the end, and only one horse,--very like a Yankee cab.

Glasgow, as every one knows, is one of the greatest manufacturing
cities in the world. Before we arrived, we were astonished at the
great fires from the iron works in the environs; and, as the streets
were well lighted, our eyes were dazzled and delighted with the
whole scene, and we were so pleased with the comfort of our noddy,
that we did not at first feel troubled at the fact that neither our
driver nor we knew where Dr. Nichol's house was. Presently we found
ourselves left in the middle of the street, and saw our noddy man,
in a shop as bright as day, poring over a directory. All he could
learn was what we had already told him, and so on he went, not
knowing whether right or wrong, giving us a fine opportunity of
seeing the city in the evening. At last, he came to the bridge over
the Clyde, and there the tollman directed us to the Observatory.

After a long drive, evidently over not a very good road, the driver
stopped, and told us that here was Dr. Nichol's house. He began to
take off our luggage. We insisted upon his inquiring, first, if that
was Dr. Nichol's. He took off our trunk, and would have us go in; we
resisted; and after a while he rang the bell, and the answer was,
"Dr. Nichol lives in the next house." Still higher we had to climb,
and at last stopped at the veritable Observatory, where our friend,
who was expecting us, lived. Nothing could exceed the hospitality
with which we were received.

Early, one misty, smoky morning, I embarked in one of the famous
little Clyde steamers, and set out on a Highland tour. I had heard
of old Scotia's barren hills, clothed with the purple heather and
the yellow gorse, of her deep glens, of her romantic streams; but