would stay longer with her; but my Auntie Kirsty | would only consent to stay another night on the home-going; she was fain to see her sister, and she was off and on the road again by break o' day. She took the walking very cannily, for she wasna used to travelling, and she had the whole day before her; besides, her feet were something sore with her yesterday's tramp. She bathed them now and then in the roadside burns to cool them; for my Auntie Kirsty was too careful a woman to think of walking in shoes and stockings. She had clean thread stockings and well blackened shoes in her bundle, and she didna put them on till she was near to Glasgow. "My Auntie Kirsty thought the country she passed through was very bounie of its kind; but she was rather wearied of the constant sight of the dusty hedges that bordered the road; and though the corn land and the tattie (potato) rigs were very fine, she couldna help missing the quiet green braes and grassy holms of her own place. She didna call at any public on the road to refresh herself; for she wasna used to such places, and, 'deed, would have thought shame, being a single woman, to be seen in them eating and drinking; for my Auntie Kirsty had a decent pride in her good name. She had a piece bread and cheese in her pouch, which her friend had given her, and she sat down and took her twalhours (noon meal) at a quiet bit of the road where a saugh (willow) tree or two hung over a burn. 'Rest and be thankfu',' she called the place, for she was beginning to feel tired, and would have been glad to be at her journey's end. "It was wearing on now in the afternoon, and she thought she was very long of coming to the town. Every bit cluster of houses she saw before her she took for Glasgow, and she had many a disappointment when she came up to them, and found they were just two rows-sometimes only one-of low cot-houses, with a storied one here and there among them, like the Kirkton of Boulder. She aye asked at these small towns how far she was from Glasgow, for she was so little accustomed to milestones-the Braeside farm being gey far off the high road-that she never thought of looking at them. She got civil answers to her questions, though the folk didna scruple to ask her where she came from, and who she was going to see in Glasgow; and my auntie had no objections to satisfy them, for she thought she had no cause to be ashamed of her folk, and she was aye of a free and furthy (frank) nature. "At length she came to a bigger town than any she had seen yet, and this she had no doubt was Glasgow. But it was only Ru'glen, a woman told her-that all west country folk ken lies a wee bit out of the city; so my auntie, with many a weary groan, went her ways down a street so "syde-and-wyde" that there was elbow-room for every one in Boulder in it. Her feet had now as many blisters on them as there were shillings in her purse; and she went hirpling slowly down a long loan (lane), asking her road every five minutes. But soon there was little needcessity for this; she saw she must be drawing near to the town, for the houses and travellers were growing thicker on the road, and the air was getting very close with reek (smoke)-so close that my Auntie Kirsty feared that some great fire, like what they had sometimes heard o' at the farm, had broken out in the town and was devouring all before it. I wonder, Mr. Matthew, what she would have thought of the black smoke that the Glasgow lums (chimneys) vomit at the present day, when she was so struck by it seventy years back. "My Auntie Kirsty was uneasy in her mind, and she made as muckle haste as she could in the state her feet were in, for fear the fire might be in the neighbourhood of Peggy's house; but she was soon relieved by discovering that the reek, which was as thick as if it came from a lime-kiln, was pouring out from some long brick lums that rose high in the air above the houses, and she minded now what she had heard about the mills of Glasgow. She saw a woman standing at a door-cheek dancing a bairn in her arms, and she stopped and asked her if this was the Briggate o' Glasgow, or if she was near it. "The Briggate o' Glasgow!' quo the wife. Wow's me! woman, yo've to cross the water before ye can get to the Briggate, and ye're just at the Gorbals the noo.' My auntie's heart sank within her; but on she hirpled, and at last she got through the Gorbals. She crossed a muckle brig (bridge) over the Clyde, and then turned down by the side of the river, as she had been directed; for now that she had got to the town she was so dumbfoundert with the strange sights and sounds about her that she was under the needcessity of asking her way every other minute. But the names of the streets went out o' her head as fast as she heard them, and the farther she got the more helpless and distressed she grew. Such a sight of slated houses she had never seen before, nor even dreamt o', and she soon began to fear that she would lose herself among them and never get to Peggy's. She had expected to find Glasgow only five or six times bigger than the Kirkton o' Boulder; but