The

a part as it were of their national character. same spirit of decision in behalf of right which in the seventeenth century caused the fathers to resist both popery and prelacy to the death, in the nineteenth, inspired their undegenerate children to give up houses and lands, all the luxuries and in many cases the necessaries of life, for the sake of the gospel. In 1666 their fathers worshiped the Supreme Jehovah amid the mountain fastnesses; while in 1846, they, their children's children, having been refused sites for their churches by the landed proprietors, worship in the same purity and with the same fervent spirit by the wayside. A people of such undaunted courage can never be moved— suffering serves but to harden-persecution to render firm-and death to establish the living more firmly in the faith.

It may be that her rivers are romantic streams unfitted for the purposes of navigation and trade, but her sons have overleaped the limits of their ocean girt isle, and are to be found in every clime, and among every people. Her merchant princes may be found on the Thames and the Ganges—on the Missouri and the Hudson-in Canton and Cairo

-Buenos Ayres and Berlin-New Orleans and

New York.

While heroic deeds are the theme of romance and song, Wallace and Bruce, Douglas and Graham, will not be forgotten. While the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church, Scotland will be a religious country. The beautiful creations of the genius of Scott, Wilson, and Pollok, Burns, Thomson, and Campbell, will continue to find enthusiastic admirers, as long as the noble inspirations of poetry and romance have power to touch the heart, and gratify the cultivated taste. While the highest strains of eloquence and the simplest teachings of religious truth are held in estimation, a Boston and an Erskine, a Willison and a Chalmers, will be reverenced and read.

To be a Scotchman is considered presumptive evidence in any man's favor-and their national character is frequently put to the test, for Scotchmen are everywhere. A very curious anecdote illustrative of this is told of Sir Alexander Keith, one of Scotland's noble sons. Sir Alexander, during a residence of some length at the court of St. Petersburg, so engaged the confidence of the Emperor, that he

sent him as envoy extraordinary, on a mission to Turkey, to settle some matter of dispute between Russia and that nation. When he arrived at Constantinople, he was ushered into the presence of the Turkish nobleman, with all the formality, pomp, and style so peculiar to that people. Interpreters acted between them, and in a short time the whole matter was amicably settled. The conference ended, Keith was about to withdraw, when the Turkish nobleman sprang forward and seized him by the hand, exclaiming in the genuine vernacular-" A mon, I'm raal glad to see ye, I ken'd ye fine when ye was a callant, we baith cum frae ae place, for my faither was bellman o' the lang toon o' Kirkaldy.”

I was now on the scene of the border feuds. We passed Branxholm Hall, celebrated as the scene of the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," one tower of which remains as perfect as it was hundreds of years ago. Near this is another tower, now in ruins, once the stronghold of the renowned "Johnny Armstrong," celebrated in border song and story.

We passed Netherby Hall, the residence of Sir James Graham-an estate celebrated in the writings of Sir Walter Scott. Farther on a little way, we saw the place where stood for a time a large tent

used as a Free Church. The landed proprietor having refused to sell the people a piece of ground on which to erect a church, they put up a tent on the highway, where for a long time religious services were regularly held.

After a ride of twenty-one miles, I arrived at Langholm, the first village of any note after crossing the border. Here I left the coach, and having procured a gig, I crossed the country to New Castleton. In doing so I passed over a Scottish moor, the first I had ever seen, though I had read and heard much of them. It was truly a bleak and dreary tract of country. Far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen but bog and moss, fern and heather—not a single human habitation for ten miles. It was stocked with large flocks of sheep, which managed to procure a subsistence amid this sterility.

In many places the turf had been dug away for some depth and dried for fuel. For this purpose it is cut with the spade into blocks, like bricks in shape, but of much greater size, and exposed to the sun until it becomes hardened, when it is drawn home and forms an excellent substitute for coal. As it costs nothing to the peasantry, but the labor

of cutting and drying, it is also a most economical fuel. I felt for the first time the force of the poor beggar-man's expression:

"Cold blows the wind across the moor,

The dreary moor, that I have passed;"

for although in a season when in America we have warm weather, I had to button my overcoat close to my chin, and, notwithstanding all precautions, was nearly frozen ere I arrived at New Castleton.

This village lies on the banks of the romantic Liddle, one of the prettiest streams in Scotland. Here I spent the first night of my visit to my native land, and enjoyed the Scotch hospitality of one whom I shall long remember.

I next proceeded to Earlstown, in Berwickshire, where I spent, in the house of a venerable uncle, since gone to his home on high, my second night in Scotland.