BANFF

FISHER-BOATS HAULED UP NEAR BUCKIE.

It was at Buckie that J—— made several of the best sketches in the lost sketch-book in the evening as we watched the boats sail silently out from the harbor. The sun had just set. The red light of the after-glow shone upon the water. Against it, here and there, the brown sails stood out in strong relief. Other boats lay at anchor in the cool gray of the harbor.

In the morning we made a new start on foot. Now and then, for a short distance, the road went inland across treeless, cultivated country; but the greater part of the time it lay near the sea, and kept wandering in and out of little fishing villages, in each of which the lost sketch-book came into play. They were all much alike; there was usually the harbor, where the fishing-boats were moored, some with brown sails hung out to dry and flapping slowly in the breeze; others with long lines of floats stretched from mast to mast; and as it was not only low tide but near the end of the fishing season, all were drawn up in picturesque masses in the foreground, the light of sea and sky bright and glittering behind them. Carts full of nets, men and women with huge bundles of them on their backs, were always on their way either up or down the hill at whose foot the village nestled; or on the level at its top the nets were spread like great snares, not for birds, but for any one who tried to walk across them. Boxes and barrels of salted fishwere piled along the street. In the air was the strong smell of herrings. In every village new houses were being or had just been built, but the soft gray smoke hovering above the roofs toned down their aggressive newness. In their midst was the plain white kirk.

The only castle I drew.

There were so many villages that we could not complain of monotony; and then sometimes, on the stretch of beach beyond, dismantled boats in various stages of decline were pulled up out of reach of the tide. Sometimes on the near links men were playing golf. Once we passed three, each putting his little white ball on a bit of turf. They were very serious about it. "Now to business," we heard one say as we went by. But it grew very hot towards noon, and in the heat our first enthusiasm melted. WhenCullen came in sight we were again declaring that nothing would induce us to walk another step.

NEAR CULLEN.

However, a hearty lunch changed our minds.The truth is, we hated to give in. Though we were quite certain we would never tramp again, we were unwilling to confess our one walk a failure. At the hotel we were told that the road to Banff, our next stopping-place, kept inland, but the landlady thought that to the nearest village at least there was a path by the shore. A man on the outskirts of the town tried to dissuade us from going that way; there was such a brae to be climbed, he said. But there seemed no doubt about the path. When we persisted, he walked back with us to direct us the better, J—— talking to him about the brae as if he had never heard of a hill in his life, the man describing the difficulties before us as if ours was an Alpine expedition. The hill was steep enough. At the top there was no path, but instead a field of tall prickly furze, through which we waded. Oh, the misery of that five minutes' walk! At every step we were stung and pricked by hundreds of points sharper than needles. And after that we skirted wheat and turnip fields, because when we tried to cross them, as we were not sportsmen, there was some one near at hand to stop us. We went up and down ravines, and picked our way through tall grass at the very edge of sheer cliffs. The afternoon was hotter than the morning hadbeen. A warm haze hung over the level stretch of country and the distant hills. The sky seemed to have fallen down upon the sea; there was not a line to mark where it met the water. The few brown-sailed boats looked as if they were forcing their way between, holding up the heavens on their masts.

BIT OF MACDUFF.

In one place, on a high rock jutting out into the sea, was a low broken wall of rough masonry, all that is left of Findlater Castle.

There was no use in trying to keep up any longer. Our backs ached, our shoulders were cut; we were hot, dusty, exhausted, and, in a word, at the end of our physical and moral forces. This scramble on the cliffs ended our walking tour.

At Sandend we took the train for Banff; but first we went down to the shore; for Sandend was a picturesque little village, with all its gables turned towards the sea, big black boats on the beach, rocks beyond, and a pretty blue bay of its own. Three artists had left their easels to eat buns out of a brown-paper bag and drink beer out of bottles, under the shade of one of the boats. J——, having already learned the exclusiveness of British artists, took out his sketch-book at a safe distance. He only spoke to them to ask the way to the station. He did not dare to talk about work.

A little farther on we again asked the way, this time of a girl hanging up clothes. J——'s questions and her answers were typical of many conversations, bad for one's temper, that we held on the east coast.

"Where is the railway-station?"

"What station?"

"Where the train comes in."

"There;" and she pointed to a house beyond the village.

"How do you get there?"

"By the road."

"Can you go up by the hill?"

"Yes."

"Which is better?"

"I don't know."

"Which is shorter?"

"Up the hill."

We started up the hill, but there was no path. "There is no path," we said to her.

"No, there's no path."

We came to

late in the afternoon, just as the fishing-boats were putting out to sea, one beyond another on the gray water, the farthest but faint specks on the horizon. The best thing about Banff is that in fifteen or twenty minutes you can be out of it and in Macduff. The shore here makes a great curve. On one point is Banff, on the other Macduff; half-way between, a many-arched bridge spans the river Deveron, and close by the big house of the Earl of Fife shows through the trees of his park. High on the hill of Macduff stands the white kirk; it overlooks the town, with its many rows of fishermen's houses, and the harbor, where the black masts rise far above the gray walls, and the fishermen spread out their nets to dry, and the dark-sailed boats are always coming and going, and boys paddle in the twilight. And if you go to the far end of the harbor, where the light-house is, you look to the spires and chimneys and roofs of Banff climbing up their hill-side, and beyond to a shadowy point of land like a pale gray cloud-bank on the water.

