only joined in the cry to increase the general confusion, and to give Rob Roy a better opportunity of escaping.

Escape, indeed, was not difficult for a swimmer so expert as the freebooter, as soon as he had eluded the first burst of pursuit. At one time he was closely pressed, and several blows were made which flashed in the water around him—the scene much resembling one of the otter-hunts which I had seen at Osbaldistone Hall, where the animal is detected by the hounds from his being necessitated to put his nose above the stream to vent or breathe, while he is enabled to elude them by getting under water again so soon as he has refreshed himself by respiration. Macgregor, however, had a trick beyond the otter; for he contrived, when very closely pursued, to disengage himself unobserved from his plaid, and suffer it to float down the stream, where in its progress it quickly attracted general attention. Many of the horsemen were thus put upon a false scent, and several shots or stabs were averted from the party for whom they were designed.

Once fairly out of view, the recovery of the prisoner became almost impossible, since in so many places the river was rendered inaccessible by the steepness of its banks, or the thickets of alders, poplars, and birch which, overhanging its banks, prevented the approach of horsemen. Errors and accidents had also happened among the pursuers, whose task the approaching night rendered every moment more hopeless.

Some got themselves involved in the

eddies of the stream, and required the assistance of their companions to save them from drowning. Others, hurt by shots or blows in the confused mélée, implored help or threatened vengeance, and in one or two instances such accidents led to actual strife.

The trumpets, therefore, sounded the retreat, announcing that the commanding officer, with whatsoever unwillingness, had for the present relinquished hopes of the important prize which had thus unexpectedly escaped his grasp, and the troopers began, slowly, reluctantly, and brawling with each other as they returned, again to assume their ranks. I could see them darkening as they formed on the southern bank of the river, whose murmurs, long drowned by the louder cries of vengeful pursuit, were now heard hoarsely mingling with the deep, discontented, and reproachful voices of the disappointed horsemen.

From "Rob Roy," by SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The delight of the Highlands is in the Highland feeling. That feeling is entirely destroyed by stages and regular progression. The waterfalls do not tell upon sober parties; it is tedious in the extreme to be drenched along highroads; the rattle of wheels blends meanly with thunder, and lightning is contemptible seen from the window of a glass coach. To enjoy mist, you must be in the heart of it as a solitary hunter, shooter, or angler. Lightning is nothing unless a thousand feet below you, and the live thunder must be heard leaping, as Byron says, from mountain to mountain; otherwise you might as well listen to a mock peal from the pit of a theatre." Christopher North" (Professor Wilson).

52. THE SOLITARY REAPER.

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain ;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands;

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago.

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day-
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending.
I listened, motionless and still;
And as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore
Long after it was heard no more.

WORDSWORTH.

53. EXPLORING IN AUSTRALIA.

When we took leave of you ten days ago, I was afraid that we should not meet again for many months. But I hear there is a possibility of your family all turning South Australians at once; in which case, as I am trying hard to persuade my father to the same thing, and feel pretty sure of success, we may calculate on the chance of meeting again very soon, and probably of going all in one party. If so (of which, as I am naturally sanguine, I feel certain already), we shall have a second set of happy days on shipboard and in South Australia.

If " Victoria" is built on the shores of Port Lincoln, we can have regattas in the large harbour, and donkey excursions to Sleaford Mere on the Louth Hills; and if Lake Alexandrina be fixed upon as the site of the city, the large lake itself, and the beautiful glens and valleys of the promontory of Cape Jervis, seem made on purpose for our parties of pleasure. But that which above all would please you, who are of an imaginative turn of mind, is an exploring expedition into the interior of the country.

I have heard you talk of the pleasure of stepping on a shore on which no one had been before yourself; but there have been so many navigators, sealers, etc., on that coast that you cannot feel sure of treading an unbeaten track, and the only way of standing where white man never stood before is to be one of the exploring party which will be sent, immediately after the landing of the people, up the country

to discover and survey it. The explorers travel through forests, across rivers, and over vast plains which have never been seen before, making maps and taking sketches as they go along; amused at every mile with some new feature in the country they pass through, and every now and then enlivened by petty accidents, or the jokes of the excited young people of the party.

An exploring expedition is like a donkey excursion on a large scale; but you have the extra satisfaction of knowing that you run the risk of a little danger, and that you are enjoying a pleasure which cannot be enjoyed by anybody in England. Think of standing on a high hill and looking for leagues in every direction without seeing a human being or any animal, except a few quiet kangaroos and emus, and hearing no noise but the rustling of the trees and the bubbling water of the little cascade at the foot of the hill, or the bustle of your party pitching their tents for the night on the hillside, and preparing for supper a fat wallaby kangaroo, which one of the sportsmen of the party shot that morning.

To pursue this picture. Having looked on till the sun has set, and the moon (aided by a set of stars totally different from those to which you have been accustomed in this hemisphere) has risen to light you to bed, you hear a voice from the tent, " Supper is ready." You run back, having had your appetite sharpened by a long ride on a rough-haired pony, or perhaps a gallop after a long-legged emu, and the whole party sit down on the grass under the tent,