We now turned aside, from the middle of the Forth, into a very narrow channel formed by immense banks of mud, at low water uncovered. It was high water when we passed; the channel, we observed, was marked out by large poles. By these our helmsman soon directed us to Grangemouth.

Here, having paid the reasonable fare of three shillings, we all landed. Grangemouth is merely a collection of warehouses, and devoid of all interest. A noddy was standing by our landing-place, to carry passengers and luggage to lock sixteen, where the Glasgow canal-boat stops; but, perceiving a great number of passengers and boxes crammed into such a miserable machine, and being aware that the road lay close to the canal, Í made no hesitation of giving the preference to walking. The Union Canal extends to Grangemouth; but, as there are no less than sixteen locks between this place and lock sixteen, the expense of passing through so many locks prevents the boats from coming any nearer to Grangemouth.

Immediately after having seen my luggage safely placed in the noddy, I proceeded onwards with my two companions, whom I had almost omitted to mention. The walk was very acceptable and refreshing. The country had much the appearance of English, and was once the theatre of great bloodshed. Falkirk lay before us the whole way; want of time, however, prevented us from visiting it. We reached lock sixteen a little before the arrival of the boat, and amused ourselves by observing a number of country people, who, waiting like ourselves, had seated themselves upon a bank; their high cheek bones and lowland caps were strikingly different from the healthy, plump cheeks and rounded hats of English rustics.

In a few minutes we heard a horn, and, turning round, beheld the boat scudding swiftly towards us. Five minutes only were allowed for debarkation and embarkation. Fresh horses being harnessed to the towing-rope, we were presently gliding along at an easy pace.

"Sleek, well-fed steeds our steady vessel drew: The heavens were fair, and Mirth was of our crew.

Along the smooth canal's unbending line,
Beguiling time with light discourse, we went,
Nor wanting savoury food nor generous wine."

SOUTHEY.

The vessel was fitted up very comfortably, and even elegantly. In the cabin I found a small collection of books; among which were the Spectator, Monk Lewis's Tales, and several odd numbers of the Monthly Review.

When we had proceeded some few miles, the Kelvin, and other hills, bounding our view on either side, and a chilly wind arising, we all retired to the cabin. Here a little fat clergyman, of the kirk of Scotland, was desirous of making himself very conspicuous. Apparently considering himself a superior draught player, he engaged with a taciturn American, sitting near him. Here, however, fortune entirely forsook him, and having lost six games, he resigned the palm of victory. He then changed his key, by introducing very injudiciously, in so mixed a company, a conversation upon agriculture, taxes, and politics; in which he had an opportunity of abusing ministers, and letting us know of his acquaintance with this nobleman and that nobleman, as well as divers lairds innumerable.

As the shades of evening advanced, after a most grand and uncommon sunset, where, through a cavity in a black cloud, gushed an immense and distinct beam of gold, we reached Port Dundas.

"Beside the busy wharf the 'vessel' rides,

With painted plumes, and tent-like awning gay;
Carts, barrows, coaches, hurry from all sides,
And passengers and porters throng the way,
Contending all at once in clamorous speech,
Scotch, Gaelic, English, each confusing each.'"

Having delivered our luggage to the porter, we followed after him towards Glasgow, which is about a mile from Port Dundas. This porter possessed much of Sawney's characteristics. To our inquiries concerning the various sects in the place, his answers

*The term Sawney is used in Scotland similarly to John Bull in England.

were evidently given under the suspicion, that we might belong to the sect in point; and we could not but admire his polite liberality towards all parties, although he professed to be himself a presbyterian. Under his guidance we were not long in finding the Bull Inn, where we gladly rested for the present.

The approach to Glasgow is not so striking to a stranger as that to Edinburgh. Glasgow standing upon comparatively level ground, and surrounded by a richer country, is devoid of the abruptness and boldness which characterizes and gives such an indescribable interest to every view of Edinburgh. Besides this, the contrast between the different parts of the former is much less marked than in the latter, for I could nowhere discern any thing equal to the elegant regularity and cleanliness of the New, or to the clumsy irregularity and the disgusting filth of the Old Town of Edinburgh. Glasgow, however, is a fine city, and in the number of its inhabitants is inferior to London alone, although the magnitude of the place would seem to invalidate the statement. To account for this apparent incongruity, we have to consider the number of families dwelling in one house, which I suppose is, on an average, at least five or six; the houses being lofty, and a family scarcely ever occupying more than two flats or floors, and but seldom more than one.