It was easy to see what they thought of us atthe Fife Arms, where we stayed in Banff. We were given our breakfast with the nurse and children of an A. R. A., while the great man breakfasted in state in a near dining-room. They ate very like ordinary children, but their clothes showed them to be little boys and girls of æsthetic distinction. I fear, however, we were not properly impressed.

NEAR BANFF.

There was no doubt that now our walking wasall done. We asked about the stage for Fraserburgh, as if staging with us was a matter of course. It was a relief not to begin the day by strapping heavy knapsacks to our backs. The hours of waiting were spent partly in strolling through the streets of Banff, where here and there is an old gray house with pretty turret at its corner, or quaint old inscription with coat of arms or figures let into its walls; partly in sitting on the beach looking out on a hot blue sea.

But hot as it was in the morning, a sharp, cold wind was blowing when, at three o'clock, we took our seats in the little old-fashioned stage that runs between Banff and Fraserburgh. Stage and coachman and passengers seemed like a page out of Dickens transposed to Scotland. Inside was a very small boy, put there by a fat woman in black, and left, with many exhortations and a couple of buns, to make the journey alone; opposite to him sat a melancholy man who saw but ruin staring in the face of farmers and fishermen alike. At every corner in Banff and Macduff we stopped for more passengers, until the stage, elastic as it seemed, was full to overflowing, and we took refuge on the top. Here the seats were crowded with men, their heads tied up in scarfs. The coachman was carrier as well, and at different points in the open country women and children waited by the road to give him, or to take from him, bundles>and boxes and letters. He was the typical cheery carrier. He had a word for everybody, even for a young man who dropped his wheelbarrow to flap his arms and greet us with a vacant smile. He was a puir thing, the driver explained, who went wrong only four years ago. He was the third we had seen in two days.

BANFF, FROM MACDUFF.

Many of the carrier's jokes we lost. A commercialtraveller, who sat next to us, supposed we could not understand some of the expressions hereabouts. He might better have said we could not understand the language. We could make out enough, however, to find that one joke went a long way. A man in the front seat, trying to light his pipe in the wind, set off the whole box of matches. "That's extravagance," said the carrier; and when another box was handed to the man, he told him that these were safety matches—it took only one to light a pipe; and this he kept saying over and over again, with many chuckles, for the next half-hour. We had a specimen, too, of Scotch humor. At one stopping-place the commercial traveller got down and went into the public-house. A family party scrambled up and filled every seat, his with the rest. J—— remonstrated; but the man of the party answered that he paid his money for a seat as well as anybody else. "An empty seat's naebody's seat," he argued, and carrier and passengers roared at his fun.

The country was dreary, for all its cultivation. The fields were without tree or hedge to break their monotony. The villages were full of new houses. There was nothing striking or picturesque until we came within sight of Fraserburgh. Far across a level stretch we first saw it, its spires rising high above gray and red roofs. The near meadows were dark with fishing-nets; in places fishermen were at work spreading them over the grass; and we began to pass carts heavily laden with their brown masses, and men and women bent under the same burdens.

We walked out after supper. Rain was falling, and the evening was growing dark. Down by the harbor carts were still going and coming; men were still busy with their nets. Along the quay was a succession of basins, and these opened into others beyond. All were crowded with boats, and their thickly clustered masts seemed, in the gathering shadows, like a forest of branchless, leafless trees. One by one lights were hung out. On the town side of the quay, in crypt-like rooms and under low sheds, torches flamed and flared against a background of darkness. Their strong light fell upon women clothed in strange stuffs that glistened and glittered, their heads bound with white cloths. They were bending over shiny, ever-shifting masses piled at their feet, and chanting a wildGaelic song that rose and fell with the wailing of all savage music. As we first saw them, from a distance, they might have been so many sorceresses at their magic rites. When we drew near we found that they were but the fish-curers' gutters and packers at work. Thanks to Cable and Lafcadio Hearn, we know something of the songs of work at home; but who in England cares about the singing in these fishing towns—singing which is only wilder and weirder than that of the cotton pressers of Louisiana? To the English literary man, however—the Charles Reades are the exceptions—I fear the gutters would be but nasty, dirty fisher persons. Now and then groups of these women passed us, walking with long strides, their arms swinging, and their short skirts and white-bound heads shining through the sombre streets. Over the town was the glow of the many fires.

FRASERBURGH.

In the morning there was less mystery, but notless picturesqueness. We were up in time to go to the harbor with the fishermen's wives, and watch the boats come in. Everything was fresh after a night of rain. It was still early, and the sun sent a path of gold across the sea just where the boats turned on their last tack homeward. Each brown sail was set in bold relief against the shining east, and then slowly lowered, as the fishermen with their long poles pushed the boats into the already crowded harbor. At once nets were emptied ofthe fish, which lay gleaming like silver through the brown meshes. Women and boys came to fill baskets with the fresh herrings; carts were loaded with them. In other boats men were hanging up their floats and shaking out their nets. The water was rich with the many black and brown reflections, only brightened here and there by lines of blue or purple or white from the distinguishing rings of color on each mast. There was a never-ending stream of men and carts passing along the quay. Many fishermen with their bags were on their way to the station, for the fishing season was almost over. So they said. But when one thousand boats came in, and twenty thousand fisher-folk were that day in Fraserburgh, to us it looked little like the end. In all this busy place we heard no English. Only Gaelic was spoken, as if we were once more in the Western Islands.