the houses she had seen already would have made more than twenty Kirktons, and she hadna come to the end o' them yet. If she was lost, seeking for her would be like seeking for a needle in a bundle of hay; and though she was so strong and stout a woman, she couldna think of this without her spirits sinking within her. "Then all the stories she had ever heard-and many a one had reached Boulder parish-of the tricks and wickednesses that were practeezed in big towns, came rushing into her memory. Strangers had disappeared there, and never been heard of again, she had been told; and doctors kept resurrectionists in their pay, who were as ready to lay their murdering hands on the living as to lift the dead. She was a lone woman, and who kent but that they had their eye on her already! And as these thoughts passed through her mind, she began to cast timorsome looks about her, and more than one wafflooking (disreputable) character she set down as a body-snatcher. "Such fears forced themselves into my Auntie Kirsty's mind whether she would or no-for you see she was altogether landward bred, and in these days there was little communication between the outlying districts and the great towns, and the packmen wero almost the only news-carriers. She really didna ken whether it was better to go on or to turn back. She was in an awful swither (doubt); and the very sweat, she said, ran down her face with her fears and perplexities. But she was loath to give up the chance of seeing Peggy and the bairns after coming so far for that purpose; besides, she had now got so deep into the town that it was just as difficult for her to do the one as the other, no to mention her weariness. So on she creepit, keeping a wary look about her, | thinking she must surely soon leave the throng of the town behind her, and that she would find the Briggate-if ever she got there a quiet place; for Peggy, she was morally persuaded, could never live in such a stir as was now about her. "But the farther she went, the worse the din got, and the streets the closer; and she wandered on like a demented body, the folk pushing by her so fast, and knocking against her with so little ceremony no doubt being a bouncing woman with a bundle on one arm and a basket on the other, she took more than her right share of the pavement-that she scarcely kent whether her head or her feet were uppermost. Surely,' thought my Auntie Kirsty-' surely something by-ordinary maun have happened in the town to put a' thae folk in such a hurry. I wish with a' my heart I was out o't, or that I had dropped a line to Rabby to meet me.' "At length she found herself in a grander and more crowded place than she had yet seen, which, I think, from her description, must have been the Trongate you ken I was once in Glasgow with your mother, Mr. Matthew-for she stood glowering for a while, she said, in perfect astonishment at the effigy of a black man and horse-King William's statute it's like-that stood on a height of masonwork in front of a grand-looking building. The building had many queer faces carved on the outside o't above some muckle arches, beneath which welldrest gentlemen were walking up and down. "Weel, the like o' that now!' said my Auntie Kirsty to herself-I just tell you the story as she used to tell it herself, Mr. Matthew-I wonder what that man and horse are made o', and what garr'd (caused) folk stick them up so far above men's heads. It minds me,' thought my Auntie Kirsty, 'o' the image that Nebuchadnezzar, king o' Babylon, set up for the people to worship, but I trow there's nae goold about this ane.' "And after taking a long look at the 'thing,' she minded herself, and walked on. "But now the grandeur of the shops in the Trongate began to distract my Auntie Kirsty's thoughts, and though she was in such peril and uncertainty, she couldna help looking into every one she passed, wondering where all the bonnie things she saw came from, and thinking that surely all the riches of the world were displayed there at once. And there was one especially, with gold and silver things in't, that dazzled her very een to look at, it was so glittering with rings and chains and bonnie dies, no to mention trays, and candlesticks, and teapots of real silver. "And then some of the folk she met in this street were just as extraordinary as the shops, so extraordinary that my Auntie Kirsty couldna keep from turning round to look after them. It wasna just the leddies, though they were every one as fine as peacocks; but she saw two or three of the college lads with their red gowns hanging about them, and my Auntie Kirsty, who had never seen such a thing on a man's back before, or heard tell o't, thought naturally enough, honest woman, that they were on the spree, and had borrowed their mother's duffle cloaks to go a guisarding in, though it was scarcely the right time of year for that nonsense. 