ed obstructions. Feasible
as we confess it appeared, the idea of draining Loch Lomond has been
relinquished for the easier and more useful scheme of converting the
Clyde from below Stonebyres to above the Bannatyne Fall into a
canal--the chief lock being, in the opinion of the most ingenious
speculators, almost ready-made at Corra Linn. Shall we never be done
with our soliloquy? It may be a little longish, for age is prolix--but
every whit as natural and congenial with circumstances, as Hamlet's "to
be or not to be, that is the question." O beloved Albin! our soul
yearneth towards thee, and we invoke a blessing on thy many thousand
glens. The man who leaves a blessing on any one of thy solitary places,
and gives expression to a good thought in presence of a Christian
brother, is a missionary of the church. What uncomplaining and
unrepining patience in thy solitary huts! What unshrinking endurance of
physical pain and want, that might well shame the Stoic's philosophic
pride! What calm contentment, akin to mirth, in so many lonesome
households, hidden the greatest part of the year in mist and snow! What
peaceful deathbeds, witnessed but by a few, a very few grave but
tearless eyes! Ay, how many martyrdoms for the holy love and religion of
nature, worse to endure than those of old at the stake, because
protracted through years of sore distress, for ever on the very limit of
famine, yet for ever far removed from despair! Such is the people among
whom we seek to drop the books, whose sacred leaves are too often
scattered to the winds, or buried in the dust of Pagan lands. Blessed is
the fount from whose wisely-managed munificence the small house of God
will rise frequent in the wide and sea-divided wilds, with its humble
associate, the heath-roofed school, in which, through the silence of
nature, will be heard the murmuring voices of the children of the poor,
instructed in the knowledge useful for time, and of avail for eternity.

We leave a loose sovereign or two to the Bible Fund; and remounting
Surefoot, while our friend the schoolmaster holds the stirrup tenderly
to our toe, jog down the road which is rather alarmingly like the
channel of a drought-dried torrent, and turning round on the saddle,
send our farewell salutes to the gazing scholars, first, bonnet waved
round our head, and then, that replaced, a kiss flung from our hand.
Hamish, relieved of the roe, which will be taken up (how, you shall
by-and-by hear) on ou