It was the same in the streets. The day's work in the curing-houses was just about to begin. Girls and women in groups of threes and fours were walking towards them. In the morning light we could see that the greater number were young. All were neat and clean, with hair carefully parted and well brushed, little shawls over their shoulders, but nothing on their heads. They carried their working clothes under their arms, and kept knitting as they walked. Like the men, they all talked Gaelic.

IN THE HARBOR, FRASERBURGH.

When they got to work, we found that those strange stuffs which had glistened in the torch-light were aprons and bibs smeared with scales and slime, that the white head-dresses were worn only for cleanliness, that the shining masses at their feet were but piles of herring. I have never seen women work so hard or so fast. Their arms, as they seized the fish, gutted them, and threw them in the buckets, moved with the regularity and the speed of machines. Indeed, there could not be a busier place than Fraserburgh. All day long the boats kept coming in, nets were emptied, fish carted away. The harbor, the streets, the fields beyond where nets were taken to dry, the curing-houses, were alike scenes of industry. If the women put down their knives, it was only to take up their knitting. And yet these men and women, working incessantly by day and by night, were almost all Western Islanders—the people who, we are told, are so slovenly and so lazy! No one who comes with them to the east coast for the fishing season will ever again believe in the oft-repeated lies about their idleness.

There were no signs of rest until Saturday evening. Then no boats went out, and the harbor and curing-houses were deserted. The streets were full of men and women walking about for pleasure. The greatest crowd was in the market-place, where a few "cheap Jacks" drove their trade. Two,who dealt in china, as if to make up for their poor patter, threw cups and saucers recklessly into the air, breaking them with great clatter, while the women and girls they had attracted stood by and bought nothing.

The fishermen had gathered about a third, who sold cheap and tawdry ornaments, but who could patter. When we first came near he was holding up six imitation gold watch-chains, and offering the buyers prizes into the bargain. "O ye men of little faith!"—shaking his fist at them—"can't any of you favor me with a shillin'? You don't want 'em, gen'lemen? Then there'll be smashin' of teeth and tearin' of hair. Glory! glory hallylujah!" All this, I regret to say, was interspersed with stories that do not bear repetition. But he sold his watch-chains without trouble. "And now, gen'lemen, for any of you that wants to take home a present to your wife and chil'ren, here's an album. It'd adorn a nobleman's mansion, and wouldn't disgrace a fisherman's cottage. It's bound in moroccer and stamped with gold, and'll hold many pictures. I'll only sell half a dozen, and it's the very thing you wants. You'll have one? Well, sir, I can't reach you, but these gen'lemen'll pass it along."

And then he began again with the stories and the Scripture until he had sold out all his stock of albums and note-books and cheap jewellery.

GUTTERS AT WORK, FRASERBURGH.

It was the hint about presents to those left behind which bore greatest weight with the fishermen. It never failed. But we remembered their cottages and the sadness of their homes, and it angered us that they should be duped into wasting their hard-won earnings on tawdry ornaments. It seems to be their fate to be cheated by every one. Even the peddler, like the parson and the landlord, can pervert Scripture to their discomfort.

Still, there was a pleasant suggestion of holiday-making in the square. It was the first time we had seen the Western Islanders amusing themselves. True, they did it very solemnly. There was little laughter and much silence; but at least a touch of brightness was given to the gloom of their long life of work and want.

Even on Sunday we thought the people more cheerful. In the morning the women, the little shawls over their shoulders, their heads still bare, the men in blue cloth, many without coats, again filled the streets on their way to church. In the afternoon we walked to two near fishing villages. In one an old fisherman was talking about Christ to a few villagers. We sat a while close to the sea, looking out to the next village, gray against gray gold-lined clouds, to the water with the light falling softly across it, to the little quiet pools in among the low rocks of the shore, to the big black boats drawn up on the beach. And then, as wewalked back to Fraserburgh, the mist fell suddenly. But the road near the town was crowded with the men in blue cloth and the women in short skirts. Some were singing hymns as they walked. To us they looked strong and healthy, and even happy. It seemed as if this life on the east coast must make up for many of the hardships they endure in the deserts of their western home.

That same evening in the hotel we heard about life in Fraserburgh, which looks so prosperous to the stranger. A Catholic priest came into the dining-room after supper. He seemed very tired. He had been visiting the sick all day, he told us. Measles had broken out among the women and girls from the Hebrides. Many had already died; more had been carried to the hospital. The rooms provided for them by the curers were small and overcrowded. So long as they were kept in their present quarters, so long would disease and death be their portion. Their condition was dreadful; but they worked hard, and never complained. He came from the west coast of Ireland, he said, where Irish poverty is at its worst, but not even there had he seen misery as great as that of the Western Islanders. He knew it well. He had lived with them in the Long Island, where many are Catholics. If the Highlands were represented by eighty-five members, all wanting Home Rule, more would have been heard about destitution in the Hebrides.In the prosperous days of the east coast fisheries the people's burden had been less heavy; but now they came to the fishing towns of the east, the women to sicken and to die, the men to beg their way back as best they could. There were too many fishermen here, just as at home landlords thought there were too many crofters.

