us, blowing a cornet,--and just beyond was the new bridge over the Doon,
a short distance below the old one, which is well preserved and
profusely decorated with the initials of many visitors. Along the bank
of "bonny Doon" lies a little garden, on the corner of which is
situated a house where liquor is sold, if I mistake not. It was before
this house that I saw the musician already mentioned. As I came up from
the old "brig o' Doon," I saw and heard a man playing a violin near the
monument. When I went down the road toward the new bridge and looked
over into the garden, I saw a couple of persons executing a cake-walk,
and an old man with one leg off was in the cemetery that surrounds the
ruined church, reciting selections from Burns. Such is the picture I
beheld when I visited this Ayrshire monument, raised in memory of the
sympathetic but unfortunate Scottish poet, whose "spark o' nature's
fire" has touched so many hearts that his birth-place has more visitors
per annum than Shakespeare's has.

On the following day I had a pleasant boat-ride up Loch (Lake) Long,
followed by a merry coach-ride across to the "bonny, bonny banks of Loch
Lomond," which is celebrated in song and story. It is twenty-two miles
in length and from three-quarters of a mile to five miles wide, and is
called the "Queen of Scottish lakes." Ben Lomond, a mountain rising to a
height of more than three thousand feet, stands on the shore, and it is
said that Robert Bruce, the hero of Bannockburn, once hid himself in a
cave in this mountain. A pleasant boat-ride down the lake brought me
back to Glasgow in time to attend a meeting of the brethren in Coplaw
Street that night.

Leaving my true friends who had so kindly entertained me in Glasgow, I
proceeded to Edinburgh, the city where Robert Burns came into
prominence. In the large Waverley Station a stranger, who knew of my