on being released nestled down again in the sand, perhaps to be complimented by its mother on the successful way in which it had played its part.

From just above this bathing-place is obtained one of the finest of the fine views up Glen Sannox, and grand indeed it is. The mass of Chior-Mvor shuts in the back-ground. Next in the range, on the right, comes Ceim-naCailliach (the Carlin's step). Then rise the battlemented tops of Caistael Abhael (the fortress of the Ptarmigan)-a name, by the way, more poetical than accurate, inasmuch as there are no ptarmigan on the Island-while on the nearest crest old Fergus lies supine with his Roman nose and heaven-directed countenance, dreaming, may-be, of the maiden, whose bosom (Ciod-na-Oich), exposed in somewhat unmaidenly fashion, shows conspicuously on the opposite portal of the Glen.

Continuing the coast line, we come, in about a mile or rather less, to the North Sannox burn, passing on our way the remarkable "blue rock," which rises to a height of about thirty yards, and extends for perhaps a hundred, almost as smooth and perpendicular as chisel and plummet could have rendered it; while the space from its very base to the sea is occupied by a meadow level and smooth enough for a bowlinggreen.

The stepping-stones of the North Sannox burn having been crossed (rather an awkward job when the water is in spate), a very pleasant walk of a couple of miles or so brings us to the "Fallen Rocks," great masses of the conglomerate, which, loosened from the hill-side by some convulsion of nature, have been precipitated to their present restingplace, where they lie, some in, some out of, the water in broken confusion.

Those who are fond of foraging for themselves will have, from the blue rock northward, as well as in many other places, abundant opportunities for exerting their talents on a profusion of raspberries, the under branches of which may be found, weighed down by the

comparatively sterile comparatively sterile upper branches force their way, and also some strawberries, while the rills afford a plentiful supply of fine water-cress. To these may be added, for those who remain somewhat later in the season, nuts and blackberries, both this year in extraordinary quantities, besides, as we were informed, generally, an abundance of mushrooms.

Were we to pursue our walk, four or five miles further would bring us round the point to Loch Ranza; but it is time to turn back, varying our route, if you please, by a turn a little way up the side of the North Sannox burn. It is a sparkling quick-flowing stream, running down too rapidly from the hills to afford any but very diminutive brown trout, though every now and then a few small sea trout find their way a short distance above the sea. Some of the pools would do well enough for the fly (though the banks are throughout the lower parts of its course a good deal overgrown), but it is better suited for the worm, with which a good many may, when the water is in a proper state, be taken. They are, however, of such minute proportions, that we were not tempted to take our rods out of their cases. One pool, from its depth, breadth, and the transparent clearness of its water, offers itself invitingly for a bathe; but few, we suspect, would, with the sea within such easy reach, deliberately prefer fresh water, unless indeed they might be of the same mind as a gentleman whom we met at Invercloy, and who, when the respective merits of sea and fresh-water bathing were under discussion, delivered his opinion in favour of the latter, inasmuch as he was able to clean himself so much more easily in it.

In one or two of the streams on the other side of the island-the Macra burn and Blackwater, for instance-(as might have been suspected from their general character, and the richer nature of the soil through which they flow during the latter portions of their course) the trout are said to run somewhat

near the mouth of the Macra burn, where there is a very promising looking pool close to the foot-bridge; a few seatrout also ascend them, but we fancy that most of them would repay the angler more by the lovely scenery through which they would lead him than by their actual contributions to his basket.

The sea-fishing, too, seems to be generally indifferent. Round the southern shores of the island they get enough fish (of the ordinary kinds) to make it worth their while to go out for pleasure, if not for profit, but off Corrie there is but little to be done in this way. We only tried it, it is true, for a couple of hours one day, but the result was absolutely nil, and the boatmen were too honest to press us to make a second attempt. Trailing a white fly along the shore (from a boat) for whiting pollock, seemed to be there the most successful mode of fishing.

So far as shooting is concerned, the general tourist may leave his gun behind him; for though there is plenty of game on the island, it is strictly preserved, and the only objects which he would probably find to discharge it at would be some useless and unoffending gulls, which he may just as well leave in peace.

Although the weather during the earlier part of the summer had been so cold and ungenial that the swallows evidently considered it was time for them to be off, and were already congregating for their winter migration, yet a favourable change took place, of which we, together with a couple of friends who happened to be domiciled in the neighbourhood, fortunately took advantage, to make a three days' tour of the island, that being sufficient to give a general notion of the coast scenery. As it was perfectly successful, a slight sketch of it (though it is far from our intention to infringe on the handbook department) may not be unacceptable to others, who may be inclined to do likewise.

We chartered a dog-cart for the con

a lift in it ourselves down hill and over good level ground, while we walked the rest. The first morning brought us to Lamlash, where, though crammed, as we expected, into somewhat confined quarters, we luckily escaped both the bathing-machines and the pigsty. This being but a short drive (only ten miles), we took out our leisure afternoon in a visit to and bathe from Holy Island.