COMING HOME FROM THE FISHERIES, FRASERBURGH.

The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that cast angle shall lament, and they that spread nets upon the waters shall languish.

The epidemic and its causes became the town talk. The Gaelic Free Kirk minister, differ as he might from the Catholic priest on every other point, on this could but agree with him. He told us the same story in words as strong. It was shameful, he said, the way these poor girls were being killed. He had not known it before; but now that he did, he could not and would not let the matter rest. An indignation meeting of the people of Fraserburgh was called for the day we left. The town was placarded with the notices. Since then the report must have gone abroad. Now that agitation in Lewis is forcing attention to the islands and their people, in London there has been formed a committee ofladiesto look into the condition of the girls and women who work on the east coast.

That last morning, as we stood by the hotel door, the funeral of one of the dead women passed upthe street towards the station. Fifty or sixty fishermen followed the coffin. When we took our seats in a third-class carriage we found the Free Kirk minister there before us. The coffin had just been put on the train. Two girls came up to speak to him. He stretched out his hand; one took and held it as she struggled to answer his questions; the other turned away with the tears streaming down her face. As the train started they stood apart, their heads bent low, their faces buried in their shawls, both crying as if their hearts would break. And so, at the last, we saw only the sadness of Fraserburgh.

We had intended going to Peterhead and the smaller fishing towns by the way; but our energy was less inexhaustible than the picturesqueness of the east coast. Our journey had been over-long. We were beginning to be anxious to bring it to an end. Now we went straight to

where we at once fell back into ordinary city life. We even did a little shopping in its fine new streets. Its large harbor seemed empty after that of Fraserburgh. Many fishing-boats were at sea; many had gone altogether. The fishing season here was really well over. We walked to the old town after dinner. In it there is not much to be seen but the university tower with the famouscrown atop, and the cathedral, which looked massive and impressive in the twilight. We saw much more of Aberdeen; but we are quite of the same mind as Dr. Johnson, that to write of such well-known cities "with the solemnity of geographical description, as if we had been cast upon a newly discovered coast, has the appearance of a very frivolous ostentation."

ENTRANCE TO THE HARBOR AT MONTROSE.

From Aberdeen to Edinburgh we trained it by easy stages. We stopped often; once at

where, like Dr. Johnson, and for that matter, every one else who comes here, we looked to the Grampian Hills in the distance. The town itself was not picturesque. The guide-book calls it neat and Flemish, probably because it has fewer houses with high gables turned towards the street than can be seen, as a rule, in any Scotch town. But the harbor, of which the guide-book says less, was fine. We spent hours near the mouth of the river, looking over to the fishermen's houses on the opposite shore. There were constant showers as we sat there; every few minutes the sun came out from the clouds, and the wet roofs glistened and glittered through the smoke hanging above them. In the morning, women, packed like herrings in the huge ferry-boats, crossed over to the curing-houses. Now and then a fishing-boat sailed slowly in.

One sees little from the cars. Of the country through which we passed I remember only occasional glimpses of the sea and of fishing villages and of red castles, which made us wish we were still on the road. Now and then, as we sat comfortably in the railway-carriage, we determined to walk back to see them, or to get a tricycle at Edinburgh and "do" the whole east coast over again; but we always left our determinations with the carriage. Of all the places at which we stopped, I remember best

the sight of which seemed worth his whole journey to Dr. Johnson. Little is left of the abbey save the broken walls and towers. A street runs through the old gate-house. The public park and children's play-ground lie to one side of the ruined church. A few old tombs and tablets and bits of ornament have been gathered together in the sacristy, which is in better preservation than the rest of the building. We found them less interesting than the guide who explained them. He gave a poetical touch to the usual verger recitation, and indeed to all his talk, of which there was plenty. 'Twas better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, was his manner of expressing regret for the loss of an old engraving of the abbey. There were many hard things in this world, but grass was soft; why, then, should I choose thehard things? was his way of inviting me to walk on the grass instead of the gravel. But it was not until he showed us the original copy, full of blots and corrections, of one of Burns's poems that we found he too was a poet—a successful poet, it seemed, for he had sold 14,000 copies of his volume of poems—very few, he thought. If he were a member of the London Society of Authors he would know better. He had given the last copy to William Morris, when the latter was in the town. William Morris did not wear gaudy clothes, not he. He looked like a sailor in his blue flannel shirt, and there was a slit in his hat. And when he returned to London he sent his "Jason" to his fellow-poet in Arbroath.

As we were leaving, he told us how, one day, two ladies had driven up to the abbey, looked at nothing, but at once asked him to recite his "Abbey Gate." He did so, and then, without a word, they slipped a guinea into his hand, and there were tears on their cheeks. He never knew who they were. After this, we felt our tribute to be very small; but he clasped our hands warmly at parting. There was something out of the common in our faces, he said.

We talked to no one else in Arbroath, except to a pessimistic stationer. While we bought his paper he grumbled because farmers could not sell their cattle and corn. Some people said the country needed protection; "but, sir, what have we got to protect?"

Of the rest of the journey to Edinburgh my note-book says nothing, and little remains in my memory. But I know that when we walked up from the station to Waverley Bridge, and looked to the gray precipice of houses of the Old Town, we realized that our long wanderings had not shown us anything so fine.

