The Fair Maid of Perth (St 
Valentine's Day) 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fair Maid of Perth, by Sir Walter 
Scott Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check 
the copyright laws for your country before downloading or 
redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. 
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project 
Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the 
header without written permission. 
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the 
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is 
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how 
the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a 
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. 
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** 
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 
1971** 
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of 
Volunteers!***** 
Title: The Fair Maid of Perth 
Author: Sir Walter Scott 
Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7987] [This file was first posted on 
June 9, 2003] 
Edition: 10
Language: English 
Character set encoding: iso-8859-1 
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FAIR 
MAID OF PERTH *** 
 
This etext was produced by Martin Robb  
 
THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH 
or 
St. Valentine's Day 
by Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
The ashes here of murder'd kings Beneath my footsteps sleep; And 
yonder lies the scene of death, Where Mary learn'd to weep. 
CAPTAIN MARJORIBANKS. 
Every quarter of Edinburgh has its own peculiar boast, so that the city 
together combines within its precincts, if you take the word of the 
inhabitants on the subject, as much of historical interest as of natural 
beauty. Our claims in behalf of the Canongate are not the slightest. The 
Castle may excel us in extent of prospect and sublimity of site; the 
Calton had always the superiority of its unrivalled panorama, and has 
of late added that of its towers, and triumphal arches, and the pillars of 
its Parthenon. The High Street, we acknowledge, had the distinguished 
honour of being defended by fortifications, of which we can show no 
vestiges. We will not descend to notice the claims of more upstart 
districts, called Old New Town and New New Town, not to mention 
the favourite Moray Place, which is the Newest New Town of all. We 
will not match ourselves except with our equals, and with our equals in 
age only, for in dignity we admit of one. We boast being the court end 
of the town, possessing the Palace and the sepulchral remains of 
monarchs, and that we have the power to excite, in a degree unknown 
to the less honoured quarters of the city, the dark and solemn 
recollections of ancient grandeur, which occupied the precincts of our
venerable Abbey from the time of St. David till her deserted halls were 
once more made glad, and her long silent echoes awakened, by the visit 
of our present gracious sovereign. 
My long habitation in the neighbourhood, and the quiet respectability 
of my habits, have given me a sort of intimacy with good Mrs. Policy, 
the housekeeper in that most interesting part of the old building called 
Queen Mary's Apartments. But a circumstance which lately happened 
has conferred upon me greater privileges; so that, indeed, I might, I 
believe, venture on the exploit of Chatelet, who was executed for being 
found secreted at midnight in the very bedchamber of Scotland's 
mistress. 
It chanced that the good lady I have mentioned was, in the discharge of 
her function, showing the apartments to a cockney from London --not 
one of your quiet, dull, commonplace visitors, who gape, yawn, and 
listen with an acquiescent "umph" to the information doled out by the 
provincial cicerone. No such thing: this was the brisk, alert agent of a 
great house in the city, who missed no opportunity of doing business, 
as he termed it--that is, of putting off the goods of his employers, and 
improving his own account of commission. He had fidgeted through 
the suite of apartments, without finding the least opportunity to touch 
upon that which he considered as the principal end of his existence. 
Even the story of Rizzio's assassination presented no ideas to this 
emissary of commerce, until the housekeeper appealed, in support of 
her narrative, to the dusky stains of blood upon the floor. 
"These are the stains," she said; "nothing will remove them from the 
place: there they have been for two hundred and fifty years, and there 
they will remain while the floor is left standing-- neither water nor 
anything else will ever remove them from that spot." 
Now our cockney, amongst other articles, sold Scouring Drops, as    
    
		
	
	
	Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
 
	 	
	
	
	    Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the 
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.
	    
	    
