the watchful enemy who had been haunting the gloomy woods of Jedburgh.

"The Black Douglas, or Good James, Lord Douglas,' as he was called by the Scots, fought, as I have already said, with King Robert Bruce at Bannockburn. One lovely June day, in the far-gone year of 1329, King Robert lay dying. He called Douglas to his bedside, and told him that it had been one of the dearest wishes of his heart to go to the Holy Land and recover Jerusalem from the Infidels; but since he could not go, he wished him to embalm his heart after his death, and carry it to the Holy City and deposit it in the Holy Sepulchre.

"Douglas had the heart of Bruce embalmed and inclosed in a silver case, and wore it on a silver chain about his neck. He set out for Jerusalem, but resolved first to visit Spain and engage in the war waged against the Moorish King of Grenada. He fell in Andalusia, in battle. Just before his death, he threw the silver casket into the thickest of the fight, exclaiming, 'Heart of Bruce! I follow thee or die!'

"His dead body was found beside the casket, and the heart of Bruce was brought back to Scotland and deposited in the ivy-clad Abbey of Melrose.

"Douglas was a real hero, and few things more engaging than his exploits were ever told under the holly and mistletoe, or in the warm Christmas light of the old Scottish Yule-logs."

"What has interested you most in Scotland," said Master Lewis to George Howe, continuing the subject.

"I am hardly interested in antiquities at all," said George, frankly. "I try to be, but it is not in me. A living factory is more to my taste than a dead museum. The most interesting things I have seen are the great Glasgow factories. As for stories, I have been thinking of one that has more force for me than all the legends I ever read."

We shall be glad to hear you tell it," said Master Lewis. "My business is teaching, and it is my duty to stimulate a love of literature.

But I have all respect for a boy with mechanical taste; no lives promise greater usefulness. We will listen to George's story."

"It is not a romantic story," said George. "I will call it

A GLASGOW FACTORY BOY.

He had been ad

'Just above the wharves of Glasgow, on the banks of the Clyde, there once lived a factory boy, whom I will call Davie. At the age of ten he entered a cotton factory as 'piecer.' He was employed from six o'clock in the morning till eight at night. His parents were very poor, and he well knew that his must be a boyhood of very hard labor. But then and there, in that buzzing factory, he resolved that he would obtain an education, and would become an intelligent and a useful man. With his very first week's wages he purchased Ruddiman's Rudiments of Latin.' He then entered an evening school that met between the hours of eight and ten. He paid the expenses of his instruction out of his own hard earnings. At the age of sixteen he could read Virgil and Horace as readily as the pupils of the English grammar schools. "He next began a course of self-instruction. vanced in the factory from a 'piecer' to the spinning-jenny. brought his books to the factory, and placing one of them on the 'jenny,' with the lesson open before him, he divided his attention between the running of the spindles and rudiments of knowledge. He now began to aspire to become a preacher and a missionary, and to devote his life in some self-sacrificing way to the good of mankind. He entered Glasgow University. He knew that he must work his way, but he also knew the power of resolution, and he was willing to make almost any sacrifice to gain the end. He worked at cotton-spinning in the summer, lived frugally, and applied his savings to his college studies in the winter. He completed the allotted course, and at the close was able triumphantly to say, 'I never had a farthing that I did

not earn.

"That boy was Dr. David Livingstone."

He

An excellent story," said Master Lewis. "A sermon in a story, and a volume of philosophy in a life. Now, Tommy, what is the most attractive thing you have seen?"

"I see it now. Oh, look! look!" said Tommy, flying to the

window.

The full moon was hanging over the great castle, whitening its grim turrets.

The boys all gazed upon the scene, which appeared almost too beautiful for reality.

"It looks like a castle in the sky," said Wyllys.

Story-telling was at an end. So the exercises ended with an exhibition of Edinburgh Castle by moonlight.

THE DRUIDS AND ROMANS. - THE STORY OF THE JOLLY HARPER MAN.
I CAME TO MERRY CARLISLE."

ARLISLE!" said Master Lewis, as the cars stopped at a.
busy looking city, the terminus of many lines of railway.
"Carlisle ?" asked Frank Gray, glancing at the evidences
of business energy about the station. "Carlisle? I have

heard that the city was a thousand years old."

"An old city may grow," said Master Lewis, on the way to the hotel. "In 1800, Carlisle had but 4,000 inhabitants, now it has more than 30,000."

Carlisle was the ancient seat of the kings of Cambria, and was a Roman station in the early days of the Christian era. It was destroyed in 900 by the Danes, was ravaged by the Picts and Scots, was doubtless visited by Agricola, Severus, and Hadrian, and it has a part in the

history of all the Border wars.

Here half-forgotten kings lived; here

Roman generals made their airy camps, and near it the grotesque ships of Roman emperors dropped their sails in the Solway. Here Chris

tianity made an early advent, and the hideous rites of the Druid priests disappeared.

The ancient Druids worshipped in sacred groves; the oaks were their fanes and chapels, but they erected immense stone temples open to the sky, the moon, and stars: these were their cathedrals. In them were great stones used as altars of sacrifice, and on their altars the dark and mysterious priests offered up human victims to their gods.

The country around Carlisle abounds in Roman and Druidical relics, and in antiquities associated with the Border contests. At Penrith may be seen the ruins of a Druid temple, formed of sixty-seven immense stones, called "long Meg and her daughters."

The Isle of Man, the ancient and poetic Mona, whose grand scenery was once the supposed abode of the gods of the Saxons, lies near the Solway, and to it excursion steamers go from the western coast towns of England carrying pleasure seekers all the long summer days. Here