And now our journey was at an end. Like Dr. Johnson's, it began and finished in Edinburgh, but it resembled his in little else. From the start, we continually took liberties with his route; we often forgot that he was our guide. We went to places he had never seen; we turned our backs upon many through which he and Boswell had travelled. But at least he had helped us to form definite plans without weeks of hard map-study which they otherwise must have cost us.

We had come back wiser in many ways. In the first place, we had learned that for us walking on a tour of this kind, or indeed of any kind, is a mistake. Had we never cycled, perhaps we might not have felt this so keenly. Our powers of endurance are not, I think, below the average; but the power to endure so many miles a day on foot is very different from the capacity to enjoy them; and if on such a trip one proposes, as we did, to work, without pleasure in the exercise, how canone hope for good results? But for the two days' coaching on the west coast, the necessary steaming among the islands, our utter collapse on the east coast, I am sure we never should have worked at all. Day after day we were dispirited, disheartened, and only happy when we were not walking. We went to bed in the evening and got up in the morning wearied and exhausted. The usual walking tours of which one hears mean a day's climbing in the mountains, or a day's tramp with bag or knapsack sent before by train or stage. Under these conditions we probably would not be the first to give in. But to be as independent as if on a tricycle, to have one's sketching traps when needed, one must carry a knapsack one's self. J——'s weighed between twenty-five and thirty pounds; mine, fifteen. Never before have I appreciated so well the true significance of Christian's burden. But even worse than this constant strain on our shoulders was the monotony of our pace. Whether the road was good or bad, level or hilly, there was no change, no relief. In cycling, for one hard day's work you know you will have two of pleasure. As for short-cuts, they are, as a rule, out of the question. One does not know the country through which one is passing; it is the exception to meet a native. After cycling more thousands of miles than we have walked hundreds, we know it to be not mere theorizing when we declare thatno comparison between the two methods of travelling is possible. One is just enough work to make the pleasure greater; the other is all work.

RUINS AT ARBROATH.

Our experience has taught us to be sceptical about the tramps of other days who saw Europe afoot. We wonder if they told the whole story. Of modern tramps, none has given such a delightful record as has Mr. Stevenson of the walk he took with a donkey through the Cevennes. And yet, even with him, if you read between his lines, or, for that matter, the lines themselves, you realize that, charming as his story is for us, the reality for him was wearisome, depressing, and often painful, and that probably to it is to be referred much of his after physical weakness. We have also had a new light thrown upon the life of tramps at home, who are so often supposed to have chosen the better part. Theirs is as much a life of toil as if they broke stones on the same roads over which they journey. They are not to be envied, but pitied. The next time one begs from you as he passes, give him something out of your charity; he deserves it.

However, many drawbacks as there were to our walk, we do not regret it. In no other way could we have come to know the country and the people with the same friendly intimacy. For pure enjoyment, it would be best to go over the greater part of our route in a yacht. From it is to be seenmuch beauty and little misery. The coast-line can be followed, excursions made inland. But a yacht is a luxury for the rich. Besides, on it one lives one's own life, not that of the country one has come to visit. On foot, with knapsacks on our backs, we often passed for peddlers. Certainly we were never mistaken to be tourists of means or sportsmen. Therefore the people met us as equals and talked to us freely.

We were able to correct the vague and false impressions with which we had started. If we did not master the geography of all Scotland, I think—at least on the two coasts as far north as the Caledonian Canal—we could now pass an examination with credit. We learned that haggis and oatmeal figure more extensively in books than on hotel tables; the first we saw not at all, the second but twice, and then it was not offered to us.

Above all, we learned the burden of Scotland, whose Highlands have been laid waste, their people brought to silence. But now the people themselves have broken their long silence, and a cry has gone up from them against their oppressors. If by telling exactly what we saw we can in the least strengthen that cry, we shall feel that our journeying has not been in vain.

THE END.

[A]See note at the end of Preface.

[B]Even while we revise this Preface more news comes from the Island of Lewis. On Lady Matheson's estates rents have been reduced 42 and 53 per cent., and arrears cancelled 84 and 91 per cent. This is from theTimesof December 20th:"Crofters' Rents.—The Crofter Commission yesterday issued their first decisions in relation to Lady Matheson's property in the Island of Lewis, the centre of the land agitation last winter. They have granted an average reduction of 42 per cent. on the rental of 150 crofter tenants in the parish of Barvas, on the west side of Lewis. The arrears of rent due, which was a striking feature in Lewis, have been cancelled to the extent of 84 per cent. Of a total of £2422, the Commissioners have cancelled £2043."If there had not been injustice before, is it probable that there would now be such wholesale reductions and cancellings? We suppose it issentimentalismto record these facts.Christmas-day, 1888.

"Crofters' Rents.—The Crofter Commission yesterday issued their first decisions in relation to Lady Matheson's property in the Island of Lewis, the centre of the land agitation last winter. They have granted an average reduction of 42 per cent. on the rental of 150 crofter tenants in the parish of Barvas, on the west side of Lewis. The arrears of rent due, which was a striking feature in Lewis, have been cancelled to the extent of 84 per cent. Of a total of £2422, the Commissioners have cancelled £2043."

If there had not been injustice before, is it probable that there would now be such wholesale reductions and cancellings? We suppose it issentimentalismto record these facts.

Christmas-day, 1888.

[C]Not William, but the guide-book Black.