66 6 They'll no do muckle harm to them, though,' thought my Auntie Kirsty, giving the lads as wide a berth as the pavement would let her, 'for 'doed they're a' greatly in need o' a scouring.' "But it didna do to be trifling her time in this way, and she in such perilous circumstances, so she began again to ask for the Briggate at the most sponsible (respectable-looking) folk of her own station that she saw. But she couldna clearly understand their directions; they were all in such a hurry, too, that she felt blate to question them. They told her to go up such an entry and through such a street, pointing with their fingers, and warning her when she was to turn to the right and when to the left; but they might as well have spoken to the wind, for their words just went in at one ear and out at the other. It wasna from weakness of judgment, Mr. Matthew; no, no, it was only because everything was so new and surprising to her. If they had been speaking of kye (cows) or country work she would have been sharp enough. "She was just falling into a despairing state when up comes a decently put-on, tradesman-like man, who, after taking a good look at her, asked what was wrong with her. "I'm on my way to my gudebrither's (brotherin-law's) house in the Briggate here,' says my Auntie Kirsty, glad to tell her story; 'I never was in the town before, and, 'deed, I think the place maun be bewitched, for the farther I gang, the farther the Briggate flees frae me.' "What's your gudebrother's name?' says the man. "Robert McCorkindale, the tailor,' says she. "But the words had scarcely left her lips than the man out with a loud guffaw (laugh), and said that he kent her gudebrother weel, which didna seem extraordinary to my Auntie Kirsty, for Rabby had been well respected in his native place, and doubtless would be well kent in Glasgow; and it struck her that to have fallen in with this man in the time of her distress was surely a special interposition of Providence. So the man said that for Rabby's sake, and as she was a stranger, and might fall into bad company if she was left to find the road to the Briggate by herself, the town being fu' o' such,' he said-weel-a-wat! he spoke the truth there-he would see her safe into her gudebrother's house, though it took him out of his own road. Well, my Auntie Kirsty thought it very kind of the man, more by token as he would carry her bundle and basket, though she felt shame to let him; but he wouldna be hindered. And truly she found it a great easement, for she had come twenty miles that day with them, and they were gey and heavy, especially the basket. So off they set together, he before and she close behind, and as she followed him she made up her mind that when they came to the end of the journey she would e'en give him a pair of the ducks to himself as a compliment for his civeelity. "My auntie was a very ceevil person herself, and didna think it was good manners to walk in company with anybody, especially a man so neighbourly and obleeging, without speaking to him, so she began with asking him how long it was since he had seen Rabby. Weel, I should say it's about three weeks,' says the man, when I called to pay for this stand of claes that I had gotten from him.' "My auntie looked approvingly at the claes, which were good corduroys, and for 'ilkaday' ones she thought they did Rabby credit. "And was Peggy and all the bairns weel then?' | sassage meat of her body, as she had read about in says she. the packmen's story books. 666 Extraordinary weel,' says he. "And can you tell me,' says my auntie, feeling aye the more friendly the longer she spoke, 'what kind o' like bairn wee Kirsty, my ain namedochter, is?' "I would say,' says the man, with a queer twinkle of his eye, as she minded afterwards, 'that she's no unlike yoursell, only she's gotten such an ugly harelip.' "Eh, sirs!' cries my auntie, dumbfoundert with this news, and forgetting she was on the street, 'they never said a word about it in the letter.' "You see they wouldna like to distress you,' says the man. "That maun have been it,' says my auntie. But just at that moment they came to the entrance of a close; my auntie couldna tell what part of the town it was in. "Wait a minute here,' says the man, 'I have a message to give to a woman in here,' says he; 'but I'll be back directly--I'll not set down the things for a' the time.' "So away went he through the close mouth, that was as dark as a Yule (Christmas) morning, and smelled as ill as any middenstead (dunghill) in all the country, and my auntie's bundle and basket went with him. "Well, my auntie stood, and better stood, wondering at last, poor simple woman! what had become of the man. She was sore worn out with her two days' travelling along the hard road, and vexed with the news about wee Kirsty, and would have given the world, if she had had it, to have been at Peggy's fireside with a cup of tea before her. Once or twice people came out of the close as she was waiting there, and both them and everybody that went by glowered at her till she began to feel shamefaced and bamboozled (embarrassed) like. She would gladly have taken herself away, but she behoved to wait for the man, and, weel-a-wat! he didna seem in any hurry. "At last, when she had waited a most unconscionable time, and