sembly. Upon it was usually carved an impression of a human
foot; and into this impression, during the ceremony of inauguration,
the king or chief placed his own right foot, in token that he was
installed by right into the possessions of his predecessors, and that
he would walk in their footsteps. It may be said literally, that in
this way the king or chief came to an understanding with his people;
and perhaps the common saying of "stepping into a dead man's shoes"
may have originated from this primitive custom.

The most famous of the Tanist stones is the Coronation-stone in
Westminster Abbey--the Lia Fail, or Stone of Destiny--on which the
ancient kings of Scotland sat or stood when crowned, and which forms a
singular link of connection between the primitive rites that entered
into the election of a king by the people, and the gorgeous ceremonies
by which the hereditary sovereigns of England are installed into their
high office. There is no footmark, however, on this stone. It may be
mentioned that before the arrival of the Scottish stone there had been
for ages a similar stone at Westminster Hall, which gave the name to
and was the original place of sitting for the Court of King's Bench.
It was no doubt a relic of the primitive Folkmoot of Westminster,
which has developed into the Parliament of England. In the
neighbourhood of Upsala is the Mora stone, celebrated in Swedish
history as the spot where the kings were publicly elected and received
the homage of their subjects.

A more characteristic specimen of a Tanist stone may be seen on the
top of Dun Add, a rocky isolated hill about two hundred feet high, in
Argyleshire, not far from Ardrishaig. On a smooth flat piece of rock
which protrudes above the surface there is carved the mark of a right
foot, covered with the old _cuaran_ or thick stocking, eleven inches
long and four inches and a half broad at the widest part, the heel
being an inch less. It is sunk about half an inch in the rock, and is
very little weather-worn--the reason being, perhaps, that it has been
protected for ages by the turf that has grown over it, and has only
recently been exposed. Quite close to it is a smooth polished basin,
eleven inches in diameter and eight deep, also scooped out of the
rock. With these two curious sculptures is associated a local myth.
Ossian, who lived for a time in the neighbourhood, was one day hunting
on the mountain above Loch Fyne. A stag which his dogs had brough