Next morning, having been joined by an outlying member of our party, to suit whose convenience we had pulled up at Lamlash, we proceeded to Lag (fifteen miles by the shore road, ten by the hilly one across country), enjoying by the way a delicious bathe just beyond Whiting bay. The inn at Lag, universally well spoken of, appears to be in excellent hands, and its tidiness and the attention of the landlord and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, made us regret that we were obliged to halt for the night further on. But the thing which made the most indelible impression on our minds was the appearance at luncheon-time of a Hebe and a bowl of potatoes. Such a specimen of a Highland Hebe, and such potatoes! The reader may remember, in Landseer's "Bolton Abbey," the figure of a lassie with a dish of fish. Let him picture to himself the former as she there appears, and for the latter substitute a bowl of perfect potatoes-heaped up, ripe, mealy, smoking, bursting through their skins as though they had fairly split their sides with laughing, and he will have some notion of the figure that is graven on our memories.

That evening took us on (about ten miles) to Shedoe, a small and not very interesting inn, whence starting (with no great reluctance) next morning, we, after devoting an hour en route to a visit to King's Cove, going over the hill and returning round it, so as to meet the cart by the shore (a walk of itself worth taking, to say nothing of the Cave), we baited and bathed at Imochair, a small roadside public, seven or eight miles further on, where the slaty rocks afford at low water most perfect

66

and vegetable life. A lovely walk and drive of eight or nine miles brought us to Loch Ranza, where a delay of nearly a couple of hours, in consequence of "some gentlemen" (as we were told, with a stress on the word "gentlemen" as we fancied) having ordered dinner, whilst we had ordered only tea and herrings," gave us plenty of time to inspect the herring-boats, which, it being Saturday, were all drawn up in line, bows to shore, with a tall dark screen of nets, perhaps a quarter of a mile long, stretched before them-a very striking sight. They are fine cheery fellows those herring-fishermen. other day at Corrie a boat came in late, after a coarse wet night, the men having been delayed from their nets getting all "harled up" by a sudden shift of wind, and consequently almost wholly unsuccessful, while other boats, in before them, had done comparatively well. One would have thought that if anything could have soured their temper it would have been this. But not a bit of it. There they were, cracking jokes with their more fortunate friends on shore, describing the mess they had got into, and telling how, while they

were

The

hung up, the herrings were "all in a boil round them, like a gale of wind," just as jolly and good-humoured

as if the luck had been all on their side.

We left Loch Ranza as the sun was setting over the castled bay and its fleet of herring-boats, and in a couple of hours found ourselves back in our snug quarters at the Corrie Inn.

That scant justice has been done in this cursory sketch to the beauties and charms of this lovely island will be felt by those who are acquainted with her, and particularly by those who avail themselves of the varied fields which she opens to the artist, geologist, or botanist; but it is, after all, no slight proof that they must be considerable, when their lotus-like influence induced us to abandon the original purpose of our expedition, and afforded us, desultory "loafers as we were there is no more expressive term-without any definite object of interest before us, such great and continuous enjoyment as we derived from them.

Circumstances obliging me to return a few days afterwards (August 29th) to England, I did so in the hope that it might again be my good fortune to spend as pleasant a three weeks as, having come northwards for sport, I had thus passed without it in Arran.

THERE is a note at page 266 of Mr. Froude's sixth volume which is of more interest to the ethical than even to the historical student; of more interest to the man who has to live and act in the world than to any student.

I have

to the author, will miss some valuable truth which he might teach them, will be in peril of the very error into which they suspect him of falling. Having spoken of the history generally with much admiration, I should not have a clear conscience if I did not express my mind on this passage of it.

The subject of the chapter in which the note occurs is, "The Reconciliation

of the note itself is the part which Sir

near the mouth of the Macra burn, where there is a very promising looking pool close to the foot-bridge; a few seatrout also ascend them, but we fancy that most of them would repay the angler more by the lovely scenery through which they would lead him than by their actual contributions to his basket.

The sea-fishing, too, seems to be generally indifferent. Round the southern shores of the island they get enough fish (of the ordinary kinds) to make it worth their while to go out for pleasure, if not for profit, but off Corrie there is but little to be done in this way. We only tried it, it is true, for a couple of hours one day, but the result was absolutely nil, and the boatmen were too honest to press us to make a second attempt. Trailing a white fly along the shore (from a boat) for whiting pollock, seemed to be there the most successful mode of fishing.

So far as shooting is concerned, the general tourist may leave his gun behind him; for though there is plenty of game on the island, it is strictly preserved, and the only objects which he would probably find to discharge it at would be some useless and unoffending gulls, which he may just as well leave in peace.

