
Pennicuick, we crossed a stream that flowed from the direction of the
Pentland Hills, and were informed that no less than seven paper mills
were worked by that stream within a distance of five miles.
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