caravan gave herself a shake and began to move forward.

In some surprise I opened the door and looked out. Why, surely all the manhood of Chryston was around us, clustering round the wheels, lining the sides, pushing behind and pulling the pole. With a hip! ho! and away we go!

"Hurrah, lads, hurrah!"

"Bravo, boys, bravo!"

In less time than it takes me to tell it, the great caravan was hoisted through that meadow and run high and dry into the farmer's courtyard.

To offer these men money would have been to insult them they were Scotch. Nor can a kindness like this be measured by coin. I offered them liquid refreshment, however, but out of all who helped me I do not think that half-a-dozen partook.

All honour to the manly feelings of the good folks of Chryston.

But our day's enjoyment was marred and we were left lamenting.

August 13th. We are off.

And

We are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur. happy we feel, on this bright, bracing morning, to be once more on the road again with our backs to old England, our faces to the north.

Click, click-click, click! Why, there positively does seem music in the very horses' feet. They seem happy as well as ourselves. Happy and fresh, for, says my gentle Jehu,

"They are pulling, sir, fit to drag the very arms out of ye."

"Never mind, John," I reply, "the Highland hills are ahead of us, and the heather hills, my Jehu. Knowest thou this song, John ?"

"O glorious is the sea, wi' its heaving tide,

And bonnie are the plains in their simmer pride;

But the sea wi' its tide, and the plains wi' their rills,

Are no half so dear as my ain heather hills.

I may heedless look on the silvery sea,

I may tentless muse on the flowery lee,

But my heart wi' a nameless rapture thrills

When I gaze on the cliffs o' my ain heather hills.

Then hurrah, hurrah, for the heather hills,

Where the bonnie thistle waves to the sweet bluebells,
And the wild mountain floods heave their crests to the clouds,
Then foam down the steeps o' my ain heather hills.""

No wonder the rattling choras brought half-dressed innocent cottage children to their doors to wave naked arms and shout as we passed, or that their mothers smiled to us, and fathers doffed their bonnets, and wished us "good speed."

But summer has gone from nature if not from our hearts. All in a week the change has come, and many-tinted autumn was ushered in with wild and stormy winds, with rain and floods and rattling thunder.

Not as a lamb has autumn entered, but as a lion roaring; as a king or a hero in a pantomime, with blue and red fire and grand effects of all kinds.

There is a strong breeze blowing, but it is an invigorating one, and now, at eight o'clock on this morning, the sun is shining brightly enough, whatever it may do later on.

What a grand day for the moors! It will quite make up for the loss of yesterday, when doubtless there were more drams than dead grouse about.

In Glasgow, days ago, I noticed that the poulterers' windows were decorated with blooming heather in anticipation of the twelfth.

"lads in kilts".

I saw yesterday afternoon some Saxons, by the shape of their legs. But I do not hold with Professor Blackie, that if you see a gentleman in Highland garb " he must either be an Englishman or a fool."

For I know that our merriest of professors, best of Greek scholars, and most enthusiastic of Scotchmen, would himself wear the kilt if there was the slightest possibility of keeping his stockings up!

The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep;
Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields;
And river, now with bushy rocks o'erbrowed.
Now winding bright and full, with naked banks;
And seats and lawns, the abbey and the wood;
And cots and hamlets, and faint city spire."-Coleridge.

T Cumbercauld, the people were pleased to see us once more, and quite a large crowd surrounded the Wanderer. On leaving the village we were boarded by a young clergyman and his wife, such pleasant enthusiastic sort of people that it does one good to look at and converse with.

Passed strings of caravans at Dennyloanhead, and exchanged smiles and good-morrows with them. Then on to the Stirling road, through an altogether charming country.

Through Windsor Newton, and the romantic village of St. Ninian's, near which is Bannockburn.

Then away and away to Stirling, and through it,