after a whole crowd of dirty, 'ne'erdo-weel' bairns had gathered round her, tormenting her with pulling at her gown and then running away, and with other tricks that ill-brought-up bairns are guilty of, a decent poor woman, carrying a basket with caps and staylaces and such like things to sell, came out of the close. "You didna see a man in there,' says my poor Auntie Kirsty to her, with a basket, and a bundle tied up in a blue spotted napkin in his haunds, did you?' "No,' says the woman, 'I canna say I noticed him.' "He was a long, thin, black-a-vised man,' says my auntie; rather pock-marked (marked with smallpox), and with a cast in his ee (squint).' "I am sure I didna see him,' says the woman; 'but he had maybe gone out at the other end o' the close before I came through it.' 'My Aunty Kirsty thought it very queer, but she said nothing more to the woman. She would have gone up the close in search of the man, but it was a very dark and disrespectable-like place, and she considered how easy, being her lone and a stranger, it would be to pull her into some house there, rob and maybe murder her, and afterwards make pies and "I'm no mair mistress than you're mem,' says my auntie, sharply, for her temper was beginning to give way under her troubles; Gude be thankit! I was never sae far left to mysell as to get married.' "Some folk might say that you're thankful for sma mercies," says the woman, with a laugh; but I winna, for I have had my ain share o' the troubles o' married life, with a drunken man and five bairns to work for. But surely you were never such a fule as to give the man your things awa with him without kenning who he was?' "He tell'd me he kent my gudebrother, and he offered to take me to the Briggate and to carry my things for me,' says my auntie. "This is no the way to the Briggate,' says the woman. 'It's quite clear,' says the woman, 'that the man has cheated you, and that you'll never see your things again. He's slippit through at the other end of the close while you've been waiting here, and he'll be far enough awa by this time, sae there's na use in your biding here ony langer,' says she. 666 "Oh, the black-hearted vagabond!' cries my poor Auntie Kirsty, 'to gang and take advantage of a puir stranger; and of a' things to steal my gude Sabbath day's gown and shawl that I havena had six times on my back yet, for I only bought them the last winter,' and though a stout-hearted woman she fairly fell to the greeting (crying). "But what made ye trust a body ye never saw before?' says the woman of the town to the woman of the country; 'ye couldna tell whether he mightna cheat ye.' "Wha was ever to suspect him?' says my auntie; he was baith well-spoken and well put on; the very claes he had on were made by Rabby, he said; and he tell'd me too that my wee namedochter had gotten a harshie lip-but he's maybe a leear as weel as a thief. They wouldna believe it at Braeside if I was to tell them. Wha could ever think that Glasgow was such a wicked place!' "There's bad and gude in a' places as weel as Glasgow,' says the woman. But let this be a lesson to you, my woman-since I mauna call you mistress -never to trust folk till you ken something about them. The next time you dinna ken your road, ask ane o' the caddies (porters) at the street corners to show you't; but Glasgow's no ill to find out, and you'll no lang need help to do't." Maybe sae,' says my auntie; but I wouldna bide twa nights here to be made queen o' Sheba. But you seem a decent woman—at least you have a' the appearance o't,' says my auntie, taking a good sup look at her; and if you'll guide me to my gude- | of the victim. At last the governor, finding other brother's, I'll make it worth your while. I suppose means fail-for of what use are soldiers in the desert? there's nae chance of that smooth-tongued vagabond-hit upon the following device: he cut off their coming back?' taking another look at the close. "Ye may take my word for that,' says the woman; and as to guiding ye to the Briggate, I'm agreeable. I'll do't for a sixpence, for I canna afford to lose my time, and ye dinna need to pay me till I've taken ye to your freends.' "So off they set to the Briggate; and when my auntie saw Rabby's sign above the shop door, she knew all was right, and she gave the woman her sixpence. ply of salt. By the nature of their territory these Arabs could only get salt at this city, and here it was rigidly denied them. For a while the tribe held on, but at last they were brought to book, thoroughly starved out. They had to submit to such terms as the governor listed. This, then, is one occasion of Arab contact with towns; the other is the negotiating for the escorting of caravans-caravans of traders, of travellers, of pilgrims. And for this latter reason, at the time of the great yearly pilgrimage you are sure to find at Cairo a strong gathering of these sons of the desert. You meet them in street and bazaar. Their bronzed skins and strange, haughty look mark them out from the throng. The motley crowd jostle by them, and turn round to look, half scared. You see