laugh or weep when I think of the occasion on
which the following charmingly irrelevant remarks were made to me: "We
are all proud of our village library and _even prouder of the feeling
that prompted such a gift_. I am reminded," the speaker went on to say,
"of a cousin of mine who got a present of exquisite fruit (preserved in
wine) from a friend in a distant part of the country. He wrote to the
donor saying, 'Your fruit is delicious: I like it very much; but I like
even more _the spirit in which it has been sent_.'"

A VISIT TO THE BORDERS.

In order that these pages may fitly represent all the districts of
Caledonia that I have traversed as an uncommercial traveller, I should
like to give a short sketch of how I reached Tweedside by way of Lanark,
at a season when the Glasgow people were beginning their Fair holidays.
Winter, as I remarked, is the time I prefer for travelling, but untoward
circumstances have now and again compelled me to be on the move when
"mid-summer, like an army with banners, was marching through the
mid-heavens."

I may say at once that it is a great trial to leave Glasgow at that
particular date. The city pours forth its myriads at such a time. The
stations are surging and heaving with throngs of men, women, and
children, all in a hurry and all impatient. Families by tens and dozens
are swarming about. How pathetic it is to see the father with one child
in his arms and two clinging to his coat-tails, while the mother (poor
bedraggled soul) is vainly striving to quieten a squalling fourth! Some
children have lost their parents, and grope about underneath, nipping
the legs of tourists to attract attention and get hold of the right
father; others fall among bales of strawberries that were pulled
yesterday in the fresh country air, but are now being trampled into gory
pulp. Even in the fetid and dust-laden air, rendered almost unbearable
by the hot sunlight that blazes through the overarching glass of the
station roof, Cupid twangs his arrows, and soft eyes speak love to eyes
that speak again. Suddenly the train arrives, and on the already
crowded platform lands the human freight of twenty carriages--a fresh
addition to the welter and confusion worse confounded. What a wealth of
language one hears! Cyclists tinkle with bell and horn to secure the
needed lane of passage. Porters, in desperate madness, throw wooden
boxes down and rope-tied trunks of tin with little sympathy for injured
knees an