[D]It is for this supposition we have already been taken so severely to task and laughed at for our imagined ignorance of the difference between roe deer and red deer. We are glad to have afforded the critics amusement; but we have since looked into the matter, and a friend, a Highlander who knows the Highlands as well as if not better than any of our critics, assures us there are red deer in these woods. So much for that wild burst of criticism! But if this were notthe case, our supposition would not have been unnatural when certain aspects of British sport are considered—the hunting in Epping Forest, the performances of her Majesty's stag-hounds, for example!

[E]I have left this sentence as it is, though Mr. William Black was good enough to attack us for making such a statement. If he has any knowledge whatever on the subject, he must know that it was not until after the trial in Edinburgh—a trial held a little less than a year ago, when these pages had been already set up in type for theMagazine—that it was discovered that deer are not protected by law in the Highlands. Men, as I have shown further on, cannot now be chased without reason from their homes, fixity of tenure being the chief good accomplished by the Crofter's Act of 1886.

[F]This also has been questioned. All we can say is that we both saw and heard men in Ulva shooting with rifles. What they were shooting at we did not go to see.

[G]I have just heard that Americans are about to send fishing-vessels over to these waters.

[H]I have explained elsewhere the result of this trial.

[I]A Truck Act has been passed which has somewhat modified the system in the Hebrides, but, as we have learned from a reliable source, it has not proved effectual.

Select Books

published by

Mr. T.Fisher Unwin

London:Paternoster Square.

FOR YOUNG FOLKS.

Edited by Mrs.Mary Mapes Dodge.

Price 1s. Monthly.

With the beginning of the Seventeenth Volume (November, 1889)ST. NICHOLASwill be enlarged by the addition of eight or more pages to each number, and the Magazine will be printed in a new and clearer-faced type. During the year there will be four importantSerial Storiesby well-known authors, and alsoNotable Papers on Athletics and Outdoor Sports, as well as a multitude of Occasional Papers, Stories, Illustrated Articles of Character and Adventure, Suggestive of Talks on Natural History, Scientific Subjects, &c.The price will remain the same.

ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

Price 1s. 4d. Monthly.

FOR 1889-90,

Will include among other features:—

The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson("Rip Van Winkle"); "Friend Olivia," a Serial Story by Mrs.Barr, Author of "Jan Vedder's Wife," &c.; "The Merry Chanter," in Four Parts, byFrank R. Stockton;Letters from Japan, byJohn La Farge; andThe Gold Hunters of California, being Personal Narratives of most Romantic Interest.

Besides the above Special Features there will be valuable Contributions in Prose and Verse byMark Twain,Edmund Gosse,H. H. Boyesen,Henry James,Edw. Eggleston, &c., &c.

In 24 Monthly Parts, Price 10s. 6d. each.

Part I. Now Ready.

When completed the work will form Six Volumes, price £2 2s. each.

A LIBRARY IN ONE BOOK.

Purchasers of this Dictionary will obtain a reference library which does away with a great number of other books. They will have—

1.A complete defining dictionary of english words.2.A dictionary of etymologies, unequalled by any work yet published.3.A standard dictionary of spelling and pronunciation.4.An encyclopædia of general information, particularly rich in historical material.5.A standard dictionary of mechanical terms.6.A comprehensive dictionary of the practical arts and trades, commerce, finance, etc.7.A dictionary of scientific terms, giving the result of the very latest thought in every department of science, as biology, botany, zoology, mineralogy, physics, etc.8.A dictionary of medicine, surgery, physiology, anatomy, etc.9.A dictionary of theological terms.10.A dictionary of art and archæology, mythology, sculpture, music, etc., exquisitely illustrated.11.A law dictionary.12.A standard reference book of english grammar and philology.13.A dictionary of synonyms.14.A treasury of quotations.

1.A complete defining dictionary of english words.

2.A dictionary of etymologies, unequalled by any work yet published.

3.A standard dictionary of spelling and pronunciation.

4.An encyclopædia of general information, particularly rich in historical material.

5.A standard dictionary of mechanical terms.

6.A comprehensive dictionary of the practical arts and trades, commerce, finance, etc.

7.A dictionary of scientific terms, giving the result of the very latest thought in every department of science, as biology, botany, zoology, mineralogy, physics, etc.

8.A dictionary of medicine, surgery, physiology, anatomy, etc.

9.A dictionary of theological terms.

10.A dictionary of art and archæology, mythology, sculpture, music, etc., exquisitely illustrated.

11.A law dictionary.

12.A standard reference book of english grammar and philology.

13.A dictionary of synonyms.

14.A treasury of quotations.

For Terms and Prospectuses apply to

T FISHER UNWIN, 11, Paternoster Buildings, Paternoster Square, London, E.C.

Catalogue of Select Books in Belles Lettres, History, Biography, Theology, Travel, Miscellaneous, and Books for Children.

The Letters of Horace Walpole.

Selected and Edited, with Introduction and Notes, byCharles Duke Yonge, M.A. Portraits and Illustrations. Limited Edition of 750 copies in Two Vols., medium 8vo., cloth, 32s.

The present selection comprises the more valuable portion of the famous letters to Thomas Gray the poet, Sir Horace Mann, and George Montagu, and is designed chiefly for those who, while lacking leisure to attack the bulk of the correspondence, may welcome the opportunity of becoming acquainted with "certainly the best letter-writer in the English language" (videSir Walter Scott).