plainly they are as much out of place and ill at ease in the busy streets as were Christian and Faithful in Vanity Fair. But though your Arab will venture within walls, he will not sleep within walls, and it is in the city outskirts, at the time of his evening meal, that you will best observe his ways. "Rabby and Peggy were just extraordinary astonished and pleased to see her; but they were very sorry when they learnt what had befallen her, and also for the loss of the ducks and the other things. Rabby said, 'Set up the fellow's impudence,' on hearing that he had passed himself off as a customer of his; and as for Peggy, she couldna get over the blackguard's dauring to misca a bairn o' hers-wi' his harshie lip.' And she lifted wee Kirsty out of her cradle, and brought her to her sister to show 'what a lee it was.' Rabby wanted to go to the police-office to give information about the robbery; but when my Auntie Kirsty understood that if the thief was dis-out by the tombs of the caliphs, you thus come upon covered she would have to appear before a magistrate to identify him, she would have nothing to do with it. "I'll rather lose every gown I hae,' she said, 'than hae it kent in Boulder that I have been inside a police-office. And as for the other things,' said she, there's plenty mair where they came_frae, and you can either send to Braeside for them, Peggy, or come for them yoursell with the bairns-a breath o' caller air would do ye a' muckle good after living sae lang in this ill-smelling town." ARAB STORY-TELLERS. BY HOWARD HOPLEY. IF you take a walk outside Cairo at sundown, about the time of the yearly pilgrimage, and have an observant eye, you may get acquainted with many of the familiar ways of Arab life. This is not generally an easy matter. The fact is, your true desert Arab is very shy of being observed. He will escort you, if you pay his tribe sufficient "black mail," over leagues of sandy waste and rocky wilderness. But in such case he is "on duty," and though your swarthy guard, after tethering their camels at the close of their day's march, may unbend a little over their evening watch-fire, yet they are very chary of letting you come and smoke a friendly pipe by their side. In the desert you sometimes, in your day's march, hit on a tent village, but your escort rarely lets you approach near enough to get a peep into this circle of nomad domestic life. But the chance happens at cities; for, however much your Arab hates cities he is bound to come near them for two reasons; one to buy and sell or barter-for there are certain commodities he must have. I remember hearing of a tribe brought to submission from this cause. Their depredations in the outskirts of a certain city had at length become unbearable. Like the Neapolitan brigands they kidnapped people outside the gates, and held them to ransom, great or small, according to the importance At Cairo, on the desert fringe in the sandy waste a whole population of desert Arabs-small encampments of them, knots of dusky figures grouped about watch fires, often a ring of camels picketed around the camp, silently ruminating, and sobbing with inward satisfaction, as camels do when they are pleased. Sometimes there is a rough tent in the background, but it is usually a mere piece of cloth strung across a pole. Your Arab holds to Saadi's creed: "Never in this world pitch your tent with pegs that stick in the earth too firmly, or carry useless baggage that you must ever keep ready packed for your start at a moment's warning." When supper, which is a meal partaken of out of one common bowl, is over-a thick pottage, sodden after the manner of Esau's pottage, with red lentils and bread, round which all sit and dip their hand in in turn-the pipes come into play, chibouke or hubble-bubble. Then each one disposes himself for ease or rest; the day's doings are dis cussed, or else somebody tells a story. Now story-telling is quite an institution among the Arabs; nor is it wonderful, considering that they have neither books nor power to read them, how much pleasure these Arabs get out of a trumpery tale. They are a very imaginative race. Give them but an outline and they will fill in the picture with rose hues of their own. Sometimes they get a professional story-teller into their circle. Of course his stories, altered by passing from mouth to mouth, will do service again over many a watch-fire. There are many traditional stories, some weak enough, as I have heard them in the dragoman's translation, others recalling vividly the Arabian Nights. You may fancy the story-teller perhaps under a sycamore-tree, rocounting the following (as a specimen): - THE STORY OF THE CALIPH'S APE. The illustrious Caliph Abdool Achmed, of happy memory, had an ape which he cherished with singular affection. It had been his companion for many years. It ate with him, slept in the caliph's private apartments, and in fact was seldom out of his majesty's sight. Often in his excursions through the city the caliph would have the ape to accompany him, borne on the shoulders of a slave mounted on a richly |