te mist, or wrapped
in yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and
sloppy people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it
has great merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national,
and practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have
every chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance
of the dark gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the
sterling character of its people; for though this stone may be dull
and ugly, there is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be
mean.

I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and
certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago.
The number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and
learning of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a
Sabbath afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind,
in the world.

My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a
very favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the
east end of the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent,
solemn-looking crowd that slowly and reverently passed out of its
gates into the absolutely silent streets. For no vehicles of any kind
disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and not until the people had gone
some distance from the house of God did they begin to think their own
thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put them into words.

Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the
pleasant houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to
have elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted
of an old man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were
strikingly handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the
majority of women who took the same road. Long before they reached the
Green they were joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once
addressed in a reproving voice.

"Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do,
James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within
'the Gates'?"

"I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue
five days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo."

"It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news
will come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the
Sabbath sun hasna set yet."

James Blac