Although the weather during the earlier part of the summer had been so cold and ungenial that the swallows evidently considered it was time for them to be off, and were already congregating for their winter migration, yet a favourable change took place, of which we, together with a couple of friends who happened to be domiciled in the neighbourhood, fortunately took advantage, to make a three days' tour of the island, that being sufficient to give a general notion of the coast scenery. As

it was perfectly successful, a slight sketch of it (though it is far from our intention to infringe on the handbook department) may not be unacceptable to others, who may be inclined to do likewise.

We chartered a dog-cart for the con

a lift in it ourselves down hill and over good level ground, while we walked the rest. The first morning brought us to Lamlash, where, though crammed, as we expected, into somewhat confined quarters, we luckily escaped both the bathing-machines and the pigsty. This being but a short drive (only ten miles), we took out our leisure afternoon in a visit to and bathe from Holy Island.

Next morning, having been joined by an outlying member of our party, to suit whose convenience we had pulled up at Lamlash, we proceeded to Lag (fifteen miles by the shore road, ten by the hilly one across country), enjoying by the way a delicious bathe just beyond Whiting bay. The inn at Lag, universally well spoken of, appears to be in excellent hands, and its tidiness and the attention of the landlord and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, made us regret that we were obliged to halt for the night further on. But the thing which made the most indelible impression on our minds was the appearance at luncheon-time of a Hebe and a bowl of potatoes. Such a specimen of a Highland Hebe, and such potatoes! The reader may remember, in Landseer's "Bolton Abbey," the figure of a lassie with a dish of fish. Let him picture to himself the former as she there appears, and for the latter substitute a bowl of perfect potatoes-heaped up, ripe, mealy, smoking, bursting through their skins as though they had fairly split their sides with laughing, and he will have some notion of the figure that is graven on our memories.

That evening took us on (about ten miles) to Shedoe, a small and not very interesting inn, whence starting (with no great reluctance) next morning, we, after devoting an hour en route to a visit to King's Cove, going over the hill and returning round it, so as to meet the cart by the shore (a walk of itself worth taking, to say nothing of the Cave), we baited and bathed at Imochair, a small roadside public, seven or eight miles further on, where the slaty rocks afford at low water most perfect

The

and vegetable life. A lovely walk and drive of eight or nine miles brought us to Loch Ranza, where a delay of nearly a couple of hours, in consequence of 66 some gentlemen" (as we were told, with a stress on the word "gentlemen' as we fancied) having ordered dinner, whilst we "had ordered only tea and herrings," gave us plenty of time to inspect the herring-boats, which, it being Saturday, were all drawn up in line, bows to shore, with a tall dark screen of nets, perhaps a quarter of a mile long, stretched before them-a very striking sight. They are fine cheery fellows those herring-fishermen. other day at Corrie a boat came in late, after a coarse wet night, the men having been delayed from their nets getting all "harled up" by a sudden shift of wind, and consequently almost wholly unsuccessful, while other boats, in before them, had done comparatively well. One would have thought that if anything could have soured their temper it would have been this. But not a bit of it. There they were, cracking jokes with their more fortunate friends on shore, describing the mess they had got into, and telling how, while they were hung up, the herrings were "all in a boil round them, like a gale of wind," just as jolly and good-humoured

as if the luck had been all on their side.

We left Loch Ranza as the sun was setting over the castled bay and its fleet of herring-boats, and in a couple of hours found ourselves back in our snug quarters at the Corrie Inn.

That scant justice has been done in this cursory sketch to the beauties and charms of this lovely island will be felt by those who are acquainted with her, and particularly by those who avail themselves of the varied fields which she opens to the artist, geologist, or botanist; but it is, after all, no slight proof that they must be considerable, when their lotus-like influence induced us to abandon the original purpose of our expedition, and afforded us, desultory "loafers' as we were there is no more expressive term-without any definite object of interest before us, such great and continuous enjoyment as we derived from them.

Circumstances obliging me to return a few days afterwards (August 29th) to England, I did so in the hope that it might again be my good fortune to spend as pleasant a three weeks as, having come northwards for sport, I had thus passed without it in Arran.

THERE is a note at page 266 of Mr. Froude's sixth volume which is of more interest to the ethical than even to the historical student; of more interest to the man who has to live and act in the world than to any student. I have heard severe comments upon it. I think it may lead those who adopt its sentiments, without weighing them, to dangerous conclusions and to an unsound practice. I think those who simply reject the doctrine of it as false and immoral will be guilty of great injustice

to the author, will miss some valuable truth which he might teach them, will be in peril of the very error into which they suspect him of falling. Having spoken of the history generally with much admiration, I should not have a clear conscience if I did not express my mind on this passage of it.

The subject of the chapter in which the note occurs is, "The Reconciliation of England with Rome." The occasion of the note itself is the part which Sir William Cecil took in that transaction.