The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare.

ByJ. J. Jusserand, Author of "English Wayfaring Life." Illustrated. Demy 8vo., cloth. The work is divided into six chapters:—I. Before Shakespeare; II. Lyly and his Euphues; III. The School of Lyly; IV. Sir Philip Sydney and the Pastoral romance; V. Thomas Nash and the picturesque romance; VI. After Shakespeare.

Light and Shadow: A Novel.

ByEdward Garnett, Author of "The Paradox Club." Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

In Thoughtland and in Dreamland.

ByElsa d'Esterre-Keeling, Author of "Three Sisters," "Bib and Tucker," &c. Square imperial 16mo., cloth, 6s.; Presentation Edition (uniform with the above), in Box, 7s. 6d.

English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages (XIVth Century).

ByJ. J. Jusserand.Translated from the French byLucy A. Toulmin Smith. Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy 8vo., cloth, 12s.

"This is an extremely fascinating book, and it is surprising that several years should have elapsed before it was brought out in an English dress. However, we have lost nothing by waiting."—Times.

Old Chelsea. A Summer-Day's Stroll.

By Dr.Benjamin Ellis Martin. Illustrated byJoseph Pennell. Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

"Dr. Martin has produced an interesting account of old Chelsea, and he has been well seconded by his coadjutor."—Athenæum.

The Twilight of the Gods.

ByRichard Garnett, LL.D. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

"If imagination and style constitute the true elixir of literary life, Dr. Garnett's 'Twilight of the Gods' should live."—British Weekly.

The Coming of the Friars, And other Mediæval Sketches.

By the Rev.Augustus Jessopp, D.D., Author of "Arcady: For Better, For Worse," &c. Third Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

Contents.—I. The Coming of the Friars.—II. Village Life in Norfolk Six Hundred Years ago.—III. Daily Life in a Mediæval Monastery.—IV. and V. The Black Death in East Anglia.—VI. The Building-up of a University.—VII. The Prophet of Walnut-tree Walk.

Arcady: For Better, For Worse.

ByAugustus Jessopp, D.D., Author of "One Generation of a Norfolk House." Portrait. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d.

"A volume which is, to our minds, one of the most delightful ever published in English."—Spectator.

The Romance of a Shop.

By the lateAmy Levy, Author of "Reuben Sachs," "A London Plane Tree, and Other Poems," &c. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

"Miss Levy's story is bright and fresh; there is a dash of originality in the idea, and plenty of spirit in its execution,"—Athenæum.

The Paradox Club.

ByEdward Garnett. With Portrait of Nina Lindon. Second Edition. Crown 8vo., limp cloth, 3s. 6d.

"Mr. Garnett's dialogue is often quite as good as his description, and in description he is singularly happy. The mystery of London streets by night is powerfully suggested, and the realistic force of his night-pieces is enhanced by the vague and Schumann-like sentiment that pervades them."—Saturday Review.

Euphorion:

Studies of the Antique and the Mediæval in the Renaissance. ByVernon Lee. Cheap Edition, in one volume. Demy 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

"It is the fruit, as every page testifies, of singularly wide reading and independent thought, and the style combines with much picturesqueness a certain largeness of volume, that reminds us more of our earlier writers than those of our own time."—Contemporary Review.

Studies of the Eighteenth Century in Italy.

ByVernon Lee. Demy 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

"These studies show a wide range of knowledge of the subject, precise investigation, abundant power of illustration, and hearty enthusiasm.... The style of writing is cultivated, neatly adjusted, and markedly clever."—Saturday Review.

Belcaro:

Being Essays on Sundry Æsthetical Questions. ByVernon Lee. Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s.

"This way of conveying ideas is very fascinating, and has an effect of creating activity in the reader's mind which no other mode can equal. From first to last there is a continuous and delightful stimulation of thought."—Academy.

Juvenilia:

A Second Series of Essays on Sundry Æsthetical Questions. ByVernon Lee. Two vols. Small crown 8vo., cloth, 12s.

"To discuss it properly would require more space than a single number of 'The Academy' could afford."—Academy.

"Est agréable à lire et fait penser."—Revue des deux Mondes.

Baldwin:

Dialogues on Views and Aspirations. ByVernon Lee. Demy 8vo., cloth, 12s.

"The dialogues are written with ... an intellectual courage which shrinks from no logical conclusion."—Scotsman.

Ottilie:

An Eighteenth Century Idyl. ByVernon Lee. Square 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

"A graceful little sketch.... Drawn with full insight into the period described."—Spectator.

Introductory Studies in Greek Art.

Delivered in the British Museum byJane E. Harrison. With Illustrations. Square imperial 16mo., 7s. 6d.

"The best work of its kind in English."—Oxford Magazine.

The Fleet:

Its River, Prison and Marriages. ByJohn Ashton, Author of "Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne," &c. With 70 Drawings by the Author from Original Pictures. Second and Cheaper Edition, cloth, 7s. 6d.

Romances of Chivalry:

Told and Illustrated in Fac-simile byJohn Ashton. Forty-six Illustrations. New and Cheaper edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 7s, 6d.

"The result (of the reproduction of the wood blocks) is as creditable to his artistic, as the text is to his literary, ability."—Guardian.