Entering at the north-western extremity, our guide conducted us up the Trongate, the principal street, which on account of its extent, width, and straightness, as well as its buildings, would, among the streets of London, hold a distinguished rank. The surrounding bustle appeared to me, after spending five months in a town of so little real business as Edinburgh, very considerable, and was peculiarly grateful to my feelings, as bearing some faint resemblance to the well-known bustle of London. At a distance from home nothing can be more agreeable than meeting with objects and sounds resembling those which have there been familiar to us.

The next morning I employed wholly in exploring the city. I first took a turn into the college, au ancient and venerable building, formed of several courts, including the houses of the professors, as well as the

Hunterian Museum. Behind these are extensive gardens with gravel walks, shaded by lofty trees, until lately open to the students, but during the last session they have been entirely enclosed. In these gardens the skirmish between Osbaldistone and Rashleigh is represented to have taken place, and from this circumstance they are now viewed with as much interest as a spot noted in history for some great event. In external appearance the museum is much more elegant and modern than the rest of the college. The whole building, although it has an air of respectability, is not to be compared with Edinburgh College, either in respect to its architecture or magnificence; as the latter, when finished, will be the grandest in Scotland. All the students here wear red gowns, an incumbrance with which the Edinburgh students are not burdened. Some pride themselves on the antiquity and raggedness of their cloaks, intending that the unwary should judge of the length of their attendance at college by the age of their garbs. The chief utility of cloaks, a student informed me, consisted in covering the tatters of an old coat.

Having met with Mr. K. an English friend of mine, studying at the college, who kindly proffered to officiate as my cicerone, we directed our steps towards the Clyde, whose name the popular song of "Sweet Kitty of the Clyde," had rendered familiar to me almost from my infancy. I was much surprised to find so wide and fine a river not more than two or three feet deep in most parts. We crossed over it by the new and most westerly bridge, in our way to the old one, our curiosity drawing us to it, as the scene where Rob Roy held an interview with Ósbaldistone. It has no great architectural beauty about it, being a massy cumbrous pile. On the northern side of the river are two elegant modern gothic chapels, one belonging to the Episcopalians, and the other to the Roman Catholics, the expense of building which was defrayed by penny subscriptions! Beyond "Rob Roy's Bridge," as it is now designated, we crossed another of wood, placed solely for the accommodation of foot passengers. This brought us to the prison, not however the one mentioned in the novel, which has been taken down, but a structure of late erection, built of stone, and a considerable ornament

to this part of the town, being in an open space before the green; though its proximity to the water renders the situation unhealthy for its wretched inhabitants.

During my stay in Glasgow the sessions were held here; the sight of soldiers guarding the prison and court of justice, appeared strange in the eyes of an Englishman. Mr. Jeffray, the celebrated editor of the Edinburgh Review, and an eloquent Scotch advocate, meeting at the preceding sessions with some interruption from one of these guards, who was not aware of Mr. J.'s profession, stopped the proceedings in court, and in a most appropriate manner condemned this illegal mode of protecting a court of justice by the introduction of the military.

It might be supposed that the Scotch hold Lord Nelson in high estimation, if we were to judge from the monuments which have been raised to his memory. On the Calton Hill, in Edinburgh, is a fine lofty stone tower, called Nelson's monument, and in the middle of the extensive green before Glasgow gaol, has been reared an obelisk for the same purpose, disfigured much by the shattered state of its point, which was struck by lightning, not long after it had been finished. Leaving the prison, we next walked through the Saltmarket, the oldest street in the town, once the residence of many noblemen, but now of a set more filthy than the inhabitants of the parish of St. Giles's. With all its dirt, however, it cannot be deemed so bad as the Cannongate, Bow, and Cowgate, in Edinburgh, formerly the residence of the Scotch court. This alteration is certainly in favour of the Scotch, and clearly evinces that they have of late made rapid strides towards perfection; indeed they, if any thing, are now running into the opposite extreme, and becoming affectedly fastidious. In the wall of a house in the Saltmarket, is a stone with a short inscription, informing the reader of a flood of the Clyde, which rose some years ago six or seven feet above the pavement.

As we were now approaching the college, I again parted with Mr. K., and joined my Edinburgh friend, Mr. G., who invited me to accompany him on a visit to an old acquaintance of his at Port Glasgow. Tempted by the opportunity I should thus enjoy of seeing some