seum bequeathed by William Hunter, the
great surgeon, who gave at the same time 8,000 pounds to erect a
building for its reception.

Uncle Tom told us a story of Hunter's first lecture. Being unknown to
fame, no one had come to hear him. On entering the hall, he found only
Sandy McTavish, the old custos. He was not daunted, however. Bidding
the old man sit down, he brought a skeleton from a cupboard, and having
placed it in front of him, he began to lecture to it and Sandy. First
one student by chance looked in, and, seeing what was going forward,
beckoned to another. In the course of a few minutes another dropped in,
and soon discovered that no ordinary lecturer was speaking. The whole
audience could not have amounted to a dozen; but they soon made a noise
about what they had heard, and the next day the hall was crowded.

Our next visit was to a fine cemetery across a valley above the town;
and Dick declared that it would be quite a pleasure to be buried there.
It was crowded with fine monuments to celebrated persons.

Glasgow owes much of its prosperity to its situation in the midst of a
country producing coal and minerals, and having water communication down
the Clyde towards the west into the Atlantic, and through the great
canal which connects that river with the Forth and German Ocean. We got
back to Dumbarton, where the Dolphin's boat was on the look-out for us,
just at nightfall.

It being moonlight, we sailed down the Clyde, and enjoyed the beautiful
scenery under a different aspect. Had we possessed steam, we could have
run through the channel of Bute, and then up Loch Fyne, passing through
the Crinan Canal into Loch Linnhe; but as that could not be done, we had
to sail round Arvan and the Mull of Cantyre, and then up the Sound of
Jura. We thus lost the enjoyment of much magnificent scenery; but the
shorter route would probably have taken us a far longer time to perform,
as in those narrow waters we could only sail during daylight, and might
be detained by a contrary wind.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE CALEDONIAN CANAL.

The day after leaving the Clyde, we were coasting along the not very
attractive-looking island of Islay, inhabited by the Macdonalds. It was
often the scene of forays, which one clan was wont to make on another,
in the good old days, as people delight to call them, when the ancestors
of the present race were scarcely more civilised than the South Sea
islanders. Though rock-girt,