The Dawn of the Nineteenth Century in England:

A Social Sketch of the Times. ByJohn Ashton. Cheaper Edition, in one vol. Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., 10s. 6d.

"The book is one continued source of pleasure and interest, and opens up a wide field for speculation and comment, and many of us will look upon it as an important contribution to contemporary history, not easily available to others than close students."—Antiquary.

Legends and Popular Tales of the Basque People.

ByMariana Monteiro. With Illustrations byHarold Copping. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, gilt edges, 6s.

"In every respect this comely volume is a notable addition to the shelf devoted to folk-lore ... and the pictures in photogravure nobly interpret the text."—Critic.

Heroic Tales.

Retold from Firdusi the Persian. ByHelen Zimmern. With Etchings byL. Alma Tadema. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 5s.

"Charming from beginning to end.... Miss Zimmern deserves all credit for her courage in attempting the task, and for her marvellous success in carrying it out."—Saturday Review.

Pilgrim Sorrow.

ByCarmen Sylva(The Queen of Roumania). Translated byHelen Zimmern. Portrait-etching byLalauze. Square crown 8vo., cloth extra, 5s.

"A strain of sadness runs through the delicate thought and fancy of the Queen of Roumania. Her popularity as an author is already great in Germany, and this little work will win her a place in many English hearts."—Standard.

Chopin, and Other Musical Essays.

ByHenry T. Finck, Author of "Romantic Love and Personal Beauty." Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

"There are six essays in this compact and well-printed volume. They are all written with great thoroughness, and the interest of each one is admirably sustained throughout."—Freeman's Journal.

The Temple:

Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations. By Mr.George Herbert. New and fourth edition, with Introductory Essay byJ. Henry Shorthouse. Small crown, sheep, 5s.A facsimile reprint of the Original Edition of 1633.

"This charming reprint has a fresh value added to it by the Introductory Essay of the Author of 'John Inglesant.'"—Academy.

Songs, Ballads, and A Garden Play.

ByA. Mary F. Robinson, Author of "An Italian Garden." With Frontispiece of Dürer's "Melancolia." Small crown 8vo., half bound, vellum, 5s.

"The romantic ballads have grace, movement, passion and strength."—Spectator.

"Marked by sweetness of melody and truth of colour."—Academy.

Essays towards a Critical Method.

Studies in English Literature. ByJohn M. Robertson. Cr. 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

"His essays are always shrewd and readable. His criticisms on the critics are enjoyable for the irony (conscious or unconscious) that is in them; and the book will not fail to please lovers of literature and literary history, and to prove suggestive to the critical."—Scotsman.

The Lazy Minstrel.

ByJ. Ashby-Sterry, Author of "Boudoir Ballads." Fourth and Popular Edition. Frontispiece byE. A. Abbey. Fcap. 8vo., cloth, 2s. 6d.

"One of the lightest and brightest writers of vers de société."—St. James's Gazette.

Caroline Schlegel, and Her Friends.

By Mrs.Alfred Sidgwick. With Steel Portrait. Crown 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.

"This is a singularly brilliant, delicate and fascinating sketch—one of the most skilful pieces of literary workmanship we have seen for a long time.... Mrs. Sidgwick is a writer of very unusual equipment, power and promise."—British Weekly.

Amos Killbright: His Adscititious Adventures.

With other Stories. ByFrank R. Stockton. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d.

"Mr. Stockton is the quaintest of living humorists."—Academy.

Battles and Leaders of the American Civil War.

An Authoritative History, written by Distinguished Participants on both sides. Edited byRobert U. JohnsonandClarence C. Buel, of the Editorial Staff of "The Century Magazine." Four Volumes, Royal 8vo., elegantly bound, £5 5s.

Lord Wolseley, in writing a series of articles in theNorth American Reviewon this work, says: "The Century Company has, in my judgment, done a great service to the soldiers of all armies by the publication of these records of the great War."

Diary of the Parnell Commission.

Revised with Additions, fromThe Daily News. ByJohn Macdonald, M.A.Large crown 8vo.

The End of the Middle Ages:

Essays and Questions in History. ByA. Mary F. Robinson(Madame Darmesteter). Demy 8vo., cloth, 10s. 6d.

"We travel from convent to palace, find ourselves among all the goodness, the wisdom, the wildness, the wickedness, the worst and the best of that wonderful time. We meet with devoted saints and desperate sinners.... We seem to have made many new acquaintances whom before we only knew by name among the names of history.... We can heartily recommend this book to every one who cares for the study of history, especially in its most curious and fascinating period, the later middle age."—Spectator.

The Federalist:

A Commentary in the Form of Essays on the United States Constitution. ByAlexander Hamilton, and others. Edited byHenry Cabot Lodge. Demy 8vo., Roxburgh binding, 10s. 6d.

"The importance of the Essays can hardly be exaggerated."—Glasgow Mail.

The Story of the Nations.

Crown 8vo., Illustrated, and furnished with Maps and Indexes, each 5s.

"L'interessante serie l'Histoire des Nations formera ... un cours d'histoire universelle d'une très grande valeur."—Journal des Debats.

"The remarkable series."—New York Critic.

"That useful series."—The Times.

"An admirable series."—Spectator.

"That excellent series."—Guardian.

"The series is likely to be found indispensable in every school library."—Pall Mall Gazette.

"This valuable series."—Nonconformist.

"Admirable series of historical monographs."—Echo.

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