nd Banmachar's groans to our slogan replied;
Glen Luss and Ross Dhu, they are smoking in ruins,
And the best of Loch Lomond lies dead on her side."

To be sure the fires of iron founderies are much less picturesque than
the old beacons, and the clink of hammers than the clash of claymores;
but the most devout worshipper of the middle ages would hardly wish to
change them.

Dimly, by the flickering light of these furnaces, we see the approach to
the old city of Glasgow. There, we are arrived! Friends are waiting in
the station house. Earnest, eager, friendly faces, ever so many. Warm
greetings, kindly words. A crowd parting in the middle, through which we
were conducted into a carriage, and loud cheers of welcome, sent a
throb, as the voice of living Scotland.

I looked out of the carriage, as we drove on, and saw, by the light of a
lantern, Argyle Street. It was past twelve o'clock when I found myself
in a warm, cozy parlor, with friends, whom I have ever since been glad
to remember. In a little time we were all safely housed in our
hospitable apartments, and sleep fell on me for the first time in
Scotland.

LETTER IV.

DEAR AUNT E.:--

The next morning I awoke worn and weary, and scarce could the charms of
the social Scotch breakfast restore me. I say Scotch, for we had many
viands peculiarly national. The smoking porridge, or parritch, of
oatmeal, which is the great staple dish throughout Scotland. Then there
was the bannock, a thin, wafer-like cake of the same material. My friend
laughingly said when he passed it, "You are in the 'land o' cakes,'
remember." There was also some herring, as nice a Scottish fish as ever
wore scales, besides dainties innumerable which were not national.

Our friend and host was Mr. Baillie Paton. I believe that it is to his
suggestion in a public meeting, that we owe the invitation which brought
us to Scotland.

By the by, I should say that "baillie" seems to correspond to what we
call a member of the city council. Mr. Paton told us, that they had
expected us earlier, and that the day before quite a party of friends
met at his house to see us, among whom was good old Dr. Wardlaw.

After breakfast the calling began. First, a friend of the family, with
three beautiful children, the youngest of whom was the bearer of a
handsomely bound album, containing a pressed collection of the sea
mosses of the Scottish coast, very vivid and beautiful.

If the bloom of English